The Sartious Mage (The Rhythm of Rivalry) (27 page)

“It’s the same as moving Bastial Energy, just harder. SE is a lot heavier.”

“I don’t know about Bastial Energy, either. Will you explain? At least until Kory comes back?”

I’d expected him to return by then, but he hadn’t. “Gladly,” I answered. I’d explained the process before to people who hadn’t studied magic. I always used the same analogy.

“Imagine millions of specks of water floating through the air. You can feel the humidity against your skin, but you can’t see the water in the air until enough of it is clumped together in one place, like how it beads on your hair.”

“Sartious Energy is like that?” Lisanda asked.

“Yes. Bastial Energy as well.”

“Sartious Energy is green, I know, but then what does Bastial Energy look like when enough of it is in one place to be seen?”

I opened my palm. “Like this.” I forced Bastial Energy through my hand, causing a burst of light to glow from it, white as snow.

“Oh.” Lisanda laughed at her mistake. “I’ve seen that white glow from mages but never really thought about it before.”

Most people knew Bastial Energy could be used as a source of light and heat. It was known as hot energy for this reason, while Sartious was known as heavy energy. What most people didn’t know, though, was why red was used to symbolize Bastial Energy instead of white.

Green for SE was easy to understand, as the heavy energy was always green no matter what. But Bastial Energy was like fire—it changed color depending on its heat. Pure Bastial Energy in its heaviest concentration actually looked blood red. And when Bastial Energy got to be that color, it was hot enough to burn through stone, metal, bone, anything.

I figured Lisanda didn’t want to hear about something so dangerous, so I didn’t mention it.

“So how do you use the energy from the air?” she asked.

“Go back to imagining the humid room, enough water floating around you to fill buckets. Then imagine emptying your lungs of air and then sucking in as deeply as possible. You’d be sure to feel water being pulled into your mouth. The more you do this, the more water you get. And the more water in the air, the easier it is to gather.

“A mage like myself does this same process with Bastial and Sartious Energy, drawing it in, but with our skin instead of our mouths. As Bastial Energy is far lighter than Sartious, it’s easier to move.”

Hearing a voice outside the door, I stopped. A muffled laugh trailed up the stairs. Words between two people followed, quickly fading into silence.

“Why do mages need a wand then?” Lisanda asked quietly.

“Two reasons. Most spells contain Bastial Energy, so they’re hot. The wand gives the mage a safe place to direct the energy so as not to get burned. More importantly, most mages have little control over heavy SE. So wands are filled with Sartious, usually in the form of pellets. This allows mages to push Bastial Energy through their wands where they already have Sartious Energy stored, ready to be mixed into the spell. Fireballs are composed of roughly twenty times as much Bastial as Sartious.”

“So, a wand can run out of Sartious Energy?”

“Sure can.” I gave a light laugh. “That was my main job when I worked with a blacksmith—wand filling. It takes a mage who can manipulate SE to fill a wand. That’s also why wands can vary so much in price. Sartious can be packed together very tightly, giving a wide variety to the amount stored in fresh wands. The more skilled the mage, the more energy can be stuffed into a wand. This is another reason mages prefer a staff when mobility isn’t an issue, there’s far more SE at their disposal.”

“I see,” Lisanda replied, growing quiet.

Kory threw open the door. He had nothing in his hands.

“Just checking on you two.” He gave a fatherly smile to match his tone. “I had to run it by the commander, but I’ll be back with your chamber pot soon.”

“Thank you,” Lisanda said.

Kory nodded and shut the door behind him.

“Is it true,” Lisanda asked, “that the Sartious Energy feels good to use? I’ve even heard it’s…well, the word they use is…” Her voice lowered. “Orgasmic.”

A smile broke across my mouth. “So, you’ve heard that. Yes, it’s true. Pulling the heavy energy through our bodies can create a good feeling. Though, I’ve never felt more than a light stream of pleasure down my spine. Mostly, it feels more warm and tingly in my stomach and chest. But it soon becomes itchy, needing to be used.”

“Why don’t you feel the pleasure as much? Don’t you use more Sartious Energy than nearly any other mage?”

“I’ve always figured I have a tolerance to it, which I’m thankful for because I’ve heard that not only are the feelings of pleasure utterly distracting, but too much SE in your blood can stop your heart.”

She let out a small gasp. “That doesn’t worry you?”

I shook my head. “No, because of my tolerance I mentioned. I’ve never had any problems with SE before. My darkness, though…” I sighed. “That worries me, especially since it’s getting worse.”

I stopped myself. I’d already implied more than I’d meant to, that I was worried one day it actually might kill me.

Her silence didn’t let me know what she thought, especially with her face turned away from me. I quickly thought of something else to say.

“Did you know there are three times as many female Sartious mages as male?”

“I didn’t know that.” Lisanda’s voice was on the verge of cheery but with sullen undertones, like she was trying to hide the morbid feelings I must’ve evoked. “Why is that?”

“It’s been a popular belief that men are more distracted by the feelings of pleasure than women. Their focus is broken easier by the feeling, preventing them from progressing through practice.”

Lisanda laughed wholeheartedly. “I can believe that.”

I laughed as well. Then we each let out a culminating sigh.

“What are you planning to do when Kory comes back?” Lisanda asked, a touch of worry behind each word.

“Nothing,” I answered immediately. “Nothing until he leaves. I don’t want to hurt the man.”

“You may have to, though, if we don’t get an opportunity to escape.”

My chest became tight like my ribs were being pulled together. She was right.

Chapter 23: Rooted

Kory returned carrying a chamber pot he wasn’t exactly proud to be holding.

