Bonded Spirit

  ***

  Karson gave me a wry smile as he held a jar to my view. “One Toad Snide Beetle.”

  “It’s still alive.” I crinkled my nose, staring at the thumb sized critter. The tacky-grey beetle, tapped its prickly legs to the side of the jar, tilting its beady face towards me. Chills rippled along my body. I hate crawly creatures.

  “It says that the beetle needs to be crushed, and the shell needs to be grounded—fresh.” He inclined to the open book, tapping his finger on the word—fresh.

  “Poor little guy. Can’t believe I have to kill it for a stupid itchy feet potion.”

  “It’s not itchy feet. It’s Pebble Heat Infection.”

  “And I’ll only make the infection worse.”

  “It’s why it’s called practice. You don’t have the infection to start with.”

  “Which is a good thing. I would hate to be relying on me to fix it.”

  Karson chuckled at my lack of confidence, tapping the glass with a raised brow.

  “Fine. But if this thing bites me, and I do get an infection. Tell me you know how to make it correctly.”

  “It’s harmless. Just … make sure you crush it in one go.”

  I pressed my lips together, unscrewing the jar. I eased the lid up. The stench that came to my nose had me gagging. With one swift move, I flipped the jar and forced the stone handle down on the runaway bug—skushh! The sound wasn’t rewarding. My speed and pressure was off, and now the beetle was half dead.

  “It’s twitching. I should hit it again.”

  “No. It’s fine. Gather the wings into here … ground them down.”

  I wrinkled my nose, obediently putting my hand into the bowl. Ugh, I wish I didn’t have to kill it. My palm tingled, a surge of warm magic was charged and released before I made a connection to the sensation; a spell had been cast. The beetle flipped over and started to crawl away without a sign it had been crushed.

  “Drae’Gons Claw!” I gasped in surprise. “It’s alive!”

  “What did you do?”

  “Me. I … There was magic. I … I …”

  We healed it Rehema, echoed La’Kera just as Karson stated the same words.

  “You healed it?” He questioned. “But you don’t know the method to conjure the source, the symbol of healing.” His frown didn’t help.

  “No, I don’t. How in the dragon oracles did I do that? I’ve never healed anything before.”

  “How much mânã did La’Kera use?”

  “Er … not much. A smidge of a drop. Karson, I didn’t even call for it. Least I don’t remember saying—hey, heal beetle. How can I do this?”

  You need not think of healing anything, La’Kera said. It is just who we are.

  I stared at my glove for the answer. Karson reached for my arm, lifting it higher to study the hieroglyphs embedded within. His fingers were gentle as they probed along the different indentations, his frown deepened.

  “It seems your power is growing.”

  “Growing?”

  “Yes. Your glove creates new symbols as you learn. See.” He tapped several empty areas on my glove. “These are left vacant for you and La’Kera to make spells as needed. Based on what you learn, what is needed in your life?”

  “We create spells?”

  “Yes. See these three symbols here.” Karson pointed to the three large shapes on the side of my glove crossing over one another as they stretched around the glove itself. They interlocked one another, each swirled in a difference direction, though oddly the same symbol. “They are similar to this one.” He showed me a symbol on his glove, smaller and darker. I pulled my arm towards me in shock.

  “Those where never there before Karson. I’ve never seen them here … least I don’t remember seeing them here.” My frown was dark, trying to remember when I paid attention to every line, mark, or shade on the ashen glove.

  “It’s dragon magic.” He reached to study the symbols. “It’s why it’s harder to re-Bond a glove though not unheard of. You have strong healing power.”

  “But … I didn’t call for it.”

  “Yes, in a way you did. You didn’t like the beetle twitching, and so you and La’Kera—without words of discussion; made the spell as it was needed.”

  “We can do that!”

  La’Kera rumbled in agreement and amusement. As I said, we need not think of such a thing, just knowing.

  “In the early stage of development, yes. That’s how most spells are taught.” His tone was reassuring. “You have a higher ability than I. I wouldn’t have saved that beetle. That’s a heighten mânã.” A smile twitched his lips as he continued with his admiration of my glove.

  “So, Dy’Monian Ryders were good healers too …” I was hopeful it was another discovery.

  “It appears so. Soul seers and healers.” His lips pressed together thoughtfully. “And this …” His finger tapped on the symbol. “What’s that?”

  I pulled it closer to my view.

  “How long has that symbol been there?”

  I shrugged, unable to answer.

  “Have you called forth mânã other than the four elements?”

  “Er … maybe.” I chewed my lip in avoidance.

  Karson creased his brow with annoyance I had not told him sooner, remembering that first day when we met. “It was with Bronson.”

  His brow raised and I rolled my eyes.

  “It was the afternoon we met. The day I was in trouble for using magic on him.”

  The incline of his head relaxed me, he was listening; and so I told of the effect it made, what La’Kera and I thought of it. I glanced at the forgotten potion, the beetle free, crawling around with clicks of its wings.

  “Was this the only time you used it?”

  “Yeah. I was pissed off and surprised. It wasn’t his fault, and I should have been careful with my anger. Lady Mazella, said I can inflict damage to La’Kera if I’m not careful.”

  “That is true, but this was different. The anger you felt was drawn for your reasons, not La’Kera’s. She may have agreed with your anger, or your frustration, but it was clear you brought the spell forth.” Karson released my arm. He tapped his chin in thought as his eyes hazed over slowly. He was completely Here and There. Talking with Blade’Dur. I reached towards the beetle when his hand shot out to stop me. “We’ll research this.”

  “What about potions?”

  A wry smile showed on his lips. “You can’t go and kill the little guy after you gave him his life back, can you?” Karson scooped the beetle into the jar and held the lid on to it. With a shrug, he walked to the window and let the beetle take flight.

