“Stand with me, and try to make it strike further to the south!”
Jularra nodded. “Go!” she shouted.
Vylas strained and forced a foot out from under him. Jularra matched his movements. The weight of the lightning was an extreme and powerful demonstration of nature’s energy, one that could never be beaten, never tamed nor completely controlled. They could only try to apply their best knowledge and respect to move the bolt, just a little.
Every fiber of Vylas’ muscles was begging him to relent, but he finally got both feet under him.
“Stand!” Vylas screamed. “Now!”
Together, they began to move. Their hands, directing the majority of their energy up at the lightning bolt, were still pressed back to their shoulders. They continued to strain against the bolt. Vylas’ muscles were past burning and beginning to feel as if they were tearing. His energy reserves were nearly out, which meant Jularra wouldn’t be able to maintain much longer either.
He shifted his footing for more leverage, but slipped on a patch of wet leaves and violently slammed to the ground on his side. Jularra fell back too, but somehow maintained her resistance against the bolt, now bearing the brunt of the entire lightning strike’s energy. With only one person fighting against it now, the speed at which it approached increased.
“Vylas! I can’t hold it!” she grunted.
He rolled over and back to his knees, refocusing his energy and rejoining the effort.
“Summon everything you have, Jularra! We need to move quicker this time! Watch your feet and move!”
They moved together. Leaning into the weight, they made it back to their feet. His lower back felt as if it was being crushed, but as he pressed to stand erect, Vylas screamed.
“Push!”
They shook under the weight, but started to slowly stand taller. They held their ground and pressed out their arms as they finished rising. Only when they had finished standing completely, extending their palms as high as possible, did completing the task seem even remotely possible.
The lightning strike had passed the forest canopy and was brightening the area to almost daylight levels. They needed to redirect the bolt somehow. Jularra looked to Vylas to see who would begin the incantation, but he was already speaking it.
***
His eyes were closed. If he was making sounds, Jularra couldn’t hear them over the rain, the thunder, and the growing hum of more approaching lightning. She couldn’t even help him. Incantations weren’t a team effort. They both could contribute energy, but incantations weren’t cumulative. Jularra looked back to the bolt as she continued focusing her energy. Vylas continued the incantation, his eyes still closed.
Jularra's body was begging her to let go. She was weakening, but as long as Vylas didn’t fall down again, she could keep up her portion. After reaching a consensus with herself, she saw the lightning’s path begin to change. She looked over to Vylas. His eyes were open. The incantation was finished.
“Push it south! Push!” he yelled.
Jularra looked through her extended arms at the woods. She focused on everything south of them: paths, roads, structures, countries, bodies of water. Everything in her mind and soul at that moment was south. Move it south. Move yourself south.
Out of her peripheral vision, she saw Vylas take a small step. She took one also. They both paused to confirm their footing, and then moved again. Another step, and another. The path of the lightning began to curve away from the clearing. It was working.
“Follow my lead!” Vylas screamed. “A few more paces, then speed up!”
Jularra focused and said nothing, watching Vylas in her periphery.
Within a few paces, they were jogging, and within seconds, Vylas gave the signal to release their tie to it.
“Let go on three… two… one!”
They gave the final push everything they had. As they released their hold on the friction, the rapid loss of resistance caused them both to stumble and slide on the muddy ground. As they slushed to a stop, the lightning, freshly freed, finally struck to the south as planned. The thunder, agitated from the delay, finally roared to an eruption, punching their chests with a concussive, satisfying boom. Jularra, panting and jellylike with fatigue, forced her head up to make sure the lightning would not cause a fire. Vylas had the same idea.
“I’m sure it’s too wet,” he shouted over the rain.
Jularra said nothing and continued to stare ahead. After a moment, she agreed.
They slowly rose to their feet. They weren’t in a hurry, partly because they were already drenched, but mostly because their people loved the rain. Hearing it, seeing it, being caught in it. Rain was considered a blessing for sustaining their lives. Being inconvenienced by rain was not something in any Acorilinian’s mentality. And with the downpour being beyond a rare blessing in a sustained drought, there was an extra moment shared between the old friends. Together, they stood silently, looking up and blinking in the rain as it struck them, smiling and thankful.
Once they were back on their feet, they leaned against one another and shuffled over to Vylas’ home. After stepping inside, Vylas fell into a chair next to the fire. Jularra sank to the stone floor.
For a few minutes, Vylas’ home was filled only with the sounds of exhausted gasping and the steady downpour outside. The only interruptions came from the emboldened thunder and occasional sighs of laughter between the two old friends.
Jularra’s nerves finally leveled out. Her breathing relaxed. It looked to be the same for Vylas. Conducting magic of any kind took energy, and such an effort to manipulate the lightning—such a rarely-needed act—had exhausted most of what they could muster. With just enough energy recuperated to do so, Vylas stood and walked over to Jularra, still sitting on the floor of the kitchen. He offered her a hand.
“All right. Up with you.” Jularra sucked in a huge breath and then sighed. “Here we go,” he grunted as he helped her up.
Jularra took his hand and rose to her feet. Vylas patted her
