Esterpine

Claire sighed and her shoulders fell. Maybe the pressure was just too great. Maybe she wasn't cut out for this—for whatever she was supposed to be capable of. Maybe Taylynn was wrong. Maybe she wasn't as important as Taylynn supposed. Maybe Saffra's visions never showed her surviving Kane. Maybe she wouldn't. Maybe the Promise would claim her before she managed to fulfill it.

"As usual, you're too distracted." Pelwyn's open palm remained empty. The jasmine blossom he'd given her had long since wilted, so they'd collected another to work with. That one had wilted too. And a third. Now she was staring at a fourth. Three days had passed since their initial exercise. She hadn't done what he'd expected her to do on their first day back. She hadn't summoned a replica copy using only her mind.

Pelwyn had been so certain that she would.

"I don't understand why I can't just sing a few words," she grumbled. She knew exactly which words she'd use, too. She'd practiced in secret the night before, after hours of frustration. Just a few words hummed to a lilting tune and she'd summoned a perfect blossom replica in her hands. There was no mark to accompany the action, probably because it was meant to be something simple.

"Singing a few words is not the point, Elam." Pelwyn's eyebrows lowered. "The point is to hone your focus. Without words," he added.

"Taylynn still sings plenty of her magic. I saw her—"

"And you will too. But not yet," he said.

She opened her mouth to protest—

"How many times have you tried singing something into existence, only to fail?" He arched an eyebrow.

She'd already told him about her water summoning experience, how she'd quenched the dry riverbed the day she earned another mark. The day she ran straight into a sick part of the forest. She'd told him about that too, and noticed the frown that had formed on his features. But like Taylynn, he didn't formulate much of an explanation on the matter.

She'd also told Koldis all about her water mark. An upside down triangle with a line that connected it to a hollow circle, with two lines that cut straight through the connector, all sprinkled with dots like confetti. It took up a solid three inches in length along her spine.

Pelwyn slumped against the garden bench. "You will never conjure magic on the first try, Elam. Not when your focus is lacking. You got lucky with the creek bed because you were thirsty and desperate. Even then, it wasn't your first try that day, was it? Is that how you wish to learn? To wait until desperation drives you?" She hook her head. That was absolutely not what she wanted. "To be as Isabella once was, as Taylynn is now, you must tap into the energy all around you. At will. Your mind must learn focus. You must see and feel magic's energy."

"The white glow?"

"Exactly."

She was getting better at spotting it. Pelwyn had done several exercises where he'd instructed her to focus her mind on the blossom—because it was the simplest thing to focus on. Then he would do magic for her. She'd seen him access the energy, seen it warp and flow around him like light. But it was hard to maintain focus with her eyes open, watching him. And most times her worrisome thoughts wormed their way in, dispelling anything that might have been close to success.

"Perhaps we should try another approach," Pelwyn said at last, a deep scowl adding to his lined face. She couldn't help but notice the disappointment in his voice. Taylynn had said she was important, but was she? If she couldn't even complete a simple exercise when Pelwyn expected it.

"Here, come with me." He led her back into his cottage and began shuffling around. She wasn't sure how he managed to locate anything with all the clutter. He was a pack rat. She was certain some of his things dated back as far as he did. Fifty thousand years of accumulation.

"Ah, here it is." He removed a long, narrow case and opened it. An unstrung bow. But not just any bow, this one was covered limb to limb in Sprite markings. She didn't notice them until he picked it up and they began to glow. He ran his hands over it, reverent.

"Here—" He thrust it at her then shuffled around a bit more. She gasped at the sight of a quiver. It wasn't large enough to hold more than ten arrows, each fletched with beautiful redish-gold feathers the color of flames. "Ah, yes," Pelwyn said. "Feathers from the yirnik. It took me sixty years to find one and befriend it into giving me enough for ten arrows."

"Yirnik?"

He opened his mouth, then hesitated. He set the quiver on the table and began shuffling around again until he produced a canvas.

"Oh..." Her eyes widened. "But...phoenixes aren't real, are they?"

"Is that what you call them?"

She swallowed. "In my world, they're not actually real. You have them here?" She couldn't take her eyes from the painting. The detail of the fiery feathers, the plume of its tail, it's intelligent beady eyes...it looked so real. The backdrop was was blurred, making the bird stand out even more.

"There aren't many here in the forest, but its the only place in the world you'll find them."

She blinked, mesmerized, still unable to look away until Pelwyn stuffed the painting back where it had come from. Even then, she gazed at the place where it had disappeared.

"Yirniks are smart, Elam. They are beautiful for a reason. Their survival depends upon it. They bewitch all who look upon them. Unless your mind is strong enough. Unless you have focus."

