The Eighth Born: Book 1 of the Pankaran Chronicles by Night C

Author:Night, C. [Night, C.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2015-10-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Once again, it was winter. Snow was thick about the Tower and falling still. It had been more than ten years since Rhyen first arrived in Avernade. Ten years had not aged him. He still looked much the same as he had the day he began his apprenticeship, and only the quiet maturity that presented itself in the carriage of his head and shoulders and the compassion that reflected thoughtfully in his eyes even indicated that he had lived ten more years at all. Cazing, too, remained unchanged. As Rhyen looked at himself in the mirror that morning, he began to fully understand the consequences of magic.

The realization saddened him somewhat. Cazing was nearing two hundred and looked no more than forty. How long would Rhyen have to live before he looked older than eighteen, twenty tops? It was strange that he should know so much more now than he did when he arrived at Avernade, yet look like the same person.

But he was different. He was not the same little boy who had first wielded against the well in Yla. He was not even the young man who had exploded the fire in the Tower.

He was now a master wielder. He knew the secrets of magic. He no longer needed to shrug to clear his head, or to concentrate before letting the cold numbness seep over his mind before he wielded. He rarely spoke when casting spells anymore and, when he did wield, the spells lasted for far longer than Cazing’s. He had listened to his master and learned diligently from him. Rhyen understood the tricks of his trade… and yet, for all his knowledge and experience, he looked still like the young man who had been afraid of apprenticing under a sorcerer.

Rhyen sighed. He had thought, once, before he’d been summoned to the Academy, that he would live a relatively normal life. Grow up, find a trade, get married, have children… normal things. Even after he’d wielded the little girl out of the well, he hadn’t thought the course of his life would change, although from that moment on he’d known he had magic. But still he expected those ordinary things. He’d even had a childhood sweetheart—the little girl from the well, actually—and he didn’t consider that magic would much alter his course from her, or his family, or his dreams.

He had been wrong. Magic had claimed him, and his life could not have been more altered from his imaginings. Yet, it was not a bad life. In fact, Rhyen enjoyed his life. The excitement that came with wielding far outweighed any consequences, and his master was all the company Rhyen cared now to have. The two wielders of the Tower. Just as it should be. This was his life now, and, good and bad, Rhyen would not trade it.

Rhyen looked away from the mirror and directed his gaze out the window. Snow was swirling prettily in the gray of pre-dawn, and what light there was sparkled off it.

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