“Lartin,” Morgan agreed.
“And he wants to do that to me,” Randall said as Tiggy ripped the head off one of the wood dummies and then drop-kicked it high into the air.
“Most likely,” Morgan said. “He’s showing remarkable restraint, isn’t he?”
“Yes, remarkable,” Randall said as Tiggy started growling and chewing on the arms of one of his victims.
And during Tiggy’s Tirade of Destruction (capitalized, to make it important as it sounds), I felt my magic settle within me, more than I’d felt in days. I didn’t understand how I’d suddenly overcome the blockage, but I wasn’t going to argue. I felt almost like myself again, like I could do what I was supposed to do. Like I could be the wizard I knew I could be.
I looked up at Randall and said, “Again.”
He must have heard something in my voice that hadn’t been there before. He said, “Interesting how that works.”
Morgan was looking toward the castle. “Maybe we should postpone this.”
“A test is a test is a test,” Randall said. “We just need to change the variables.”
I didn’t understand what they were talking about, but it didn’t matter. I said, “Again.”
Randall moved quicker than he had before, quicker than a man of his age should have any right to. I was struck, for a moment, by what he must have been like at my age, or even Morgan’s. There were stories, of course. One cannot live as long as Randall and not have been made into legend. Morgan had assured me many times that all of what I heard couldn’t be trusted (the time Randall rode the Great White Dragon into battle against an army of Darks or how he’d once saved an entire mermaid kingdom by marrying their princess and therefore allowing the mermaid to assume her rightful place as queen).
But it was the stories that didn’t get spoken aloud as often that I listened to the most. The stories not repeated by word or text with great relish.
How Randall had served a great king who had fallen into madness, brought back to sanity by the sheer force of Randall’s will alone.
Of a darkness that rose beyond Verania’s borders, a man bent on destroying all he could lay his hands on before Randall ended his life almost at the cost of his own.
And, if you dug further, you would find bare mention of Myrin. Myrin, who was never identified as man or wom
an, or even human at all. Myrin, who became Randall’s cornerstone, who stood by his side, oft hidden in shadow. Myrin, who was Randall’s great love. That last bit might have been a romantic talking, a wish to make the story more palatable. But regardless, I knew Randall’s strength. I knew what a cornerstone meant. Regardless of who Myrin was, or what the relationship was with Randall, Myrin must have been an incredible individual to help Randall construct the level of magic he had.
Like now.
He moved with such grace, almost as if he were dancing. The movements of his hands, the muttering of the dark syllables underneath his breath as he called upon the lightning.
But this time was different.
Before, I could feel him holding back. I could feel the hesitation behind it, the need to make sure I wasn’t seriously hurt. Beyond that, there was doubt. Doubt that I could even do it in the first place. Doubt that I had what it took. Doubt because regardless of what Randall thought of me, at that moment, he hadn’t believed in me.
Now he did. Or, rather, he acted like he wanted to believe.
Or he just wanted to fry my ass for turning his nose into a dick.
That could be it too.
Because the sky above darkened, and there was a crash of thunder. For a moment, I thought his eyes glowed briefly blue. I considered it a very real possibility that I was about to die. There was a shout of warning from behind me, but before I could figure out who it could be from, Randall’s lightning was called, arcing toward me, leaving burned trails in the grass. I thought now now nownownow, and it was like I was back on the dirt road near the Dark Woods. The Dark wizards standing in front of me, fire geckos bursting out from amongst the trees, the sounds of my friends escaping from behind me. My only thought was of their (Ryan’s) safety, that they (Ryan) would have time to escape. That they (Ryan) would be clear and free and nothing could hurt them ever again.
The electricity struck my palm.
It curled up my arm and poured into my chest.
I had a lightning-struck heart and my gods did it beat.
And here it was again, this moment, this indefinable moment when I could so easily take this magic and make it my own. Take from Randall and keep it for myself. I could turn it on him, knock him around, fry him until his eyes melted in his sockets and his beard began to burn and curl into little heated black wisps of ash and smoke, and he would know who was the stronger of us, he would know who held the most power, and I would fucking take it from him and—
It wasn’t who I was.
It wasn’t what I wanted.