Rhi and I exchange a confused glance.
“I see we’ll need some convincing.” Professor Trissa drops the board and lifts her hands. “First you separate a strand of your power.” She reaches forward and pinches air between her thumb and forefinger. “Which can be the most complicated step to learn, honestly.”
“Is she pretending?” Ridoc whispers.
Professor Trissa shoots him a sharp-eyed glare. “Just because you can’t see my power doesn’t mean I can’t. Or are you unfamiliar with the process of grounding? Like your shields, your power is only visible to you when you give it form, whether it’s the shape of your signet as a rider, or lesser magics, which you are all capable of.”
“Point taken.” Ridoc puts his empty hand up in defeat.
“Power can be shaped.” Her hands move quickly, pulling at pieces of air, then using her fingers to form invisible shapes. Circles? Squares? Was that a triangle? It’s hard to tell when we can’t see. “Every shape has meaning. The points where we tie the power change that meaning. All of which you will need to memorize.” She reaches into the air again, then creates…a rhombus? “The shapes we combine layer the meanings, changing the rune. Will it activate immediately? Sit in suspended state? How many times can it activate before the rune depletes? It’s all decided here.” She seems to flip whatever she’s working on, then pulls another string and does…something.
“Fucking weird,” Ridoc mumbles under his breath. “It’s like when you’re little and you ask your parents to drink from the teacup, knowing there’s no actual tea in it.”
Rhiannon shushes him.
“Once it’s ready”—Professor Trissa bends and grabs the board, then stands— “we place the rune. Until it’s placed, it has no meaning, no purpose, and will fade quickly. It’s tempering the rune that makes it an active magic.” She grabs what I assume is the rune she’s been tempering with her right hand, then pushes her palm into the wooden board. “This particular one is a simple heating rune.”
“That was simple?” Sawyer asks.
The board smokes, and I lean forward, my eyes widening.
“And there you have it.” She turns the front of the board toward the fliers, then shows us. “Once you understand which shapes combine to make what symbols, the combinations are nearly limitless.”
My jaw hangs open for a moment. The shapes have been burned into what I would have said was a decorative rune about ten minutes ago. I glance down at the illustration in my hands and wonder what the hell the dagger on my hip is supposed to do.
Every shape has meaning. The points where we tie the power change that meaning. I take another look at the multifaceted shape before she flips the board, holding it to face skyward, and my eyes widen with realization.
“It’s a logosyllabic language,” I blurt. “Like Old Lucerish or Morrainian.”
Professor Trissa lifts her eyebrows as she looks my way. “Very similar, yes.” Her mouth curves into a smile. “That’s right, you can read Old Lucerish, too.” She nods. “Impressive.”
“Thank you.”
“She’s ours,” Ridoc says to the fliers, pointing at me.
Not sure I’m anything to brag about, considering I barely passed the history quiz this morning. At least I’m solid in math, but then again, math doesn’t change overnight.
“You’re an ice wielder, are you not?” Professor Trissa asks Ridoc.
He nods, and she holds out her hand.
Ridoc uncorks the skin strapped at his hip, then draws the water out from the mouthpeice in a frozen cylinder before walking it to Professor Trissa.
She places the ice on the board, and my gasp isn’t the only one heard as the ice dissolves in a matter of seconds and water drips from the sizzling wood. “Be careful of the medium you choose to hold the rune. A bit more power and that board would have gone up in flames.”
“Why does no one teach this?” Maren asks, glancing from her parchment to the board.
“It’s a skill the Tyrrish once controlled and perfected, but it was banned a couple hundred years after the unification of Navarre, even though many of our outposts and Basgiath itself were built upon them. Why?” She lifts her brows. “I’m so glad you asked. You see, riders are naturally more powerful, given the amount of magic we channel and the signets we wield.”
Trager rolls his eyes.
“But runes are the great equalizer,” Professor Trissa continues, setting the board on the grass now that it’s stopped sizzling. “A rune is only limited to how much power you choose to temper, how long you want it to last, and how many uses it has before it depletes. They banned runes so they wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.” She glances at the fliers. “Your hands, specifically. Get good enough at runes, and you can compete with a fair amount of signets.”
“So, you want us to…temper this?” Cat asks, studying the illustration with an arched eyebrow. “Out of…magic?”
I hate to admit it, but I’m with Cat on this one—and by the looks on the faces around me, we all are. Even Rhi is glancing at the drawing with trepidation. This feels…overwhelming.
“Yes. With the power you’ll learn to separate from yourselves, just like I showed you.” Professor Trissa opens her pack and dumps another pile of boards onto the first.
She made it look so easy.
“We’re going to start with a simple unlocking rune. Easy to build, easy to test.” She glances between our lines.
“We can all unlock doors with lesser magic,” Trager notes.
“Of course you can.” Professor Trissa sighs. “But an unlocking rune can be used by someone who doesn’t possess lesser magic. Now let’s go. I expect your first runes woven before sunset.”
“There’s no way we’re going to learn how to do that before sunset,” Sawyer argues.
“Nonsense. Every marked one has learned a simple unlocking rune the first day.”
“No pressure,” Rhi mutters.
“Sloane and Imogen can do this?” I ask.
“Naturally.” Professor Trissa shakes her head at me.
This is why Xaden had me practicing runes with fabric. Is that man ever going to learn to just tell me things outright? Or am I always going to have to dig information out of him? “‘I’ll answer any question you ask,’” I mock under my breath. It’s hard to ask questions I don’t even know exist.
“You’re supposed to be the best of your year, so stop gawking and get to work,” Professor Trissa lectures. “The first thing you’ll need to do is learn to separate a piece of your own power. Let it fill your mind, then reach in and visualize plucking a thread of it from the current.”
Rhiannon, Sawyer, Ridoc, and I exchange a series of what-the-fuck glances that are echoed by the fliers across from us.
“Advice?” I ask Tairn and Andarna.
“Don’t blow anything up.” Tairn shifts his weight behind me.
“At least blowing something up would be interesting,” Andarna notes, eliciting a growl from Tairn.
“Now,” Trissa demands, then holds up a finger. “Oh, and be careful. Power gets temperamental when you pull from it. That’s why your bondeds are here. The closer the source, the easier it is for the first time.” She looks us over, then folds her arms across her chest. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
I shut my eyes and envision my Archives and the swirling power that surrounds it. The blazing, molten stream of Tairn’s power that flows behind his giant door looks capable of consuming me, but the pearlescent flow of Andarna’s power just beyond the windows feels…approachable.
Steadying my breath, I reach for Andarna’s power—
Boom. An explosion sounds, and my eyes fly open, every head whipping toward Sawyer as he flies backward. He lands just short of Sliseag’s claws, a scorch mark left smoking in the grass where he’d been standing.
“And that is why we’re having this class outdoors.” Professor Trissa shakes her head. “On your feet. Try again.”
Ridoc walks back and helps Sawyer to his feet, and then we do just that.
Try again. And again. And again.