Chapter Eighteen
Power.
Life.
Energy.
It flowed from every point around Adam, flowed into the Sword and seeped into his very soul. Unending, unyielding power and energy surrounded him and devoured him, molded with him and shaped him to its will. The power guided his sword strokes, guided his hands and his feet, carrying him along in the wake of a powerful tidal wave. He was one with the Sword, he was one with the world around him, joined as one with universe. Give and take, take and give until there was nothing else but this force that could not be defeated or ignored. It fed him, it nourished him, and it provided him with everything.
It was everything.
Therefore, Adam found himself shuddering and stumbling to his knees when it was quite suddenly ripped from him, leaving him cold and hallow and wanting. He grasped for the thin tether he held on that powerful magic, mentally reaching outwards with phantom fingers for the phantasmal cord, recoiling when he brushed against a wall as smooth as glass and as cold as ice. His fingers instinctively tightened on the Sword hilt, yearning and seeking, repeatedly ramming against the invisible wall that separated him from the life energy of the magic.
"Woman, have you taken leave of your senses?" A voice -- Stewart's voice -- came from down a long tunnel, as the world slowly rose to meet him again, as reality met up with him. "You do not interfere like that! You are mad!"
"No more than you. You will allow him to do too much and go too far. And a dead prince is not of much use to the kingdom."
Adam lifted his head, somehow it felt heavier than he could ever remember it feeling, to the source of the second voice. The image before him blurred and shifted, doubling and tripling before finally fusing into one. "Halista?"
The woman gave him a deep curtsy. "I am sorry, Aldaric, but I could not stand by and wait for you to burn yourself to a cinder." Two old wrinkled hands wrapped around the hilt of his sword, pulling it gently from his hands. Adam tried to resist, but in his weakened state, the old nurse was the stronger of the two. "I think that your lesson is at an end for the day."
Adam shook his head in an effort to clear it. He was gathering his bearings again, thank goodness for small miracles, but while his head was clear, that did nothing to banish the shivering that went deep to the core of his soul. He had been studying and reading, learning about this world's magic, and only using it when Stewart required it of him, so he had a good idea of what had happened. It was called blocking, and Halista had carried it out quite effectively. Even now, with the Sword that he relied on to touch the magic at all beyond his reach, he was still aware of that wall between him and the energies that made up the magic.
He was aware that he couldn't touch them at all.
And he didn't like the feelings of terror and loss that accompanied that knowledge.
"Well, you've certainly left him in no condition to do much else today," Stewart barked. Adam flinched at the sound of Stewart's sword being thrust back into its sheath. His senses, all of them, sight and sound, taste and smell, even touch, were hypersensitive after being exposed to any amount of magic.
Although the voice was gruff, the hands that lifted him from the ground were gentle. And Adam was grateful for Stewart's aid; he didn't think that he would have been able to stand up without the older man's help.
[Adam?]
[Hey pal, you okay?]
The two simultaneous telepathic whisperings in his mind made Adam wince and recoil, reflexively pushing both of his friends away. He held tight to Stewart's shoulder and hoped that the man did not notice that his prince almost went back down to his knees in the dirt again.
He felt panic at his reaction - mental panic coming from the two minds a day's ride away and he sighed heavily, opening his shields slightly. [I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I'm fine.]
[What happened?]
[Nothing, Megabyte. Just one of Stewart's lessons.] The lie left a bad taste in his mouth, but Adam wasn't ready to share *that* particular aspect of being Prince Adam Aldaric with his friends just yet. It was one of those things that was too close to him, too intimate, too personal and he didn't think that there was anyway that he could possibly make them understand, particularly when he didn't understand it himself.
Adam remembered the first time he wielded the magical power, he remembered how disturbed and unsettled he had been by it. In those early days, he had hoped that he would never have to do it again, but that had not been the case. Stewart required it of him; existing in this place as Prince Adam Aldaric required it of him . . . and some days, he required it of him.
The magic was like a drug - powerful and pure in its raw intoxication. When he touched the magic, when he opened himself to its influence, the feeling of completeness and wholeness was nothing that he had ever felt before or could even put into the proper words. Each time he opened himself, it grew easier to do it again and again; each time he found himself more willing to do it the next time.
Everything that he read said that magic required discipline.
He understood why.
A part of him had hoped that with the wedding fast approaching, and the increased activity at the Palace, Stewart would be lax in his training, and he would not be forced to deal with the complex and conflicting feelings and emotions wielding the magic brought forth in him. The other part of him had desperately hoped that Stewart would not be lax.
[Are you sure? Because it felt like -]
[Megabyte, I'm fine. It was nothing.] The words came out sharper than Adam had intended and he sighed again. [I'm just having a hard day, all right? All of you, stop worrying about me.]
A few more concerned probes, and his friends withdrew, leaving him alone once again with his own thoughts, worries, and fears.
And Halista and Stewart, both of whom were staring at him with more than a little concern as he lowered himself to the nearest bench.
"What?" Adam demanded.
"I am simply reassuring myself that you are still of sharp and clear mind," Stewart directed the words at Adam, but the icy glare he reserved for Halista.
