CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX #2
Ethenn moved for the small firepit, a magical breeze from Ilain keeping the smoke out of the rocky enclosure. That left the three Deckards alone.
Thom set a hand on Evylin’s arm, his eyes going to the wound on her temple. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Evylin gave him a half smile. “Don’t be so squeamish. My pride’s a little wounded, but that’s the worst of the damage. I’ll recover before you know it.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Thom said. His hand squeezed her arm before falling away.
Deckard narrowed his eyes, finding the action a tinge possessive. He forced the jealous thought away, presuming it to be a lingering effect of the Night Relic. “Thank you,” he said to Thom.
His brother’s expression was pinched. “For what?”
“For taking care of Ilain and Rafferty. For getting them here safely and securing a camp for us.”
Thom shrugged, his eyes downcast. “I’ll go help Raff,” he said, then hurried off.
Deckard and Evylin stood there, silent. He thought to apologize, to tell her that he recognized the horrendous actions he had taken. But there in the tiny enclosure, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He didn’t want to admit his sins for the whole troop to hear. Not yet.
“I’m going to help Ethenn,” Evylin mumbled, then left him.
With nothing else to do, Deckard took a seat against the wall. He remained there for the next two hours, staring first at his hands, then his food, and finally the fire, wondering how long it would take for Night magic to turn him mad. Had it already begun?
They ate in a tight circle, talking softly or not at all.
Ilain sat next to her brother in perpetuity.
After the meal, Ethenn joined her with a bowl of rainwater and a cloth to press to Auden’s cracked lips.
Locked in time, the Mage couldn’t eat or drink, and it was the one means of getting sustenance into him.
Ilain accepted the hunter’s help, quietly administering the water to her brother.
It wasn’t until they began to bed down for the night that Auden’s racking coughs swept through the enclosure.
The troop hurried over, as close as they could in the small space without crowding.
Ilain held Auden’s hand while Ethenn propped him up.
The highlord sputtered, his eyes filled with tears from the body-wrenching coughs.
Ilain held the water bowl to his lips, and he attempted to drink before the coughing took over again, spilling some of the liquid across his front and his sister’s arm.
Deckard dropped to his knees next to them. “Can we help?” he asked.
Ilain handed him the bowl, but it was Auden who spoke. “No,” he said, the single word slurred and barely audible.
It took several minutes for his breathing to ease and the coughing to subside. Then he had Ethenn help him scoot back so he could lean against the rock wall. Ilain tried to fuss, putting her cloak behind his back, but he pushed off her attempts. “I’m fine, Lain,” he said weakly.
She huffed, green eyes fierce. “You certainly look it.”
He gave her a feeble smile, patting her hand. “Be easy, firebrand.”
At the pet name, Ilain softened.
There was a collective sense of relief as the siblings relaxed.
“Do you need something to eat?” Deckard offered.
Auden swallowed laboriously, then turned to face him. His gaze held a flare of anger. “What in the Heavens and hell was that?” he demanded.
A tense silence filled the rock enclosure.
Deckard drew back, his brow pinched. “I don’t—”
“You were using Night magic,” Auden accused, “as though you’d been doing it for decades. How?”
The silence stretched as Deckard tried to find the words to reply.
Rafferty beat him to it. “If you were drugged,” he said to the Mage, “how do you know that?”
“The viastasis places your body in a temporary hold,” Ilain explained. “But your mind is still at work. While you can’t feel anything, your brain still processes it all. After, you’re left with the knowledge but no physical experience of the events.”
“So you remember everything?” Evylin asked.
Auden nodded, his eyes locked on Deckard. “Did you take the Relic?”
The shame rose to tighten Deckard’s throat. “Yes,” he admitted.
Auden’s hands balled into fists, but he was too weak to show any further displays of irritation. “That makes this situation slightly better. You were consumed with it, weren’t you?” he asked.
Panic surged through Deckard as the soldiers and Ilain stared at him. “No, of course not,” he lied.
“This is dangerous, Jonn,” Auden said. “As a Night Mage, you are a danger to everyone here. And your power is already too strong.”
Worry clouded nearly everyone’s expression.
Deckard drew back. “We don’t—what if I’m not a Night Mage?” he asked, despite knowing the truth.
Ilain set a hand on her brother’s arm. “It was a situation that called for violence,” she advised. “And he had the Relic. It makes sense that he would connect with it.”
The condemnation in Auden’s gaze was telling. “I haven’t seen Night magic that strong since—” He spoke in a whisper, his words breaking off as though it pained him too much to keep going.
Ilain’s shoulders tensed. “You’re sure?”
Auden didn’t say anything, but the steady way he held her gaze was confirmation enough that the siblings were thinking the same thing—but whether of a person or event, Deckard wasn’t sure.
“Haven’t seen Night magic that strong since when?” Rafferty prodded.
The Calders ignored him, turning back to Deckard. “Tell me the truth,” Auden demanded. “Were you consumed by it?”
Deckard shrank back, unable to keep himself from glancing at Evylin with guilt surging in his chest. “I was,” he said quietly.
Auden cursed, but Ilain’s jade green eyes considered Deckard thoughtfully. “Did you control it, or did it control you?” she asked warily.
Auden gave her a disgruntled look, but she brushed him off, waiting for Deckard’s answer.
“The magic?” Deckard asked. At her nod, he shrugged. “It listened to me if that’s what you’re asking.”
“So it consumed you, filling your mind and senses,” Ilain concluded, “but you were able to control it—telling it what to do and releasing it when you were done?”
Deckard’s memories of the experience left him feeling conflicted by the rush and the horror of it all.
But he was gratified to remember that he had, in fact, controlled the magic.
He remembered the exact moment he’d released the shadows and crystalline shards: once the final threat had fallen.
Assured of Evylin’s safety, the magic remained, but its manifestations did not.
And no matter the urging of the Relic upon his psyche, he’d held it at bay.
Assured of his control, Deckard nodded. “Yes.”
Ilain gave Auden a pointed look.
“That doesn’t make it any better,” he said glumly.
“Night magic isn’t evil incarnate, Auden,” she argued. “It’s dangerous, but it can be channeled without driving a person mad. Look at Obel.”
“I don’t trust Obel,” he grumbled.
Ilain rolled her eyes. She faced Deckard once more. “It appears that you have a strong connection to Night magic. That doesn’t necessarily mean you’re a Night Mage, but . . . it makes a good case for it. That said, if you can control it, then we shouldn’t have to worry about the Deep taking over.”
“The Deep?” Thom repeated incredulously. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s the name given to the madness that overtakes some Night Mages,” Ilain said flippantly. “But as I said, there’s no need to worry at this point.”
“So long as I control it?” Deckard added, anxiety clouding his mind.
Ilain leaned forward. “You will control it, Jonn. This isn’t altogether shocking.
You are a young Mage with barely any training, and you were carrying a Relic.
It could all be a fluke. Auden and I will ensure the rest of your training to protect you from whatever ill effects Night may present.
But you need not fear your power. You just have to learn to . . . rein it in a bit.”
But Deckard did fear his magic.
And with a look around at the others—Auden running a worried hand along his beard, Rafferty grimacing dramatically, Ethenn avoiding his gaze, Thom frowning warily, and Evylin tugging on her rings—it appeared they did too.