Chapter Fifteen #2
He was gazing a bit sourly at Tor, but there was a lightness in his eyes that told Tor he wasn’t really upset.
“It’s imperfect, of course,” Tor added. “You have to learn to maintain it, and the person inside is unlikely to just stand there and look annoyed.”
“Ass,” Pel mumbled, and Larexa looked like she was trying to hold back laughter.
“The more magical someone is, the better chance they’ll have of getting out. If they concentrate on one location, they may be able to break through, depending on their magical strength. But even if they do, you’ll have bought yourself time.”
“But if I’m standing right here when they get out, that won’t help,” Larexa argued.
Tor smiled at her. “Very true. But the benefit of being Extraordinary is that you don’t have to stand right here.
The shield will weaken the farther away you get, and eventually it will fall away.
But by then, you should be well on your way to safety.
If it came down to it, you could trap them again.
Though, hopefully, they’d have learned their lesson by that point. ”
“I certainly hope so,” Larexa said, and she sounded altogether heartfelt.
“The stronger you are, the farther away you can get before your magic weakens,” Tor told her.
“How far away can you get?” Larexa wanted to know.
“I’m not actually sure,” Tor admitted.
The tests with Var when they were teens had shown they could separate the length of the entire throne room in Nexa, but Tor had never needed to test that particular facet of his abilities in earnest. He used the shield in lessons, had used it to separate fighting guards on occasion, and he’d used it to protect the guards in the infamous battle that had led to twelve guards dying because of his inability to read properly.
They’d been at peace for twenty-five years, and at no point had he been trying to escape and put distance between himself and whoever was shielded.
“Out of this room?” Larexa asked.
It was probably about the size of the throne room back in Nexa, and Tor was pretty sure he was stronger—or at least better trained—than he’d been as a teen. He opened his mouth to offer to test this theory when he saw the look in Pel’s eyes.
Ah. Tor wouldn’t want to be the one left behind, trapped somewhere he couldn’t get out of, either.
(He and Var had experimented with shielding people they couldn’t see, because of course they had.
The time that Tor had fallen asleep and left Var in a shield for hours had left Var pretty annoyed.
Var finally breaking out had jolted Tor awake.
Their experiments had suggested they didn’t get thirsty or hungry in the shield, but they’d never figured out if that worked long-term or if it worked on other people.)
“Probably,” Tor said casually, “but unfortunately for you, we’re not testing what I’m capable of. Look at the shield more closely if you want, because then we’re going to see what you can do.”
Larexa approached it cautiously, eventually raising her hand and touching it. Tor knew from experience that it had a faint give at first, but the harder you pressed, the clearer it became that it was stronger than any other substance.
If Larexa had never summoned an avatar, then it was possible she’d never encountered a purely magical shield, either.
She spread her hands over it. “It’s warm.”
It didn’t give off heat, as such, which was a shame when you were on a patrol in the winter, but it was almost like it retained the heat of the body from which it had manifested.
It wasn’t quite a living thing, but Tor didn’t think it felt altogether inanimate, either.
Mantling his whole body in it if he was heading into battle seemed to offer a little bit of protection from the elements in addition to its protection from weapons.
“Although it’s not touching me, it’s still a part of me,” Tor said. “Just like if you Mantled a sword or shield—or lit a crystal lamp.”
Larexa nodded, her expression thoughtful. She seemed happier with every non-violent example.
“It takes effort to maintain the shield,” Tor went on, “and it takes more effort the farther away you are from it, like you’re straining a connection.
An equally strong magical attack will break it, but even a weaker magical attack can weaken it over time, as can a strong, repeated non-magical attack.
Most people who are strongly magical rely heavily on their magic, and they sometimes forget about the drawbacks.
That’s why I’d like to show you both standard blocking, which your brother is an expert at, and also these magical options so that you have something that should suit just about any situation. ”
Larexa was eyeing the shield that Tor had created. “So I could get Pel out?”
“In theory, you could, if you knew what you were doing,” Tor agreed. “But I have the advantage.”
Staring fiercely at the shield, Larexa said, “One area. Weaken one spot and bring the whole thing down. That’s what you said.”
“True,” Tor agreed. “And I like that light in your eye, but we’ll practice on an empty one. We’re not trying something that could rebound on your brother.”
