Page 4 of Pretense

Weylind immediately halted, sheathed his sword, and hurried toward Ryfon, disappearing into the whirl of Ryfon’s green magic.

Farrendel expanded his magic so that he kept Ryfon’s power contained, preventing it from exploding into more of the forest. This was not the first time Ryfon had lost control during one of their practices, and it was strangely comforting to see someone else other than himself struggle with magic.

It was a reminder that struggling with control was normal. Farrendel had simply been young and unpracticed, as Ryfon was now. As Farrendel still was, though his increased practice, experience, and faster aging due to the heart bond were helping.

“Take a deep breath, sason.” Weylind’s calm voice came from within the tangle of Ryfon’s out-of-control power. As Weylind spoke, his stronger magic swirled over Ryfon’s, easing it under control and guiding Ryfon through controlling it at the same time.

It was training for Ryfon, and yet it was training for Farrendel too. This was a glimpse of what training between a father and son could look like when they shared the same magic.

Farrendel’s training had not been like this. His father had tried, but he had never been able to step in close and guide Farrendel’s magic with his own.

No, Farrendel’s father had stood off to the side, straining until sweat poured down his face and he had nearly exhausted his own reserves as he attempted to prevent Farrendel’s overwhelming power from destroying an entire swathe of Tarenhiel’s forests—and whoever happened to be standing nearby. Any instructions were shouted over the roar of Farrendel’s magic unleashed.

It had been terrifying. Nothing like the calm instruction Weylind could give Ryfon. Even now, Farrendel shuddered to think how many times he must have come close to killing his own father.

Dacha had done his best. There had simply been no one who shared Farrendel’s magic and could train him any better than what Dacha had done.

But Farrendel’s children would have a different experience. They would have a dacha who could guide them as Weylind did his son.

Farrendel kept his shield of magic steady, though it was unnecessary now as Ryfon regained control and worked through the basic, magical exercises to calm him with the routine and rhythm.

These were the moments when Farrendel could picture himself as a father. He struggled to dream for the future the way Essie did. But when he watched Weylind with Ryfon, he caught a glimpse of what it could be like for him with a future son or daughter.

And he wanted it. Longed for it in a way he had not realized he could desire something that also terrified him to the core.

Not that he had to worry about it for a long, long time. Depending on how long a life his children experienced, it would take them fifty to eighty years to come into their magic. Farrendel would not have to worry about training until he was a hundred and fifty to two hundred, even if he and Essie had a child in the next year or two. Surely by the time he was two hundred, he would feel mature and ready.

“I think that is enough for today.” Weylind released his magic, a hint of a smile brightening his usual dour expression.

Ryfon cut off his magic and slumped to the branch. “Good. Is it Uncle Farrendel’s turn now? That is always my favorite part.”

Weylind turned to Farrendel, eyebrows raised and that smile widening. “Yes, it is.”

Farrendel let his shield fizzle out, bracing himself. “I never should have told you about the suggestions for practice that the human professors gave me.”

Weylind made a please proceed wave of his hand.

Farrendel sighed and strode along the branch until he stood near Weylind and Ryfon. They would be safest if they were right next to him.

Ryfon lounged on the branch, bracing himself with his hands behind him and his legs dangling over the side of the branch. He swung his feet, grinning as if he was waiting for his favorite entertainment to begin.

Farrendel knelt and pressed his hand to the branch. With a deep breath, he unleashed his magic, letting it flow from him in a crackling wave, engulfing the branch, then the tree, then each individual branch and leaf. His power outlined each branch, each twig, each leaf like a blue, sparking layer of frost, yet without incinerating even a single leaf. Only the small section of branch around Weylind, Ryfon, and Farrendel remained free of his magic while the rest of the massive oak was limned with power.

It took concentration, letting his magic run wild and yet keep it from destroying anything. But the exercise in control pushed him to extend his limits beyond what he had thought possible.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Farrendel pushed his magic farther and farther until the entire swathe of forest glowed with his magic. Only when he had a mile of forest in all directions coated in power did he feel the strain of holding so much magic in tight, precise control.

Yet, a few months ago when he had started doing this, he had struggled to even coat the first tree without incinerating something.

“Well done.” Weylind’s voice remained low, as if he did not want to startle Farrendel. “Now me and my sword.”

Farrendel kept his magic in place as he opened his eyes and glanced at his brother. “Shashon, I do not think that is a good idea.”

He had practiced this with Essie, but Essie was immune to his magic. Weylind was another story. It was one thing to use his magic on weapons to force opponents to drop them. It was another to safely cover a weapon in the hands of family.

“We live in a changing world, shashon. Our bows, our swords, and our style of fighting cannot compete against the humans’ guns.” Weylind’s expression tightened. “We must change. Your magic can provide a shield against bullets, but our warriors are vulnerable once they step past your shield to fight hand-to-hand. If you could, instead, provide protection for each warrior in the army, they could be shielded all the way to the enemy.”

Farrendel could not argue with that logic. Before, he had attacked sections of the enemy army on his own. He had not dared use his magic around his own army.

---