Spellweaver codex 2, p.11
Spellweaver Codex 2, page 11
“I did it!” Cal exclaimed.
“You sure did.” Oswerg smiled.
The wind wobbled. There was something wild in the combined magic, a chaotic force pushing at the boundaries of Cal’s control.
“Why don’t you close it down,” Oswerg suggested. “Bet you can summon it quicker the second time.”
“I’m trying,” Cal said, “but the magic isn’t doing what I want.”
He clutched his codex tight and focused on the sandstorm. It still refused to do his bidding, and now it moved away from him, picking up speed as it crossed the clearing, headed straight for Azamar and Raya.
“Guys!” Cal shouted. “Guys, wake up!”
The tornado rushed toward the carriage and the figures asleep in front of it. Azamar rolled over with a grunt. Raya groaned and sat up.
“What are you—” she began.
She vanished from sight as the sandstorm hit her, then Azamar, then the carriage. Cal winced. The cart shook and wobbled as the tunnel moved on, losing power as it went, leaving a trail of dirt in its wake.
“Um, guys…” Cal, red-faced, peered at the sandy bedrolls. “I’m so sorry, the magic got away from me, and…”
Raya got up, her hair a wild mess. She stepped out of her bedroll, held it up, and shook the sand out. It took a long while. The whole time she glared at Cal.
“Are you two done?” she asked. “Or do you have a rain of fish to follow?”
Chapter 13
Like any country lad, Cal understood just how short summer nights could be. In the blazing heart of the year, folks didn’t have long to sleep in true darkness, so they made the most of it. Ironically, it was in those gentle nights, when the woods and fields were bursting with life, that the village of Pebbert was its most peaceful, as almost everyone slept at once.
Despite that, the brief night managed to catch him by surprise. So busy trying out his new magic, looking for different ways he could use and combine his powers, he didn’t even notice the sky getting lighter until the sun rose, blazing brightly over the horizon.
Cal blinked and stared at the sight. Ironically, it drew a yawn from him. Perhaps he should have felt sleepy, but for the most part, he didn’t. At some point, he passed through being tired into a strange sort of alertness. Was this the power of magic, or excitement, or just his body adapting to what he put it through? He didn’t know, but he appreciated the extra time.
“What are you staring at?” Oswerg asked.
“Sorry, I just…” Cal brought his attention back to the stack of boulders they were shoving back and forth across the meadow. “I was just taking a moment. It’s been a long night.”
“And it’s not over yet.” Oswerg pointed at the pile of rocks. “Next task, something more subtle: can you balance those so they hold steady with the biggest ones on the top?”
Cal turned his attention back to the stones. It had been difficult enough to keep them stacked as they were, thanks to the juddering as the load moved around the field. Now he was meant to turn it all upside down?
It was a good thing he enjoyed a challenge.
The patch of ground Cal stood on was flat and covered with grass, unlike some of the other areas, which were even more rock-strewn and torn up after hours of earth magic. He sat down where he was and stared at his heap of stones.
Getting the first one into position was easy. A wave of Cal’s hand, and the smallest pebble rolled off the pile and onto its own patch of ground. Another wave of his hand, and the next stone rolled off, then levitated into position above the first pebble and settled into place. It fell, and Cal put it back, shifting its position for better balance. Again, it fell, and again Cal moved it, using his magic to feel where the best position would be and place it there. At last, the larger stone balanced on top of the smaller one. Cal turned to the next.
In some ways, this was a lot like the leaf exercise Martha used to refine his wind magic. It took poise, patience, and careful control of his power, and while it felt like slowing down, it would lead him to a stronger place in the end.
It took some time, but finally the third stone settled into place, forming an inverted pyramid with the other two, and Cal focused his attention on the fourth.
Oswerg walked over, staying in front of Cal so he wouldn’t surprise him and break his concentration. He sat cross-legged, his codex resting against his chest, and watched as Cal lifted the fourth stone into place. It wobbled and fell, taking the whole pile down. Cal scowled and clenched his fist.
“Be patient with yourself,” Oswerg said. “You’ve only just started learning, remember?”
“But I’m also the Spellweaver. I’ve been doing this for thousands of years, and I can’t even get a few stones to stay stacked.”
“You’ll get there. You’ve gotten significantly better just in the last twelve hours. Imagine what you’ll achieve once you’ve had years to practice.”
“I might not have years. The Spellbreaker is on the offensive, remember? If he hunts me down and brings his force to bear before I can get my spells ready, then I’m a dead man walking. Except I won’t be walking anymore.”
The rocks rose, one at a time, and settled into place. On this attempt, Cal got the fourth stacked, but the fifth brought the pile down again. He looked at the sixth and final stone, the largest, and sighed. This was going to take a long time.
“Slow and steady,” Oswerg said as Cal swept the first two back into place. “Earth magic isn’t about rushing.”
“But I just said…” Cal paused, drew a lengthy breath, let it out. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”
Slowly, carefully, he moved the third stone onto the stack.
