First Apprentice

Chapter 24 Part 3

Tylar looked up from the pack he was rummaging through. "Dev, the girl's got Terry beat in the magic department. Maybe even Joel and Saar."

Eventually Joel and Saar, but I was already taking enough risks. I shouldn't compound them by revealing the full truth.

Devadas ran an appraising eye over me. "It explains the crazy summon," he muttered. "Do you have the herbs?"

"Sage, mustard, garlic, and onion already magic infused and stashed inside a seal on the cask," I replied as I gingerly stepped over someone's legs and began making my way towards the kitchen.

"Mustard? I've heard of cayenne, but that's a new one," Devadas said from behind me.

"It worked for Grandfather," I said as I levitated the cask up onto the table. The table groaned under the weight, but it held firm. Thankfully. Another twitch of my fingers summoned a senteris athame and a cutting board. I directed Devadas to start pouring a salt circle around the table, neutralizing any ambient magic, while I started chopping the onion. I dumped it into the largest pot I owned — a massive stock pot I intended to use as a planter — then minced the garlic.

"Don't rush," Devadas admonished me. "Cruju is slow magic. Think of it as meditation in a bowl."

"Thanks," I said as I slowed my pace. I only had a single cask of boar's blood. No margin for error.

"We should be thanking you. You opened your den to us, are brewing cruju — an offering of magic and blood."

"I also poisoned you. I can see my magic clinging to them," I said when he started to protest.

"Candidates work very few summons. We all have the ability, but the apprentices guard what few gates they receive zealously. We rarely get the opportunity to summon even the lowest gate. A few of us have learned how to shield ourselves. Kevin," I followed his gaze to the false Dracon Lord leaning against the wall beside my bathtub with a book propped on his arm to write on, "somehow managed to learn what took me months in minutes. Otherwise, he wouldn't be standing."

Kevin's file also indicated he was a clansman, not a false Dracon Lord whose Dracon markers narrowly edged out his Marstow. Marstow auras can and do obscure clan and form markers and sometimes even hide themselves, especially in children. Even Grandfather and Uncle Manfred didn't know if I was more Dracon or Marstow until I hit my fifth birthday. I made a mental note to find out who conducted his clan evaluation and when they did it.

I added the garlic to the pot then uncorked the keg.

A scuffle sounded from my bedroom. "But it's clean," a woman complained. Another voice shushed the protester. I closed my eyes and breathed, calming my magic as best I could under the circumstances. Of all the things to worry about! The woman had a possibly fatal case of aura poisoning and she worried about my bedding.

"Don't worry about it," I called to her. "They needed to be washed anyway." A lie. I washed everything last week.

The athame slid over my fingertips, drawing blood and delivering four times the usual pain. All magic has a price. Be it blood, magic, song, soul, or a combination of the above. Cruju was the only magic I knew that also required pain.

I closed my eyes and sank my entire being into my core. Colors exploded around me as magic flowed out of my fingers into the cask and connected. I imagined a pipe connecting the cask to the pot, exactly as Endellion taught me.

"Don't force it," Devadas whispered when I tugged on the magic.

A second presence joined mine, silently adjusting my pipe into a chute.

Blood gushed down the slope, acquiring more magic and mingling with my blood. Sweat beaded on my brow as I crumbled the sage in my hands, merging my magic with the sage without setting it on fire. A smoky scent filled the air then I dropped it into the pocket. Repeat for the mustard. Stir with the athame. Ten seconds per circle. Count them. One and two and three and four and two, three, four. Keep counting. Twenty strokes.

The athame dropped from my fingers and clattered against the table. I grabbed the lip of the table and steadied myself, counting my breath until my magic stilled and my head stopped spinning. My eyes snapped open.

Black flames across the surface. An occasional blue spark showed Devadas's contribution. Cruju. A smile spread across my lips.

"How long?" I asked, meaning how long since we started brewing.

"Two hours," Stefan replied. When did he join us? Why wasn't I concerned because I didn't remember? "You two sit while I get this handed out. Do you have any restoratives or balancers?"

"Thirty pounds of class nines each, sealed in the pantry."

"Useful if your magic's spiking, but not for exhaustion. Philip, see if you can find the class threes. Li should have some, but we may have ditched them when we redistributed his pack. If not, we'll give them a baby dose of the nines."

I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against the table while Stefan bustled around the pot, ladling out servings of cruju and directing who should receive it first. For the first time, I stopped to reflect on their structure. On paper, First Candidate Kevin led and then Tylar, a former commander turned second candidate. Yet they all deferred to Devadas.

The ladle stopped clanking against the pot. Someone nudged my shoulder and pressed a warm mug into my hands. I sniffed it, recognized the floral scent of freshly brewed restorative tea, and gingerly sipped it.

"Thanks," I whispered then shuddered. The vile concoction tasted as bad fresh as it did as an elixir, but it helped restore my energy. A little. It was a bit like trying to fill an ocean with a thimble. I really needed sleep, but I wasn't certain I should or could sleep with so many unknowns inside my safe place.

Author's Note: Sorry for the late post! I hit save, but forgot to hit publish. Oops!