Shifting Stars Gary Stringer (moboreader .txt) 📖

Dreya left the room again for a moment, returning with a pen and a sheet of paper. Then, by way of analogy, she wrote the word ‘BREAK’ and then folded the paper in a specific and elaborate way.

“That’s like your power word,” Cat understood. “Compressed, made small, but you can’t just fold it any old way.”

“That’s one of the things Ulvarius didn’t understand. In his arrogance, he thought he could make magic bend to his will as easily as he could bend people. Magic breaks if you fold it the wrong way.”

“So do people.” Cat remarked. “When you use your power word, then, you unfold the piece of paper, I presume.”

Dreya took hold of one corner and with a deft flick of the wrist, caused the paper to unfurl once more. Catriona clapped in appreciation of the trick.

“I take it Ulvarius couldn’t do that?”

“Not consistently, no. Because Ulvarius was folding the magic in random ways, the results were also random. He might intend something to break, and it wouldn’t because there was no power behind the word or vice versa.”

Cat’s eyes widened. “You mean if you didn’t fold and unfold the magic properly and you said something like, ‘Let’s take a break’…”

“…I could break you, yes,” Dreya affirmed, “or myself. And I don’t think you could use your druid magic to put you or me back together as easily as that chair. Folding the magic properly takes time and concentration. I can’t risk doing it on the fly and getting it wrong. Interrupting a power word could make it backfire on me.

“I can only use a power word once, because after I use it, the magical sheet of paper I wrote it on does this…” the paper burst into flames, leaving nothing but ash. “Now, the analogy isn’t perfect, because the magic will regenerate in time, but still it means every time I use a power word, I have to remake it from scratch.”

“As you say, everything has drawbacks,” Cat said, accepting the point.

“Yes, but the drawbacks of your druid magic are balanced by a huge advantage that I don’t think you’ve fully realised.”

Cat frowned, trying and failing to think what her friend could mean.

“I had a suspicion already, and the experiments we did today prove it.”

“Prove what?” Catriona wondered, fascinated. This was so much better than her lessons in college had ever been.

“When I shoot my energy beam at you, you reflect it with your Nature’s Mirror, right?”

“Yes, I’ve really got that down, now.”

Dreya nodded. “Definitely, but there’s a problem I couldn’t figure out until today.”

“What problem?” Cat asked, still not seeing it.

“Cat, it’s impossible. You can’t anticipate and block a beam of light. There isn’t time to make your mirror in the fraction of a second before my beam hits you.”

Cat had never thought of it like that, but she couldn’t deny Dreya’s logic.

“Your magic has a Temporal element. Somehow, you’re manipulating Time so that the Mirror is in place exactly when you need it to be. It’s the same when you mend a chair or old Renjaf’s tower: you’re rewinding Time. Only to a small extent, but you’re doing it. Clerics can do it, too. That’s how they heal injuries: they make the body revert to its pre-injured state.”

“That’s where it’s different to druid healing,” Cat agreed. “We just speed up the body’s natural healing process.”

“I’ll take your word for that,” Dreya said, “I haven’t had chance to study druid magic before, but even that ‘speeding up’ process is temporal magic, in a way.”

“But they told us at college that time magic is impossible,” Cat objected.

She knew Magias, the first wizard, was supposed to have figured it out, according to legend, but since nobody could read the Nameless Book, she didn’t know how they thought they knew that.

“That’s because they’re only thinking about wizards.”

“Oh, just for a change!” Cat grumbled. “That got so annoying once I started growing my druid magic – they just wouldn’t take it seriously, like wizard magic was all that matters.”

Dreya agreed completely. “There isn’t only one way of doing things, there never is. That short-sighted view is holding magic back. You see, Cat, your fight is my fight, especially now.”

Cat found herself having to blink away moisture welling up in her eyes. “Dreya! You really do say the most unexpectedly sweet things.”

Dreya shifted, uncomfortably and replied, “Yes, well, don’t spread that around, OK? I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she promised. “Although there is someone I would like you to meet.”

Catriona had been living with Dreya for a month by now, and she thought it was finally time to broach the subject of Mandalee. Cat wasn’t sure how the Dark sorceress would feel about having someone else spend time in her home. After all, she may not kill all intruders like the Black Tower’s previous owner did, but still, she was hardly a socialite. Plus, Dark wizards and White clerics were usually an explosive combination. Even so, Cat knew it was vital that they should meet. The Crystal Mage Staff was nagging her about it with distracting persistence.

“Dreya,” said Cat, taking a deep breath, “when we first met, and you grabbed my staff, you remember how it reacted?”

“I’m not likely to forget it,” Dreya replied, rubbing the back of her head. “I’m sure I still have a small dent in the back of my skull!”

“Well, do you remember me saying that something similar had happened once before?”

“Vaguely, now you mention it. It’s all rather hazy, I’m afraid. I was a bit dazed at the time.”

“Well, I was thinking, if my staff reacted when you and I touched it, and also when my other friend and I touched it, then the obvious question is…”

“…What would happen if we all touched it together?” Dreya concluded. “Why haven’t you mentioned this before?” she wondered. “Since the first time, that is.”

“I wasn’t sure how you’d react,” Cat admitted. “My friend…she’s a White cleric, and I know you’re