“If I was back home in Pebbert, this would be a great way to spend the time,” he said as he moved the fourth stone. “Lots of long evenings after I’d done my apothecary work, plenty of time to fill with a challenge like this. But Princess Olivia needs us, there’s the sickness in the capital to deal with, and those things make it harder to focus.”
“I understand. I used to be the one rushing into the next fight. Trust me, it’s not the way to win anything.”
Cal levitated the fifth stone over the inverted pyramid and lowered it into place. This time, it settled and stayed. He could feel the pull of the stones as they tried to collapse, the delicate points of balance and the magical gestures balancing them out. Almost there.
“You still have a way to go,” Oswerg said, “but you’ve got a good foundation, and with earth magic, that foundation is very important. It gives stability and strength to everything you build on it.”
Cal raised the sixth stone into place. For a moment, the heap wobbled, and he braced himself to start all over again. But it settled, staying perfectly balanced despite the weight at the top. Cal stopped casting and gazed at it, pleased with his work.
“What now?” he asked.
“Now we eat,” Oswerg said. “It’s been a long night, and I’m famished.”
Cal looked around. The sun hung higher in the sky, and birds were out singing in the trees. Azamar sat hunched over a small fire, stirring a pot. Raya’s bedroll lay empty by the carriage. Cal had clearly been focused on the rocks far longer than he realized.
He stood up and stretched, shaking out some of the stiffness that settled into his limbs over the night short on darkness but long on training. They must have been at it for at least twelve hours, with Oswerg relentlessly pushing Cal to become a better earth mage.
“Where’s Raya gone?” he asked, approaching the fire.
Azamar looked up, a resentful expression on his face.
“She’s off to try to find some food,” the fire mage said. “She complained about what I made for breakfast, said it was utterly inedible.”
“Raya said that?”
“She might have used shorter words, given her vocabulary, but the message was clear.”
Cal peeked into the pot that Azamar was stirring. Something black was burned to the bottom, smoke drifting from it.
“That’s certainly been cooked,” Cal said. A moment before, he was ravenously hungry, but that feeling fled at the sight of what was on offer. Maybe he should go look for Raya and see what she rustled up instead.
“I’m a fire mage,” Azamar said defensively. “I’m meant to burn things.”
“That doesn’t mean we’re meant to eat them.” Oswerg pulled a face as he peered into the pot. “I’ve eaten worse on campaign, but I’ll wait to see what Raya brings back.”
“I’m going to go find her,” Cal said. “See if I can help. Which way did she go?”
Azamar pointed across the road, to a patch of woodland.
“She said she hoped to find some sticks more appetizing than my cooking,” he said, and looked sadly at his blackened meal. “I fear she might be on to something.”
Making his way across the road, Cal pulled out a stone spear he and Oswerg left protruding from the dirt. Better to leave the way clear for other travelers, if he was trying to make a better world.
The ground on the far side of the road was more uneven, so the grass there hadn’t been kept down by travelers grazing their horses or resting for the night. A trail of trampled green blades showed where Raya passed through on her way to the woods. Cal followed, pushing aside the occasional spiky bramble or brushing fern to clear his way.
At the edge of the woods, the long grass ended. Though the forest wasn’t dense, the canopy was thick enough to limit the light coming through, and that meant a lot less grass underfoot. The occasional fern still protruded, as well as patches of low flowers, dark bushes, and fungi sprouting around the roots of trees. Instead of following a trodden path, Cal had to look for footprints in the mulch of old rotting leaves and fallen twigs. Like balancing the stones, it took careful, attentive, patient work, but he was able to follow the trail as it headed into the shadows between the trees.
It seemed like ages ago since Cal did anything like this, though he went out with hunters only six months before, when snows drove a wolf out of the high hills, and it threatened the flocks around Pebbert. Expeditions like that taught Cal about tracking—like many of the young people in a village like his—and he used that experience to stalk Raya’s trail deeper into the green. Instinctively, he slowed his steps and softened his stance, as if he stalked real and dangerous prey. Habits came easily to Cal, and the useful ones quickly returned.
Off to his left, a fox prowled between the trees, tail stiff, nose twitching, eyes watchful. It glanced at Cal, then darted away, a red streak disappearing into the undergrowth. From the branches above, starlings and crows watched him with something akin to idle curiosity.
A movement up ahead caught Cal’s attention. A figure in leather trousers and a sleeveless tunic was hunched over a bush littered with dark red berries.
Cal opened his mouth to call out to Raya, then decided against it. She always prided herself on being a better hunter than him. Maybe this was his chance to prove her wrong.
Cal crept closer, one footstep at a time, sliding from the shelter of one tree to the next, using them for cover in case she turned around. He must be better at this than he used to be, because she didn’t even look up from collecting the berries, and no birds or animals fled at the sound of his approach.
Emerging from behind one last tree, Cal sidled up behind Raya.
“Boo.”
“Argh!”
She jumped, scattering a basket full of berries across the forest floor. She spun around, fist raised, and the air rippled around her as she summoned her wind armor in an instant, blowing away the dead leaves around her feet and sheathing her in its protective power. Her fist was halfway to Cal’s face before she stopped herself.