She didn't miss the way he emphasized the word, taking a jab at her lack thereof. She cleared her throat. "So, it just gave those to you?" She looked back at the arrows.

"After following it around for nearly sixty years, I befriended it. One day it broke its wing and I healed it. In return, it answered my request with these. It visits me occasionally, though I haven't seen it for some time."

She shook her head, not quite believing. "And you've never used them, all this time?"

"Oh, I've used them plenty. Mostly in the war."

Her eyebrows pulled together. "The war? But I thought the Sprites—"

"Varti yifah! The war against dragons. Against Rage. Now, take these. Let's go."

In the clearing behind Pelwyn's cottage, he positioned her to face a straw dummy she hadn't noticed before. "You want me to...to shoot it? How is this—"

"I want you to listen and focus! Now...you have some experience with a bow, yes? Good. Show me what you can do first, and then I'll explain exactly how this is going to help you."

She did as he said, stringing the bow the way Saffra had taught her, taking an arrow, notching it. She hadn't practiced much with traditional bows, but she remembered enough. Taking aim, she let the arrow fly.

"Varti yifah!" Pelwyn swore. Her arrow missed the dummy by quite a lot, burying itself into a tree instead. Pelwyn stalked over to it, cursing under his breath. "Kill any of my trees, Elam, and I won't be happy. He yanked the arrow from the tree and muttered something where the hole was. She was so busy watching him heal the tree that she didn't see where the arrow had gone. He came back empty handed. "That was rather pathetic, no?"

She shrugged, trying to ignore the sting of his words. "I never said I was any good."

"True, but this exercise will be all the more important because of it. Perhaps we should have started here instead of the blossom. Never mind. Take another arrow."

She reached down to the quiver and froze. Her eyes widened. "The arrow!" There were ten again. "Did you replace it? I didn't see..." She trailed off. Pelwyn was grinning. "The phoenix feathers!" she breathed.

"Why do you think I wanted feathers from a yirnik?"

"So...the arrows never run out? They're magical?"

"They do not run out. Can you imagine how quickly they'd be stolen if someone discovered what these feathers could do? No, the moment you remove the arrow from its target, it disappears and reappears here."

"Can't someone just steal the quiver?"

"It can only be gifted or leant. Otherwise the arrows and quiver disappear entirely, and come right back to me. Take an arrow." She took another and prepared to notch it. "This time, let's try something different. Perhaps you warrant more...extreme measures. Instead of thinking only of the blossom, I want you to do two things. Keep the blossom in the back of your mind where all the noise lives. The place where all those stray thoughts you like to think about spring to mind. Then pick a point on the dummy, its head, and I want you to put that at the front of your mind the same way you've been doing with the blossom. Only, better this time, because clearly you weren't doing a good job of it before."

"You want me to duplicate the dummy's head?"

"Varti yifah, Elam!" Pelwyn rubbed his forehead, muttering. "What I want, is for you to strike is head with the arrow. Gods, give me patience."

She ignored his tirade. "And focusing will improve my aim?" She didn't believe it for a second. Maybe if she practiced long enough she'd hit the target where she wanted. She failed to see how staring at something hard enough would bring success.

"Magic will improve your aim, mainly by sending the arrow exactly where you've focused. Think of it as a fail-safe way of hitting your target. Here, give me that." He snatched the bow and arrow. "Watch closely."

He took aim up at the canopy of trees. When he released, the arrow shot up briefly before changing direction. It went straight into the dummy's forehead. She gaped at the target.

Now. Now she understood.

He handed her the bow. "Go on. Do as I have said," he advised. "Picture it in the front your mind and the blossom in the back of your mind. Nothing else. Not what you had for breakfast. Not singing. Not what you're rutting going to do when you leave this forest. Just the dummy's head. How it looks, the shape, the way the straw protrudes where my arrow landed, its angles. Picture it and release."

She did as he said, then released and swore. The arrow still shot wide. Pelwyn grumbled. Once again, he marched over to heal the tree. He removed the arrow and tossed it away. This time she paid attention as it disappeared into thin air, only to reaper right back in the quiver. He did the same with his perfectly aimed arrow still protruding from the dummy's forehead.

She tried again. And again. And again.

She tried until Pelywn told her to retrieve her own gods damned arrows before stalking back into his cottage. She spent the remainder of the afternoon practicing—the dummy's head in the front of her mind, the blossom at the back of her mind—until she was certain her arm would fall off. Twice she managed to hit the neck and chest. But she knew that was luck. It wasn't what was supposed to happen.

She knew why she was failing. She couldn't seem to do what he asked. Ever since the first failure when she couldn't recreate the blossom—after Pelwyn confidently claimed she would—she couldn't stop thinking of the pressure. Everything was hinging on this. She was here with the Sprites because she had been so sure this was where she would conquer her magic. But now that she was here, she had to do what she'd set out to, and that pressure was stifling.

