“That is your goal. I expect you should be able to form such a small bit of earth by midday.”
“But I do not—”
“Quiet.” The words were not angry, only an instruction. He drew a breath. “The elves teach the magicks as though they were a muscle. The idea is apt enough, but your people seem to forget that muscles move the fingers of a hand as much as they lift and kick and throw. Like any muscle, it must be known to you for you to exercise it. The place I have shown you. Without moving yourself, move the earth with every muscle in your body in turn. Come to me when you have done as I told you.”
The satyr walked to the place he always sat and did. He closed his eyes and said nothing more.
Óraithe wanted to protest. He did not seem the sort for japes or trickery. Was it really so simple? Or was simple just the shape of the words? There was nothing else but to do as she had been instructed.
She widened her stance. It seemed the right way though, in truth, she had no idea why. She stared at the spot and began to flex each muscle in turn, concentrating on the sand and willing it up with her mind as much as she could. Thighs, calves, forearms, shoulders. She made faces that were unfit to be seen in polite company.
An hour passed, and her muscles had begun throb and ache, but the ground had not even tumbled from its small pile by chance. The ache forced her on to other muscles, so much as she could think of them. Toes, fingers, her jaw, everything. She rolled over them again and again until another hour had passed and the sun was on her now. Óraithe would not move from the spot until the ground gave way at least.
More than the muscles, her mind began to ache and burn from the strain of shifting from one thing to the next over and over. There was a numbness growing as she ran through each group of muscles in turn, adding any she thought she might be able to flex as she could. The rotation went by time and again, but nothing. The numbness in her mind smoothed over until there was just a line of nothing running through. She forgot the world around her and stared only at the dirt in front of her. As much as she wanted for it to, it would not mock her or judge. Over and over and over she walked the numb line through her mind. Again and again it was the same.
She felt it just once and her breath caught in her throat. A dip in the numb in her mind. A hollow place she had never felt before. She ran her sequence again and it was there. She could barely feel the space of it. Some muscle she’d never known. The only way to it was the sequence, so again she flexed through each of her muscles. When she came to the hollow, she reached for it in her mind and a pain shot through her. It burned in her brain where the numb had been. The burn flared and she felt as though her mind had been branded. Óraithe dropped to her knees and grabbed her head.
It wasn’t more than a handful of seconds before the pain passed but she was left breathing hard and dripping with sweat. Her eyes shot over to the satyr, but he sat passively, eyes closed. She stood, determined to try again.
The circuit began and when she came to the hollow, she pushed. The burning lit again in her mind and she dropped to her knees, falling on her hands to keep herself from landing face down in the dirt. Was this it? Her eyes shot to the tiny mound of dirt the satyr had left for her. There was a divot pressed into the side. A divot that had not been there before.
Óraithe forced herself up. She would not fall to her knees again. It took too long. She came to the hollow again and pushed against whatever lay in there unwilling to move. Her body shook as the pain shot down to her feet, but she stood. Her eyes had closed, she realized. She had a new goal. She would see the dirt move herself. It was something, a step forward.
The sequence passed and the pain came time after time, but her body had begun to accept it. It was dulling. She was winning. The sun was fully above the edge of the high wall when she opened her eyes through the pain the first time. She just saw it, a few pieces of dirt pushing out of place. It was all she could do to keep from jumping into the air and shouting with joy. Had the Gifts always been so nearby?
She looked down at her hands. They were shaking uncontrollably and she felt the pain of her muscles begin to creep back in. Was that it? The pain kept people from it? The pain and perhaps not knowing where to begin. Pain was not so bad. Not now, anyway. She would never have put herself through it before.
Óraithe looked up at the sun. There were a few hours yet until midday. There was no way she would be able to form the earth as he had by then. Or to force it up out of the ground. That would not stop her from trying. She had been shown something wonderful.
The hours passed almost too quickly and before she knew it, the sun was high overhead, threatening as