  I was amazed he did that, though it was possibly true. I just saved its life. The thought was nerving and amazing inside of me. With the potion packed away, Karson led the way to the Main Building.

  “The lobby? What are we doing here?” I glanced around the glass cabinets, the high paintings and the endless armour, swords and displays of past Ryders, wizards and all things of Dangora.

  “Looking for answers hopefully.” He paused at the fourth glass display, nodded several times and a glow lifted from the glass. To my surprise, the glass wall was no longer there, and Karson was able to reach across and hold the gloves to his view.

  “Wow. I always wondered how they were put up.”

  “Magic. It’s all around us.” Karson winked, teasing for the first time in days. “This here is mostly Dark Ryders gloves.”

  “Um … why are you checking on them first?”

  “I want to rule them out. Some Dark Ryders were good Ryders too. They saved us from darkness. It was a requirement at the time. It’s only been the last one hundred years that the land stopped teaching in dark magic.”

  “Draeos taught dark magic. Like what?”

  “Attack spells mostly, and disarming spells, like blindness or speechless. I know of a few Ryders that can still pull those spells off without fear or worry.” Karson returned the first glove, to pull another to view.
br />   “Hick’Nor of Donbell.” I narrowed my eyes at the title. “I don’t get it.”

  “Hick’Nor was Donbell’s dragon. It is tradition to put the dragon before the Ryder when both have died as one.”

  “Oh.” I turned my attention to the trinkets were Donbell’s glove was placed.

  There were all kinds of mementoes that he had, how they knew they were his, was amazing. The year he died was over two hundred and fifty years ago and it stated he was well over one hundred at the time. He lived in the time of the Great War. I reached in, noting a half sized penny. When I pulled it to view I realised it wasn’t a penny at all. It was a bronze pie piece, with unfinished runes. The tip held a ruby stone, though the size of my pinkie nail; the entire object was unfinished.

  “What is this?” Karson glanced at it.

  “It’s a cloak-clasp. Given to Ryders for great honour of the lands.”

  “So, why is it unfinished?”

  “It’s part of three sections. It would be fair to say that he and two others received one. Together they would join, making them heighten in power for a time if placed on their swords or armour. Separated allowed them the same, but not the full amount. It was during the 3rd century that they created such prizes, and some told of tales about finding secret passages using the pendant as a key to unknown areas. But they are a forgotten tradition now, most are lost, collecting dust.” His interest faded as he replaced the glove and pulled a third to view, comparing it to mine.

  I placed the half sized pendant with the rest of Donbell’s collection. There were countless artefacts around us, and all through the lands. Last week Corbin had withdrawn a sword that he claimed wasn’t here or there, but was where he needed it and here we had a room of swords, to touch, hold, and clean. There were so many things I didn’t know, even the basics of legends and tales.

  The sudden flash in my prospective vision had me turn around. There by the far side of the wall was the ghost-girl. She was hidden, which was pointless, since I was the only one who could see her. I stared wide eyed at her in complete shock; she stepped closer. Her tear streaked face was as I remembered and the realisation that I hadn’t given her a single thought since last week was disturbing. She had shown up in my dreams, not every day, but now she was here, in the lobby. She smiled behind her mousy brown hair. Sadness in her smile was both disturbing and amazing, since her tears were frozen in a long forgotten pain, but she was seeing me.

  “Only you can do it.” Then she dashed out the door, skipping away with haste.

  “Wait!” I turned to give chase when Karson caught me up. I jumped in surprise, my skin was hot, and my body was shaking. “The … ghost.”

  “What.”

  “She was here. She was right there. She … said only you can do it.” I glanced around the room of Fallen Ryders. “Do what. What is it I can do? Is … Do you think this has something to do with my power? The healing power?”

  Karson glanced around the area; an uneasy look washed over his features before he gained control. “Perhaps. It is you with the power to see her and hear her. I heard nothing just now and while it is disturbing, I’m surprised you’re not more disturbed.”

  “Oh. You mean … I should be screaming, crying, or complaining about how it’s not fair.”

  “Something like that. You seem relaxed, considering the turn of events.” He searched my face; his mood was calm, perhaps waiting for me to do just that.

  “Well, you’re here helping me. Guess that’s a good thing.”

  “Yes.” He smiled, lifting the glove to view. “This glove here has your symbol. The small one, though it’s not the same. We will have to read up on the runes.”

  “You don’t know this symbol?”

  “No. I’ve never seen a symbol like this. And when we move on to Runic later this afternoon, we can look at it then.”

  “Hmmm …”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Well, nothing. I haven’t done any study on the runes. I didn’t go to runic class, just to a spare class with Salvador on Connections.”

  Karson’s jaw clenched. “You should have been shown a simple understanding of all that was.” Karson turned around to take in the large clock above the door. “We’ll go there after Dragon Lore.”

  “Um … Master Karson. If this is a dark spell. Will … will I be asked to leave or … will they try and take La’Kera away.”

  “No. That won’t happen. You’re who you are. No spell is one mans fault and just because it is, or might be dark, don’t be put off. It might come in handy when you least expect it. You’re doing far better than I thought possible. You’re not even complaining today, and it’s been a week since we met.”

  “Yeah. I know, it feels longer,” I said.

  “That it does. Well, class is over, I will see you in the Dragon Lore tower.” Karson gave a nod, held his hand out, and another glow had the glass walls in place. He smiled and left the museum.

  I glanced around the room; the ghost-girl was gone. I was surprised to see her in the waking realm; least she was a ghost. Why did she have to be here? Why me and for what reason?