Chapter 39 Declan
Kelsa watched from the table as I failed again, water splattering over the edge of the bowl in the stone circle. I let out a frustrated growl and flopped to the ground before realizing my mistake. I jumped up and tried to wipe the water and mud off my trousers, but it was too late.
She chuckled softly. “You might want to watch where you sit next time.”
“I am starting to see the depth of your wisdom.”
My sarcastic tone was accompanied by a sidelong glare.
“I’ve never had such a hard time picking something up. The magic responds, and I can feel it flow into the water, make it ripple, but it’s like trying to hold . . . I don’t know . . . water. It slips between my fingers, and the more I focus, the faster it falls apart.”
órla had been soaring high above but descended to land in front of me when she noticed my practice end abruptly.
She now stood a towering eight inches tall, and the golden brown of her wings and body had faded to pure white.
Oddly, the feathers across her chest were turning more gold.
Part of me was sad to see the set of her eyes transforming from their round, perpetually wide-eyed look of surprise to a more oval, predatorial appearance.
She hadn’t lost her playful, childlike banter, but she would slip into moments of serious contemplation as often as she jibed.
“Declan, you think too much,” órla said. “Magic needs you to react, not think. It responds to your heart, to your needs—not your head—and that’s a good thing, because I’ve been inside your head. It’s a very scary place.”
Kelsa’s eyes widened as her lips quirked upward. “You should listen to her more often. She may be a better teacher than I am.”
“You hear that, Declan? You should listen to me—and that’s from your mother.” órla flapped into the bowl and took a drink.
I shot Kelsa another glare. “You don’t have to encourage her, you know? She may be growing fast, but she’s still that perky little owl I found in the woods.”
Ignoring me, my mother shot to her feet. “Declan, stand up and go to the inner edge of the ring. I have an idea.”
I was startled by her change in tone but did as she asked.
She stepped just inside the outer ring as I shuffled to the other side and turned to face her.
Before I knew what was happening, a ball of water streaked from the bowl toward my face.
Instinct kicked in, and I threw up my hands.
Magic flared from my palms, and the ball froze in the air a few inches away.
I watched with wide eyes as the ball wiggled and wobbled but didn’t break apart.
“I’ve got it!” I shouted. “órla, are you seeing this? I’ve got it!”
órla streaked by, poking her beak into the ball and splashing water all over me.
“What was that for?”
“Kelsa told me to keep you humble. It looked like you needed your bubble burst.” She giggled.
I scowled as I wiped my face.
Kelsa laughed and clapped. “órla, I’m glad to see you’re taking your duties seriously.”
Then she turned to me and said, “Well done, Declan. Now, dry yourself.”
I shrugged and turned to leave the circle, a proud grin plastered across my face.
But Kelsa raised a palm. “Where are you going?”
I froze. “You told me to dry off. I’m going to get a towel.”
“Not like that. You have everything you need in that circle. Now, dry yourself.”
I glanced down at my dripping shirt and realized what she meant.
I was working on controlling water. I could dry myself if I could just master control, but concentrating and trying to outstare my magic hadn’t worked.
On a whim, I looked down again and waved my arm in a sharp motion, “yanking” the water out of my shirt.
Droplets of water flew out of the fabric, across the circle, and all over Kelsa.
Now it was my turn to laugh. “How was that? Looks like you might need a towel.”
Kelsa chuckled. She waved a wrist, and water dashed from her robe over the cliff. “I am okay with a little water if it helps you take the next step. What did you do that time?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t think about it; I just did it.”
Kelsa’s eyes sparkled. “Good. Form a ball above the bowl.”
I turned toward the center pillar and formed a floating ball of liquid. I raised it high, then made it fly around the circle before accidentally smashing it into one of the outer stones.
“That’s so amazing.” I could barely contain myself. “What else? What’s next?”
“All right, let’s make this harder.” Kelsa moved to the bowl and scattered its contents across the landing. “Now, you’re in the woods, and there’s no lake or stream nearby to pull from. How do you form the ball?”
I thought a moment, then decided to try the same trick I’d used on my shirt, pulling the scattered water. I motioned as though yanking a rope toward me, and the droplets flew. When they were a stride away, I opened my palm and began “molding” to command a ball to form.
“Not bad, but you used only what I scattered. That’s like having a lake nearby. I want you to do it again but not use the water that was in the bowl.”
