CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Deckard watched as Evylin and Auden led their horses toward the road to Dunneshead in the morning fog.
His grip strained on the hilt of his sword, fighting down the memories of the last time he’d let the two of them go off together.
He couldn’t help the nagging fear that he was letting them walk straight into danger once more.
But he reminded himself that the last time was a suicide mission, and this was a simple trip into a village.
Forcing his gaze away from their shrinking figures, Deckard turned back to the camp. He’d made the right choice, he knew. This was exactly what Hewitt had told him to do; he’d given Evylin the independence she desired.
Evylin’s depression weighed on Deckard. Giving her space, letting her process it without his help, felt wrong. The urge to take her in his arms last evening nearly overcame his resolve.
Knowing his weakness, Deckard had searched the trees, looking for Hewitt’s ghost. He’d met the man’s eyes, shrouded in the distance, silently begging for clarification.
At Hewitt’s nod, Deckard found the strength to hold it together and trust her uncle.
He left her to her fragile emotions and agreed to her request.
Now, he had to hope it was worth it.
Deckard knew convincing Auden wouldn’t be easy. He expected the Mage’s reluctance. What he hadn’t expected was his enterprising.
At Deckard’s appeal last night, Auden was good-natured and understanding. But he was also cunning. “If we let her go, the others will inevitably ask to join in the future,” he’d said, using the same argument as Deckard. “We can’t have that.”
“I’ll talk to them,” Deckard promised.
“That’s not enough.” Auden took a step forward, his voice low as they spoke at the edge of camp. “This is dangerous. Evylin will not pass as Waulden, not by any stretch of the imagination. We’re trying to stay forgettable. An Ephrian woman accompanying a Waulden man is highly memorable.”
“What do you want me to do?” Deckard asked desperately. “She needs a break. Otherwise, I fear she’ll fall apart in the Keep.”
Auden considered him, his lips pinched. He clasped his wrist in a pensive posture. “This is a great favor you’re asking,” he said with calculation.
Deckard heard the weight behind his inflection. He chose to accept it. “And what would you like in return?”
Auden’s reluctant response gave Deckard pause, but he knew he’d agree no matter what it was.
“After we’ve gathered the Relics,” Auden said, “completing this mission . . . I want your word that you’ll join the Alliance in whatever capacity they ask of you.”
Deckard’s heart squeezed. That was more than a favor. It was a life sentence. As a Mage married to a Warrior, they’d want him to Bond with Evylin. He couldn’t promise that when neither he nor Evylin wanted it.
But Deckard knew something Auden didn’t: His marriage to Evylin wasn’t sealed. If it came to it, Deckard could dissolve their marriage, saving them both from that fate. Or, he realized, it could save her.
If he made this promise, the Alliance could make him marry and Bond with another Warrior, should they find another willing female.
Despite what it might mean for him, despite that he was allying himself with a governmental regime he knew little about, Deckard said, “Fine. You have my word.”
Auden’s eyes flashed with surprise, then narrowed in suspicion. “Just like that?”
Deckard didn’t hesitate. “Do you doubt me? I will do whatever is best for my wife, no matter the cost.”
“This is a cost she’ll have to pay as well,” Auden warned.
Knowing that wasn’t the truth, Deckard lied. “She trusts me. If I tell her this is the right choice, she’ll listen.”
He could tell Auden was skeptical, but he accepted his victory. And now, he was taking Evylin to Dunneshead with him.
Deckard surveyed the rest of the troop. Ethenn and Rafferty were preparing to go hunting while waiting for Evylin and Auden’s return.
At the far end of the camp, Ilain sat sketching in her book and talking with Thom conspiratorially.
Their relationship, if not romantic, had certainly grown friendly.
Ethenn cast a dismayed glance at the pair, then hefted his quiver of freshly repaired arrows.
As the hunter and Rafferty disappeared into the trees, Deckard moved toward the horses. He checked his saddlebags, pretending to repack them. He angled himself so that he faced away from Thom and Ilain. Then he willed Hewitt to appear.
The ghost’s bushy eyebrows hung low. “You aren’t afraid that they’ll see me?” he whispered with a jut of his chin toward the couple.
“After all this time of you lurking in the trees, I know they can’t,” Deckard said quietly. “You’ve heard what’s happened?”
Hewitt snarled. “Are you referring to your magic or your stupidity in letting Evylin go to that village?”
“You nodded in approval.”
“I nodded to tell you to trust your instincts. I didn’t realize they were idiotic.”
