“I’ve seen enough magic lately,” Kevlin said. “I actually prefer less magic, honestly.”

“We are facing a time of dire conflict,” Harafin said. “You are steward of Tia Khoa while its bearer yet lives. This is a unique situation that requires study.”

Study all you want. Just leave me out of it.

Before Kevlin could answer, Harafin made a sweeping gesture with his right hand. A globe of amber magic appeared and encircled them. Kevlin jumped in surprise, knocked his head against the sloping roof, and tripped.

The warm floor smelled slightly of cinnamon. As soon as he touched it, it flared and cracked, and he fell through to the ground beneath. He scrambled up onto his knees and stared around nervously.

“What is this thing?” he asked.

“Do not worry. It won’t harm you.” Harafin sat on the floor of the round magical room. “Although that amulet of yours makes it as hard to protect you as it is to harm you.” He snapped his fingers and the floor retreated away from Kevlin.

“Warn me next time,” Kevlin growled. Gentle warmth began flowing into his chest, and he shuddered.

Magic.

The amulet must have captured magic from Harafin’s sphere when he touched it. Not good. The song of Savas was triggered last time the amulet did that. He had to get rid of that power before the song tried to take control again.

He drove his fist into the ground, willing the magic away.

Amazingly, it obeyed. The feeling of warmth condensed into a line of intense heat that flowed down his arm and out his fist. Light burst from his fingers as the magic drilled into the ground, leaving a smoking hole two feet deep.

Relieved, he glanced up at Harafin and found the old man watching him, stroking his white beard, and nodding.

“I am sorry for startling you.” Harafin gestured at the glowing sphere. “This shield will offer protection while we talk.”

Protect who, from what?

“All right, let’s talk,” Kevlin said.

“I believe we should start with that amulet of yours.”

“What about it?” There’s no way I’m giving it to you.

“To my knowledge, no sentinel has ever found a way for a non-actinopathic person to wield magic. Yet, for some unknown reason, Tia Khoa has chosen to alter Bajaran’s amulet and provide exactly that capacity to you.”

“What do you mean, Tia Khoa chose to alter it? It can’t think. It’s just a rock.”

“Stone.”

“Stones don’t think or act on their own.” Kevlin glanced down at his boot. Do they?

“We’re going to have to cover some of the basics first.”

“What basics?”

“What is magic?” Harafin asked.

“What are you talking about?”

The old sentinel regarded him sternly. “You’ve been lucky so far, but you need to learn to control the magic provided to you, or you could destroy yourself and those around you.”

Kevlin frowned. He didn’t want to deal with magic, and part of him wanted to hand the amulet over to Harafin. But the old man had already said he wouldn’t take Tia Khoa, and Kevlin would need the amulet’s protection until he returned the rock to Antigonus. Besides, having a safeguard against magic relieved some of the constant fear that knotted his stomach around sentinels.

“I think I know how to get rid of it,” Kevlin said. “Isn’t that enough?”

Harafin chuckled. “You have no idea. Now tell me, what is magic?”

Kevlin sighed. The old man wasn’t going to let him out of this little round prison until he played along.

He could just walk through the wall. Wouldn’t that tie Harafin’s beard in a knot?

Then again, did he want Harafin angry? The amulet seemed powerful, but who knew what the sentinel could do if he lost his temper? Images of explosions, burning trees, and towering pillars of multicolored fire came to mind, followed by memories of helpless terror.

Definitely not a good idea to upset a sentinel. Not without a solid escape route already mapped out.

Kevlin sighed and thought back to all the magic he’d witnessed in the past week, and how it had felt burning in his chest. Despite all his exposure to magic, Kevlin had no idea what it really was.

Harafin was waiting, so he finally managed to say, “Ah, magic is a power used by sentinels and shadeleeches to do things.”

What a stupid answer.

“You are partially correct,” Harafin said. “It is power. It is also more than that, and we will leave the discussion of shadeleeches for later. What is light?”

“Light? I don’t know,” Kevlin said, nervousness turning to frustration. “Light comes from the sun. It gives us, well, light.”

“All correct. What most people do not realize is that light and magic are intimately connected. You see, at its most fundamental level magic is light. . .and light is magic.”

“You mean when the sun is shining, I’m really seeing magic, not light?”

“Not exactly. The relationship between light and magic is simple, yet so profound that most people have a hard time understanding it at first. But that understanding gives sentinels tremendous power."

“I asked you those two questions to help you open your mind to important truths. Magic is the lifeblood of the planet and of all living things. It can be found all around us, and is replenished daily by sunlight. We can see rays of light, but what is not seen, and what most people cannot sense, is that with the light comes power, and that power is what we call magic."

