Page 83 of Sword & Shadow
7TH OF CHRONOS, 1574
When they returned to the camp the previous night, Ethenn and Ilain were already on watch, while the rest of the troop attempted to slumber in the downpour of rain. Good to his word, Deckard allowed Evylin to sleep facing away from him again, their backs still pressed together. He’d done all he could to follow Hewitt’s advice, easing her anxieties while giving her the space and independence she desired.
But even in the newness of morning, Deckard felt that he’d failed. The conversation with Evylin nearly turned to disaster. He could never have anticipated how unsettled he would be by the revelation of his magic. Seeing the Night Relic glow, lighting the circle of the camp, and knowing what that glow meant frightened him like few things did. And while he’d intended to alleviate her fears, he’d fallen apart before her.
Yet, she’d shown no surprise, as though his breakdown was expected. How had she known? How had she called out his fear so blatantly? Hehadwanted her to refuse his magical nature to save him from the responsibility. She’d seen his selfishness and refused to let him hide from it.
Deckard wasn’t the sort to run from duty. He’d always taken on tasks with his steady dedication, no matter their difficulty. But this was different.
Discovering that he was a Mage felt wrong. He couldn’t explain it, not when he had come to appreciate magic over the course of their time with the Calders. Perhaps Ephren’s annihilation of all things magical was too deeply embedded in Deckard’s psyche. After all, he’d been taught his whole life that Mages were evil incarnate. Even though they were meant to be creatures of myth, the church itself denounced them as demons, creatures from hell.
Maybe that was what bothered Deckard so much. He’d always taken his faith seriously, more than even his parents had. When it came down to it, he felt that if religion were true, it ought to dictate one’s lifestyle. And while life as a soldier didn’t lend itself to a devout routine, he did his best to stay attuned to his faith.
Now, the Calders were teaching him that the church was wrong, their truths tainted by Ephren’s propaganda. He had decided he could believe that without letting it alter his convictions because the inclusion of magic didn’t change the foundation of their religion: Their creator was Allore, and all life was meant for him.
Evylin’s magic inspired him. Ilain and Auden’s magic awed him. He could easily regard their powers as a gift from Allore.
Then why did he fear magic in himself?
Riding through the misty morning, Deckard struggled with the hollow feeling in his stomach. He rode at the front of the line in silence. Evylin was with the three soldiers, evidently enjoying their company. He’d intentionally allowed her distance, doing all he could to abide by Hewitt’s guidelines, no matter how much it hurt him. And after how clearly she’d seen to the core of his fear, he had to admit he was grateful for the time without her insight.
The Calders either read his desire to be alone, or they’d decided horseback was not the place to begin their training. The siblings rode together, neither having mentioned his status as a Mage the whole morning. Whether or not they too could sense his fear, he wasn’t sure, but he was grateful for the time to himself, all the same. Even if his thoughts did whirl around and around the same two subjects.
Was hereallya Mage? And would he lose Evylin because of it?
The day plodded on in time with the horses’ steady gait. They rode at a casual pace to keep the beasts hale and hearty. Horses were notoriously difficult to keep alive. They couldn’t risk riding their steeds into the ground, spending countless golden crowns replacing them.
As the late morning sun peeked from behind the gray clouds to glint in the foggy day, Deckard’s solitude came to an end. Ilain drew up alongside him. Despite the lightly misting rain, she let her hood hang around her shoulders, her fire-bright hair freely cascading down her back. “Might I speak with you, Jonn?”
Deckard attempted not to tense too noticeably. He wasn’t ready to give up his ruminations for the cajoling of his Magehood. Yet, no matter his irritability, he dipped his head in acquiescence. “Of course,” he said.
Ilain’s smile didn’t hold its usual luster. “I have a favor to ask.” She bit the inside of her cheek demurely. “Would it be possible for me to change watch partners?”
Deckard blinked, not having expected the request. At first, he was surprised. Ilain and Ethenn got along splendidly. Why should she care to part with the young man? Then his mind returned to the darkness of the camp last night. He’d lain awake well after the rest of the troop had fallen asleep. And in the stillness of the night, he’d overheard Ethenn and Ilain’s hushed conversation.
Deckard didn’t mean to eavesdrop. It wasn’t polite, but there wasn’t much he could do in the silence. The whole troop knew that while at camp, they were never alone. Anything saidcouldbe overheard.
Still, it didn’t make it any less awkward when Ethenn cleared his throat and asked, “Earlier, when you told Thom that you couldn’t marry him...?”
Ilain hesitated. “It was a joke. I never intended...” Her words fell off with a nervous laugh. “Our...relationship has never been headed for that.”
“Because you have to marry a Warrior?” Ethenn asked cautiously. “Because of the...the Bonding thing?”
“Iwantto marry a Warrior,” she corrected. “Because of the Bonding thing.”
“Mm.” Ethenn gave a dry sniffle in the rain. “Makes sense. It sounds like it’s, uh—rather significant.”
“It is.”
There was an uncomfortable pause before Ethenn said, “Do you know many Warriors?”
“Only a few,” she replied.
“And are they . . . eligible?”
Her voice was tinged with humor when she replied. “Some. Though I can’t say I’m particularly drawn to any of them.”
“Then you’re still looking?”
