Tracou still had his wand held tightly in his hand. Periodically, he forced magic through it. The farther away they got from the waterfall and what remained of that dust cloud, the more magic he could use. The soot left on their clothes and the wagon itself remained a problem, however.
Even hours later, what had happened at the waterfall had shaken each and every one of them. So many different thoughts swirled in Tracou's head about magic and his sudden helplessness that he didn't notice time trickle by.
"Is your magic working now?" Mirthal asked him at length, making him jump in surprise.
"Kind of." Tracou conjured up a snake made of red light and had it slither forth from his wand. It moved to Tracou himself, inching from one shoulder to the other and steadily disintegrating as it went. Before it reached the other side, it had disappeared completely. Normally, Tracou would have tried to get the mess off of him, but he couldn't do it with magic.
Mirthal hummed thoughtfully as he dragged his finger along his arm to gather some of the powder. "This stuff is powerful."
"Powerful enough to have the same effect on a dezmek as taking its wand away," Pendaer commented, glancing back into the wagon. "Imagine what would have happened if you had sent me off with that woman! I told you that the dezmek can't protect you the way I can, your highness."
Beside him, Mirthal bristled. "Don't say that!"
"But he's right," Tracou said, voice like lead. "If it had just been you and me, those humans would have killed us both."
Like it or not, Pendaer could hold his own in a fight. He had dealt with two humans at the same time! Without magic, Tracou could never hope to manage something like that and Mirthal had struggled against a human without a weapon.
Hearing that had made Pendaer turn his body just to gawk at Tracou. That stupid, open mouthed expression rapidly transformed into a haughty smirk.
"That's the first time you've made sense, dezmek. I suppose even a lesser creature like you can recognize your betters once your life has been on the line!"
Tracou shot Pendaer a hateful, acidic look, but otherwise didn't respond.
"If you could have used magic, we would have been perfectly fine," Mirthal said, trying and failing to comfort Tracou.
"But I couldn't. I still had my wand, but it was useless." Tracou slouched, eyes on his injured ankle. "It was just like the bars in the dungeon. That had to be on purpose. The Winleans have something that consumes magic and they used it in the dungeon knowing that it consumes magic. They know this, even though they're humans and can't use magic themselves."
"Sakshi didn't know it."
Pendaer scoffed. "She's a human! She could have lied to you."
"Well," Mirthal began, frowning. "When I suggested using magic to break the bars, she eagerly told me to try and was disappointed when it didn't work."
"How could she not know about it?" Tracou asked, the words tumbling over each other in his haste to get them out of his mouth. "She was the Royal Scholar, wasn't she? If anyone would know, it would be her!"
"I don't think she knew. She... doesn't seem like she's good at hiding anything."
"Either way, it's not good," Pendaer said, facing straight ahead. "A country like Winlea having something that can render magic useless is a disaster waiting to happen for the dezmek. I suppose we know what the current Royal Scholar wants, now."
Tracou groaned as though someone had hit him in the stomach.
If the Winleans had enough of that rock to use on a village or, even worse, Terel, then they could swoop in and do whatever they pleased. Dezmek, who relied so heavily on magic, would be at the mercy of the Winleans.
But that was extreme. Dezmer and Winlea had come into conflict before, but it was over access to the ocean. That couldn't be enough reason to cripple the entire populace, could it? But it would be so easy. Even if Winlea didn't use it directly, if they perhaps destroyed one village using the powder, they could use it to threaten Dezmer with further action. And what could Dezmer do to retaliate?
Tracou shuddered.
A soft hand moved on top of his own. Tracou turned to look at Mirthal, who stared intently down at their hands.
"Tracou, could you take off your glove?"
Puzzled, Tracou did as he was asked. His right hand looked the same as ever—pale, with Mirthal's mark etched on his skin.
Mirthal smiled at the sight. "I'm glad. I was worried the dust might have... eaten this magic, too."
"But it didn't," Tracou said slowly. "Why?"
Sighing gently, Mirthal used his finger to trace along the pattern on the back of Tracou's hand.
"I don't know. Maybe because it's completed magic? When I tried to break the bars, my magic didn't work, but this is already finished."
"So only active magic is vulnerable? That doesn't help dezmek at all..."
"I suppose not."
Tracou took in a deep breath and let out a long, heavy sigh. "If it happens again, I'll be useless."
