The Source: Observer Chronicles, Book 3

Chapter 30: Tom

Early morning they had all gotten up and been ready by six, out in the cold and in the forest and fields. There was haystacks made up as dummies, two on the bottom and one on the top, they were not in short supply, and Brenda gave them the go-ahead to use the material. Annette had started it all by firing her bow fast, Reetho dismissing the flames but not by extinguishing them, he chose to lift them off the hay and flail it around and unto himself, until it had run circles around him so close, that his body had engulfed them, feeling a surge of energy inside.

The leader threw a sai, and as it soared the single longest blade had looked ever so sharp now more than ever, that the others feared they might get in the way or be taken by it. Once the weapon hit the border of the tree, Reetho commanded the metal to ignite, alighting with it the tree to make heat and flame.

Yet by the time it was weakened so and would have fallen or fell apart of the like, the tree did something different. It was coming undone, deconstructed and made into the likes of flakes of bark and twigs as it seemed to explode, though it looked to have before it blew too far from its source, the trees remnants changing, growing sharp and dangerous. Drage had his hand on the ground before standing back up, seeing what it was the earth could, in fact, do for him. His face marvelled in delight at the outcome, and opened his mind to another world of possibility, a one of imagination, something he never did lose from being a little child. He pulled the earth darts to him closer and brought in his weapon, faded, not seen until he chose it to be, before pointing to the lake with the black metal hilt, its energy glowing on his face as it stretched, where he shot the tendrils into the sky with the aim of the whip, a crack in the air above the water, the whip forming its green energy that looked like thorns upon its length and jolted off in the same direction he drove it, the bark and energy shaped like thorns falling off, signalling the boyʼs control, gone.

Darryl stood on the lake and saw the bark come at him, and reacted, letting his body slide through to the water as any other person should have done. Here, he took in a deep breath, the water not affecting him, letting the air expand from his lungs, bursts of water shot up, him riding on one, and as soon as the pressure had taken him to its height he allowed, he jumped, only the water had stayed with him there amidst the air, pushing back in on itself and pulsating, as if a waterfall was upside down. The boy managed to look down after a long, deep breath, his eyes so radiantly blue, feeling potent magick run through him. He could see some distance away in all directions being as high as two-mile off the ground, or thereabouts. And it was now, that he had noticed Clarabelle had flung one of her throwing knives at him, though not bothering to move from it. He raised the weapon already in his arms and whistled the blade through the air, forcing air from the metal, though it was not air that came forth for him. It was his greatest weapon, his ultimate tool. Water, splashes of water at first, then a spraying mist.

"You would be dead right now, Darryl," said Clarabelle inside his mind as he glanced at the blade before his throat, "we canʼt let anything slip through. We have no chances to make mistakes now, those days are over." On the ground, moving her lips but no sound coming from them Clarabelle held her head, the words only entering the mind of the water-wielder and herself. She held the graphite-looking blade that had several small holes for decoration, and one bigger one at the bottom after the handle that was smoother and not so rigid, as if it was asking to be tied to something. She looked at the shining blade when she finished, you could see at once the striking blade could cut through much. The girl looked to the hay dummy next to her, it flying through the air, hay falling as it soared and landed not far from the mind magick wielder, Clarabelle. "It felt as if no effort was even needed on my part," she said to herself, "itʼs as if it strengthens me. These weapons must be a focal point to harness our energies. A weapon for training, until we have mastered all that is possible."

"Are you OK?" asked Lauret, seeing the girl in thought, ruminating and finding something none had asked or questioned before her.

"Just thinking," she said, "nothing to worry about," and as she finished the knife came to her left hand.

"OK," she replied, before looking at the gem that she had not noticed before in the centre of her staff at the top. It was grey, the kind that looked like a shimmering pearl, though to the touch it was rough and sharp, pricking her finger and drawing blood. She saw the gemstone glow as a reaction to the blood dripping upon it. "There are images inside," she whispered. "A beast of grey that stands next to me. Only it is made of energy, not an animal I have seen much of before. It seems to be a wolf, acting as though it was one." The stone glowed ever so bright as she saw a wolf come to her from the boundaries of the forest. She cast the staff in front of her to guard herself, even though she did not feel threatened, it being more a natural reaction. Though what happened next she did not expect. Something from the creature got sucked into the stone in the staff, it looking like a grey energy also, as if connected to the gem she possessed. She looked at the stone again and saw what it had done before looking back to the wolf, though it had already ran off. "I possess its soul," she said, creating a creature that came from her staff, made of grey and murky light.