Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
We’re trudging along towards our goal within the western part of the Disputed Lands – slowly, because we have to keep completing small missions. Mace has come up with a gruelling training programme for me that includes strength training, hand-to-hand combat, and practising my magical abilities.
I think I like the latter most, gaining more and more control over what my powers can do, so I can learn to reproduce on command whatever I did when we fought Team Silver.
If I’m sore after training, Mace kisses all my injuries better at night, in the tent we share, away from the prying eyes of the sensors. Talking about finding the right motivation for me.
For today, Mace has set up an array of five targets made of sticks, which he arranges at about thirty feet away from me in a clear patch of woods. The figures look like a three-year-old’s drawing of people, with little arms and legs poking out of a thick body.
‘Now do the power-pulse thing and try to catapult them back,’ he says.
That’s what I’d done in the last moments when we were battling Team Silver. While I’ve learned how to send the power pulses out, I could use a little help with my aim.
Fine. I need a lot of help with my aim.
‘Try not to overthink it.’ Allen is sitting down behind me, analysing some data on his ART.
If only it was that easy.
I widen my stance, lift my hand, let the magic swish and froth inside of me. I feel for that kernel of power that wants to be released, and with a quick motion of my hand, I let it go. The air ripples with the force of it, a milky-white wave rapidly approaching the target…
Only to smack it lightly in one of the spindly arms. The figure shakes sideways a little, but then it doesn’t even have the decency to topple over from the fallen tree trunk it’s been set on.
I groan.
‘Again, Ellie,’ Mace says. ‘Don’t forget. Marksmen Warriors need years and years to perfect their skill.’
Marksmen are the only kind of Warriors who can send pulses of their power away from their bodies.
They’re extremely rare. I remember seeing in one of the posters that Stella showed us at the beginning of our mission, that one of the Founders was a marksman.
I know they need a huge amount of precision to aim their power wherever they want it to go.
There’s so much I need to catch up on.
A few days ago, Stella set a Team Battle as one of our missions. We met Team Green next to the ruins of a city, in combat. Mace asked me to step back, raise my shield up to protect myself, and let them handle the fight.
‘You’re making me feel like I’m a useless boot again, mate,’ I complained.
Mace sighed. ‘Look, Ellie, my top priority now is to keep you safe. Fighting in formation takes years to get right. Think about what will happen if Julian or Allen or Xandra nick your shield with their weapons because you’ve gotten too close to them: you’ll blast them back, put them in danger, and mess with our fighting formation. ’
‘But I can blast people back with my power,’ I argued. ‘I can help.’
Mace would have none of it. ‘Of course you can, like you did with Team Silver. But we’ve got this. Let’s make a deal: I’ll ask you to help, if we’re in trouble.’
I had to concede he was right. Fighting in formation was hard, and I’d have needed to be aware of what everyone else was doing. I got a full idea of what it meant when the four of them took on the five Warriors in Team Green, with Mace barking orders and the team working as a unit.
It was over embarrassingly fast, in less than ten minutes. I desperately wanted to belong, then. To be one of them.
Sadly, for me, I think I never will.
I eye the stick targets again. ‘My power won’t inflict any damage, anyway,’ I whine. ‘That’s not how it works.’
‘No, it has an entirely different quality to it,’ Allen quips. ‘But I do wonder about one thing.’ He lifts his head, eyeing me and Mace with interest. I can almost see the wheels turning in his head. ‘You said that you and Mace can meld your powers?’
‘Yep,’ I say.
‘Why don’t you try to send out a concentrated blast of both your powers? I’m curious what it might do,’ Allen says.
‘Ooh, I’d love that,’ I say.
Mace steps to my side. He’s warm and cuddly and I want to give him a kiss, even more so since he’s making the I’m-all-business-face now. ‘How do you want to do this?’
‘Let’s try to meld the powers, like we did at the lake,’ I say, ‘and then I’ll try to give the mix a shove.’
He nods.
‘At the lake, huh?’ Allen says.
I grin, lifting my hand and allowing a small dome to form.
Mace raises his hand, too, a few inches from my own, crafting a mini dagger that just pierces my tiny shield.
The powers begin to flow into each other, my white shield getting that milky, pale-lilac colour.
It’s beautiful, and I feel the purr of my own magic content to have found his.
It’s mesmerising. I look from our mixed powers to Mace’s darling, focused face, and feel my cheeks aching with how hard I’m smiling. Mace is smiling, too, and I chalk that down as a win for today.
Allen coughs. ‘Could you get on with it? Or this will become super-embarrassing for me, super-fast.’
I laugh. And then I angle my body towards the stick targets and reach down in the depths of my power, trying to send it out of my body.
I try and I try and I try, but the dome around my hand doesn’t budge.
I sigh. ‘I can’t.’
‘Why?’ says Mace. ‘You did just fine earlier. Is my power holding you down?’
I examine that possibility. ‘No,’ I say. ‘But the magic that I shoot with is different from dome magic. And this is dome magic. I can’t throw it away from me.’
Mace pulls his hand back, grunting.
‘Is that a good grunt, or a “you’re-in-trouble” grunt?’
‘Trust me, if you were in trouble, you’d know, Ellie.’
I chuckle.
‘How about we try this differently?’ Mace says. He generates a longsword out of his magic, keeping it poised before me. ‘Try to send a power pulse through the sword.’
‘You think this will work?’ I say, getting in position.
‘We’ll see,’ he says.
I reach out for my power pulses and send one out with a flick of my hand. The moment it touches Mace’s sword, it seems to expand, slowing just enough for me to be able to track down its progress to the targets, hitting at least three of them at the same time.
There’s a loud, popping sound, and a rustle of wind, and before I know it, I find myself tackled to the ground, Mace’s body covering mine. ‘Are you okay?’ he asks.
My shoulder is stinging, but otherwise, I seem to be fine. Except that my ears are ringing. ‘I guess.’
I’m not sure what happened. Mace unwraps himself and helps me to my feet. Allen has taken cover behind a tree. And not only have I blasted through three targets, but also through the tree trunk underneath.
‘That was … something,’ Allen says, surveying the damage.
‘At least this proves your theory,’ I say. Mace’s power, combined with mine? This is something else.
I’m still trying to blink the awe out of my eyes, when Mace’s callused fingers rasp against the skin of my neck. ‘You’re hurt,’ he says.
I lift my hand, trying to feel what that’s about, when Mace takes my wrist. ‘It’s a splinter. Drove clean through your flesh. Don’t touch.’ He picks out the splinter, and blood begins to trickle.
Mace reaches into the pocket of his jacket and draws out a healing patch, which he promptly applies to my wound. The bleeding stops.
‘You carry a healing patch?’
Mace snorts. ‘When training with you? Always, Ellie.’
I punch him in the arm, but it doesn’t do much for him. His expression turns thoughtful. ‘That was pretty impressive,’ he says.
I rub my arms. It’s a bit scary, the harm I could cause. I don’t like it. Mace seems to sense it. ‘Up to you if we choose to train this particular skill.’
In the end, I choose not to. I’m not like them – trained with the sole purpose of inflicting damage. It doesn’t come naturally to me, and I don’t want it to.