Starcaster by J.N. Chaney

Author:J.N. Chaney [Chaney, J.N.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-09-05T22:00:00+00:00

11

The routine was becoming easier, and Thorn’s confidence was building with each wake up. Instead of fearing his magic, he was learning to live with it—to shape it in ways that made power seem like a natural extension of his own will. A part of him that belonged, not something to be hidden from the other kids at the home.

He kept The Hungry Trout on him at all times, and began to excel in areas that had been out of reach mere weeks before. Now, Clearance and Material Sciences came easier to him, as he finally concluded that making war would be the hardest thing he’d ever do. Not just using magic, because it was a given that his power was dangerous and costly.

But war against the Nyctus was going to be unlike anything else in his world. Humans weren’t built to kill. They could kill, given training, and there was even the odd enthusiast among his peers, but in truth, killing another sentient being wasn’t a default setting. Thorn considered this as his power grew, learning that inside himself he found a core shut off from the rest of the world. It was a secret place—a combat awareness—that he could invoke, given the time to tap into it.

But even the delay between thoughts and spells was fading, just as his need to physically touch his book. Now, he could merely sense the book, and his well of power would yawn open, a roiling mass of unformed energy waiting for his command.

Captain Leblanc had called him to her jump plane once more before moving on to whatever her next assignment was, and she was not the same person he’d met on the field that first day. Leblanc’s face was sallow, her eyes sunken over hollow cheeks and a look that fell between haunted and raw exhaustion. Thorn was sure now that recovery was far worse for her than it had been for the trainees.

“Stellers.” She spoke as if her throat was swollen, the words dusty.

“Captain, ma’am?” He stood at attention, eyes clocking her office. It was sparse, with odd things—like a brass plate, candles slumped in the middle, and the skull of a small animal, its jaw in an open leer.

She smiled, and even that gesture was an echo. “Have a seat, soldier.”

He dropped into a chair, noting the cushion. It smelled of dust and sunshine. “You lead a life of comfort, ma’am,” he said.

Her laugh was brighter than her smile. “Some things travel with me. I need the familiarity in order to…remain focused. And to recover, which I’m sure you’re seeing now. Think of me as a shepherd. I can only control so many in my flock before I need rest. Power—real power, like what you have—is at the utter edge of our control. It’s like a science so new that you’re as likely to die as you are to triumph in pursuit of its application. So, you get this,” she said, waving at her creased uniform. With a dismissive flick, she sent a crumb of energy bar falling to the floor.

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