Page 88 of Sword & Shadow
Deckard and Evylin frowned.
“What? ’Cause they’re married?” Rafferty asked.
“Only partially for that reason,” Auden said. “As we said last night, Warriors and Mages are meant to be a team. They can aid one another, lending their focus.” He turned to Evylin then. “If you tap into your magic while Jonn works to access his, it will help speed up the process.”
Though she tugged on her rings, Evylin accepted the task.
Deckard could feel her tension as she sat at his side. She hadn’t so much chosen her seat for dinner as it’d been the only one that remained. It was evident by her uncomfortable posture throughout the meal and into the present moment that she wished she could escape with Rafferty.
Deckard worked not to take offense at the small rejection. “Shouldn’t I do it on my own?” he asked. “If the power could be volatile, wouldn’t accessing it too quickly be dangerous?”
“Yes,ifyou didn’t have good control over it,” Ilain said, then gestured toward Evylin. “But with additional focus, your control will be stronger. Evylin’s assistance will be beneficial in more ways than one.”
Deckard and Evylin shared a reluctant look. Neither of them wanted to take part in this test. However, it seemed they didn’t have much of a choice.
He shrugged in acceptance, and Ilain dropped to her knees before them, a bright smile on her face. “Now,” she said excitedly, “the best way to prepare your mind for connection is to focus on the resources. While focusingsoundssimple, it’s anything but. It can take years of dedication to truly prime yourmind for instinctive magical use. One way to accomplish that is by repeating the ‘Poem of Life.’ You don’t have to recite it aloud, but you should constantly replay it in your mind.”
“From memory?” Deckard asked incredulously.
Ilain furrowed her brow in confusion. “Of course, from memory. How else would you do it?”
“You forget, milady,” Thom called, jaw tense. “We Ephrians weren’t taught that poem in primary school like you Wauldeners. It was considered sacrilegious.”
Her face scrunched even more. “It’s the foundation of our religion.”
“Not for us,” he said flatly.
Ilain huffed, then turned back. “I’ll recite it for you then. Are you ready?”
The urge to dash into the forest caused Deckard’s foot to twitch. He resettled in his seat, reminding himself there was nowhere to run. One way or another, the magic would find him, according to the Calders.
“As I’ll ever be,” Deckard said, trying to convince himself to accept his fate.
Ilain clasped her hands before her while Auden hovered in the background. “Excellent,” she said, her melodic voice softening. “Now, close your eyes and listen. As I recite the poem, try to visualize it in your mind. Imagine the resources, alive and tangible, right in front of you. Let the magic speak to you, and respond when it calls your name.”
Though every part of his being recoiled, Deckard gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. He didn’t know what to expect, but he shut out the world, only the dim amber haze of the campfire lighting his blacked-out view.
Slowly and lyrically, Ilain spoke. “First came Fire, the burst of Day. A tidal of Water doused the flame, Terraeus cast into the shadow of Night. Wind rolled in, a churning vortex of Time, tocool the molten Terrae. The Creator’s grandest design, forever suspended in Space.”
It sounded like a ballad, sweet and gentle—a song of devotion and adoration. Ilain repeated the poem, the words summoning a magic all their own. It swept through the air like a breeze, soft as a mother’s goodnight kiss.
Deckard found the poem playing behind his closed eyes. A ball of fire erupted, flickering cheerily and radiating through the darkness like daylight. He imagined a wave as if from the sea, sweeping up to crash over the flames, smothering them into ash, leaving a shadow of the deepest night in its wake. He could almost feel the wind, soft at first, then a fierce gale, whirling round and round the hardened ball of terrae, creating time itself. All of it passed before his mind’s eye, isolated and suspended in the infinity of space.
The scene played itself through his head, over and over. As Ilain recited, so Deckard’s imagination followed. He could feel his brow furrowing, his body tense with concentration. A wash of warmth spread over his skin. Light erupted beyond his closed eyes, golden yellow on the left and ruby red on the right.
Heat crept up his spine, seeping into his muscles. It felt as though the warmth was trying to fill him, pushing its way in. His hands flexed subconsciously. He didn’t know whether he wanted to grab hold of this feeling or shove it away. It prodded him, urging him to do...something.
Deckard’s head pulsed painfully, an eerie whisper thrumming at the back of his skull. It was too much. The vision of the resources swirled before him, again and again. A ball of flame. A flash of light. The surge of water. A looming shadow. A spiral of wind. A stretching eon. A cooling land. The vastness of the Heavens. And with it all, a buzzing tingled across his neck and into his ears as the indistinct whisper grew louder.
He grimaced, his mind overly full from the vision and the sound. They tugged at him, each and every resource, as though testing him, asking him,“Are you worthy of my power?”
It grew too strong, the push and pull. He wanted to jerk away and grasp on all at the same time. Fire. Day. Water. Night. Power surged through him, begging for him to take hold. Wind. Time. Terrae. Space. It pressed in, a heavy burden, a potent responsibility waiting for him to don its mantle.
It was too much.He couldn’t focus, couldn’t find the connection, couldn’t control the power. He feared that Auden was right, and it would erupt out of him in a dangerous outburst, desperate for relief.
Then, beside him, Deckard sensed the smallest thread of stillness. He reached for it, grasping urgently.
Evylin gasped, and beyond the world of his mind, Deckard realized that his hand had shot out, latching onto her forearm. He could feel his fingers clinging to her. At any other time, he would have worried he’d grabbed her too tightly or forcefully. But in the instant that his palm met her arm, clarity shot through his mind.
