CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE #2
Deckard furrowed his brow, trying to understand. He wasn’t sure he ever could. “And how are you supposed to have a relationship with something that’s not alive?” he asked.
“Do you not have a relationship with your wedding ring?” Ilain said. “Does it not connect you to your marriage with Evylin? It relates to you and you to it because it matters to you. Whether or not you can converse with it doesn’t negate the relationship.”
“So,” Deckard surmised, “a Mage develops their relationship with a resource by . . . valuing it?”
Ilain opened her mouth, then paused. She pressed her lips together in amused consideration.
“Hm. I’ve never thought of it like that, but yes, I suppose so.
And it works both ways. The resource that chose you, making it your primary, valued you enough to grant you power.
The more you regard and cherish it, the more it will regard and cherish you, thereby strengthening your connection.
“And,” she added, “the more you connect with your resource, the more you understand it and its desires. For example, Auden spent a lot of time studying and developing his relationship with Day magic before he realized he could channel its warmth into a room without ever needing to start a fire or call forth a burst of light. He’s designed this .
. .” Her hands formed the shape of a square.
“He’s created this box-thing that will conduct the heat of Day magic.
He’s still perfecting it, but it could heat a large room all on its own.
He calls it a heater, but I’ve told him to come up with something more creative. ”
Amazed by the idea, Deckard felt his lips part in awe. “You mean, you could have one of these boxes in your house and never need a fireplace again?”
Ilain nodded. “And that’s just the start of his inventions, thanks to his relationship with Day. He may not be as powerful as I am, but with his connection, he’s likely to become one of the many Day Mages who live well over five centuries.”
“Five—” Deckard stopped himself, wide eyes meeting Thom’s. His brother appeared equally baffled.
Deckard turned back to Ilain. “You’re saying there are Mages who can live to five hundred years old?”
“Of course,” she said casually.
Thom’s face screwed up in disbelief. “Do all Mages live that long?” he asked, glancing at Deckard as though he’d grown a third arm.
“Oh, no,” Ilain said with a laugh. “Most of us only live two centuries, give or take a decade.”
Deckard’s heart stalled. “Most? Meaning . . . how many exactly?”
She met his worried gaze with her calm one.
“If you’re wondering how long you’ll live, the answer is: I don’t know.
Every Mage is different. The average Mage lives to approximately two hundred, while Bonded Mages are purported to live well past that.
Day Mages tend to live the longest, due to the fact that Day is a life-giving resource. ”
Uncertain how to feel about living so long—well past the deaths of his family and friends—Deckard found himself asking somewhat hopefully, “Does that mean that Night Mages die earlier than the rest?”
Ilain frowned. “No. Why would they?”
“I thought—” He fought the urge to frown as well. “Didn’t you say that Day and Night are each other’s mirror? So if Day is life-giving, Night would give death.”
“Oh.” Ilain shook her head. “While Night can symbolize death, it doesn’t affect the Mage’s lifespan. After all, Night can symbolize rest and recovery as well. It can be just as restorative as Day, used in the correct manner.”
Deckard’s eyes flashed to where Hewitt hid in the trees. He leaned forward then, cautiously broaching the subject he’d intended all along. “If . . .” he began timidly. “If Day symbolizes life, can it raise the dead?”
Ilain’s pale face somehow blanched to a crisp white. “No, Jonn,” she said sharply. “It can’t.”
“Why not?” Thom asked, scanning her curiously.
“Because that’s a violation of life,” Ilain said with finality. “Once someone has died, they are separated from life. Day can no longer reach them at that point.”
The answer confirmed Deckard’s darkest suspicions. “Because Night controls death?”
Ilain’s keen jade green eyes fell on him. “If you’re looking for a way to bring someone back to life, Jonn, stop. It can’t be done.”
“I’m not foolish enough to believe it hasn’t been tried before,” Deckard assured her. “And if it had been successful, I would imagine even Ephren wouldn’t have been able to keep that from the legends.”
Determined to get answers, he continued by asking the question that plagued him. “But that does lead me to wonder: what about ghosts?”
Thom latched on, his curiosity far more natural than Deckard’s. “That’s a good point,” he said. “People have told ghost stories for . . . well, since the dawn of time, I’d imagine. Does that mean that Night magic can—?”
