Page 84 of The Dragonrider and the Void
“Mastering a dragon bond takes years, not weeks,” Venrick replied, stepping into the stream where Hardin stood. “And channeling a dragon’s magic is particularly difficult once they’ve taken on the energy of a Hyalite. Though you help by sharing theweight of the Hyalite’s gift, controlling it requires surrender as much as control.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling him,” Ezra grumbled, crossing his tattooed arms. “But the bard insists on treating magic like one of his songs; trying to impose a structure that isn’t always there.”
“How do you know so much about using the bond?” Hardin asked.
“Tel trained me as though I would someday share the gift of becoming a dragonrider,” Venrick said. Then considered for a moment, remembering a technique that Tel had used with his training. “When you play your lute, Hardin, do you force each note to sound exactly as written?”
Hardin frowned. “No. I feel the rhythm, adjust to the audience, let the music breathe.”
“Your power is similar,” Venrick said. “Tel used to have me watch the Knights train with the Vermillion Keep’s riders. They didn’t command the power from the Yogos as much as they suggested a path and helped give the flow a natural shape.”
He extended his hand toward the stream. “May I?”
Hardin nodded, stepping back to give Venrick space.
Venrick reached deep into his memories of those training sessions, focusing on the techniques he’d observed. Though he couldn’t call on a dragon bond and channel magic to shape water himself, he understood the principle. He made a flowing gesture with his hands.
“Your bond with Quinthara gives you access to water magic, but you’re both still learning how to channel it,” he explained. “Try feeling the natural movements of the water first. Before you attempt to shape it, understand its desire. Understanding what it desires will clue you in to which words to use in your spells. While you can use draconic magic non-verbally, any from the Hyalite will respond to the language you use to guide it. Someriders use the old dialects of the first dragonriders. Others use the languages of the regions they’re from. With water, your body can become this language and the movements you use can guide it.”
Hardin rejoined him, mimicking Venrick’s stance. He closed his eyes, his breathing slowing as he extended his senses into the flowing stream. After a moment, his hands began to move in a gentle, undulating pattern that matched the current.
“Good,” Venrick encouraged. “Now, don’t try to lift it all at once. Start with just a thin thread.”
Hardin’s fingers twitched slightly, and a slender ribbon of water rose from the stream, wavering in the air between his palms. Unlike before, the water held no unnatural purple light—just the pure blue-green of the forest stream, catching the morning sunlight.
“I feel it,” Hardin whispered, his voice filled with wonder. “It’s like Quin is helping guide my hands.”
The small tendril of water wove through the air, following Hardin’s subtle movements. It wasn’t the impressive sphere he’d been attempting earlier, but it held stable, responding to his will without breaking apart.
“Well done,” Ezra said, genuine approval in his gruff voice. “Now, release it gently.”
Hardin lowered his hands slowly, and the water ribbon descended back into the stream without a splash.
“That was,” Hardin searched for words. “Different. I wasn’t fighting with it.”
“That’s the key,” Venrick said. “Tel always said that magic isn’t something you conquer; it’s something you move with, something you adapt to. Especially magic that comes through a dragon bond.”
From the timberline, Quinthara rumbled her approval, a sound that vibrated through the clearing. Nearby, Ingamarwatched with an unreadable expression, his golden eyes fixed on Venrick rather than on Hardin’s lesson.
“Venrick, you say you are just a Squire, but I think through Tel’s training, you’ve become much more,” Ezra said, looking at him with new appreciation.
“We should continue to help Hardin improve as we travel,” Yarla suggested, joining them at the stream’s edge. “The path to Astral City follows streams and rivers for much of the way. I have some tips my Paragon taught me that may help you. There will be ample opportunity to practice.”
“I’ll send more of his tutors with you,” Ezra said.
“You’re coming with us, right?” Venrick asked.
“Yes,” the dwarf said, picking up his war hammer. “My duty lies with leading the main rebel force in Cheyanne’s stead, coordinating their larger movement, while you, Yarla, and Hardin venture first with a dozen of our best fighters. I’ll be near enough if anything pressing comes to light.”
Venrick suddenly felt the weight of Hardin’s preparations before this fight coming to rest on his shoulders.Am I ready for this? I never made it into the Academy. I’m not qualified.
A soothing sensation came over him, and he felt as though Tel’s presence was there to bolster his confidence. Only, it wasn’t Tel Roan. Venrick made eye contact with Ingamar. The golden dragon locked his gaze with Venrick and a warmth spread through his chest.
“Remember,” Ezra cautioned as they prepared to leave, “stealth is essential until you reach Cheyanne’s forces in the city. The Vermillion Keep has patrols throughout the forest now, and they’re eagerly hunting for rebels.”
“And what about the hatchling?” Venrick asked, glancing toward the white-green dragon that had been watching them all morning from the edge of the clearing.
Ezra’s expression darkened. “It stays here, under a guard who will ensure its safety here in our encampment. Unlike White Eye, this hatchling has not yet been exposed to the rimeshade or the Void Drinker since Hardin severed the connection. Until we understand more about the connection it shares with the Void Drinker, we can’t risk it being near the confrontation.”
