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Myranda's eyes opened heavily to the fading rays of the sun as they flowed through the open window. Myn had managed to pull the shutters open and let herself in, or she had been helped. At any rate, she had nestled atop Myranda at some time during the day.
The girl rose from bed and dressed. Fresh clothes were a welcome change to the life she had been living of late, though pulling on her worn boots was all too familiar. She briefly considered asking for something better, but so much had been done for her already, she decided against it.
As she stepped outside and felt the cool dusk air, Myn jumped down and followed her. She closed the door and decided to have some breakfast just as soon as she could remember where the food was served. Deacon appeared and walked eagerly up to her as she wandered in what she believed was the correct direction. The young man's face held the telltale signs of a sleepless night, but he seemed none the worse for wear. Indeed, he seemed to be just as excited as he had been the night before, if not more so.
"Good evening, good evening. I trust you slept well," he said.
"Indeed, I did. Did you sleep at all?" she asked.
"Heavens no! Too much to do. Sleep can wait. Come this way. I have something for you to do," he said.
"I was actually looking forward to breakfast," she said.
"Breakfast? Oh, of course. I suppose I had better eat as well, lest I forget again," he said.
The pair took a meal with Myn more than a little distracted by the constant flow of words from Deacon's mouth. He scarcely took a moment to swallow, so eager was he to speak.
"I compared what you told me about yourself to the records we have of the others. The prodigies. It seems clear that there is most certainly a familial influence. Your parents were each uncommonly intelligent. Likely, had they tried their hands at magic, they would have excelled as well. I must say, though, in reviewing your story, I found a few points puzzling. You say just before you entered this place, you discovered that Leo was not what you had thought him to be," he said, taking advantage of her answer to slurp a few hasty spoonfuls of the stew.
"Yes. I recognized his voice as the man who had captured me and killed those men in front of the church. A crime that I was to be blamed for, no less," she said.
"And, yet, immediately afterward, you followed him into the water. You followed him into what must have seemed to be certain death despite the fact he had revealed that all you knew about him was a lie," he said.
"Yes," she said.
"Well, then. You either have incredible intuition or terrible judgment. Not to offend you, of course. Clearly it was the correct decision and you ought to be commended," he said.
"Thank you, I suppose," Myranda said.
"I checked up on him. Asked around. Those that can remember him, and there are precious few, all agree on two points. One is that his name isn't Leo. No one is quite sure what his name is, but it is certainly not what he has told you. Leo, it turns out, was a student that was being trained at the same time. In what I am sure is no coincidence, his disposition was strikingly similar to that of your friend prior to your discovery of his deception. He was a human, and has since passed on," Deacon said.
"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. All else had been a lie, why not that as well?" she said. A thought came to her mind. "Why are there so few that remember him?"
"That is another thing I was puzzled about. Your friend completed several years of training and left this place seventy years ago, roughly," he said.
"Seventy? No, that is impossible. I cannot tell precisely how old he is, but he does not look old by any means," she said.
"Oh, on this there can be no doubt. It is one of the few things about him that we have recorded," he said.
"But how can you be sure it was his record you found," she asked.
"It was labeled 'Unnamed Lain,' and bore his description. Also, the two wizards and three warriors who remember him all quote that as the approximate time," he said. "He is also the only malthrope we have trained."
Myranda shook her head in amazement.
"Unbelievable. With each passing moment, I realize how much less I know about him than I thought. And now I am fairly trapped in the same town as he, and I cannot even catch a glimpse of him, let alone get him to speak," she said.
"This really means a lot to you," he said.
"I trusted him. I just want to know what manner of person betrayed that trust. I just want to know that there is something about him that is as good and pure as the person he claimed to be," she said.
"I won't lie to you. Between his skills and his seniority here, if he does not wish to see you, he won't," Deacon lamented.
"I've come to realize that," she said.
"He need only answer to the Elder at this point," Deacon said.
Myranda finished her meal as Deacon, having already choked his down as quickly as possible, waited impatiently. The moment she was finished, he led her off in the direction of a cluster of huts on the other side of the village--as always with Myn in tow. Outside of the huts were piles of wood cut to all variety of sizes. The smoke belching out of the chimney of one hut could have only meant that it was the blacksmith's, while another hut, the one that they were to enter, merely had longer, more slender pieces of wood outside to hint at its purpose. Inside was rather well-lit against the now stiff darkness of the night by the array of crystals that not only lined the walls, but lined shelves and display cases as well.
A man and a woman, each so like the other that they could only be spouses or siblings, could be found inside. Each wore an odd pair of lenses mounted on stalks on their heads. The woman was at the back, carving a design onto a staff, while the man was nearer to the front, cutting a notch into a larger piece of wood before roughing the rest out into a staff shape. Both were short and stocky, certainly dwarfs. The man had dark hair and a well-groomed beard. The woman was slightly shorter and looked to be a bit younger.
