Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
“—but if you did that, you might not have Kinan right now. In an ideal world, of course, we’d have managed that without everything that happened to Perian, but who’s to say?
What if I’d been honest with Perian from the start?
What if Perian’s father had been? What if Yannoma hadn’t been injured?
Fire and water, what if the Great Betrayal had never happened?
The world could be unrecognizable now. And since we’re flawed and human, we want all the good things we have right now. ”
Cormal let out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess we do.” He swallowed. “But I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about my suspicions. Even if it’s all just wishes and hopes now, because I would never have been calm enough to do that.”
Brannal smiled, closer to the old manner, making an ache in Cormal’s heart ease.
“And I wish that I’d taken my Secundus into my confidence. Maybe if we’d both been a little more emotionally mature, we really could have done this better and still gotten the most amazing partners ever.”
Cormal smiled back, recognizing that there was no way to know, but feeling like he and Brannal had inched a little closer to a true reconciliation.
Cormal could hate himself for the part he’d played in Perian getting injured and how he’d treated him afterwards, or he could try to atone and do better moving forward.
He’d made a terrible mistake, and it was essential he acknowledge it, but he was beginning to think that it didn’t have to be a blight on his life forever.
Maybe Brannal wouldn’t completely forgive him, but that was Brannal’s choice.
As for Cormal, instead of being angry and defensive, he could be sincerely sorry and grow.
Because it was beginning to feel like he really had changed, to the point that even with his uncertain temper, he would never do something like that again.
He’d treat everyone who acted like a person like a person, and then sort everything else out.
So Cormal was very grateful for the time that they had here, but he recognized they couldn’t hide away for much longer.
They went riding, rambled through the grounds, ate the delicious food the cook prepared, and spent another evening in the absolutely ridiculous pursuit of reading and ridiculing books with absurd plotlines.
It was more fun than he’d expected, and he loved how much Kinan was enjoying himself.
“Where did you even get these?” Cormal wanted to know.
Perian was still giggling, and Brannal had a smile on his face, looking relaxed and happy in a way that Cormal had rarely seen.
“The doctor sent the original,” Perian explained, “and she’s sent several since. I don’t think there were any hidden messages in those.”
They’d explained the book that had led Perian and Brannal to realize that Perian was a Life Mage. Cormal couldn’t really blame the woman for not trusting Cormal with the information. He had no idea if he would have believed her at the time, or if it would have done any good.
“But they do tend to be ridiculous,” Brannal said, expression droll.
“So ridiculous,” Perian agreed happily. “So then we started trying to acquire some of our own. It’s a silly pastime, of course, but it’s kind of nice in the evening.”
Brannal twined his fingers through Perian’s. “It is.”
Because Perian couldn’t go anywhere else.
Kinan really was right. They couldn’t leave things like this. Cormal hadn’t laid out the decree, but he’d certainly been pushing for it. He felt better having apologized to both of them, but that didn’t absolve him of the guilt and shame of his involvement.
“They don’t seem to be censored,” Trill observed. “This is the second time someone has mentioned Life Magic.”
Yannoma hadn’t participated in their readings, looking more confused than anything by their antics, but she hadn’t left the room, either.
She said, “I believe those who went to so much trouble to eradicate mention of Life Magic may not have considered such an… unlikely source.”
“And it could be dismissed as fiction,” Arvus pointed out. “Centuries later, it could be easy to assume that someone had exaggerated or didn’t know what they were talking about. Many don’t even know that Life Magic used to exist.”
“Do carnalions have hidden records?” Cormal asked as the thought occurred to him. “More details about Life Magic that have been lost to humans?”
“Not that I am aware,” Yannoma said. “Those of us who survived the Great Betrayal went into hiding. Our focus was on survival, and none of us wanted records that might reveal what we were.”
Cormal flinched. No, they certainly wouldn’t want that.
“It also didn’t entirely matter to us. Yes, it could help our children. But it wasn’t useful to us.” She shrugged. “We’re practical, more than anything.”
Perian was staring at her. “That’s why you worked together to seal the breaches.”
Yannoma nodded.
Slowly, like he was still shaping the words as he said them, Perian continued. “Because neither group could do it on their own. You needed something physical—the elements—with the Life Magic.”