“The true term for it is actinic energy. It is in the air, in the ground, permeating the earth to its core. Sentinels, those who we call gifted, or actinopathic, are persons who for some unknown reason have the ability to sense that energy and to command it, to control it, to bend it to their will.”

Harafin paused while Kevlin considered his words. Kevlin thought of the forest, the cliff, and everything that made up the landscape. All of it infected with magic? Could it be possible?

Kevlin gestured to the sphere of softly glowing magic. “Is that why magic always gives off light?”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Yes. Most of the time, the use of magic discharges some form of visible light. Some spells may discharge light not visible to us, but those require much more control and experience.”

“What about the shadeleeches? When Merab was possessed by the Sigrun, they attacked you with pure darkness. How did they do that?”

“That is an excellent question, and the answer to it lies at the root of the power the Sigrun wield. As servants of Angrama, they are enemies of the light, their goal being the domination or destruction of all living things. They cannot wield actinic energy like sentinels do, for it is foreign to them. They have no part in it. Their power, although often referred to as magic, is an abomination. Its true name is sthenic energy.”

“What’s the difference? I’ve seen both shadeleeches and sentinels throw balls of fire and things like that.”

“True. But actinic magic is part of the fabric of life on the planet. Sentinels can draw upon the power within them, as well as the latent magic all around. Shadeleeches, on the other hand, gain power only through destruction. Their sthenic magic is an abomination, wielded by sucking the very life out of something else.”

“I don’t understand,” Kevlin said. “A ball of fire thrown by a sentinel is destructive too.”

“Yes, but a sentinel’s fire is formed from latent magic available to them. Fire created by a shadeleech uses power stolen from another living thing: a tree, a rock, water in a stream, almost anything can be exploited."

"But shadeleeches gain the most power by sacrificing a living being, particularly humans. Shadeleech is a very accurate name. Taking a person’s life force gives a shadeleech tremendous power for short periods of time, and they use this to justify their actions."

"If they kill a person with their sthenic powers, they can feed on the life force of that individual's soul after they die, sucking its very essence until it is spent. Souls destroyed in that way are easily overcome by Angrama’s fiery chains and endure eternal torment.”

“That’s horrible.” Kevlin had thought he was afraid before, but it was worse than he’d imagined.

“It is,” Harafin agreed, again stroking his beard. “Time to move from theory to practice. I will teach you a basic but important spell that could very well save your life.”

Kevlin glanced around the little prison globe and considered breaking out again. “I’d rather not.”

“Do you really think you can remain safe from the Sigrun if you refuse to use the power you have been given?” Harafin asked. “Would you go into battle against armed foes not knowing how to wield a sword?”

“Not if I want to live.”

“We are battling the forces of evil,” Harafin said, fixing Kevlin with his penetrating gaze. “This is a battle of magic and unseen powers. If you refuse to learn to fight this battle, you will die.”

Kevlin swallowed. He’d rather fight Dhanjal again than learn how to wield magic, but could think of no way to refute Harafin’s argument. So he nodded.

Gesturing at the blackened hole in the ground, Harafin said, “You have gained a modicum of control already, which is a good sign.”

Kevlin shrugged. “I just willed it to go away.”

“Then you understand a core principle, for magic is a tool, wielded like any other, with dangers and risks inherent in its use. But unlike your sword, this tool is wielded by your thoughts.”

“What dangers?”

Harafin ignored the question. “Instead of driving the magic away, I want you to create the image of a shield.”

“What kind of shield?”

“That is up to you. Any shield you feel comfortable with. The bigger the shield, the more power required to form it.”

Kevlin thought about it. He had used shields at times in the past, and in close fighting they were invaluable. The thought of a shield made of magic intrigued him. He formed the image of a simple round shield in his mind.

“What now?” he asked.

“Now you need magic.” Harafin raised a hand, palm up. It began to glow with a faint golden light. He pointed, and the light rolled through the air toward Kevlin, touched his chest, and disappeared. Instantly a warm sensation spread through Kevlin’s body.

Magic.

He recognized it as it pooled in his chest and flowed down his arms and legs, strengthening him. He took a shuddering breath and forced down the urge to drive the magic away.

“What do I do?” Kevlin asked.

“Hold the image in your mind, and envision the magic flowing into it and becoming the shield.”

That sounded easy enough, so Kevlin focused on the image of the shield and willed the magic into it. The power condensed in his chest, pressing against his skin. His muscles quivered with energy until he struggled to hold still.

Become the shield, he commanded.

Nothing happened.

Make a shield. He imagined the magic hardening into a shield.

The power in his chest churned and roiled and hardened inside of him. Pain blossomed and he gasped and clutched at his ribs. He lost focus, and the energy slipped from his control and rolled around through his body like water sloshing in a bucket.

