Page 24 of Magic Touch
She sighs. "I thought manipulating the elements would be enough, but the severity of the injury was worse than I anticipated, and I had to use a spell to complete the task."
"I don't think I understand." I pull out a bit of grass and place it between my thumbs before using it to make a loud whistle. I abandon the grass.
A breeze blows out of the south, and the water ripples. Esme points to the effect. "The water responds to the air. When it reaches the earth, it recedes. If there were fire, it would extinguish. The four work together. Because we are of these elements, we can ask that they go against what they are meant to do."
"But water will cut through the earth." I point at the few feet of erosion to the north side of the pond.
"That too, is meant. For what reason, we don't know, but the earth is always evolving for some purpose. When I asked the water to come to me, it did. If I ask the fire to dance on top of the water and the water not to extinguish it, it would. If I want something more specific, like fire to turn to water, I would need a spell."
"Because it's against their nature."
Her grin makes me feel as if I've solved the problems of the world. "Exactly. You learn quickly, William."
Lord, but my name sounds like a prayer falling from her lips. "I don't know what good this does me."
"Let’s say you had a splinter," she begins. "I could ask the splinter, which is earth, to lift out of your skin. As a healer, I can ask your skin to close over the space where the splinter was. Your body already knows how to heal, so I would only be asking for a quicker response to what it already does naturally."
"Can I move the water in the pond?" My fingers tingle.
"You won't know until you try."
I continue to stare at the water. "I don't know how to begin."
Esme takes my hand in hers and opens it, palm up.
My pulse ticks harder at her touch. Her hands are soft and strong, with narrow, elegant fingers. It's hard to concentrate, but I focus on what she's telling me.
She traces the deepest crease in my palm. "Inside each of us is water, so water is always a good place to begin. Focus on your magic and release it from the bubble you've put it in."
"I'll glow." I'm at once tempted to pull my hand away, and also hold onto her forever.
She shakes her head. Her voice is even and soft. "I think you glow because of fear. Do not fear what you are, William. Find your magic, and let the bubble go."
Closing my eyes, I let myself acknowledge the bubble of blue power just behind my heart. I poke at it with my mind.
"Let it go, William," Esme whispers.
"I don't know if I can." My heart races, and I gulp for air.
Her hand skims the side of my face in the softest caress. "Of course, you can. You have done much harder things than this, if the newspapers are to be believed."
Opening my eyes, I meet her mossy gaze. "Those acts took only cunning and strength. This is not the same."
She cocks her head. Lord, but she's beautiful. Hand still on my cheek, and the other holding my hand, she asks, "When you were in France, was there never a time when you should have been killed, but for reasons you cannot explain you were spared?"
A half dozen instances clash in my memory.
Her grip on my hand tightens. "Gently, William. Just pick one and tell me."
"When I first arrived in France, I had command of a small band of men meant to spy on French troops. We were to cross enemy lines, and if any of us lived, we would bring the information back to the general. It's dangerous and, often, inexperienced soldiers are used for these missions. It seems less wasteful to risk a man who hasn’t amassed the wisdom of war yet." I know this must sound barbaric to her. I never speak of war, because it sounds just as barbaric to me. "I took my men through the killing fields, and as we reached the edge of the woods that separated the French encampment from our position, the world seemed to explode." Trying to banish the sounds of screaming men, I close my eyes.
"It's in the past, William. No need to go back to it, just tell me what happened." Her soft caress on my cheek chases the memories away.
Opening my eyes, I cover her hand with mine. "It was a cannonball. It landed so close, my entire squadron was ripped to pieces. All but me. I lay in a hole almost as big as this pond, covered in mud and..." I break off from describing the rest of the grime that covered me. "I had no explanation for how I survived. Unhurt and alone, I strode into the enemy camp, stole a French soldier’s cloak, and gathered the information. I only told my superior that I was the only one to survive an attack."
"Oh, William, what you have suffered." A tear slides down her cheek, and then another.
"I didn't mean to upset you." I wish I could take all my words back. Anything to keep her from sorrow.