“I only see one way of this happening, Princess,” Kory said with a hesitant squint. “And I fear you’re not going to like it.”

“I will not go in front of you,” Lisanda replied in her accusatory princess voice I hadn’t heard for a while.

Kory cleared his throat. “Not that. I’ll remove the ends of the ropes from the chest. You’ll take this pot to the corner of the room, leave it there when you’re done, come back, then I’ll tie you back to the chest and that’ll be it.”

His voice was firm, but the way he tilted his head made it seem like he was open to suggestions if Lisanda didn’t like the one he provided.

“Fine,” she agreed reluctantly.

Kory left the two ropes tied to each of Lisanda’s wrists but untied the ends from the chest. She stood, rubbing her wrists for a moment, then took the chamber pot to the corner of the room where she was shielded from sight by the many rows of shelves stocked with food.

Once there, she called to me. “Jek, my love, would you mind singing?”

My heart jumped at the phrase “my love,” but I reminded myself that she was only doing it because we were supposed to be a couple.

“Certainly,” I called back.

My mind scampered for a song. I decided I should choose one a noble might, just to make sure I didn’t arouse any suspicion from Kory or anyone else outside who might overhear. While there were many songs made by the lower class and just for the lower class, usually of a crude nature or with heavy insults toward the rich, most songs were sung just as often by a farm boy like me as they were in the company of nobles. This made it easy enough to find one I enjoyed that a noble would as well:
Rooted
, one of my favorites growing up.

Thick and short, the sitwell tree was known to be one of the sturdiest of trees. Amazingly, the sitwell trees could die but stay standing for another hundred years before finally toppling over.

Rooted
tells the story of a young sitwell tree that wept because he wanted to see the world, but he was too short to see over the surrounding trees. Patiently, the sitwell waited many years to grow to his full height, but he still was too short to see anything besides other trees.

The bounce of the chorus was very melodic and with a slow steady rhythm—a pleasure to hear so long as the singer could make the jumps from low notes to high. Although I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sung it, my voice flowed out just as freely as if I’d practiced yesterday.

Lisanda emerged before I finished. I stopped myself.

She gave an endearing whine. “You can’t stop there.”

“Right,” Kory agreed. “What happens to the poor tree?”

“You haven’t heard
Rooted
before?” I blurted, even though that already was clear. It was a response of surprise, nothing more. The song was famous, just not sung too often because it was somewhat difficult.

Kory shook his head.

“Finish it, Jek,” Lisanda urged.

“It sounds like you know the song,” I commented.

“I do.” Lisanda nodded hesitantly.

“Then finish it with me, sweetheart.” I raised my eyebrows and smiled. “I want to hear your lovely voice.” I was curious about how she sang after she’d mentioned taking lessons, especially because she’d made it quite clear how much she hated her singing coach.

Lisanda looked to be clenching her teeth behind tight lips. “I’d much prefer you sing without me,
my love
.” She forced a smile but kept her eyes glaring.

“As you wish, but you owe me a song,” I teased.

She grumbled softly, lowering her chin to her neck. “If you’re lucky,” she nearly whispered. “Now, please finish.”

I nodded and continued.

The song had a happy ending. A female sitwell tree had started growing beside the lonely male protagonist of the song. Although she’d started small and was overlooked for many years, the female sitwell eventually sprouted and bloomed into unimagined beauty.

They fell in love and found everything they needed in each other. The song ended with the male tree deciding he didn’t need to see anything else in the world when the most beautiful sight was already right beside him.

Kory and Lisanda gave quiet but enthusiastic applause, and I lowered my head in a halfhearted attempt at a bow while sitting, careful not to move my leg covering the Sartious blade.

Soon after Kory retied Lisanda to the chest, we heard many boots trudging up the stairs outside the door. I thought it was some sort of scheduled event, but Kory’s face showed the most curiosity out of the three of us. He started toward the door as someone pushed it open from the other side.

The commander poked his head in. The cloth usually covering his face was pulled below his chin.

“They’re here early, must have news,” the commander said to Kory. His eyes floated over Kory’s shoulder to check on us. “Any problems?”

“Not at all.” Kory gave a quick glance at us before turning back. “Would you like me to come with you in case there’s trouble?”

“Stay here with them. We’ll try to keep this civil. If all goes well, we’ll be leaving together.”

Kory gave one rigid nod. “Aye.”

Lisanda cleared her throat to get my attention. When I turned, she motioned her head toward the door with a shift of her eyes back and forth. I knew she was telling me to get ready and that we may need to do something to Kory to get through.

I shook my head. It wasn’t a good time. We had to wait until we knew where everyone would be meeting. For all we knew, they could be just outside the entrance, making our escape impossible and the injury of Kory pointless. I really didn’t want to hurt him.

I turned to Kory. “Who’s early?”

He made a sour face. “Those pompous messengers I mentioned.”

“What’s your commander going to do with us?” I needed to get an idea of what was going to happen to us to come up with a plan.

His face soured even more. “I can’t answer that without giving up too much information.”

I almost asked where the meetings with the messengers usually took place, but I stopped myself. I couldn’t come up with a reason to justify the curiosity that didn’t have to do with escaping. Instead, I sat quietly, careful not to move my leg.

Mumbled voices drifted into the room, giving no indication of where they were coming from. I couldn’t distinguish the words, but it became clear the more they talked that it was getting aggressive. Kory held his ear against the door, his face growing tighter with each passing moment.

“Do they usually argue?” I asked.

“Yes, but not this much.”

Someone shouted something that was loud enough to hear clearly. “Show me who you have! We will not continue this conversation until you show me.”