“Excellent.” Deckard forced himself not to be bitter. “Well, I’ll thank you for whatever training you can give.”
“I’ve already begun to teach you the meditations of a Mage,” Auden said. “That’s really the start.”
Deckard frowned. “I don’t remember that lesson.”
“I told you when we were discussing the Path of Vieran, the first Mage who discovered how to distill magic into elixir, about his process of meditation. It’s the beginning of all Mages’ journeys.”
Deckard blinked, the story completely gone from his memory. “I’m afraid I wasn’t listening.”
Isla set a hand on Auden’s shoulder to soothe his abject disappointment. “It sounds as though it wasn’t a very clear lesson anyway,” she said reprovingly. “Really, Auden. You’re a magister. It’s your job to teach Mages.”
“It’s my job to study magic,” Auden countered. “Teaching is secondary.”
She brushed off his answer, turning back to Deckard. “The Path of Vieranisthe start of each Mages’ training,” she confirmed. “He was an example of stillness and inner reflection. You see, the resource chooses the Mage. Wind chose me. Day chose Auden.Spacechose you. So there is a fragment of Space inside of you.
“To access it, toknowit, you must find that fragment,” she pressed a hand to her sternum, “that connection deep in your soul through such means of stillness and inner reflection.”
“And how do I do that?” Deckard asked.
Isla smiled knowingly. “You sit,” she said with a gesture to the forest floor. “You think. You ruminate on the very essence of Space within you until you feel it surrounding you.”
“That’s not exactly a step-by-step rubric.”
Isla’s dark eyes glowed. “Magic isn’t a rubric. It is creativity embodied.”
“Mm.” Deckard looked between them. “I take it I should sit and think now?”
“We all will,” Auden suggested, lowering himself to the grass. He adjusted his long brown coat, crossing his legs beneath him. He settled his hands on his knees and held his chin high. Isla sat next to him, her full skirt billowing around her legs. She rested her hands demurely in her lap.
They both stared up at him, waiting.
With a sigh, Deckard took a seat. He emulated Auden’s posture, though he kept his chin dipped.
“It will take time,” Auden said, his red hair shining in the late afternoon sunlight. “You’ve accessed your magic enough now to know what it feels like. And with your Bond, it should be even easier. Focus but try not to conjure the magic itself. You’ll get a stronger connection just by being with it rather than using it.”
Deckard gave a hum of acknowledgment. “Shall we begin?”
“Yes.” Auden shut his eyes then, and Isla followed suit.
With an internal grumble, Deckard closed his eyes too. The rusty light of sunset glowed behind his lids. Thepipof robins echoed around them. Bees buzzed from flower to flower, and a soft breeze rustled the trees.
Deckard turned his attention inward, knowing just where to find the connection of his magic. It burned like an ember in hischest, right next to the tether that now tangibly bound his soul to Evylin’s. The one that told him she walked roughly half a mile southwest of his location. He liked that sensation, that assurance that she was safe and well. Even from the distance, he could feel her, the gentle thrum of her soul within his. It was strained, informing him of her training, but it wasn’t stressed by any form of danger.
Taking her safety as a gift, Deckard allowed himself to relax. He left their Bond alone, focusing on the spark of magic within. Its gentle heat flickered under his skin in response to his searching, almost like a greeting. Ilain had once mentioned that magic had a sentience. It wasn’t alive, but it was aware. The relationship between Mage and resource was built on regard and cherishing the resource itself. And while Deckard couldn’t say he cared deeply for the magic within him, he did respect it, and he was thankful for the link to Evylin that it granted him.
In response, the magic trilled within him like a playful coo. It seemed to appreciate his undivided attention. He murmured an inner“hello,”and it jumped, leaving his skin tingling. Somehow, it almost seemed to have emotions, rudimentary as they seemed. His magic was almost like a puppy, reacting instinctively and simply to its master’s affections.
The thought made Deckard smile.You’re rather friendly when we’re not fighting for our lives,he thought.
The magic continued to tingle, curling down his spine and along his arms. Its heat filled him with a peaceful sense of control.
You chose me?
It brushed against his chest as though snuggling up to him.
Why?
There was no answer. The magic just continued to fill him with tingling warmth.
