The Book of Deacon (21 page)

"How do I focus?" she asked.

"Ah, therein lies the crux of the art of
wizardry," he said.

He rummaged about on the cluttered table,
gathering up all of the crystals before selecting a slightly
cloudy, pale yellow gem.

"Give me your hand," he said.

She offered her left hand. Wolloff furrowed
his brow at the odd scar before placing the gem in her hand and
closing her fingers around it.

"Now, close your eyes and concentrate on the
crystal. All that exists is my voice and the crystal. All other
thoughts must be silenced. That crystal is very impure. It will
grow warmer and glow as you devote more and more of your mind to
it," he said.

It was no simple task to do as he said. The
temperature of the crystal did change as she drew more of her mind
toward it, but even the merest distraction dropped the piece to
cold. There was no telling how long it had been before she was
finally interrupted, but it must have been some time, because the
shadows were casting differently than they had when she began. Her
concentration had been broken when Wolloff snatched the gem from
her hand. He had a stern look on his face.

"You wouldn't be trying to make a fool of old
Wolloff, would you?" he asked, angrily.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

The wizard's face twisted briefly with
concentration, the crystal taking on the same glow as a candle.

"You managed this degree of concentration,"
he said, the light wavering slightly as he spoke.

"I don't understand," she said.

"I've been at this since I was nearly your
age. When I was learning what I have just taught you, I had to
practice it for just shy of two months to achieve this degree of
consistent concentration. In all of my years, I have met but a
handful of colleagues that had done so more quickly than I. The
fastest was my mentor, who managed it in two weeks. You've done it
upon your first day of trial, and in
less
than
two
hours!"
He growled.

"What have I done wrong? Why are you
yelling?" she asked.

"Done wrong? You've wasted my time and your
own by allowing me to teach you things you must already know!" he
said.

"I didn't know anything, I swear! The only
knowledge I have of magic is what you have taught me!" she assured
him.

"We shall know for sure in a moment," he
fumed, grasping his amulet.

Myranda quickly stood, knocking the chair
down as she tried to back away. The wizard had a menacing look in
his eye that chilled her to her spine. He spoke a string of mystic
words, only a few of which were familiar. The spell was a mystery
to her, save that the last few words targeted it upon her, and
bound the effects to her flesh. Just as soon as the final word had
left his lips, she felt the muscles in her arm clench tightly. All
feeling left her fingers, and the numbness began to spread quickly
up her arm. In a few moments, the arm hung loosely at her side. She
tried to move it, but it would not obey, not even a twitch.

"What did you do?" she asked desperately,
clutching at the lifeless arm.

"As if you don't know," he said.

Myranda's numbness spread, her panic
spreading with it. Her right leg was quickly claimed and she was
left unable to stand. Soon the whole of her right side was
lifeless, and what little feeling she had left in the left side was
draining away. By the end of a minute she was collapsed on the
floor like a rag doll, utterly numb and scarcely breathing. Wolloff
walked over to her, but she lacked even the control to focus her
eyes on him. He leaned down to inspect her breathing, then slowly
left the room.

She heard the door slip shut. He had left
her. Hours passed with only her thoughts to keep her company. Her
eyes offered only blurred blobs of color and light. She could hear
clearly, but there was nothing for her to listen to aside from the
passing breeze. All other senses were gone. The feeling of complete
helplessness was maddening. She devoted every ounce of her
apparently considerable concentration to moving even a single
finger, but failed. The light blurs turned to dark ones before the
footsteps could be heard returning.

"Right. I am quite convinced. Had you
received the education I'd accused you of, you would certainly have
learned to defend against a little hex like that," he said.

He swept his hand through the air and spoke a
few words. Myranda instantly regained the feeling she was robbed
of.

"And no one would allow such a spell to take
effect if they could avoid it," he said.

"You could have just believed me," she said,
pulling herself from the floor with much difficulty. Unbeknownst to
her, the time on the floor had caused her muscles to cramp.

"I have a personal rule that has served me
quite well in the past: never take at face value that which can be
proved," he said, taking a clear, rose-colored gem from the
table.

"Well?" she asked, hoping for an apology.

"Well take this. This gem has been fairly
well-refined. It will aid your concentration. Take a few moments to
pull your mind together, focus on the gem, then cast the spell
again, as I told you to before," he said, as though the hours of
paralysis he had caused had simply never occurred.

Myranda clutched the new gem. She ought to
have known better than to expect him to make amends for his
distrust. That didn't matter, though. She had a very important task
at hand. Not only did she have the opportunity to rid herself of
the crippling injury, but she was about to take the first real step
toward becoming a healer. Without the warmth of the gem to guide
her, it was difficult to know when she had reached the appropriate
level of concentration. When she felt that her mind was similar to
the way it had been that morning, she spoke the words.

Even the simple task of pronouncing the words
was difficult to do without causing her mind to lose focus. Just as
before, she felt a soothing warmth in her wound that served to
distract her further. As the last few words were spoken, the warmth
increased greatly.

"Right. You may relax now. Let the spell do
its work," Wolloff said.

She let the outside world flow back in.
Instantly, the strange weariness that she had felt before was back,
and far stronger. She felt dizzy, and nearly fell off of her chair.
Her arm, though, felt wonderful. The terrible pain she'd come to
live with was replaced with a gentle tingle. She pulled up the
sleeve and loosened the bandage. Before her eyes the redness and
swelling subsided. In moments, the debilitating injury was returned
to the state it had been in when she received it. A simple, albeit
severe, gash. Much to her chagrin, though, it was there that the
spell seemed to stop its work.

"Fine. That will be all for today," he
said.

"Wait! What happened?" she asked, trying to
stand. The dizziness that swirled in her mind forced her back into
the chair.