Deckard sighed. “You’re the one who said I should let her take care of herself.”
“I didn’t mean you should let her risk her life because she’s bored.”
“You were there,” Deckard said with a frown. “She isn’t bored. She’s devastated.”
Hewitt ignored his argument. “You should have talked with me first.”
“Even if we hadn’t agreed never to go out alone, I now have Auden constantly at my side, teaching me.
” Deckard grimaced at the thought. Ilain hadn’t exaggerated when she said her brother’s tutelage would be monotonous.
“The man takes a cruel amount of pleasure in chronicling the antiquity of Mages.”
“I’ve heard,” Hewitt growled.
Without the ability to talk with Hewitt, Deckard had taken to keeping him around as of late. He needed the ghost apprised of their situation, even if they couldn’t discuss it quite yet. And while Auden’s absence freed Deckard from his lessons, it didn’t make slipping out of camp any easier.
However, it did allow him to gather more information from Ilain.
Deckard tied off his saddlebag and met Hewitt’s steely gaze. “Keep listening,” he charged, then joined Thom and Ilain at the heart of the camp. He took a seat across from them, watching thoughtfully as Thom leaned over her shoulder.
“That’s all wrong,” Thom said, reaching over to tap the page. “I’m far taller than Raff.”
Ilain whacked his hand to keep him from touching the paper, but his finger came away with a smudge of charcoal on it anyway. She sighed as though dealing with a child. “You are no more than half a head taller,” she said. “And I’m the artist.”
“So that means you can lie in your artwork?”
Ilain lifted her eyes to the Heavens, then turned to Deckard. “Did you need something, Jonn?” she asked, almost hopefully.
Hewitt hovered near the trio, shadowed in the trees. As Ilain showed no signs of noticing the ghost’s presence, Deckard’s confidence rose. “I had a question,” he began. “And with Auden away . . .”
Ilain grinned knowingly. “Mm-hm. What is it he won’t tell you?”
Deckard returned her smile. “It isn’t that he won’t. It’s that he’s too busy elucidating for me to ask in the first place.”
“Shocking,” Ilain murmured. “What is it you’d like to know?”
“I’m interested in learning more about the resources,” Deckard said, keeping his inquiry broad. “And how they impact a Mage’s abilities.”
“You mean, you want to know what powers they grant?”
“More or less.”
Ilain nodded, and Thom sat back, listening with interest. “First and foremost, magic is varied,” she began.
“The two clearest distinctions in magic are between Warrior magic and Mage magic. And, of course, every classification and type of Mage is unique as well. However, even amongst two Fire Mages, their magic may manifest differently. The strength of the connection between the resource and the Mage determines how powerful the magic will be. All the resources have their special manifestations, but essentially, they are all founded on the same basic functions: summoning, manipulation, and control.”
After a breath, Ilain continued, “Every Mage has some level of ability within those skills, with all the resources. The stronger your connection, the stronger your influence. It is easiest to learn how to manipulate a resource, but mastering it is difficult. Whereas summoning and control are harder to learn, but once you do, there’s little you can’t do with them. ”
Ilain lifted a hand. “For example,” a flame sparked to life above her palm, “I summoned this flame. Where there was no fire, I created one from my connection to the resource.”
The flame flickered out, a small wisp of smoke dissolving into the air. “With a flame like that, I can manipulate it however I want,” she said. “Or I can control it.”
“Aren’t manipulation and control the same thing?” Thom asked.
Ilain gave him a wry smile. “If I set my hand on your knee,” she said, doing just that, “I can manipulate your emotions.”
Thom knocked her hand away with a scowl, and Ilain’s smile grew. “But,” she said, “I can’t control your response.”
Deckard didn’t know whether to laugh at his brother’s discomfort or frown at the complexity of magic. “And all of this is learned by connecting with the resource?” he asked.
“Well,” she said thoughtfully, “it’s more about developing a relationship with the resource.”
Thom scoffed. “How do you develop a relationship with fire?”
“Carefully,” Ilain replied with a smirk. “It’s part of magic itself. You wouldn’t be magical if you didn’t already have a relationship with at least one resource. After all, it’s the resources themselves that choose you.”
“But they’re . . . inanimate,” Deckard objected. “Aren’t they?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t make them any less sentient.”
Deckard and Thom stared at her blankly.
Ilain considered how to explain before continuing, “Think of it this way: no, they don’t have life, but they are the source of life. While they are not alive, they are aware, and they can connect to the ones to whom they give life.”