DREAMWIELDER Book 1 of The Dreamwielder Chronicles

Chapter 26: THE SECRET DISCOVERED

Makarria lowered herself from her handstand and plopped down onto her bed, wishing Siegbjorn would return already. It had been four days since she had separated the linked rings, and that meant four days of solitude in the chamber while Taera continued her training with Roanna. The first day after separating the rings Makarria had been exhausted and slept much of the day, but by the second day she was recuperated and bored already. The subsequent days seemingly stretched on for an eternity. Makarria would try to sleep as late as she could each morning, but inevitably she would wake when Roanna came to fetch Taera and be unable to go back to sleep again. So she would get up, run laps around the room, move the beds around to create obstacles to leap over, do handstands, somersaults, cartwheels, push-ups, try to run up the wall and touch the stone ceiling—anything she could think of to pass the time. She would do that for what seemed like hours, then sit and still have to wait for the guard to deliver her midmorning meal. She would stretch the meal out as long as she could, but then the bulk of the day was upon her, and she would have another eight or more hours to occupy.

After four days, Makarria was absolutely done with it. There has to be something better I can do to pass the time. She looked the room over, but it was the same barren chamber with two beds and a lantern by the door. Her dirty plate, spoon, and cup were the only foreign items in the room, but she saw little use in them. If I had a knife instead of a spoon, then that would be something, Makarria thought. She got up from her bed and knelt down on the ground where she picked up the wooden spoon and idly rubbed one edge of it on the ground to try and sharpen it. She had sharpened sticks often enough on rocks when she was younger, grinding the tips to a point that was sharp enough to stab soft-shelled crabs in the shallows and tide pools near her home. The floor here in the cave was polished smooth though, and did little in the way of rasping away the edge of the spoon. Makarria plopped back onto her butt with a sigh. I could always change it another way. It was almost as if a voice outside her own suggested the idea to her. She had been thinking much of her ability since disconnecting the rings. It was the first time she had changed anything on purpose, and with that knowledge, the possibilities of what she could do had kept her up late each night, but she had pushed the thoughts aside, always telling herself there would be time for it later, when she and Taera were free and safely away from Roanna and Kadar.

Makarria stood up with an exasperated huff and took the spoon with her back to her bed, unable to push the thought of transforming it into a knife aside, even though she knew it was dangerous. Taera and Roanna won't be back for hours, she told herself. No one will ever know. Still, she hesitated for a long time. Only the thought of being in the tiny chamber all alone with nothing to do but somersaults and cartwheels convinced her to chance it.

Her mind made up, Makarria clutched the wooden spoon in both hands and closed her eyes. She cleared her mind and relaxed her breathing, as she had done before. When her mind was clear and her heartbeat steady, she envisioned the spoon in her hands and imagined its shape changing to that of a dagger. The image formed in her mind easily, but as before, she felt herself grow cold and weary. She could clearly form the image of the dagger, but it was as if the dagger was out of focus, and the closer she came to solidifying it, the more resistance she faced. She stubbornly refocused on the image in her head. There was a brief moment where she felt the resistance almost push her to a stop—like a rope stretching to its limit and holding for a split second before breaking—and then suddenly all resistance was gone and the dagger was there in her mind.

Makarria opened her eyes with a gasp and looked at the wooden utensil in her hands. It was the dagger as she had imagined it: long and slender with a sharp tipped point and an edge along either side of the blade.