The Mages of Royas Bay (Mages of Wrystan 1)

Chapter 19: Showdown

ARIEN LAY CHEST down in the mud, his head twisted to one side. As he panted, cold silver mist gathered before his face, tiny clouds that slowly disintegrated. It was raining in large drops, like silver pennies clattering into the mud. They quickly made puddles, and those puddles spread. Before long, Arien had to push up on his hands and knees or risk drowning. The water was icy cold and ran swiftly as it trickled from puddle to puddle, overflowing to seep across the mud.

Then there was no mud, only water. It lapped up to Arien's elbows and he rose onto his knees. The water followed, so he stood up. It was waist deep already, the current tugging at his feet. It pulled at him, urging him to let go, to flow with them.

He wanted to, but he was scared. He was a desert boy. The place of his birth was thousands of miles from the sea. There were no rivers in his desert. He couldn't swim.

The silver river didn't leave him any choice. As the water rose up to his chest, a surging wave crashed into him, knocking him backwards off his feet into the flow.

He opened his mouth to shout for help, but sank beneath the surface, swallowing a lungful of tingling magic. It pulsed through him, then lifted him up. Panicking, he rolled onto his front, trying to see where the river was taking him, expecting to sink again at any moment.

But the magic was inside him now, it held him up, cradling him in its heart. Warmth grew from the cold, filling him with its comforting touch as it carried him back to himself.

Arien opened his eyes. The fire spat in the grate. The flames were opaque and eager, surging around a piece of old furniture, testing it for weaknesses. Eventually the fire settled down, turning sullen as it was forced to burn slowly and wait for the wood to crack.

A shadow shuffled behind Arien's head and he turned, groaning as the movement set off a dull ache in his brain. Rowan gave a protesting grumble and curled up tighter, tucking his nose into the hollow of his mage's throat.

"Awake now?" the shadow whispered, creeping closer.

It was the rat girl, Arien realised, remembering where he was and why. "Have I slept long?" he asked, voice cracking with thirst.

The girl scurried away and returned with a chipped wooden cup. The water inside wasn't exactly clean but Arien recognised the silver sheen on the surface. The magic shot through him, more potent than any potion or spell. It cleared his head in an instant.

"More?" she asked, as Arien guzzled the lot.

"Please," he said, gathering Rowan onto his lap as he sat up.

The pine marten yawned, stretched his front legs, arched his back and settled down again, eyeing his mage grumpily.

A cup appeared under Arien's nose and he took it with a smile. The girl tugged at her short, matted hair, watching as Arien dipped his fingers in the silvery-water and dribbled some into Rowan's upturned mouth.

A droplet rolled across the pine marten's nose and he jolted to his feet with a sneeze. Still sneezing, he shook his long body before setting his front paws on the edge of the beaker, leaning in and lapping for himself.

That hadn't been quite what Arien had in mind, but he supported his sleepy mage-beast until he'd drunk his fill. Studying the cup for a moment, Arien shrugged, turned it around and finished off the water. He was a mage, Rowan was his mage-beast and the silver liquid was his magic. If there were any germs to be shared, chances were they were sharing them already.

The jolt this time was less potent but still filled him with soothing warmth, and he felt the last of his aches ease away. Stars, if he could bottle this he'd make a fortune.