Larexa shot him a look. “Admitting that I’m as strong as you after all?”
Tor huffed an amused breath but just pulled his magic back, allowing it to flow back inside of him so that the shield was suddenly gone, and Pel was left standing there free once more.
“Thanks for that,” he said dryly, body language relaxing.
“First thing’s first,” Tor said, clapping his hands together. “Do you think you can create a shield like that?” He picked up the cup that he’d brought with him and set it down on the floor in front of Larexa. “If so, try to put a shield around this.”
She looked down at it. It was tiny, compared to Pel.
“Around that?” She sounded faintly incredulous.
“Around that,” Tor agreed.
Tor had honed his skills over more than twenty years. Larexa had Manifested all of five years ago, and she hadn’t trained in defense.
The first few times, Larexa’s magic just fizzled out and collapsed, drawing back into her without her will to guide it.
She looked pretty surprised. Pel looked equally taken aback and then managed to school his expression into something neutral.
Tor was sure that both of them had been taught that Larexa was the most powerful person in the castle apart from the King.
That was true (at least when Tor wasn’t here), but that didn’t mean she’d learned how to use her magic.
Larexa stared in dismay as her magic collapsed again.
“You made it look so easy!” she protested.
Tor grinned at her. “That’s because—”
“—he likes to show off,” Pel finished for him.
Tor shot the other man a look. Pel stared back at him with mock innocence, but his eyes were dancing.
Tor grinned at Larexa. “I do like to show off, actually. Obviously, everyone should admire me at all times.”
Pel scoffed, and Larexa’s lips tipped up. She seemed a lot less tense now. “Obviously.”
“Truthfully,” Tor continued, “I’m older than you are, and I’ve been doing this for a lot longer. This is the sort of thing that my brother and I practiced when we were kids.”
She made a face. “You’re saying I’m hopelessly behind.”
“I’m saying that the idea that Var and I could throw glowing avatars at one another was the coolest thing two fourteen-year-old boys had ever heard.”
Larexa laughed and relaxed again. “All right. Keeping in mind that I’m not a fourteen-year-old boy, do you have any advice?”
“When you manifest magic, you’re usually using it to strengthen something that’s already there, or it’s just beneath your skin, strengthening you. You’re thinking of it as something that is supporting what’s already there.” He pointed up at the lights. “You do that a lot, right?”
She looked up at the chandeliers, her face bathed in their light. “Yes, of course.”
“Do you ever make a light without the crystal?”
She frowned. “Why would I do that?”
Because this was Tond, where the crystal came from, and King Forex was keen on showing that off.
Maybe because Larexa hadn’t Manifested at fourteen at the same time as a twin brother, and so there hadn’t been two of them to come up with a series of increasingly wild things to try.
(Making the avatar into a horse had failed, though Tor still didn’t really see why, but they’d made all sorts of shields and weapons and lights, shapes they could clamber over, even ropes of pure magic they could climb.)
Tor formed a glowing light in his hand. “Because if you don’t live in Tond, sometimes you want to make a light and there’s no crystal on hand.
” He tossed it at the wall, where it stuck, squashing into a half sphere, making Larexa suck in a sharp breath.
“Mantling something is easier. Crystal, armor, shield, sword, whatever. The structure is already there, and the magic is just coating it. But to create a free-standing shield or a ball of light, you’re providing the magic, giving it structure, and continuing to support it once it’s no longer touching you.
It’s part of you, but it’s also a thing unto itself. ”
Larexa was still staring at the ball of magic on the wall.
“How long will it stay there?”
“Honestly,” Tor admitted, “I could probably keep it there a day or two if I wanted. Crystal lights, probably twice as long. But even though they’re not attached to me physically, they’re part of my magic, and so while they exist, they’re draining my magic.
” Making a face, he added, “I probably started this training all wrong. You know the warning signs of magic overuse?”
It was highly unlikely that Larexa would ever raise a shield that could endanger her, but Tor should not make assumptions about something like that.
Larexa nodded. “Pink means I’m beginning to exhaust myself and should stop and give my magic time to replenish. The redder it gets, the more core magic is being used.” She swallowed thickly. “Blood red is the last of the core magic.”