“You!” She exhaled the word on a sharp breath. “I could have killed you there.”
“Could you?” Cal asked and tapped the codex he was carrying. “I’ve got a few tricks of my own.”
“True, but I’m faster than you, and you’re way to close to avoid me.”
She lowered her fists and relaxed. The air shimmered again as the wind armor receded.
“I’m turning into a better hunter,” Cal said. “If I’d been after you there, you’d have been done for.”
“Maybe, but you never could have crept up on me like that without your magic.”
“I wasn’t using magic.”
“Really?” Raya raised her eyebrows, then looked pointedly down.
Cal looked down as well. Tiny gusts of air swirled around his feet, disrupting the leaf litter there. When he brought a foot up and then back down, it fell more quietly than he expected. Now that he paid attention, his steps felt softer, cushioned, like he was walking on wool; or, more accurately, walking on a cushion of wind magic.
He blushed, embarrassed to realize the lie he’d unknowingly walked into.
“Sorry,” he said. “Martha taught me how to walk quietly like this. I must have been unconsciously using wind magic to make my footsteps lighter after training with her for so long.”
“Yeah, right, you’re accidentally creeping around. A likely story.”
“No, honestly, I…” Cal narrowed his eyes. “You’re winding me up, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.” Raya winked. “What are you going to do about it?”
Cal looked down at the fallen basket and the berries scattered around their feet. His stomach rumbled, and he remembered the horrors of the other breakfast waiting for him in Azamar’s pan.
“I could help you pick these up,” he said. “Make up for the mess I made.”
“That sounds like a good start.”
The two of them crouched and started collecting the fallen berries, putting them carefully into the basket. It reminded Cal of summers when they were young, foraging with other children in the woods at the edge of Pebbert’s cultivated land, looking for the most exciting foods they could find. With the help of his mother, they learned to distinguish the tasty mushrooms from the deadly ones, to pick the berries at their peak of tastiness, to find herbs useful for foods and medicines. That last part proved particularly helpful for Cal when he became an apothecary’s apprentice, after his mother was gone.
He paused in his task for a moment and laid a hand on the worn leather belt he inherited from her. When he looked up at Raya, there was sadness in her expression, too.
“Your parents would have been proud of you,” she said. “Seeing what you’ve become now.”
“I’m sure your parents would have been proud, too.”
“Who knows.” She rose and turned away to start picking fresh berries off the bush. “It’s not like either of us remembers them, to know what they’d think of anything.”
There was a tightness in her voice he had heard before, a tone that told him to move the conversation on.
“These are useful for potions as well as for food,” he said, holding up one of the berries.
“What sorts of potions?” Raya kept picking the berries.
“Healing ones, mostly.”
“Then we should definitely pick extra: the way life has been since we met the magic man, we’ll need extra healing before too long.”
“It’s not Azamar’s fault we’re in danger,” Cal said, putting a handful of berries into the basket. “The hollowmages were after me before he ever turned up, and the Spellbreaker would be threatening the world whether we knew about it or not.”
“I never said it was his fault. Never said there was any fault at all.” Raya shrugged. “Truth is, I like this life we’ve got now. There’s not a whole lot to miss about what I had before, doing casual jobs for a few coins in a backwater village, fixing roofs or gutting fish or digging new pits for people’s outhouses. What we’ve got now is way more exciting. I even enjoy hanging out with the magic man and Os: just don’t ever tell them I said that. I don’t want Azamar’s head to get any bigger.”
“I promise, I won’t. But what I will do is refresh our potion supply when I get a chance. If we can pick up a few more ingredients, we’ll be well set for any injuries we might suffer.”
“Including magical infections from the Spellbreaker?”
Raya’s hand went to her shoulder, as if remembering her terrible wound, then jerked away. She began hurriedly plucking at the berries.
“Perhaps not that,” Cal admitted. “But maybe I can find a way to make a new potion like that alchemist’s potion.”
“That’s a big maybe, especially when we’re about to go up against dark magic,” Raya said. “But your optimism’s always been one of your more endearing traits.”
“You think I’m endearing?”
“I think we should try the next bush; this one’s got no berries left. And you should tell me what other ingredients we need.”
They made their way through the woods, gathering more berries, plus other things for their breakfast and Cal’s potions. He was still hungry, but he didn’t mind. He enjoyed the chance to spend some time with Raya.
“So, you’ve got a whole set of new powers,” she said when he finished describing his training session with Oswerg.
“Just one power, really, or at least one spell, but I can apply it in different ways.”
“That’s one more new trick than I’ve got.”
“Maybe I could try to imbue you with a power, then, like I did before. Something to go with your wind armor and extra strength.”
“Seriously?” Raya stopped picking mushrooms from a tree stump and looked up at him. “You could do that?”
“I think so. I mean, I’ve done it before.”
“So, what do I get this time?” Her eyes sparkled, and she bounced from foot-to-foot, the basket swaying in her hand. “Come on, Spellweaver, weave something fun into me.”
Chapter 14