“Stop,” Ilain demanded, her gaze flashing between the two of them.
“These are questions that lead to madness. I warned you, Jonn, that should you be a Night Mage, Auden would treat you differently. That’s because we have firsthand experience with how Night magic can twist a person into a monster.
And questions like these lead to that path. ”
A chill swept across Deckard’s skin. Hewitt’s ghost crossed his arms in the shadows.
“But,” Deckard said, pressing his luck, “that means it can be done?”
Ilain looked on the verge of anger, her jaw rigid and her eyes dull.
“I understand the temptation,” she said coolly.
“Giving Evylin even a moment more with Hewitt would be . . . Everyone longs for the chance to see their lost loved ones again. But I promise, you and she are better off letting the dead rest.”
Deckard dipped his chin in repentance, the motion entirely genuine.
By whatever means he’d summoned Hewitt—in whatever way he’d grasped his power before even knowing it was there in the first place—he feared it.
This was too great, too dangerous a magic.
And no matter the benefit of Hewitt’s presence, Deckard worried he’d already started down that path to madness.
“I appreciate your honesty, Ilain,” Deckard said, meeting her gaze with humility. “I promise, no matter what kind of Mage I am, I will do my best to heed both your and your brother’s advice and training. I don’t want to endanger any of us.”
Ilain’s expression softened. “I know,” she said, her usual mirth returning. “And who knows, maybe you’ll be a Time Mage. That would be wildly fun.”
“How so?” he asked, unable to feel any hope that she was right.
Her eyes twinkled. “They control time itself. You could, if you proved strong enough, turn back small portions of time, potentially preventing fatal accidents or devastating mistakes. For instance, had we known this sooner, you could have turned back time while we were in the Day Keep, stopping Blount from taking the Relic from under our noses.”
Or, Deckard realized, I could have stopped Hewitt from dying at all.
With a false smile, Deckard pretended to accept the idea. “That would be quite ideal,” he decided.
Ilain tipped her head to the side. “Though,” she said with reluctance, “Time Mages are known for becoming somewhat . . . hm. Flighty.”
Thom snorted. “In what way?”
“They can become rather enraptured with Time magic and forget that the rest of the world exists,” she admitted. Then she shrugged and gave Deckard an encouraging smile. “I’m sure that wouldn’t happen to you. After all, you have Evylin.”
“And that would help because . . . ?” Deckard asked.
Ilain raised an eyebrow as though he were being obtuse. “Because you’re in love with her,” she said matter-of-factly.
Deckard swallowed past the instant dryness in his throat, unable to deny it.
“Even if you didn’t Bond,” Ilain continued, “you would never be able to abandon her. Not for all the magic in the world.”
Hewitt’s ghost gave a sharp nod in agreement, and Deckard knew they were right.
No matter if Evylin asked to dissolve their marriage or chose to stay with him, he would do whatever it took to secure her happiness.
No resource and no magic could change that.
Not even Night’s madness would change his mind.
“Now,” Ilain said, picking up her sketchbook, “leave me alone, both of you. I have a drawing to finish.”
With a scoff, Thom turned to Deckard. “Care to spar?” he asked.
Deckard looked around the clearing. “I suppose we don’t have anything better to do,” he said.
Over the next half hour, the brothers tested their skills against one another. Though Deckard had greatly improved throughout their travel with Hewitt, so had Thom. After their bout over two weeks prior, Thom was now prepared for Deckard’s new capabilities.
What he didn’t have was Hewitt’s ghost advising him as they practiced.
While Deckard didn’t win all their matches, he did win most of them.
Thom’s jaw grew continually more tense until Ethenn and Rafferty returned from hunting and joined the brothers.
They began a small contest to see who could win, with Ilain acting as a judge when there was some question of fair play.
The Waulden fog began to dissipate as the sun rose higher.
Deckard looked up, calculating the time of Evylin and Auden’s absence.
He frowned. They’d been gone more than two hours.
At a twenty-minute pace to and from the village, plus a generous hour for their shopping, they should have returned nearly half an hour before.
Hewitt’s ghost stepped up beside him. “I told you,” he growled. “You shouldn’t have let her go.”