CHAPTER NINETEEN #2
Her usually jovial countenance returned. A teasing glint lit her jade green eyes. “Do you want to know more about Bonding?” she asked slyly.
Deckard’s jaw tightened instantly. A part of him did want to know more.
If they had more information, they might feel better about their almost certain future, be it together or apart.
But he feared that showing even the most remote sign of interest would give the Calders hope he couldn’t afford to offer.
“No,” he said decisively. “As Evylin and I told you, we’ve no interest in the subject.”
“That’s not what your reaction last night indicated,” she remarked.
“Pardon me?”
Ilain met his gaze knowingly. “When you held your breath, it was because of the word ‘Bonding.’ You didn’t care to discover more about Ethenn’s feelings for me. You cared to learn what I had to say about Bonding.”
Though she was correct, Deckard kept his expression placid. “You’re mistaken,” he said.
She smirked. “So you were simply keen on hearing Ethenn all but proclaim his affections to me?”
“Of course not. I was merely . . . uncomfortable.”
Ilain allowed his lie to pass. “That makes two of us.”
Having more knowledge than he wanted on the subject, Deckard chose to distract from Ethenn’s interest in Ilain. “How can we be sure you’re correct?” he asked. “About my . . . my magic.”
“I thought we already proved that to you last night,” she said incredulously.
“Jonn, when a Relic lights up all glowing and bright like that, the facts are what they are. And as I said, I suspected all along. There was just something about you . . . The only reason I didn’t suggest it sooner was because Auden talked me out of it. He’s dreadfully cautious.”
Deckard frowned inwardly. “But I’ve never used magic. What if I’m not a Mage but something else?”
Ilain leveled a bored glare at him. “Do you live on the continent of Allund?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Then you have three options,” she said, holding up a finger at each item on the list. “One, you can be a Mage. Two, you can be a Warrior. Or three, you can be neither without a speck of magic in you. As you have magic, it’ll be one of the first two.”
“And if I didn’t live in Allund?” he asked ruefully.
Ilain shrugged. “Technically, you’d still be one of the three. However, magic gets funny the farther it goes from the Relics.”
“It does?”
“Mm. You know the Warriors who defected to Schon?”
“There are Warriors in Schon?”
“Didn’t we tell you that?” Ilain pursed her lips in thought, then shrugged.
“Well, yes. When the Mages turned on the Warriors in the late twelfth century, determined to kill them all to shore up power and establish the tyrannical rule of Auld, the few remaining Warriors had a decision to make: stay and be slaughtered or defect. Nearly all of them left the continent for the Empire, though I believe they’ve spread across the continent by now.
I’ve even heard that some traveled to the islands surrounding Matteire. ”
Deckard nodded slowly, taking that in. “And what happened to their magic?” he asked.
“Not much,” she admitted. “But they aren’t quite as impressive as those here on Allund.
If they return, they may regain their full power.
However, magic tends to get twisted when it’s away from its source.
Mages who have left the continent have seen their powers strangely and irrecoverably altered. ”
“But they’re still Mages?” he asked.
“They aren’t called that, but all in all, yes. Their magic flows from a connection to the resources. It’s just not as strong of a connection.”
Deckard didn’t know what to make of that information. He had little intention of leaving Allund unless Evylin asked it of him, which he didn’t foresee. But knowing that magic could change in such a way that it could get weaker made him wonder if it wouldn’t be better to leave after all.
“As we’re sure you’re not a Warrior,” Ilain continued, oblivious to his internal debate, “you must be a Mage. And if you’d like definitive proof, you needn’t worry. You’ll have it tonight.”
Deckard’s heart stuttered in his chest. “I will?”
Ilain nodded. “The first step in your training is to determine your classification: Elemental or Existential. If the first, you’ll train more closely with me. If the second,” she gave him an apologetic grin, “it’ll be with Auden.”
He raised his brow. “And Auden is less preferred because . . . ?”
“Because he’s tedious,” she said with playful seriousness.
“I love my brother, but he’s a magister for a reason.
And that reason is that he’d rather spend his life studying musty old tomes and talking about theories rather than actually living.
Being his student would mean listening to him lecture for hours on the entire history of Mages and the finer points of hand gestures, as well as whether they’re helpful or not.
And Heavens help you if you’re a Night Mage.