She was staring at him like she didn’t understand the question, but she agreed, “Yes, they had to work together.”
Perian pointed at Kinan. “So… what would happen if we used both Magics on Kinan?”
Stunned silence met Perian’s question.
And then the room erupted. Brannal finally sent a gust of wind around the room to shut them all up.
“We have to work through this logically,” Brannal said sternly. He turned to Yannoma. “I believe you have the best knowledge of the breach.”
She half inclined her head and half shrugged. “I was deemed too young to be involved directly.”
Perian almost fell out of his chair. “Wait, wait. Are you saying you were there? I thought it was a story you heard from your parents who heard it from their grandparents or something.”
The Great Cataclysm was more than three hundred years ago.
“I was not present during the working itself,” she said serenely, like she hadn’t just shocked them all.
“If I had been, I would probably be dead. A few of us were too young to help—but not so young that we didn’t sneak out to watch.
Which is how we survived.” Her smile was arctic.
“We were hidden when they came for everyone.”
“I won’t let that happen again,” Kinan said fiercely.
Cormal was immensely proud of him and a bit terrified at the same time. It was clear that Kinan would always fight for what he believed in.
“Regardless,” Yannoma continued, looking as though she was making a deliberate decision not to think about the past, “I don’t have more information to offer you. I don’t know how the Magics were combined, nor if what sealed a breach between worlds could be used on a human.”
They knew very little, really, but it was clear that Cormal wasn’t the only one to feel a thrum of excitement at the idea. It had seemed as though they were completely out of possibilities, and then Perian had produced another one.
He smiled at the other man, and mouthed “thank you” when their eyes met. Even if it turned out not to work, Cormal was grateful for the suggestion, because it showed they were still trying.
Perian smiled back, the warmest and most open smile he’d ever directed at Cormal. He knew even this moment of accord wouldn’t erase the past, but it was another reminder that Perian was actively choosing not to hold it against him.
“But he can’t touch anything,” Molun was saying as Cormal began to pay attention again. “I mean, I can douse him in water as often as you want, but it won’t do any good. The elements can’t touch him.”
This caused a momentary dip in the mood, but Brannal was more contemplative. “Our shields are our elements without being our elements in the traditional sense.”
“But what would we do with that?” Molun demanded. “Wouldn’t he just go right through?”
They all turned to look at Kinan. He blinked.
“Uh, I don’t know. I’ve gone through everything else.” He straightened his shoulders. “But I won’t know unless I try, will I?”
That was patently true. He rose to his feet, and Cormal sprang up after him.
“Allow me.”
Kinan nodded, so Cormal reached for that well of flames inside him. He focused on summoning a shield that was a head taller and a head wider than Kinan. It sprang into existence a few feet ahead of him, glimmering an opalescent shine that leaned towards red.
“Go ahead, when you’re ready,” Cormal told him.
“I hate to say this now,” Perian said hesitantly, “but could something go wrong?”
“There’s no way to know,” Brannal argued. “We’ve been making it all up as we go along. Still, it’s not a bad idea to—”
Kinan solved the issue for them by walking through the shield.
Cormal felt it as… an impact, though not at the strength it would have been if his shield had completely repelled something.
(He still had nightmares occasionally about the day of Kinan’s birthday, holding his shield against the wraiths and all that water. The pressure had been awful, and he couldn’t imagine how Brannal had done it with so many more shields.)
Kinan shivered visibly. “Oh, that felt odd.”
Variations of “How so?” came from every throat.
Laughing a little, Kinan said, “Uh, it’s hard to explain.
I guess it was a bit like going through a physical object like a wall.
It was more intense than that but not as intense as going through a person.
” He reached out and waved a hand through the nearest chair.
“But it hasn’t done any good. I mean, I went through it like everything else. ”
He sounded defeated.
“What kind of shield did you cast, Cormal?” Brannal asked. “Allowing the elements through?”
“Yes.”
It was the default shield that they cast unless there was a reason to keep everything out. It was less taxing, and it ensured anyone inside the shield could still breathe. This shield had been one wall only, but no one wanted a mishap.
“Are you up for more experiments?” Brannal asked, his eyes gleaming.