"This is Myranda. Myranda, this gentleman is Koda and the lady is Gamma. They are our resident staff-makers," Deacon introduced.
Koda put down his chisel to shake her hand and offered what sounded like a cheery greeting in whatever odd language he called his own. Gamma looked up and smiled before continuing her exacting work.
"We will require a training staff and crystal for this young lady," Deacon said.
Myn watched curiously as the stout fellow selected several staffs from the racks that lined the wall and handed them to Myranda one by one. Deacon translated the artisan's questions, which all had roughly to do with how each piece felt, whether she liked the weight, and whether she preferred one thickness or another. Myranda was mostly at a loss for how to answer until Deacon explained that she ought to choose one as though she were choosing a walking stick before hiking.
Once the appropriate staff was chosen, Koda took some measurements of Myranda's height and arm length with a knotted rope, shouting said measurements to his partner, who called them back without looking up. When Myn decided he had come too close and moved in to back him away, the dwarf apparently found it absolutely hilarious, as he laughingly recounted the event to his partner, who swiftly joined in the laughter.
"What is so funny?" Myranda whispered.
"He had a dog that would do the same thing," Deacon answered.
"Ah," Myranda replied, failing to see the humor in it.
Still laughing, Koda took the chosen staff to a case of gems and selected one, carefully fitting it into the staff. He then handed it to her and informed Myranda by way of Deacon that, based on her preference and the measurements, a custom one would be made over the course of the next few weeks.
Myranda looked down at her weapon. It had a dark brown, slightly red color, and was carved along its length with runes similar to those that had formed the spells Wolloff had taught. The crystal was mostly clear, though there were veins here and there that were a bit milky. It was slightly smaller than her fist. Much larger than the one in the locket that Woll
off had given. From end to end, the tool was a bit taller than shoulder height.
"Excellent choice. Now, if you are ready, it is time for your second day with Solomon," Deacon said.
The trio found their way to the training ground where Solomon was waiting. Deacon took a seat at the edge of the stone circle on the ground where the teaching took place and readied his book. Myn gave a dragonish greeting to her fellow creature before taking her seat faithfully beside Myranda. With the crystal of the staff on the ground in front of her, she awaited the flame to be conjured before her. No sooner had it been done than she slipped swiftly into the trance.
With the aid of the crystal, it took a fraction of the time that it had taken the day before. Everything about it was more vivid. Sensing the essence of the flame and of her own spirit before had been like flailing in the dark in comparison. Now she could sense things about the strange energy she had been oblivious to the night before. It was as though they had a color and a texture that she had missed last time. What's more, they were not alone. Every inch of her surroundings had a power to it. The air, the earth, and particularly the other people. As her gaze strayed from the flame, she marveled at the galaxy of different auras that surrounded the people of the village. When Solomon began prompting her to do so, she tried to manipulate her own power and found its reactions to be a degree more intense.
"Do not manipulate your essence as a whole. Separate a part of it," his voice directed.
Slowly, she willed some small part of the power she felt within her away from the whole.
"Now. Sense the power that the fire feeds on. You must feed the fire," he said.
With her new, clearer view of the energy, Myranda could certainly detect the power being drawn into the flame. Though manipulating her own energy was still new and unpredictable to her, she tried and tried until she found the swirling ball of spirit changing its nature, becoming more like that which the flame yearned for.
"Excellent, now bring it to the flame," he said.
With the merest thought, she guided her mystic concoction to the flame and was nearly startled out of concentration. The fire leapt up, many times its size and many more times its heat. At the same time, she felt an odd draw on her essence. It was a unique feeling, to be losing this strength that only the day before she did not know she had. The draw was steadily growing more intense as the fire shrunk. By the time the burden stabilized, the fire was barely more than an ember floating in the air.
"The flame is yours now. Do not lose it," he ordered.
Myranda pushed herself to provide more. Almost imperceptibly, the flame began to return. In time, it returned to the size the dragon had conjured. Maintaining the size of the fire was unbearable, like carrying some vast weight. Not only her mind and spirit, but all of her body seemed taxed by it. Beads of sweat formed at her temples, her hands began to shake.
The draw quickly became unbearable. It seemed days, weeks, a lifetime since she had begun. When she had no more to give, Myranda relented. The fire, floating in air before her, fizzled and died. As the trance lifted, she saw that it was still night. Though she felt that this lesson had taken a great deal longer than the last, it had in reality been less than half the length.
"That will do for now. Rest if you must, practice if you can, but come here fully refreshed tomorrow," Solomon said before retiring.
