AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Mousy grabs Mistflow’s hand and whispers something in her ear, eliciting a joyful laugh from Mistflow. It’s over too soon, her expression quickly returning to a stern glare. She is intriguing, but I can’t pinpoint why she seems so familiar. I feel entranced by her, almost as I felt the one time Plume tried a little Yearning magic on me so I would know how it felt. I cannot break my eyes from the connection.
Before I can dwell on it further, I observe Mistflow effortlessly pushing aside a fallen tree that blocks Mousy’s path. It’s clear that she possesses considerable strength, with well-defined arms beneath her solid black sleeveless top. Her attire, consisting of short black leathers, is worn but still in good condition. It must have cost her a fortune. Hilts strap her thighs, and she’s got a whip resting on her belt. She looks positively lethal.
A stark contrast to her travel companion, Mousy is slight and quick-footed. Her hair is short, and her clothes are practical green pants and a gray top. I can’t immediately spot any weapons on her, but with a friend like Mistflow, I know she wouldn’t be unarmed. Where Mistflow is the consuming darkness of night, Mousy is the warm light of dawn.
Everything in me says these two will be the ones to watch this year.
The connection pages away from Mousy and Mistflow, and I lean back, not nearly as interested in a group of young boys, clearly in their Ascension year, who are dicking around playing with tree branches as swords.
I suck on my teeth, absentmindedly picking at the skin around my fingernails. Stone slides a glass of mead in front of me, “You look like you need this,” he says under his breath.
“Thank you, old friend.” Smiling at him, I cannot help but feel grateful for all the assistance he has provided me over the years.
Despite my affection for him, I am still convinced I am making the right choice, not involving him in my plans. Still, his presence feels like home. His long gray hair is pulled back with multiple leather bands today, mimicking a plait down his back. He’s got on his black linen trousers and a plain gray shirt with no metal in sight. This is business Stone, getting prepared to assist the Bliksem in creating a storm in a little over an hour.
As the connection continues to shuffle through what is easily the most tedious part of the Race, I sip my drink and try not to think about my encounter with the Esha I brought home. I broke several of my own rules in bringing her there. A lingering embarrassment for my overindulgence and the harsh way I treated her still climbs up my collar.
I’ve never been one for settling down, but I may need to be. Having a woman around to keep me in line doesn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore.
Nimh leaves her seat and stands behind me, her small hands resting on my shoulders. Nimh and I have known of each other for our whole lives but have only recently grown closer since she took a position within the Patricians. She’s small, with an ethereal face and pointed ears. Once, Plume told me that she caught Mace and Nimh in the throes of passion, but I have difficulty believing that, considering how they bicker.
She doesn’t say anything, just presses her fingers into my tense shoulders. “You cannot properly cast if you’re so stressed out, Zeph,” she hums, a tenor only I can hear.
I shrug her hands off and stand. “I’ve got it, Nimh. Appreciate the concern, but I’ve done this before.”
She holds her hands up in submission, “Suit yourself, Zeph, but you know you don’t have to do everything alone.”
I stand in the green behind the Palace, surrounded by Nereids and Bliksem. With Stone and Nimh at my elbows, I know the group assembled is awaiting my command. The Race has been uneventful until now, with the participants just traveling through the forest. That will change when the storm we are about to conjure hits. Some will be forced to seek shelter while others attempt to carry on and get struck by lightning or caught in a mudslide.
I did my best with the few Geomancers I could trust to make the terrain as stable as possible, trying to limit casualties, but I cannot predict what the Racers will do. At least we were able to add additional caves for shelter. I just need to keep as many Racers safe as possible and group them together so they can all make it to the arena. Once there, I can finally reveal the secrets being kept from them.
Casting a spell of this magnitude, containing components of water and lightning, takes more focus than a single spell. It is a delicate dance between elements, with every spell member working harmoniously to produce the desired effects. It has always reminded me of a symphony, with everyone’s part having to be carefully designed. When combining multiple disciplines of lesser magic, a Seasonale must be present to weave all the magic together. While an exhausting process, it really is quite beautiful.
A Seasonale is the only one who can combine magics, but they need one of them to be a lesser magic under their season to be a part of the spell. That makes a spell with Water particularly difficult.
Historically, there has been a lot of back and forth on whether Water is a lesser magic under Summer or Winter. Water can wield rain, control the tides, and use oceans and lakes to help them summon. But Water can also call down snow and ice over roads. I can see an argument for both sides, and I personally have never been able to call water to me. These spells are the closest I have gotten to utilizing Water magic. But with no Winters around to challenge it, Summer has taken Water on as a lesser.
We rarely get to cast spells like this. Most of our day-to-day lives in Ytopie require individual spells or a small cooperative group. But we have a lot of ground to cover with the spell, so the group assembled in front of me is surprisingly massive.
Mace, leaning back against the stone wall of the Palace, tuts and urges us onwards, “Alright, let’s get this going, team.”
I acknowledge him with a curt nod and turn back to the team I have assembled. “Nereids and Bliksem, I want to thank you for agreeing to be a part of this spell today. Each of you provides a crucial element, and with your assistance, we can create a marvelous piece of nature. I am honored to lead you all today. Let’s begin.”
I fold my knuckles into the palm of my hand, hearing a satisfying crack before shaking them out loosely at my side. With a nod at Stone, he raises his right arm and signals for the Bliksem to begin casting. Their low chants fill the space, a hum of ancient words calling upon the natural electricity around us to focus on one spot. I do not speak my magic into existence, but some prefer to, and even more have to. So when I hear the combining of their voices, it sends chills down my spine.
Once they all appear in a trance, Stone joins them on the green, weaving his older, more powerful magic with the fray. Nimh nods towards her assembled group of Nereids, and they all climb into the fountain on the green, rooting themselves in water to help them set their intentions. I’ve always admired how Nereids are so connected to their magic. Most look like they spend their days in the rivers and streams, only surfacing when required.
I raise both of my hands, closing my eyes in an attempt to visualize all the individual voices merging together and traveling to me.
I fall into my rhythm, calling upon memories of warm summer days, ripe fruit, and my mother’s embrace to sink into the magic of Summer that lives in my veins. Once there, I open my eyes, ready to receive the spells that have revealed themselves to me. The air is filled with shimmering fragments pouring out of the mouths of each of the spellcasters, shining like stars in the deepest night. I watch the sparkling specks of gold for Storm and cool, liquid blue droplets for Water rise through the air, spinning lazily above their casters. I pull their magic towards my own, slowly gathering them within my hands. I have always found the combination of disciplines stunning, but Storm and Water is arguably my favorite. The blue and gold swirl together, pooling in the palm of my hand like liquid.
It takes considerable focus to view magic in this way. To an outsider, I’m sure we’d look ridiculous. But with training, anyone with magic within them could spot the flecks of it floating through the air as a spell is cast.
The pool grows larger with each fragment of magic I gather, threatening to spill from my grasp. When I cannot hold it anymore, I tilt it to my mouth and gulp it down.
The golden sparks of Storm burn on their way down my throat, but the cooling droplets from Water soothe. I feel the power of the spell creep through my limbs, filling me with a spell that yearns to escape. The heat that runs through my arms and belly is not unlike the burn of good alcohol, just … more. It is all-encompassing and overwhelming. The magic pressure builds in my body, and I know I do not have much longer to grow and develop it within me.
I focus on visualizing the storm, the lighting and thunder that will shock the senses, and the hot, sticky rain that will fall, leaving the air behind it humid and thick. Setting my intentions, I open my palms up to the sky and will the magic to blend with my own of Summer and release into the atmosphere.
