17. Declan

Chapter 17

Declan

T he last thought that repeated in my mind as I leaped was, Stupid idea! Stupid idea! Stupid idea!

I looked down and watched my boots hurtle toward the open space in the crystalline floor. Then the world transformed into a kaleidoscope. A few feet away, my beautiful mother, robed in elegant white and gold, became little more than a smear of color against the backdrop of hues reflecting against glass.

My golden tunic flared.

I had to squeeze my eyes shut to stop the blazing spots that appeared.

Knives of flame pierced my skin.

The deeper I sank, the stronger the sensation of being burned alive grew.

And yet, oddly, I felt a chill.

I struggled to keep my head wedged in a pocket of air between the river’s surface and the cavern’s floor as my arms flailed and feet kicked uselessly against the river’s pull. The current drew me away from the opening, and I watched through the glassy floor as my mother’s image faded from view.

My head submerged, and I felt the pressure of the watery flow carrying me away, yet I didn’t struggle to breathe. If anything, sucking in the blueish mist filled my lungs with warmth and exhilaration.

It tasted . . . sweet?

And it felt as if magic wanted me to drink it in, to let it live within my body and spirit.

So I did.

I surrendered and lay back, allowing my body to float, buoyed by the currents.

Magic sensed my shift, and the surrounding glow grew brighter. Aches that plagued me from years of hard service with the Rangers vanished, and my body was renewed. I had experienced magic’s healing in bottomless pitchers of wine—but while the wine’s healing only repaired injury to body and mind, the currents’ power restored the soul. In a single moment, I felt reborn, my flesh replaced with perfect, never-worn skin. I felt my muscles knitting together where scars caused pain.

I became whole and unmarred once more.

Discarding my last shred of caution, I opened my mouth and laughed at the sensations hammering my body and mind. Mist and syrupy thick liquid-that-was-not-liquid rushed to enter. I panicked but soon realized it wouldn’t harm me—it couldn’t—it was part of me, and I was part of it.

This torrent of power was my home.

No, it was more than that.

It was an extension of my spirit and soul.

I belonged here.

And that’s when she spoke.

Her voice wasn’t muted or muffled; it echoed with sonorous clarity in my mind.

“After carrying me for so long, it is now my time to carry you, Bond-Mate.”

“órla?” I wheeled my head around. “Where are you? I can’t see you.”

She laughed in my head, and I thought it was the most joyous, purest sound I’d ever heard.

“Have you learned nothing? I am everywhere—in the mist, the currents, the air above, the stone below. Thanks to your heavy breathing, I even flow within you. That’s pretty weird, by the way.”

I coughed through an unexpected laugh.

órla giggled.

“I have never been an owl. I am an eternal, limitless spirit of magic. One day you will learn we are not so different, you and I.”

Her laughter shifted to a serious tone.

“Declan, I would embrace you every day, but this is not your time. This world needs you. Atikus is in more danger than I thought. He cannot wait for his connection to heal naturally. You must restore him. If Atikus falls, I fear this world will be powerless to resist the rising darkness.”

“How do I restore him? I don’t know what to do.”

“Trust that small boy deep within you, the one who fears and aches.

“He knows the way.

“Trust the boy.”

“The boy?” My head spun in confusion.

“The currents will deliver you to Saltstone soon. I fear Atikus may already lie beyond our aid. Do not tarry.”

“órla, what do I do? I still don’t understand!” I shouted, but she didn’t answer.

The river’s light pulsed, and a wave of force swelled beneath me, lifting me above the surface. Without warning, the river surged upward and spat me onto cold, dry stone.

I leaned up on my elbows and stared back. The moment I was expelled from its currents, the surface had calmed, returning to a steady, almost placid flow.

I looked down, expecting to see liquid dripping from my clothes, but was stunned to find myself dry.

Of course you’re dry, you idiot; it’s a magical river, not a watery one.

In contrast to the crystalline beauty of the Well’s chamber, the cavern where I now lay was little more than a hole gouged out of the mountain. The only light in the tiny chamber came from the river’s flow and the mist reaching up to tease my skin.

Reminding myself of órla’s urging, I rose.

The trek along the winding path back to the Mages’ complex was covered in pristine snow. I drew in crisp air and smiled. Despite the desperation in my mission, the thought of seeing my brother and adopted family of Mages—and especially Ayden—put a spring in my step.

In no time, I found myself standing at the base of the ruined Mages’ tower.

I frowned up at the once-majestic symbol of magic, now barely a half tower surrounded by a rubble of massive, broken stones. I was here when the tower fell and had seen it many times since, but returning home to its decrepit state was still sobering.

“I come out here to think sometimes.”

I nearly fell over at the voice that spoke from around the tower’s base. A head covered in a blond mess of hair peeked around.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” The boy stepped before me and took a long look, his eyes growing wider by the second. “You’re . . . you’re . . . Declan!”

