Page 70 of To No End

The next morning, I woke up feeling alert and determined. When I looked in the mirror, the dark circles and exhaustion had mostly disappeared. Perhaps the healing waters of Basdie along with my resolve allowed me to wear a new face this day. Dare I say I looked somewhat attractive for the first time since arriving?

Breakfast provided an interesting turn of events. All of us were instructed to begin a daily regimen of Doorberry tea, both the males and females. Anyone with common sense knew what the tea was used for; I just couldn’t fathom why we were required to take it. Doorberry tea was a naturally occurring contraceptive, and taking it regularly over a few weeks would eventually lead to infertility over longer periods.

My cheeks warmed with guilt and embarrassment. Did Saryn or Theory somehow know about mine and Trace’s encounter? It was awfully suspect that this had begun just after. I drank the tea without question, but remained worried that we had beenousted. Was this to ensure none of us became inconveniently pregnant by our peers?

Not surprisingly, Nori refused to drink the tea. Doorberry consumption was against her beliefs, since the act of impeding fertility would be taken as an offense by followers of Ilithyia.

Over the next few days, we rotated between physical training with Theory and being pulled away, one by one, to Saryn for individual evaluations.

As expected, Nori did not participate in any of the combat training. Occasionally, she’d perform endurance exercises, stretching and flexibility, but as soon as sparring began, she resolved to sit on the floor against the wall. Theory’s patience with her was growing thin. Her approach of ignoring Nori in an attempt to alienate her would eventually unfold into something far worse.

Nori did participate in flight agility out in the valley, but I was certain as soon as we were asked to practice aerial combat, she would sit again. It was hard to watch Nori continually isolate herself from the group. I was the only one who attempted to connect with her in spite of her lack of participation.

The others seemed content to act like she wasn’t there, as she continued to remain “useless.” I wanted to tell Gia and Cairis why Nori felt the way she did, but it didn’t feel like my place to tell them. They’d probably just see my defense of her as a weakness anyway.

One day, it reached a particularly heated moment when Saryn marched across the room, unable to control his anger at her refusals. “You’re nothing but a spoiled little noble. You’re worthless to this team, which makes you worthless to your people and your king. You’d best learn to fight, to fly, and to fuck if it means saving lives.”

The words seared through us all, though Nori remained stone-faced. She let no cracks appear. If Saryn had been in my faceyelling like that, I would have immediately broken down into tears. I’m also certain Trace would have become enraged.

He and I had done a decent job of creating a platonic facade in front of the others. He no longer avoided me. We had been successful thus far in appearing cordial rather than awkward around one another. Trace’s protectiveness over me hadn’t yet been put to the test—at least, not to a degree where he’d struggled to contain himself.

I thought back to his parting words about how he could not protect me; perhaps I was mistaken in thinking he would intervene. But I was also reminded of the time I pretended to fall from my horse and how distraught he was—and how he had punished me after…

Despite seeing me get knocked around a bit in training, there had been nothing to trigger him. Truthfully, I’d hoped that it would happen sooner rather than later. I felt the impending dread of waiting for something to happen that he or I could not withstand, tempting us to come to the other’s aid. We needed to move past it, for there would be many others just like it to overcome.

The day Saryn called my name to leave the training room for evaluation, I could feel my hands begin to tremble with nerves. I shoved them into the pockets of my fighting leathers, trying to hide any signs of fear. When I entered the room, I made certain to reinforce my mental shields, as I had already been warned by Gia that he would be monitoring for that at the start.

He began a methodical set of tests; I wondered if the others had received the same ones or if they were created uniquely for each individual. Before me there was a stone, a bowl of water, and an unlit candle. I had reservations about where this was headed.

“Overflow the bowl,” he instructed dryly.

I focused, clearing my mind of distractions, and stared intently at the surface of the water as it began to move with small ripples. Excited at the prospect that I could actually do it, I thought of the time I had poured Gris’s canteen in my bath and filled it to the brim. I let the clarity of that memory guide the magic and watched as the water began to spill over the sides of the small bowl onto the wooden table. My attention broke when I smiled in contentment. Saryn simply moved on to the next item.

“Light the flame.”

Concentrating on the small candle, I hoped for some new power to stir, but nothing came.

Saryn slapped his hand on the table abruptly. “Stop trying to call forth fire, you’re not gifted like that. Pull from your surroundings.”

Embarrassed by the correction, I turned, looking at the walls and noting the torches lighting the room. He had simply wanted me to draw fire from another source like I’d done many times before. I was so nervous, unsure of how these tests would unfold and if his instructions were a test in and of themselves. I used the fire from the nearby lantern to ignite a spark on the candle, which quickly formed a solid flame.

“Extinguish the candle,” he ordered.

I closed my eyes, trying to feel even the slightest rustle of wind or breeze in the room, but the air was stale and still. I had never wielded wind magic and no matter how long I tried, nothing stirred.

Saryn rubbed at his temples in disappointment.

“Move the rock.”

I bent down low, putting myself eye level with the stone on the tabletop, thinking maybe proximity had something to do with it.I gritted my teeth, feeling nothing but frustration as I could not get the stone to so much as wiggle.

He made a couple of notes in his journal; they couldn’t have been any more critical of my performance than I was already.

It took no time at all for him to determine through various questioning and other tests that I had probably wielded magic the least. Shots at mesmerization were fruitless, and my attempts at shifting were laughable, at best.

He assured me that it did not mean I didn’t have potential or that I couldn’t improve, but that it would be hard for anyone who had it ingrained in them not to practice it or rely on it, while for others it might feel more like second nature.

He was right, I was inclined to avoid magic. I had tried to take on a different mindset over the last few days. Doing little things like warming a bath or healing scrapes and bruises from training were just a few examples. The non-existent staff at Basdie made it easier, since there was no one to rely on for these menial things. But that was the crux of it; everything I had been toying with was simple magic. Nothing that would be considered useful in the field.

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