"You cast the spell, the spell worked," he
said, irritated by the need to explain the obvious.

"But my arm. It isn't healed," she said.

"No. The spell you cast was simply to remove
the affliction that had been worsening the wound. The actual
healing spell is quite different. We will begin learning that one
tomorrow. It is significantly longer, and it contains a few runes
that you have yet to learn. If you get your wits about you by the
time I've made supper, we will work a bit after."

"Supper . . . you mean you don't expect me to
prepare it?" she said.

"As entertaining as it would be to see you
run in a screaming conflagration from my kitchen after falling
face-first into the fire, I am in no mood to clean it up. Rest for
a bit. When you've coordinated yourself enough to risk the stairs,
you will find some of yesterday's dinner waiting for you," he said,
taking his leave.

The young woman took his advice, though she'd
hardly needed to be told. It was late afternoon, but it may as well
have been midnight. As soon as he'd left, Myranda dragged herself
to the bed and collapsed. This was the most bizarre weariness she
had ever felt. Her body felt fine. It was neither sore nor weak. In
truth, it was the first time in weeks that she could say she felt
virtually no pain whatsoever. And yet she could barely move. It was
as though she lacked the will to command her muscles.

Perhaps because of this, the sleep she
yearned for simply would not come. Her mind badly needed it, but
her body would not oblige. Instead, she remained in a daze for
several hours, fully awake, but mentally drained. Finally, more out
of boredom than refreshment, she opened her eyes to a darkened
room. It must have become night only recently, as there was a bit
of rosiness to the sky at the tip of the mountains. She wondered,
as she gazed out, where her little dragon was. It was not like her
to be gone much past sundown.

"Where could she be?" she asked to no one in
particular.

The answer came in a swift and sudden manner.
Myn's head appeared, peering down through the window from above.
Myranda, startled by the unexpected appearance of her friend,
stumbled backward. The dragon darted behind her, using her head to
prop up the faltering girl.

"Thank you, Myn. I suppose I've not quite
recovered yet. I feel quite a bit better, though," she said,
feeling her way to the bed. She sat, the dragon leaping up to the
bed beside her.

"So what have you been up to? Not only
hunting, I hope. If you spend so much time hunting each day, the
forest will be emptied by the time we leave," she said.

The dragon, enthralled by the sound of her
voice, moved to Myranda's right side. When she had finished
talking, Myn glanced at her right arm, sniffing at the injury. A
look of confusion or curiosity came to her face as she took another
smell and gave Myranda a questioning look.

"Oh, my arm. Yes. I learned to cast a spell,
and now it is healing properly. Thank you for noticing," she
said.

Myn seemed pleased, as though the smell of
the tainted injury had been a source for concern for her, and its
disappearance was a great relief. She gave her little reptilian
version of a smile and lowered her head for the standard reward for
a job well done. Myranda gave her the pat on the head she was
hoping for with her vastly improved arm.

"I'll be right back. You've eaten your meal,
but I've yet to have mine," she said.

Myn coiled herself up on the bed, watching
Myranda open the door and carefully descend the stairs. If the
stairs had been tricky before, navigating them in near darkness and
while lightheaded was an entirely new experience. She made it to
the base, thankfully in one piece, and found Wolloff reading by the
firelight. On the table was a plate featuring the last of the roast
and a few boiled vegetables. She sat down and ate quietly.

"It held up well," Wolloff said.

Myranda nodded in agreement.

"Perhaps you would like to take some up to
your dragon," he said.

Myranda nodded again before realizing what
had been said.

"What?" she said.

"That is who you were talking to, was it
not?" he asked.

"You heard that?" she said.

"No, but now I know that I was right," he
said.

Myranda sighed and swallowed hard. "How long
did you know?" she asked.

"If you recall, I was there the first morning
she showed up. Did you really think I wouldn't check to see if it
had happened again?" he said. "You will find it very difficult to
fool a wizard, lass."

"I am very sorry, but we have been together
every day since she was born. I cannot keep her away. I assure you,
she is very well-behaved. She has only breathed fire once and it
was only because she was cold. If she--" Myranda hurriedly
explained.

"Relax, lass, I would not be so foolish as to
put the fate of my collection in the hands of an apprentice. You
couldn't ignite a single page if you tried. The moment I saw that
beast, I put a series of spells into effect. You can't even light a
lamp up there without a word or two from me," he said.

"Why didn't you say something earlier?" she
asked.

"It is just my way," he said, getting up and
placing his book on the table. "So, do you feel up to learning a
bit more tonight?"

"Not quite," she said.

"What a shame, because that is precisely what
we are going to do," he said.

#

The following weeks brought much knowledge
and little rest. Wolloff felt that, since she was gifted with a
unique strength of mind, she ought to be pushed harder than his
other students. In weeks she learned spells that had taken the
other apprentices months to perfect. She could soon heal everything
from a bruise to a broken limb to any number of diseases. He would
see to it that she practiced nonstop until the spell was casting
just as it should be.

Surprisingly, Wolloff more often than not
provided the meals. He seemed to believe that her education was of
the highest priority. Each morning would see a new spell taught and
rest would not come until it had been cast. Each day followed the
same routine--until one morning more than a month later. On that
morning, Myn was acting strangely.

The dragon had continued to leave with the
approach of morning, usually waking Myranda in the process.
Something was different, though. When Myn jumped to the floor, she
sniffed at the air, clearly worried. She then climbed to the north
window to gain a better sample of whatever scent it was that
bothered her so. The little dragon was so distracted she did not
even leave her station at the window when Wolloff entered.

"Oh, I see, we do not even do the old man the
courtesy of pretending to follow the rules anymore, eh?" he
said.

"Something is wrong. I think she smells
something," she said, growing more and more concerned at the
dragon's strange behavior.