The Lemon Tree
It came
as a surprise when Brikkens he would be giving everybody a chance to try magic.
At the
unexpected announcement, Tristan lifted his head from the desk and blinked up
at Brikkens, whose bulk was spilling over the arms of his sturdy chair.
“Ah,
Mr. Fairholm” Brikkens said happily. Pushing his glasses even further up his
stubby nose, he leaned forward and peered at Tristan.
“Yeah?”
Said Tristan sleepily. He sat up straighter, smoothing his hair over his face.
Brinley
Alldusk tells me that you’re rather good at detecting auras. Is this true?”
Tristan
shrugged.
“Well,
come forward.” Brikkens urged. “You will be the first to attempt a rudimentary
spell, because out of everyone here, you are most likely to succeed.”
Tristan
was sure that Amber knew more than him, but he decided not to correct Brikkens.
Instead he rose and crossed the room to stand next to the professor. No one was
napping now—Leila eyed Tristan with doubtful curiosity, while Zeke sat forward
in his chair and smirked.
Brikkens
dug into a pocket of the horrible maroon vest he always wore. Then he grabbed
Tristan by the wrist and pressed one of the golden marbles into his hand.
Tristan looked in surprise at the marble, cold and metallic in his palm; he had
expected something a little more unusual, given that it was spun by pure magic.
“Now
what?” Tristan said. “How am I supposed to use it?” He tried not to look around
the room—half the students wanted him to fail spectacularly, while the others
anticipated no better.
Brikkens
cleared his throat. “Well the key to magic is concentration. To manipulate the
power of this orb you must isolate a single thought from within the complexity
of your mind and use this command to direct the magic. Allow any unnecessary
thoughts to intrude, and the spell will be broken—hence, the magic will drain
away with no results. Or, if you are unlucky, the spell could go awry.”
Swallowing,
Tristan closed his hand around the icy marble.
“Well,
now, let’s see what you can do.” Brikken said enthusiastically. “The amount of
magic stored in a single orb isn’t enough to do any real harm, so give us a
show, my boy!”
That
was it? Had the professor given better instructions the week before when
Tristan had been dozing off? Why hadn’t he paid better attention?
Tristan
took a steading breath and looked around the room, hoping for inspiration. The curving
walls shone white and empty, as blank as his thoughts, but when he turned his
gaze to the ceiling, he remembered the first day of class. Brikkens had changed
the color of the domed ceiling but first….Eli had suggested he grow a tree.
Cradling
the orb in the palm of his right hand, Tristan dug in his pockets with his
left. After a moment he unearthed a handful of debris from botany; mixed into
the dirt and pebbles were a few likely-looking seeds. He dropped the whole
handful on the clean marble floor behind his back.
Now
what? The students were beginning to lose interest. When Brikkens had done his
magic show, he’s blown on the marbles before dropping them, so Tristan did the
same, just to be safe. Then he closed his eyes and tried to marshal his
thoughts.
Slowly,
he managed to dull his awareness, until his mind was empty apart from the
single desire.
Grow. He thought, trying to be stern. I don’t know what kind of plant you are,
but you’re getting plenty of sunlight and water and…
The
marble began to change in his hand, growing warmer and warmer, while at the
same time, growing less substantial. Tristan opened his eyes just to see if it
was still there, and his concentration shattered. The marble hadn’t moved,
though it was starting to cool already. He was losing hold of the spell.
Okay, Tristian continued, ignoring the
thrill of anticipation that ran through him. He squeezed his eyes shut once
again. This time you’re actually going to
grow. He pictures a seed unfurling it’s leaves, easing its root into the
earth, stretching a stalk toward the sky…
The
marble was growing hot again, until it was like holding a naked flame. Now grow. He turned his hand over and
let the weightless magic vapor slide away.
Shoulders
tingling with excitement Tristan opened his eyes and looked across the polished
round table. Damian and Zeke were sniggering and Eli had turned to mutter
something to Trey. Leila shrugged and mouthed it’s all right.
All at
once, the room grew silent. Zeke sat up straighter in his chair, and Hayley’s
round eyes widened until her eyebrows disappeared beneath her bangs. Tristan
didn’t know what they were looking at. Could they see his scars? He pressed his
hair into place again.
Then
something nudged Tristan in the back of his knee. He jumped and whirled around—there
was something shooting up from the ground.
His
seeds were growing.
Shocked,
Tristan stumbled away from the cluster of plants. The tallest was a pale,
delicate tree that shivered as it grew, sending out leaves and new branches
that uncurled faster than a lizard’s tongue. There was another plant blossoming
to its rear, a tangled dark bush with thorns. As the bush crept it’s way up the
tree’s thickening trunk, it budded and then erupted in scarlet blooms.
When
the tree unfolded like an umbrella underneath the domed ceiling, Tristan’s
spine tinged with power. In that
instant, he could feel magic coursing through is veins and hovering in the air,
just beyond his grasp. This magic wasn’t frightening or confusing—no, it was
subtle and potent and good.