That night, she dreamt of dummies and arrows and jasmine blossoms. She dreamt of the yirnik, watching it fly through the trees. She dreamt of the black rot finding the bird, attacking and decaying it. She woke sweating just as morning light spilled into the crystal palace. But something stood out from her dreams. A deep need. A need only she could satisfy. She was a part of this forest the way Isabella had been. The way all of her foremothers had been. It needed her now, now more than ever. The yirnik needed her. The unicorns needed her. The stags. The trees. The Sprites. But...why? Because she was the one destined to defeat Kane? Because of her stupid Unbreakable Promise?

Perhaps if she mastered her magic, she might finally discover the answer to that question. It very likely had something to do with finding the balance, just as Saffra's vision had hinted. And something to do with discovering the quarterstaff covered in Sprite markings.

There was nothing for it—she'd just have to learn to live with the pressure. To accept it. To accept the worming thoughts that constantly plagued her. Accept them and move past them.

That day, she breezed through Lord Marquin's lessons, absentmindedly for most of it, giving only enough focus to adequately pronounce the words and phrases he took her through. If he noticed her distraction, he made no mention of it. He'd gotten more formal with her since the revelation of her blood. He now bowed frequently, and called her 'Your Highness.' She didn't bother correcting him.

When she arrived at Pelwyn's cottage, she went straight for the bow, holding out her hand without a single word. He offered it, abandoning his painting to follow her out to the clearing. Her arm was so sore she could barely lift it, but it was less sore than it had been that morning. Her body healed at a much faster rate than it used to. Without her magic, she probably wouldn't have been able to lift her arm for a week.

She stretched, popping her neck, rolling her shoulders, and planting her feet. In the front of her mind, she saw the dummy's head. In the back of her mind, she saw the jasmine blossom. She saw its white petals, the pistils in its center. She imagined it's cloyingly sweet smell, and let the thoughts of that smell envelop her. There was still doubt in her mind. Still pressure. She accepted that. She might fail, sure. But she would try again if she did. If she failed then, she would keep trying. She would move past whatever barriers were in her path.

Letting go of her worries, she nocked an arrow. She kept her stance relaxed. She didn't bother aiming at the dummy's head. In fact, she kept her bow a little lower, aiming at its abdomen.

Her mind remained focused. Dummy's forehead. Jasmine. Forehead. Jasmine. That's what she allowed to fill it. And failure? She swept it aside, acknowledging it and letting it go.

Then she exhaled and released. The arrow shot through the air and landed.

A cry fell from her lips. Her hands dropped to her sides. Beside her, Pelwyn was beaming.

The arrow had struck the dummy's forehead dead center.

"Heilah, Elam. Nuah ano! I will leave you to practice. When you can make that happen every time, no matter what you shoot at, come and find me."

He left her and she continued. Her excitement was short lived. Perhaps it was the overwhelming elation at succeeding that left her mind jittery, or simply beginner's luck. She only managed to hit the dummy's head a total of five times out of thirty. But it was something. And her aim had improved enough that all her stray arrows landed elsewhere on the dummy, and not in Pelwyn's trees. That was progress...right?

When she retreated for the evening, Pelwyn wasn't within his cottage so she left the bow and arrows on the table and scribbled a little note. She returned to Esterpine and told Koldis of her success.

The smile pulling at the corners of his lips was gratifying. "Just think of what a good Rider you'll make after all this," he teased. "Mastering the bow is one of the first parts of training." She gathered his meaning. She wouldn't just be a queen if she accepted Talon for a mate. She'd be his Rider. 

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Happy Friday Bookdragons!

When I set out to show Claire's training, I didn't want things to be too easy for her. I didn't want her to get the blossom on the first or even second attempt. Nor did I want her to get her other exercises that quickly. Why? Because it builds character. We see this time and again with various heroes throughout literature. So I tried hard to give Claire something to struggle with. Hopefully I captured that okay! Needless to say, this was a fun chapter to write. 

Now, I've spoiled you with lots of Esterpine chapters. Next week's chapter is called "Negotiations" and it's from...dun dun dun...Kane's POV. And usually his are short and get posted as bonus chapters buuuuttt I actually wrote a full length chapter for him this time. And i'll give you a hint, it won't be taking place in the country of Dragonwall. Which means you'll get to learn a little more about the big wide world that Dragonwall resides within. Yay! 

I've fallen a little behind in writing. I'm only THREE chapters ahead at this point. So, wish me luck this weekend as I try to tackle two full length chapter writes. Yikes! 

All my best,

Mel