Six times a week I had very strenuous lessons with Professor Tanko, who, although formidable in the regular classes, was jovial and friendly in our private lessons. I also found out that he was a very dear friend of my father’s. I wished I could tell him who I really was, but Penelope had warned me that we still didn’t know who to trust. And Aunt Serena was still very angry with me for telling Vivienne.
Professor Tanko taught me how to perform and block stun strikes, crush strikes, fire strikes, and lightning strikes. I practiced my basic push strikes until I could control the intensity of my striking power.
Soon I could hit a moving target with my lightning strikes. And after every session, I had a whole host of game in a heap at my feet, which was sent to the kitchens on Professor Tanko’s orders.
I was becoming stronger both physically and magically. Even with the amulet on, my powers were resilient. The professor would also make me run for two hours every day in the woods on the outskirts of the city of Neris to build up my stamina and strength.
“Your powers are strong, Rory,” said Baron Tanko one day, as we were resting after an extremely strenuous lesson. “I can understand now why the mastermage wanted you to have extra lessons. It’s not that you are lagging behind, but in fact you are too strong. And with powers like yours, learning to control them is very important.”
I still wore my amulet at all times. I thought it would diminish my power, but it didn’t feel like it. My strikes were fast and powerful, and my shields were strong. Could I really have more power than this? Was it even possible for one person to possess so much power?
Uncle Gabriel said that people were afraid of fae-mages. It sounded absurd that anyone could be afraid of me. But I was definitely getting curious about how much power I really had, and many times I contemplated taking off the amulet just to see what I could actually do.
Professor Tanko went on talking. “There is a very important lesson I want you to learn, Rory.”
I listened intently. I was determined to be the best, and I would have to be if I wanted to achieve anything at all.
“Learning to control the intensity of your strikes is one thing, but what I want to teach you now is considered High Magic and only taught in the third and fourth years at the academy. Normally a mage of your age would not need to learn this technique yet, as their powers are still not strong enough to kill a person with their strikes.”
“Kill,” I gasped. “I don’t want to kill anyone.”
“I should hope not,” said Baron Tanko, looking amused. “In any case, the lesson here is, how do you know if your strike can wound a person or kill him? What I am trying to say is that the intent behind your strike is as important as the intensity of the strike itself. A powerful lightning strike can kill a man if the intent is to kill. But you can perform a lightning strike that will temporarily paralyze your opponent if you so intend. The same goes for fire strikes. A novice would only be able to cause a slight burn when he or she performs a fire strike. But a fully trained mage can burn a man alive with it. Or he could only scorch somebody, depending on the intent. These strikes not only work against people, but on objects as well. A small fire strike can light a candle, but a strong one could burn down a house. This is the reason students are not allowed to use strikes outside classes. A wrong strike with wrong intent can cause severe damage.”
I nodded, understanding dawning. Professor Dekela was preparing me for anything, not just for the school tests.
I still met Rafe every night and practiced everything I had learned so far. In the time that we spent together, we talked about so much. I told him all about my childhood, my adoptive parents, how they died, and my life with the Darlingtons. Rafe also opened up a little, and I got glimpses into his life as a boy and his relationship with his parents. He told me amusing stories about his younger years and spoke very fondly about many of his friends. I got a sense that he didn’t really get along with his family, but he still never told me who he really was.
On occasion, Rafe would take me down to a secluded area of the docks, in the early hours of the morning, while the city was asleep, and I would haul boxes and crates onto a wagon, lifting them with magic. This sort of magic required a lot of precision and strength, and Rafe explained that exercising my magic was as important as exercising my muscles. I would leave my nightly classes exhausted and with barely any energy to eat, and fall into my bed.
Still, I was happy spending so much time with him, and my heart yearned for him to feel the same about me, but I was never really sure of his motives for helping me. And every time I thought that he might have feelings for me, he reminded me that he had a debt to repay my father.
So I tried to push him from my thoughts and immersed myself in my studies. I spent my free time at the library reading the histories of Avalonia and the politics and societies of all the seven kingdoms. I memorized the names of the kingdoms and their rulers, the names of the noble families, what they did, and who they were. I learned about the different guilds, the merchants and artisans, and how they sold and traded. Where all the main trading ports were, what cities and towns sold what, how many shops they had, and the