Now it was my turn to chuckle as I righted myself. “Glad to see I made an impression last time I was here. And who are you, Mage-Apprentice?”

The boy’s eyes widened further, and he stumbled back several steps. Fear, like the dark clouds of a rising storm, spread across his face a moment before he bolted away.

“Wait! Wha . . .”

I watched the boy’s oversized blue robe flutter away.

“Not the triumphant return I expected,” I muttered.

As I approached the Mages’ quarters, other apprentices moved to meet me, excited to greet the man bearing the golden Phoenix on his chest. Yet, as they met my gaze, their expressions morphed from curiosity into obvious fear. Quicker than when the dinner bell rang, the courtyard cleared, leaving me standing at the entrance to the Mages’ quarters alone and befuddled.

The door opened, and Mage Fergus bowled into me, knocking me off the steps.

“Watch yourself, young man!” Fergus bellowed without looking up to see who he’d knocked down.

“I would if you’d stop trying to knock me off my feet.” I grinned as Fergus looked up.

“My boy!” the Mage exclaimed, gripping my arms with both hands, pulling me into a bear hug. “Welcome home, son.”

When Fergus stepped back from his embrace, the Mage’s smile fell, and his eyes widened. “Declan, what happened to your eyes?”

“My eyes? What do you mean? Nothing that I know of.” I reached to press fingers to my eyes, but there was no pain there.

Fergus scrunched his nose and leaned forward to examine my pupils. “Declan, I think we need to go inside so you can see for yourself.”

The old Mage waddled back through the doorway and led me into a sitting room where a large mirror leaned against one wall. A fire in the hearth snapped in greeting and warmth.

I turned toward the mirror and froze.

“I—Ferg—what . . . ?”

The whites of my eyes now blazed with the intensity of the noon sun, and swirled with a light bearing the same swirling azure of the Well’s mist. As I leaned toward the mirror, mist curled out of the corners of each eye. I blinked a few times, but the swirling, blazing brilliance remained.

Fergus fell into a large chair by the hearth and poured himself a glass of brown liquor, downing it in one gulp, then refilling the glass.

“How does it feel? I mean they —how do they feel? Your eyes ? How do your eyes feel?” he stammered.

I reached up with a tentative finger and rubbed one eye again, then shrugged. “They don’t feel any different. I didn’t even know they were glowing, or whatever you’d call this.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure everyone else will notice. It is rather, um, alarming, especially when you don’t know the swirly, glowing magic man is going to glare at you.”

I turned, my lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout. “Did you just make fun of me? In my time of need?”

“I would never do such a thing,” Fergus said before breaking out into a wide grin. “But seriously, we will need to figure out what’s going on, if there are side effects or other considerations. Before we do, though, let’s get you to Atikus. I fear we may not have him much longer.”

All humor fell away. “He’s that bad?”

“I don’t think he’s in physical pain, but for one so steeped in magic to have that connection ripped away, well, it would make anyone question their will to live. Seeing you might help—but Declan, he’s not the man you knew when you left. You need to brace yourself.”

I nodded. “My eyes can wait. Let’s go see him now.”

A moment later, Fergus rapped on the heavy door of Atikus’s chamber.

A muffled voice bellowed, “Go away!”

“Atikus, it’s Fergus. Declan just arrived, and we’re coming in.”

Without waiting for a reply, Fergus pushed the door open and strode into the room.

I froze halfway through the doorway and stared in disbelief.

The stones of the floor were hidden beneath a layer of scattered clothing and books. Tomes of magic appeared to have been tossed about. As I absorbed the scene, I found a lump in a heavily wrinkled blue robe curled on the bed. Atikus’s silver hair had thinned, and dark spots of age were spreading across his pasty scalp.

“Atikus,” I said in a whisper.

“I said go away.”

“Atikus, it’s me, Declan.”

“I don’t care if you’re the Spirits-damned Phoenix herself. Get out.”

Atikus’s voice didn’t sound angry. It was hollow, devoid of meaning or life—or more likely the will to live.

Fergus gave me an understanding look, then patted my shoulder and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

I stepped forward and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Atikus, please. I came to help.”

The lump didn’t move. “You’re wasting your time. No one can help me. I’m useless now.”

“Atikus—”

“Just leave me alone. You’re better off without me.”

I stared into the man’s back.

Seeing my proud, powerful adopted father in this state shocked me more than any of the wonders I’d experienced over the past year. The once-jovial, perpetually positive Mage had been reduced to an immobile, helpless man filled with nothing but self-loathing and self-pity.

My gut turned at the sight.

And yet, beneath sadness, I also found righteous anger.

This man had raised me, gave me hope, taught me to laugh and love. He’d taught me to read and write, to think for myself, and to challenge the thoughts of others. He’d taught me everything that was good and right. What right did he have to shun that love now? How dare he give up when the world needed him?

When I needed him?

