The Currents of Magic

Chapter Four

Neither Ian nor Dobson spoke, and Meyer looked between his friends' taken aback faces, almost wishing he hadn't said anything.

"What do you think caused it?" said Dobson. "Could it be magic?"

Ian snorted. "I was expecting you to say that, Dobs. You're too predictable."

Meyer pretended to smile.

"Well, what's your explanation, Ian?" said Dobson accusingly.

"Not sure, but I'd bet it's not magic. First, have you ever heard of magic just happening out of thin air? I've seen the Shamans cast their spells. They're always muttering, and they've got those instruments. Second, it takes years to learn magic. The youngest Healers are all at least thirty."

"Still, what else could it be?" said Dobson.

"Maybe Dex's sword was poorly made. I've heard of swords cracking before."

"But shattering?

"Well, maybe it was very poorly made."

"And what about that strange feeling Meyer described? Or Dex flying backwards?"

"Oh come on," said Ian. "Meyer wouldn't be the first person to suffer from battle haze, or to have a rush of energy."

"Yeah, Ian's probably right," said Meyer, trying to sound offhand.

"Meyer just doesn't know his own strength," said Ian, clapping him on the shoulder.

Dobson didn't look convinced, but Ian was leaning casually against the foot of the bed.

"Just another example of rumors getting out of hand in Vanroc," he said. "It's so quiet here that if anything does happen, you can expect everyone to exaggerate it by five, and be talking about it for the next week."

He turned to Dobson. "Come on, Dobs, we should leave before Healer Kelton catches us hanging around too long."

Dobson gave Meyer a lingering glance before starting for the door. "Well, good night," he said.

"See you soon," said Ian.

"See you," said Meyer.

* * *

The village square had been transformed into an amphitheatre. All the market stalls had been removed, and in their place, tiers of wooden seats rose in a semicircle around a raised stage. Between the seats and the stage, the Martial Recruits sat on benches, with those graduating into the Vanroc Guard sitting in the first row. Several Training Masters and town officials sat in chairs along the back of the stage. Lorant stood near the podium, conversing with the Mayor while townspeople poured into the square.

"I got good news," said Meyer. He was sitting between Ian and Dobson, near the last row of benches. "When I stopped by the Healing Ward this morning, Kelton told me my ribs have healed faster than expected. I'll be fully recovered for the first day of the new training cycle."

"Awesome," said Ian "I knew everything would be fine."

"I also saw Rip," continued Meyer.

"Did he look angry?" asked Dobson.

"Well, he didn't look happy," said Meyer, "But it's Rip, so what can you expect. He stared at me, and then walked by without saying anything."

Dobson looked up at the stage and muttered a few indiscernible words.

"He's probably just mad about my attack on Dex," said Meyer.

Ian threw his hands in the air. "He's out of his mind! What can he even blame you for—a great attack?"