My smirk fell into a frown of concentration as I scoured the area to find anything that might contain water. Rocks, weeds, trees, birds—using living animals was forbidden, but plants?
“Are plants part of the dark magic prohibition?”
Kelsa nodded. “Off limits. What else?”
The mountain air was cool and crisp with virtually no humidity.
I looked down again. The inner ring rested on a floor of solid, unmarred stone.
Something in the powerful magic of the circle kept nature at bay, but as my eyes traveled outward, I realized that a thin layer of settled dirt began with the outer ring and covered the areas outside of the stones, allowing growth of some wildflowers, weeds, and shrubs.
I walked to the edge of the outer ring, kneeled, and rubbed a clump of dirt between my fingers.
My cocky grin returned.
I leaped back into the inner ring and focused on the surrounding dirt, careful to avoid the plants.
Through my magic, I felt the moisture in the dirt.
There wasn’t much, but it was there. I began to pull it toward me but realized how much effort this would require.
After a couple of minutes, a tiny drop of water shimmered in front of me.
My pinky toe was bigger than the wobbling drop.
The ball Kelsa had asked me to form was to be the size of my fist.
I grimaced and returned my focus to the dirt.
An hour later, I fell against a stone of the inner ring with sweat pouring down my face.
A ball of water meeting Kelsa’s request jiggled unsteadily above the empty bowl.
My hands shook as I struggled to contain it, tired muscles rebelling after an hour of intense magical strain.
I peered up to claim victory, but my concentration snapped, and the ball splashed into the bowl.
I leaned my head back against the cold stone and sucked in labored breaths.
Kelsa clapped from her seat at the table. “Very good. What did you learn?”
I lolled my head toward her, too tired to lean forward. “That I don’t want to stray too far from a water source. That might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
She smiled. “What else?”
“I can’t think right now. I can barely move. Can we take a break and talk about this later?”
“No. This is important, perhaps the most important lesson you will learn today.” She crossed her arms. “What else?”
I stared up at the sky.
The Ranger corps put new recruits through physical trials that were meant to weed out the weak, but in that moment, I couldn’t recall ever being so sore. I had remained still throughout the exercise; and yet, every muscle in my body cried out.
“Magic hurts like hell.”
Kelsa inclined her head. “Not the most elegant answer, but I will take it. When you use magic, you combine your own life force with your Light. It takes both to achieve a result. You pour them into the task at hand,
draining yourself in a similar way you just drained the surrounding soil of its moisture. In this case, it is your endurance, your health, that is being drawn out. It is exhausting, but it can also be dangerous—even deadly. Draw too much, push yourself too hard magically,
and you will literally sacrifice yourself for your task.”
“That makes sense. I sure feel it right now.”
I braced myself on the stone as I struggled to stand.
“What I don’t understand is how magic users, especially Mages, can do such incredible things and not cross that line. I don’t remember seeing Atikus get winded, much less wrecked like I feel right now.”
“Think of it like physical conditioning. When you first joined the Rangers, were you as strong as you are today? Were you able to run as far? Climb as long? Did you have to work at it to build up your endurance?”
“Of course. We worked out and practiced every day.”
She nodded. “Swordplay, marksmanship, magic—the idea is the same. Your endurance is built in different ways, but the same principle applies. So, my strong Ranger, not only do we have to boost your knowledge and skill, we also have to build your magical stamina.”
I passed through the rings and flopped into a chair, then poured myself a glass of the wine that now tasted like plums. “Do we have that long? I mean, the Kingdom’s invasion could come with the spring thaw. How am I going to be ready to do any good by then?”
“How long have you been here?”
I thought a moment. “A couple of weeks, maybe a little more.”
“A full day has not passed back on the mainland. Remember what I said about mountain time? By the time spring arrives in Melucia, you will have been here three years.” She smiled. “I wish we could have a hundred more . . .”
“Three years?” My mouth fell open. “That’s incredible, but . . . does that mean you don’t think we’ll have enough time, even with the spells?”
She stared at her hands for a long moment, then spoke quietly. “No. I’ll make sure you are as ready as possible. I just . . . I wish I had more time with you.”
I mastered calling water from an existing source and shaping it into something useful or hurling it across the ledge.
I particularly liked that skill, as it allowed me to instigate several all-out water battles, driving my mother to duck behind pillars as she hurled her own watery missiles in my direction.