In response to my rising rage, my tunic flared, lighting every corner of the chamber with the brilliance of a hundred candles. I stood and stepped back from the bed, then spoke in a measured, commanding voice. “Arch Mage Atikus Dani, get out of that bed before I lift you out.”

Atikus’s head slowly turned, and he squinted through the tunic’s glow. “Fine. I’ll get up. Just turn that thing down, will you?”

I couldn’t suppress a grin and willed the tunic to dim, but only slightly.

Atikus sat up, his spindly legs dangling off the side of the bed, then rubbed his eyes with both palms. “I’m up. You happy?”

“Look at me,” I commanded.

“You sure got bossy since somebody taught you magic,” Atikus said before looking up. When he saw my eyes, he froze, his mouth agape. “Sweet Spirits. What in the—”

“We don’t know, and it’s not important right now. I came to restore your magic. Do you want my help or not?” I wasn’t sure if this approach would work, but I sensed the comfort I’d planned to offer was doomed to fail against the rocky shoals of the Mage’s languishing misery.

“You are wasting your time. I have been severed. There is nothing to restore.”

I reached forward and gripped his arm, shocked at how wraithlike the formerly hale man had become. I focused my intent into the center of Atikus’s chest and allowed my magic to flow into the man’s spirit.

There was nothing.

My Light flowed through every memory and thought, through every emotion, through every part of the Mage I could search, and still I found no remnant of magic.

I searched for more than an hour.

“See? Nothing,” Atikus grumbled, ready to return to his wallowing.

“Hush. I’ll be done when I’m done.”

Frustrated, I allowed my Light to dim.

My attention had turned to other thoughts when something caught my mental eye. It was a tiny, almost imperceptible dot, something so small and dim I never would’ve seen it while my own brilliant Light shone. I focused my inner sight and approached the dot, surprised when it didn’t grow larger as I came closer.

But something did change when I neared.

It pulsed —faintly.

Excitement thrummed in my chest.

I reached out with my magical sense to grasp the dot, hoping beyond hope, but was repulsed by an impenetrable wall that sent a shock wave through my soul. It wasn’t a wave of pain but rather a sickness or wrongness that oozed through my mind.

I shivered at its touch but was determined to save my mentor.

I redoubled my effort, drawing ever more power from my internal reserve and the tunic. I hammered into the barrier with all my might—only to receive an equally powerful retort.

Bile rose in my throat.

My mind swam.

I staggered and lost my connection to Atikus before tripping backward to land on the floor.

Atikus was down in a flash.

“Are you all right? Declan, can you hear me?” Concern marred the haggard man’s face. “I knew this was useless. Please, stop. I can’t have you hurt on my account.”

“I’m fine.” I shook my head to clear my mind, then looked up at Atikus. “But I think you’re wrong about being severed. I saw a Light, but it’s blocked by . . . something. When I tried to break through, it tossed me back as if I was made of paper.”

“That’s impossible,” Atikus muttered, shocked. “Our Mages searched. None of them could see anything. Are you sure?”

I nodded and grinned, hoping a measure of warmth might thaw him further. “You didn’t let the most powerful Mage alive take a look. You know, the one with the mystical, blazing eyes and brilliantly floppy hair?”

I flicked my hair back dramatically.

Despite himself, Atikus laughed. It was small at first but grew into a deep rumble that consumed his entire frame.

Like gazing at the rising sun, I watched as something within Atikus broke free of the malaise that had so gripped his soul.

“You always were impossible , never minding a word I said. Why did I think you would just leave me alone when I told you to?”

“No idea. You are a foolish old Mage, you know? That’s probably why you thought it would work.”

Atikus wiped away his tears and gripped me by the arm. “Declan, I’m sorry—”

I cut him off, wrapping the Mage in a tight embrace and burying my face in his shoulder.

Long moments later, I jerked back, blazing eyes wide. “Not to ruin the mood, but I have an idea. We need to get back to the currents.”

Atikus looked up, perplexed. “What currents? You mean the currents?”

“Sorry, you call it the vein . You know, the vein of magic that runs under the old Mages’ tower? That’s how I got here so quickly.”

Atikus stared in wonder. “You traveled the currents ?”

I nodded. “I’ll tell you about all that later. Right now, we need to get back there and try again. I can draw power from the mist. It might give me enough strength to break through whatever that barrier is blocking your Light.”

We helped each other up and started for the door, then I stopped and turned back toward Atikus. “Um, we need to hurry and all, but, well, you stink of wine and who knows what else. I’m guessing you haven’t bathed or changed clothes in days.”

“I think it has been weeks.” Atikus ducked his head.

“Right. At least splash water on your face and change into a fresh robe. We can’t let the other Mages see you like this. You are still the Arch Mage.”

“I am pretty sure no one will notice my robes when they see your eyes. Can we get on with this?”

I shook my head and turned to lead us toward the vein.