The Earth Maiden's Protégé Part II

With the meal over, Elowen closed the book she had been reading and looked toward Aaron.

"Aaron, we'll continue the growth spell where we left off."

A lesson that would have been grueling for the average seven-year-old was the highlight of Aaron's day. His fingers moved with practiced precision, his lips repeating every incantation until each word settled firmly into memory.

The Earth Maiden watched him with quiet satisfaction. Perhaps the imprint left by Silverlance was part of it, she thought, or perhaps Aaron was simply that gifted and magic came more naturally to him than it did to most.

Either way, she loved watching his progress.

She was raising a protégé and loving every moment of it.

•••

Outside, Cedric sat beneath the old tree after another grueling training session, his sword resting beside him. Sweat still clung to his skin, and countless scars across his broad, muscular frame spoke of a lifetime spent on the battlefield.

An elegant beard framed his handsome face. Though his piercing blue eyes remained fixed upon the forest beyond, his thoughts were somewhere far away.

For a fleeting moment, the ghosts of the past seemed closer than the quiet woods around him.

His thoughts drifted back to the uprising seven years earlier. Soldiers from different factions had marched in perfect unison while Cedric and a handful of loyal warriors stood guard, flaming blades drawn and determination etched into every face.

The reinforcements must never reach Valerion.

A gleeful shriek brought him back to the present.

Nilly wandered toward his sword.

"Nilly," he warned calmly. "No, Bug."

She froze for a moment.

Then tried again anyway.

Cedric watched as she struggled to pull the heavy sword from its resting place, only for it to slip from her tiny hands every time. The sword was forgotten almost immediately, along with the flower crown she had been determined to finish earlier that day.

A pair of ladybugs soon claimed her attention. She gently picked them up, giggling as they wandered along her arm all the way to her elbow before taking flight.

A bird's nest high above caught her eye next.

She watched it with great interest for all of three seconds.

A curious little worm became her next discovery. She crouched to watch it inch across the ground, then lay on her belly and began wiggling after it, determined to copy every tiny movement.

The mission was abandoned once again when a passing kitten wandered into view.

She was Tsunami, after all.

Thankfully, Elowen knew an excellent cleaning spell.

Courtesy of Cedric.

Cedric watched her run off, a small smile spreading across his face as the haunting memories gradually receded.

•••

When the lesson finally ended, Aaron wandered into the quiet of the woods to practice what he had just learned.

High above, unnoticed by Aaron, Cedric sat perched silently upon the branch of an old tree. Like a hawk, his eyes never left the boy below.

He was more than Aaron's father. He and Elowen were bound by an oath of guardianship, and from the very beginning, protecting the boy had never been a responsibility they took lightly.

"Engorgo Vino."

A tiny vine emerged from the earth. It grew only a few centimeters before stopping.

Aaron frowned.

Again.

"Engorgo Vino."

The result hardly changed.

Again.

Again.

Again.

His movements remained precise and his pronunciation flawless, yet the spell refused to improve. Minutes passed, and patience slowly gave way to frustration.

Aaron drew a slow, steady breath.

"Engorgo Vino!"

The earth answered instantly.

Several giant vines erupted with tremendous force, surging wildly toward the nearby trees. The sudden burst sent Aaron stumbling backward, but before he could hit the ground, Cedric moved.

Dropping from the canopy faster than Aaron could blink, Cedric unleashed a single blinding arc of silver that cut down the massive vines in one effortless swing. He sheathed his blade before Aaron had even realized what had happened.

Cedric and Elowen had always known Aaron's magic was far stronger than that of children his age. Quiet observation had long since become routine.

Aaron stood frozen, visibly shaken.

Cedric turned toward him, his face stern as he examined the boy thoroughly.

His stare was enough.

"D-Dad... I can explain..."

Without saying a word, Cedric walked over, picked Aaron up like a log, and rested him over one shoulder.

"You need to watch your anger, boy. Anger and magic don't go together. It responds better to a calm mind."

"But..."

"Accidents can happen," Cedric said simply.

Still carrying him, Cedric started walking back toward the cottage.

•••

By nightfall, the cottage had quieted.

Aaron lay on his stomach with an ancient spellbook open before him, his legs swaying idly behind him. Reading a book of ice magic far beyond his level held the same thrill for him that a mystery novel might for someone else.

His attention drifted toward the doorway.

Nilly stood there wrapped tightly in a blanket, her greenish-blue eyes glistening with tears.

"What happened, Nilly? Come here."

She shuffled into the room.

"Mom and Dad left again," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Aaron closed the book at once.

"It's okay. They'll be back before you know it."

He pointed toward the bed.

"You sleep there, and I'll sit in the chair."

Nilly climbed beneath the blanket while Aaron settled into the chair beside her, close enough that she could see him whenever she opened her eyes.

For a while, the room remained quiet.

Then her small voice came again.

"Ronny..."

"Yes?"

"Show me the sheep again. Make them jump."

Aaron smiled and obediently conjured a tiny ice sheep. After several clumsy attempts, it finally managed a little hop, then another.

Soon it was happily bouncing across the blanket, much to Nilly's delight.

Before long, Nilly had fallen fast asleep. Aaron remained in the chair beside her, one hand still slightly raised as the tiny ice sheep continued hopping across the blanket.

Eventually, sleep found him too.

A figure stood in darkness, tall and still, with black eyes that did not reflect light. Silver hair shimmered faintly even in the void, and a crescent-moon necklace hung at the figure's throat, eerily similar to the one Aaron wore.

The figure's features never held still, always blurred, always just out of reach.

Yet the presence felt real in a way dreams should not be.

Then came the voice.

Soft. Familiar.

"Aaron…"

A pause.

"…baby Aaron."

It was the recurring dream he had experienced for as long as he could remember.