When we returned to camp, Stefan pounced. Armed with the maps and master-level calculations he worked on into the wee hours of the morning, he presented me with a plan to turn the cave into a winter shelter. A plan he started implementing the second I left.
By the time Kevin and I returned, Brian had a barrier seal half-carved around the cave mouth, fresh cut hemlock boughs were stacked inside against the wall along with soot-blackened bricks, and Stefan was laying out living spaces on the cavern floor with chalk. Making the cave more comfortable wasn't a bad idea. It relieved the pressure inside my study and gave us all a dry place to go when tempers ran high, which they would, or my magic spiked. However, his calculations didn't take into account two things.
One, Terry chose this area because there weren't any large creeks or rivers. He didn't have to worry about the summon site poisoning people downstream, which meant no shields. Even my training ground on Vinetta was surrounded by shields designed to dampen and/or neutralize ambient magic. Only a soon-to-be-deceased fool would live beside an unshielded summon site.
Two, Endellion lost three armies to these mountains. War chiefs, sealers, common soldiers, and camp followers all froze to death equally. In those days, everyone from the newest recruit up knew the same common survival seals Stefan ordered carved inside the cave. If anyone took the time to explore, they'd probably find remnants of those seals carved into the walls alongside bone fragments masquerading as pebbles.
Even in the unlikely event ambient magic from my gates didn't corrode the seals exactly like it did the ones on my clothes, some of the best sealers the Dracon ever produced died testing this strategy. I'd rather not repeat Endellion's mistake, but I didn't have a better idea.
Teleporting and aura poisoning didn't mix. I hadn't met the healer Helen hired yet. Before Kevin and I left for Headquarters, I handed Tylar the wards. He let the healer in, not me. If she was half as good as Helen claimed, she'd feed me to the gates before she let me teleport her patients anywhere, which meant the majority were stuck up here for the next several weeks.
I closed my eyes and imagined a push broom, sweeping my worries and theories into a 'think about later' bin. As my thoughts cleared, I turned my attention back to the fire boiling from my fingertips.
Sweat beaded on my forehead as I kneaded magic between my palms, twisting and pulling until ice encased the fire. Eyes closed, I wrapped my right hand around the aes and imagined a hilt. Woven cotton cord covered the hilt, crossing like shoelaces, a simple crossguard and pommel — a plain weapon built for use, not ceremonies. Once the cord rasped against my palm, I grabbed the ball of aes at the base of the blade with my left hand and pulled, shaping the blade as I went.
One minute. Two. I clenched my jaw and teased individual strands of magic into position. Twist. Nudge. Tweak. The hilt pulsed in time with my heartbeat as the blade solidified. My shoulders slumped with relief.
Aes shaping wasn't Endellion's strong suit. She taught me what little she knew, but she focused on the broad area magics capable of wiping out a city. After the war ended, she focused on seals, not perfecting the more esoteric branches of Dracon magic. Sometimes, I wondered how much Donovan and the Dracon Council's betrayal influenced that decision.
Shaking my head, I refocused on my task and rolled to my feet. Pine needles crunched underfoot as I tiptoed toward the rock outcropping. The Well's tainted magic eddied around me, clinging to the scraggly pines that eked out an existence at the treeline and poisoning the stream burbling from the rock. On a good day, the Summoner's Well leaked magic like a sieve. Without several centuries worth of readings, it was impossible to say if this was normal. Still, my sealers couldn't be near it. Or my gates. Or myself.
Right now, being inside the Well was safer than being near me. At least the Well poisoned everyone equally. When my magic spiked, not if, I would poison them again, possibly killing them.
I traced a clawed finger over the mark scored in the rock then I stabbed it. My blade slid into the rock as if it was a side of beef. The rock hissed as I cut, tracing the lines. Across the back, down, across the bottom, up. The last cut freed the rock. Three more cuts divided it into four perfect cubes.
The blade petered out as spots danced in front of my eyes. Head bowed and chest heaving, I steadied myself against the overhang.
"Ward stones?" Kevin asked.
I tensed, casting a wary look at the vitrified stones then back at him. "How long?"
"Long enough to realize why Tylar shoved secrecy oaths down our throats this morning." He shrugged and froze mid-shrug.
Hissing, he cradled his right side. "Damn numbing seal wore off. I hate to ask, but sealing with my off hand is a guaranteed way to lose half my rib cage. Will you paint on a new one?"
"Sure." I tapped a seal on my bracelet and removed my first aid kit. When I reached for the latches, Kevin grabbed my wrist and turned my hand over, prodding the bracelet curiously with his magic. When I growled, he dropped my wrist as if burned.
"Sorry. Never seen anything like that before. What is it? How does it work? What else do you have hidden in there? What metal did you use? Is that real senteris or silver? Can anyone use it or just you?" His questions tumbled out in a flood, words running together as if his thoughts outpaced his tongue. If his academy instructors were to be believed, they probably did.
"It's a subplane exactly like the one you stayed in last night, but smaller and without any environmental seals or wards. Senteris because my magic melts everything else. These"—I jangled the bracelet on my wrist—"are keyed to my blood and magic. No one else can use them." The only problem I remedied last week. "Otherwise, I would have lent it to Philip instead of sending him to the Chal Anchorpoint Market carrying a shelf."
Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Kevin eyed my bracelet thoughtfully. "You were armed the entire time, weren't you? From the second we met you, even in Amit's office after he ordered us to leave our weapons at the door."
"I'm a master sealer," I said as I knelt in front of my first aid kit, turning my back to Kevin. Odd how I trusted him so readily, how I trusted all of them. "Killing me is the only way to disarm me, which Amit knew before I walked into his office."
"Sorry for grabbing you," he mumbled.
Bottles clinked as I rummaged through the top, searching for the grain alcohol and glycerin hidden among the emergency balancers.
"I've had worse reactions. The first time"—I caught myself before I mentioned Endellion's name. Now wasn't the time to discuss my odd, little family—"my mother saw it she took it away for testing and brought it back in pieces." I deposited the bottles on the table and opened a drawer. "Numbing, bone healing, or both?"
"Numbing. They're just cracked."
I rolled my eyes. "Both then."
After closing the lid and laying out three sheets of folded paper on the top, I motioned for him to raise his tunic. When he lifted it, I whistled under my breath. Pulsing red lines radiated out from a fist-sized bruise on his side, marks from a senteris blade. The remains of a circular seal encased it, runes written in black ink smeared and flaked off, negated by the war between Kevin's magic and the blade's.
"What happened?" I asked.
"Nothing."
"When I was nine," I said, uncorking the alcohol, "I melted my first training sword. It was an accident, but my aunt deemed destroying a sword during training a greater danger than using senteris. I've used it ever since. I know a senteris injury when I see one, Kevin. Considering one of Philip's tasks today is ordering senteris weapons, I also know this didn't happen training with your colleagues."
He ducked his head. I poured alcohol on a clean bandage and corked the bottle. Then I knelt and began dabbing at the remains of the old seal. It seemed inactive, but I'd rather scrub off as much as possible before placing a new one.
"You've done nothing wrong. Unless," I added with a smirk, "you volunteered yourself as a test dummy. Then, you might need to have a long chat with a mind healer or ten."
YOU ARE READING
First Apprentice
FantasyA riveting coming of age story about an orphaned dracon shifter's struggle to control her own fate. "Black as a moonless night, might makes right," Joel whispered the old saying under his breath. His fingers clenched around my wrist before he releas...
