Unforged Path

An Elusive Excuse

Bolting from her chair, Aerlyn stalked across the room, stopping at the door. Taking a deep, restorative breath, she changed her gait as she left the Reception Chamber. She could not afford to give the household attendants fodder for gossip. All too soon, the tale of her abrupt exit from the Academy could be circulating throughout the Prefecture.

Once Lymneth knew about the tirade she had launched against Master Cyrineth, he would have the leverage he needed to compel Aerlyn to do his bidding. Undoubtedly, he would offer to suppress the unfavorable facts if she acceded to his demand for magical entertainment. Of course, if her magic did not meet his lofty expectations, all of Nylena would be gossiping about Aerlyn's unprofessional conduct.

Aerlyn's cheeks grew warm, remembering the moment she lost control after twenty hours of continuous work on a project. The angry words she had spoken then replayed in her memory now:

"Should I emulate you? Then, whose work should I plagiarize? Which subordinate should I recruit to satisfy my corporeal needs? You have produced nothing of consequence in the last century. What do you know of creativity? Of innovation? Of seminal social progress?"

At that point, Master Cyrineth had built a soundproof wall between them, and Aerlyn had dismantled it with a one-word chant. When she had noticed a glowing ball of power in her hand, ready to be launched at her superior, she had come to her senses, apologizing. But Aerlyn had known her words were unpardonable.

Now, Aerlyn found herself at the door to Galedyn's study. She entered, ignoring the antiquity podiums and oddities lining the floor to ceiling shelves. Aerlyn stood near her father's desk, its white surface blank and ready for any project. Usually, it gave Aerlyn a sense of possibility that allowed inspiration to flow.

Sitting down, Aerlyn placed both hands on the desktop. She couldn't see anything but the memory of the hatred in Master Cyrineth's eyes when he announced the collective decision of the Masters: suspension from the Guild.

Rising to her feet, Aerlyn contemplated whether to resume target practice. No, it would be too dangerous when her mind was unfocused. Suddenly, she recalled the peaceful, snowy mountains from her dream. 

Sitting back down, Aerlyn generated a magical parchment and began sketching the mountain range with a finger, using minute energy pulses to create the lines and colors she wished. After a moment, she sat back in her chair, studying the image. With a sigh, she destroyed the parchment, which failed to capture the scene from her memory.

A delicate chime sounded. 'Father!' Aerlyn swiftly activated her transmitter.

"Opulyn Galedyn, I am pleased to hear from you," Aerlyn answered.

"Good evening to you, Kymestra Aerlyn!" The amusement in her father's voice made Aerlyn smile.

"It is not yet afternoon here, Father. Have you forgotten you are across the continent from me? Amongst wonders waiting to be discovered?"

"Thus far, there has been nothing but rock and sand. Rock tall enough to split the sky, I grant you. However, I have little to add to my father's map at this point."

"You have just begun! I am certain you will find something extraordinary." Drawing another breath, Aerlyn asked, "Father, do you suppose there is any place in the world that has snow?"

"If the People's lands range as far as the Empire, it is possible." He paused. "Why do you ask?"

"I was recently reminded of snow harvesting. It is an idle curiosity. Tell me more about the desert!"

"In an instant, the sand shifts under foot." He paused. "A large part of the sky was as red as my robe this morning. The sun makes the air itself appear like waves of energy."

"Interesting! You are saving image captures?"

"Yes, Aerlyn. I will send them to you as soon as I return to Kalehala."

"I cannot wait."

"Aerlyn, take care of yourself."

"Please do not worry about me, Father. Stay safe."

"I look forward to speaking with you tomorrow."

"As do I, Father." Aerlyn disconnected. She tried imagining the desert scenes described by her father. It would be three months before she could see the images for herself.

Aerlyn returned to exploring methods of telepathically blocking her magical ability. Any self-imposed constraints she devised didn't seem capable of subsisting through unconsciousness. Aerlyn continued her studies until exhaustion overcame her.

As she settled into her soft bed, Aerlyn realized a visit from Lymneth was only hours away. Was there a plausible, polite excuse she could invent to defer the visit to another day? Reprieve for a single day would be welcome, but an excuse did not spring to mind before she succumbed to sleep.

                                                                                         * * *

Piercing cold woke Aerlyn. She was lying on a hard, uneven surface; her eyes flew open, encountering absolute darkness. 

Squeezing her eyes shut, Aerlyn recited a catechism every Asthildi child learns. "The first principle of magic is that it cannot exist without light. The second principle of magic is that it exists without form. The third principle...."

Aerlyn scrambled upright, no longer able to tolerate the cold.