He’d treat you like a bloody child the entire time. ”
Thinking of Prince Blount, Deckard shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to be a Night Mage,” he said.
Ilain snorted. “You wouldn’t exactly have a choice. Your primary resource is your primary resource, and that’s that. All the others will be harder for you to access—especially for a Mage as inexperienced as yourself, so don’t bother trying to bypass it, whatever it is.”
“But Night magic is bad,” Deckard argued. “We wouldn’t want me to use it.”
“First of all,” Ilain said emphatically, “no magic is bad. Magic is like that sword on your belt: a tool. You choose how you use it. And second, this is a highly theoretical conversation. Even if you are an Existential Mage, there’s a chance you could connect to Day or Time more.
But Elemental Mages are more common anyway.
It’s far more likely you’re a . . . Oh, I don’t know.
A Terrae Mage. That’d be helpful. I have a horrendous connection with Terrae.
Granted, it’s better than most due to my unmitigated power, but it’s abysmal compared to the rest of my connections. ”
“So,” Deckard concluded, “the odds of my being an Elemental Mage are higher.”
“And more preferable,” she said. “Both for you and for the Alliance.”
“Why?”
“We already have two male Existential Mages lined up to Bond,” she explained, then pulled a face. “That’s if Auden can convince Breata to work with him. We’d like to have at least one Bonded Elemental male as well.”
“I’ve told you—”
Ilain waved off his comment. “I know, I know. Regardless,” she gave him a weighty look, “being an Existential is more dangerous, to you and to others. It’s more challenging to learn, and the resources are less predictable. Elements are straightforward. Existents are chaotic, at best.”
She gave a decisive nod. “No, it’d be best for us all if you prove to be an Elemental Mage, and I could teach you.”
Deciding she was right, Deckard allowed the conversation to lapse into silence. His mind was too full, his heart too unsettled. He didn’t want to consider his classification as a Mage. It felt like a distraction from the more important problem in his life: helping Evylin heal.
When it became clear to Ilain that Deckard was through with the conversation, she excused herself to rejoin her brother.
For the rest of the journey, Deckard rode in silence.
The sun drifted lazily behind the clouds once more, casting them into the shadows of the trees.
No one bothered to approach him again, either because they read his agitation or were uninterested in pursuing a conversation.
He was grateful. It gave him time to consider how to sneak away again to talk to Hewitt.
He needed the ghost’s advice more now than ever.
But finding an excuse was harder than Deckard expected.
He couldn’t keep walking out into the forest alone.
After breaking their agreement to pair up for safety once, he risked giving others permission to do the same should he repeat his offense.
His only ally was Evylin, and now he’d lost her.
He didn’t trust any of the others not to ask him questions if he were to recruit their help.
All this left him grasping at straws for a reason to be alone long enough to receive the advice he desperately needed.
At a loss, Deckard resigned himself to another night without Hewitt’s aid. And as the Calders broached the topic of Deckard’s classification during dinner, it seemed Allore’s will was set against him that night.
“How do you find out what kind of Mage someone is?” Rafferty asked. “Is it some special rite? Or do the Relics tell you?”
“The Relics have been hidden away for centuries,” Ethenn noted. “There would have to be another way.”
“The Relics are of no use in this situation,” Auden confirmed. “Holding the Water Relic, even I could access its power. But there is a basic technique used to determine what classification a child is once their magic reveals itself.”
“And that is . . . ?” Rafferty prodded.
“It’s a rudimentary form of tapping into the individual’s connection to the resources,” Auden said.
“If an individual is an Elemental, they’ll be more drawn to all of the elements, and so forth with an Existential and the existents.
To determine the individual’s classification, you only need to test their affinity via the push and pull of the two classes simultaneously. ”
Deckard furrowed his brow.
Rafferty blinked and said, “Huh?”
Ilain gave Deckard a pointed look as though to emphasize her earlier point about Auden’s teaching style. “What he means is,” she said, “you offer a choice: an element or an existent.”
“Could you just choose what you wanted?” Evylin asked skeptically, sitting between Deckard and Rafferty.
“Not without tutelage,” Auden said. “You see, without the proper incitement, magic can lie dormant an entire lifetime. It’s likely why Jonn never realized his powers until our time in the Keeps. He needed its magic to prompt the magic within him.”
“Same with Hewitt,” Rafferty surmised.