"Why does it have to be like that?" I asked—though as I looked at Brandel, and the way that the others hung on him, I could see it. There was something charismatic about him, almost magnetic. I had known men like him before, but they weren’t all bullies like Brandel was.
And because he was a bully, there was a part of me that reacted instinctively. I wanted nothing more than to tell him off, but that wouldn't do at all. I was older, and theoretically, I should know better.
"His father is someone of nobility," Ames said. He shook his head. "Not that I would ever know it by talking to him. That is, if he would let me talk to him."
I looked over and frowned. "Why wouldn't you?"
"He doesn't believe that I'm of the right class."
"What class is that?"
"His. He’s got to become a full mage or his father suffers in the eyes of the king.” Onas started forward, and I frowned again. He had always set himself apart, more so than most of the students whom I had come to know, but he hadn't been rude to me, not like Brandel or the others who hung on him.
When Matthew, the master instructor who was to lead today's session, strode in, his flowing robes hanging over his rotund form, he swept his gaze around the others, holding it briefly on Brandel then the gathered students with him.
"I would like you to harness your connection to the dragons," he said. His words carried, and I didn't know if it had anything to do with how he summoned magic, or if it was simply the contours of the room. The acoustics here might have allowed his words to easily resonate. Certainly in a place like this, where we were expected to continue to study and learn, there would be benefits in having our words carry as his did.
I stayed off to the side of the room. I focused, thinking about the dragons, thinking about the connection that I shared with them, and trying to find something within it.
There were steps that I could follow, and I did them the way that I had been trained to, but the heat that I could feel in my belly was still not enough. Not nearly enough.
If only I could feel the same thing I felt when I was in the forest with the Djarn.
I had felt that connection then.
I needed to do so consistently.
Every so often, I caught Brandel looking in my direction.
It seemed as if he were amused. Or annoyed. Maybe both.
"As you hold onto it, what I would like is for you to focus on letting that power flow out from you. You can feel it in your fingers. That is the first step."
In my case, that wasn't the first step. Feeling it in my fingers was just a part of what I knew I needed to do, but I had not even managed to accomplish that. Not yet. I wasn't sure if I even could. The heat was there. And as it burned within me, I focused on it, struggling to see if there was something within that heat that I might be able to push out into my fingers the way that he instructed.
But I couldn't.
I tried. Each moment that passed, I tried to feel something else, some way for that heat to begin to build, to push it out into my fingertips.
But I couldn't.
"See? He can't even do this much."
I looked over at Brandel, and found his fingertips glowing with the dragon mage energy. It wasn't the first time that I had seen him holding onto that power, but he had decided to turn his attention upon me.
I didn't need this. I didn't need his arrogance, and I certainly didn't need his attention. It annoyed me.
But perhaps it shouldn't.
I reminded myself what would happen if I failed.
"Quiet," Master Matthew said, and he swept his gaze around the others again. He said something to the students nearest him, before making his way over to me. "Are you able to reach for any of the heat?"
I looked down, focusing on my fingers, before looking up and meeting his gaze. I was here for a reason. And if I could pass enough of the tests—if I could prove that I deserved to be here—then perhaps even Master Matthew would understand. "I can feel the heat," I said. "I can't always do anything with it." Always was an understatement.
"There are different techniques for harnessing that power. What I would encourage you to do would be to find your focus, and see if you can draw upon the energy within yourself. Perhaps you can find the way to touch that heat in a different manner." He cocked his head. He had wide-set eyes and a double chin, and his thin lips pressed together tightly. "Don't let the others get on your case too much. Everybody has their own technique. You must find yours."
It was the most reassurance that any of the instructors have given me. Well, Jerith had attempted to try to reassure me, but even his reassurances had come laced with questions. It was almost as if Jerith didn't know whether he believed that I could do what I needed to do.
"What do you recommend?" I asked.
"What works for me is to feel the heat. I assume you can feel that, otherwise you wouldn't be here." He waited a moment, and I nodded. "Once you feel it, then you must find a way to push it. At least, that's what I do. I can push that heat along my blood, along my arms, and it heads out to my fingers."
As he did it, an arcing of flame raced from one fingertip to another, sizzling in the air. It created a bright flaming spiral, and then it faded.
Dragon mage magic was impressive when seen up close, but had proven to be more challenging for me to draw upon.
"Do you see?" he asked.
"I see," I