“What just happened?” he asked. This was a bad idea.

“Shields are more effective outside of your body,” Harafin explained. Although he spoke with a straight face, Kevlin got the sense that the old man was secretly laughing at him.

“You didn’t tell me to do that,” Kevlin snapped.

Harafin smiled. “I didn’t think I had to.”

“Of course you have to. I don’t know anything about magic.”

“But you have used shields before, yes? How effective is a shield in your stomach?”

Kevlin glowered at him, embarrassed and frustrated.

“Watch me,” Harafin said.

Light coalesced around him, flowing into the old man until he glowed with it. Then it rolled back out of him like a tangible thing and condensed in the air. In the span of a couple of heartbeats, the light shaped into an unusual triangular shield.

“Why didn’t you just show me that first?”

Harafin only smiled and waved his hand. The shield of light disappeared. “Now, you try.”

Kevlin again formed the image of a shield and concentrated, imagining it forming in the air in front of him, flowing out of him the same way it had from Harafin. He focused his will and commanded, Do it.

Again the magic condensed inside his chest, but this time it moved, a visible wave of light rolling out to hang in the air a foot in front of him. The light swirled and contracted into a rough sphere.

It’s really working.

Shaping magic felt strange, like trying to butter toast with his feet. It was possible, but used muscles he’d never trained for that particular chore.

Do it, he commanded the magic again, imagining a complete glowing shield.

The light flared, but slipped from his mental fingers. The partially-formed shield shattered into a thousand glowing fragments of light that shot in all directions. Kevlin instinctively ducked as splinters of light collided with the walls of the little room and disappeared with green flashes.

That’s why he locked us in here, so I won’t kill anyone.

Kevlin wiped a hand across his sweaty face, feeling as exhausted as if he’d run for miles.

“Very good,” Harafin said calmly.

“Right,” Kevlin replied sarcastically. “I bet you say that to all your students.”

Harafin smiled. “You may not believe it, but for a man who touched magic for the first time only days ago, what you just did was remarkable.”

“Thanks.”

“Try again.”

Kevlin sighed. It was going to be a long night.

He managed to get it right on his fourth attempt. He stared at the construct of magic he’d created, and between labored breaths asked, “How’s that?”

Harafin pointed at the shield, and a miniature arrow made of coppery light shot from his finger. It struck the shield and punched through with barely a pause. Kevlin ducked just in time to avoid being skewered.

“What do you think?” Harafin asked.

Kevlin stared at the shield with the small hole in its center. He’d felt the bolt strike, in his mind, like someone had poked him in the head with a finger. And he’d felt it pass through his shield, but it had all happened so fast he hadn’t had time to react.

“One more time,” Kevlin said, determination growing to get it right. He’d show the old man he wasn’t a useless fool.

Releasing the previous shield, he pulled the magic back, then willed it out again. It formed in a heartbeat, and Kevlin willed it to be thicker, stronger.

“Try that again,” Kevlin challenged.

Harafin shot a little magic arrow at the shield. It struck, and again Kevlin felt the jab, but it deflected, striking the glowing wall with a flash of green light.

“Very good,” Harafin observed.

Kevlin grinned. Then a single drum beat in his soul, and distant horns blared.

Savas.

He panicked and threw the magic away. The shield disintegrated and light burst from Kevlin in all directions in a formless wave.

“What are you doing?” Harafin asked with a disapproving frown.

A single drum beat again, as if mocking him. Then it was gone. Kevlin breathed a sigh of relief, his elation at forming the magical shield swallowed up by fear of Savas.

Could he trust the sentinel with that secret?

Not yet.

“I just couldn’t do it anymore,” Kevlin lied.

“Very well. You have made significant progress tonight. Remember the things you have learned. The ability to form an effective shield is a critical tool in a sentinel's arsenal.”

“I’m not a sentinel.”

Harafin smiled, again looking aged and mysterious. Kevlin decided he really didn’t want to know what Harafin was thinking.

The old sentinel waved a hand and the little amber room dissipated, leaving them once again sitting at the edge of the clearing. Kevlin breathed deep the fresh air and savored the smell of pine and wood smoke. Maybe next time he could convince Harafin not to enclose them like that. It made him nervous.

I can’t believe it. He’s already got me accepting the fact we’ve got to do it again.

Full night had fallen and most of the men were already rolled in their blankets. A discordant chorus of snoring rumbled around the clearing.

Kevlin headed for his own blankets before Harafin could think of some other way to torment him with magic. He lay on his back, staring at the chill night sky. His mind whirled with the things he'd learned. He’d actually done it. He, Kevlin, had used magic.

The thought was strangely exciting, and very scary.

What is happening to me?

That thought chased him into the welcome release of deep sleep.