"You're not useless. And, if Pendaer teaches me how to use a sword, I can protect you," Mirthal said with a big smile.
Protect him? Tracou frowned. The idea made words from Skender, words that felt like they were from years ago, float to the top of his head.
'I think they see dezmek as pitiful. We can't do anything without magic. Without it, we're small and weak. Most people wouldn't turn away someone as helpless as a child, right?'
Is that how Mirthal saw him? Weak, worthless, and childlike?
Who wouldn't, after today?
That comment, instead of reassuring Tracou like Mirthal had wanted, only served to frustrate him more. He glowered at nothing.
"Your highness," Pendaer said, "you're the one that others should be protecting."
"I don't care. I might be the prince to you, but I'm just Mirthal to Tracou. Right?" he asked, smiling warmly.
Giving Mirthal a forced smile, Tracou nodded. "Right. But, Mirthal, you should work to protect yourself. Not me."
This made Mirthal's eyebrows knit together. He looked Tracou over, his eyes pausing in their short journey at Tracou's ankle and, later, at his hand.
"If it wasn't for me, you would be at home in Dezmer right now. You never would have gotten hurt. If something else happens to you, it'll be my fault then, too. So..." Mirthal hesitated, expression tight. He placed his hand over the mark he had left on Tracou and held his hand that way, the tips of his fingers finding refuge between the bases of Tracou's. "S-So..." The elf stared at their hands in an effort to avoid Tracou's eyes. His nose and cheeks were turning pink.
The buzzing atmosphere Tracou felt when Mirthal carried him was present here, too, and impossible to ignore. He felt feverish.
"So!" Mirthal shouted suddenly, startling Tracou so badly he gasped. For a moment Mirthal floundered, but he pushed on regardless. "If this happens again... please depend on me. I'll keep you safe."
Tracou swallowed. Relying on Mirthal, someone who hardly knew his right from his left, couldn't be good for either of them. It wasn't right to stand behind someone like Mirthal while he put himself at risk for him. Tracou should be able to take care of himself. He had his wand! But without magic, even Mirthal was more capable than he was. Not only that, but Mirthal wanted him to depend on him. Why go this far? He was clearly worried about him, but even Pendaer had done something to help him earlier. He seemed to feel guilty about everything that had happened up until this point, too. This could all be a way for him to deal with that.
The biggest question for Tracou, though, was this: did Mirthal want to help Tracou or did he want to help a pathetic, magicless dezmek?
It couldn't be both. In Tracou's mind, he could be either one or the other—not both.
Back in reality, Pendaer had, of course, been listening to this. He twisted his entire body around to gaze upon Mirthal and Tracou with disapproval and more than a little confusion.
"What kind of sense does that make? Wouldn't it be smarter for him to depend on me?" Pendaer asked, taking the wind out of everyone else's sails so thoroughly that Tracou laughed. Unused to such treatment, Pendaer hunched his shoulders and glared at Tracou. "What are you laughing at, dezmek?
"Why would I rely on you?" Tracou asked.
"Because I know how to defend not only myself, but others," Pendaer explained, flustered.
"I can't trust you, you buffoon."
"Hmph! You said it yourself, earlier: without me, you both would be dead."
Tracou grimaced. That, without a doubt in his mind, was true.
"Don't listen to him," Mirthal chirped. "I'll learn how to use a sword and everything will be fine."
Both Tracou and Pendaer let out a sigh at this unabashed and unjustified optimism. Upon realizing they had done it at the same time, they froze.
Mortifying.
"A-Are we going south, Pendaer?" Tracou asked in an attempt to focus on something else. They had been told to head south after reaching the waterfall.
"Don't doubt me, dezmek."
Frowning, Tracou focused his gaze on Mirthal instead. The elf blinked at him before giving him a nod.
"Are we really going south?"
Pendaer grunted. "We're going south, your highness."
Relieved, Tracou leaned back against the short wall of the wagon.
As long as he ignored everything about that magic eating dust, Tracou could convince himself that everything was going to be fine. The fact that two of their attackers had fled and could return at any time also had to be ignored. Then there was the fact that Mirthal was going to learn how to sword fight so he could jump into any future fray with confidence.
Tracou groaned, running a hand through his hair. The front of his head throbbed.
The sooner they arrived in Dezmer, the better.