"Too sharp and too clear, if the pain in my head is any indication," Adam remarked, rubbing his temples. His eyes were drawn to the Sword, his Sword, in Halista's hand and he forced himself to look away.
"He has a headache," Stewart growled.
Halista laid the Sword on the bench beside him, "It will pass." The woman gave him a soft pat to his shoulder and turned to Stewart. "See that he does not over tax himself again." With those words, she spun on her heel, wandering away from the practice grounds with the same light tread that she had approached with.
"That woman will be the death of me," Stewart grumbled and gestured at the Sword lying on the bench. "Sheath that, Your Highness. There'll be no more lessons today. As we are lucky you are still standing and --"
"Who trained you, Stewart?" The question came out of nowhere, even later, Adam would not know why he asked it.
"Your Highness?"
"The Sword, the magic," Adam gestured with his free hand, the other carefully encircling the hilt of his sword, "Halista trained you right?"
It was a guess, gleaned from Stewart's interactions with the woman and things Adam had learned from carefully listening.
"You know this already, Adam. I don't see why we are discussing it."
"Maybe you should work together," Adam stood and sheathed his Sword, "She can't teach me everything Stewart, but neither can you."
"I was wondering when it would come to this."
Adam looked to the other man in surprise. He thought that perhaps the prince had discussed this with Stewart before, thought that perhaps that was the reason for the animosity between the man and Halista. He was surprised to learn that he was wrong. Still, he managed to downplay his surprise with a shrug, "It only makes sense. If I'm to receive official instruction at the Temple of Damiaren someday, maybe learning from someone who's been there isn't such a bad idea?"
"You still have not mastered the fine art of royal subterfuge, Adam, but you are learning." Stewart gave him a fond smile and a clap on his shoulder, "But perhaps, this is a conversation that we should have after your wedding? You might change your mind by then. You might have only an interest in your wife teaching you that which you would like to know."
Adam ignored the gleam in Stewart's eyes, and was grateful that Hagen was not around. His cousin would certainly not have passed up the opportunity to make some lewd comment or another about Adam's bride, the wedding night, or both. "Stewart, I doubt the Damiar Princess is going to be capable of, or at the very least interested in teaching me anything that has to do with magic. She probably can't even teach herself, she is newly raised, remember?"
While still not understanding all of the subtle, and not so subtle, nuances of the world he now occupied, Adam understood enough that the world was at least beginning to make sense to him. For instance, he understood that there were twelve levels of ascension, or Circles, within the Temple of Damiaren, and that the Damiar Princess had only been accepted into the first circle a few weeks *after* the engagement had been publicly declared. He didn't pretend to understand the complexities of honor and title surrounding the Circles, or the idea that some who studied at the temple would never have the power or the strength to enter the circles, although they would forever be known as damiar, not a title, simply a description of what they were. And on the opposite end of the spectrum, there were those like Halista who had ascended several, if not all Twelve Circles, but did not carry an honorific of any sort, nor did she even identify herself as damiar.
Between the world politics and the religious politics, Adam sometimes felt like his head would explode if he thought about it for too long.
"You presume I was speaking of magic."
Adam stiffened and shook his head slightly. "And here, I thought you were a wiser man than Hagen and knew when to keep your own counsel."
"I am not the only one who finds it interesting to note that you do not seem to have any wish or desire to speak of your future bride," Stewart remarked quietly. "Why is that, Your Highness?"
"And I find it interesting to note that everyone else around me does want to talk about it," Adam returned. "Why is that, Stewart?"
"Because it is unprecedented. A marriage outside of the kingdom. One that will give our kingdom some leverage within the Temple of Damiaren. There are a great many reasons to talk about it. Your marriage is not, and unfortunately quite probably will never be, a private matter."
"All the more reason why I'm not going to waste time and breath to speculate or discuss it, with *anyone.* I'll be married soon enough, come what may I can't change that. What's left to talk about?"
"You sound like your father."
"You say that like it's a bad thing." The words surprised Adam, although he was certain his face did not show it. On earth, his father was a man that he did not know, and a man that he wanted to forget; he would never have taken pride in the type of statement that Hagen had just made. But here, King Martine was respected and loved by his subjects, respected and loved by his family. Being compared to the sovereign of Stiborn could hardly be an insult.
"Your father is a good man and a good king, but one day you will be King, and it would be a pleasant change if you sounded like Adam Aldaric. But I wonder if he even has a voice of his own."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"You are your father's son, Adam, and that is a blessing. But someday, you will have to rule this kingdom without the shadow of King Martine to support you. This marriage is only the beginning. It's your chance to be more than the son of Martine and Carrina.
"Instead of burying yourself in books and reading fables, you would be served well by remembering that."
"Stewart, I don't know whether you just insulted me or complimented me."
"That is because I am far more skilled at playing the royal game than you are, Your Highness." Stewart gave him a bow, "Sleep on it, and perhaps it will make sense to you in a few years time."
With those cryptic last words, Stewart turned and departed the practice grounds, leaving Adam staring blankly after him.
And wondering if he would ever really get the hang of this world - and its people.
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