Myranda, despite the massive increase in effort, felt far more herself now than she had the day before. The staff really had made quite a difference, at least in the cost of the spell. To be sure, the world still seemed to be shrouded in a haze, and thinking was difficult, but she was able to climb to her feet and walk with the aid of the staff. Deacon approached her, but now that his help was unneeded, Myn judged him unnecessary and forced him to keep his distance.
"That is a respectable endurance for only the second lesson," he said.
Myranda thanked him, shaking her head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs that were hanging about her mind. He continued to talk, but she found it difficult to focus on his words and walk at the same time. In fact, she had taken fifty steps or so before she realized Deacon had repeatedly been asking her where she was headed, and she did not know the answer.
"Where do you suggest?" she asked.
"If I were you, I would head home to meditate until I had a bit more of my wits about me," he suggested.
"Meditate?" she asked.
"Oh, of course, how can I be so foolish? You have not been taught to do so. It is quite useful, I assure you," he said.
Deacon escorted her to her hut and pulled a chair before hers.
"If you can manage it, I need you to gather your focus enough to sense your own essence again," he said.
"I shall try," Myranda offered.
She sat in her chair and focused about the gem. It required a fair amount more effort than last time, but soon enough she was aware of the mystic energies again, both outside and in.
"Do you feel the energies of your surroundings? Good. Now, let them flow through you. Let them become one with you. Simply relax your body, mind, and spirit, and let the outside flow in. Blur the line between yourself and your surroundings," he said.
Myranda tried to comply. Her mind was still struggling--but then something strange happened. As the energy around her began to mingle with her own, she could feel her strength returning. It was slow, very slow, but noticeable. While she recovered, she "looked" at the essences around her.
Before her, she could see the strong pure light of Deacon's spirit. Weaker, but still pure, was Myn, beside her. The spirits of the wizards and warriors of this place speckled her mind in a galaxy of different hues and intensities. In the distance, she sensed one that was different. She focused on it. This new way of detecting the world was different from seeing, though. She "saw" all around her. Above, below, behind, each and every direction was visible to her at once, with distance seeming inconsequential.
As she trained her mind on the peculiar essence in the distance, it seemed to draw nearer and grow more distinct. It was subdued. Intense and yet restrained, as if consciously reined in and pushed down. On the surface, it appeared no more powerful than the others, but deep beneath there was a fundamental strength that seemed to continue inward eternally. It could only be Lain.
After a time, she decided she had recovered enough, pulling her mind from its focus and lifting herself from the meditation.
When her eyes opened, the change was remarkable. She almost felt normal, as though the training had not occurred. It was difficult to say precisely how long the meditation had taken, but Myn was asleep on the ground beside her, meaning it had been at least a number of minutes. She looked across to Deacon. He sat cross-legged on the chair, his hands folded about his crystal, and his head down. As she stood, now steady enough to forgo the staff for aid, the dragon stirred and gave an angry stare at the still-present intruder. Myranda shook her head and decided to pull Deacon from the meditation as well.
"Deacon. Deacon, I am finished, thank you. It was quite helpful," she said.
The young man did not stir at all.
"Deacon?" she called.
In answer, Deacon released a raking snore and rolled his head slightly to the side. Myranda chuckled. She knew he needed sleep. Myn backed away cautiously at the noise, then moved in close to investigate. As the dragon realized that Deacon was asleep, she decided upon a proper method to wake him. She opened her mouth, ready to deliver a motivating bite on the leg.
"Myn, no!" Myranda reprimanded. "Deacon is my friend. He is not going to hurt me or even try to, so you really should be nicer to him."
The dragon let a short, sharp puff of air out of her nostrils and took on a sulky demeanor. Partly because she was scolded, but mostly because this meant she would have to share Myranda's attentions with another. This was something Myn was becoming very impatient with. Deacon's crystal slipped from his fingers and rolled past Myranda, who turned to pick it up. Myn seized the opportunity and gave Deacon a swi
ft snap with her tail.
"Ouch!" Deacon exclaimed, waking with a start.
"Myn!" Myranda yelled, turning to see the dragon strut away with a decidedly satisfied look on her face.
"Quite a lash on that one. Now I'll have to be careful around both ends," Deacon said, yawning and rubbing the sore area.
"I think you should go get some sleep," Myranda said, handing him his crystal.
"Oh, no, no, no. I couldn't sleep now. That meditation seems to have done you well. Perhaps you would join me? I have someone who I think you will want to talk to," he said, the sleepiness slipping away the instant he remembered what he had in store for her.
"I suppose I am up to it, but are you sure you are?" Myranda asked.
"Of course! Come along. We really ought to see him before dawn," he said, ushering her out the door.