Pit of Doubt, Part II
Darkness filled her world. It was all the world was. It was all she was. She let the panic and desire for light consume her. When Aonva knew she wanted nothing more than a spark of light, she recited the words to make it happen.
Would it, though? Was she capable of bringing the light back? What if she made a mistake? What if there was nothing there when she opened her eyes? She’d made so many mistakes. She’d ignored her best friend. She still cared about her friend, even though people kept telling her not to care. Her judgment was wrong. Her instincts couldn’t be trusted. She thought those were the words to bring light, but what if they were the words to make fire? What if she’d confused them?
Aonva spoke the words she thought would make light, but nothing happened. They were only words on her lips. Without being certain of the outcome, they didn’t do anything for her.
“I’m sorry,” she said for the eleventh time that day, once for each spell she’d failed to cast. She could draw on the need for them, the absolute desire that spells needed, but there was no certainty behind them anymore. She couldn’t trust herself anymore.
Why bother applying for an apprenticeship? The court will never want someone like us. Stay here and do as you’re told.
Maybe they were right. The court doesn’t want someone like me here.
Master Kaernin stared at her, waiting for her to speak again. He did that a lot. Not only because he barely spoke, but Aonva suspected he didn’t always know what was bothering her, and he really wanted to know. He never glared at her either, like her parents did when they wanted her to stop talking. He kept his face neutral, which she interpreted as patient.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Aonva said. “I’m sorry, I can’t do it anymore. I’m trying, really I am, but it’s not working. The words don’t sound right in my head anymore. I go over each of them, but it doesn’t make sense. I can’t explain why it doesn’t. They were the same words that worked yesterday, and the day before that, but they don’t sound right anymore, and Rule Two states that I need absolute understanding, which means I have to be confident in what I’m doing, but how can I be if my best friend could hurt me?”
It was all Aonva could do to stop herself from crying. Within a day, she’d lost her best friend and her magic, and she didn’t know how to get either one back. According to Kurgm, she wasn’t supposed to get Roshil back, but the thought of not seeing Roshil anymore was too much to bear.
Master Kaernin rested a hand on her shoulder.
“Perhaps you should go relax in the library,” he said. “I think you’ve had enough casting for one day.”
“But it’s only—”
He stared at her with raised eyebrows, making it clear that his words weren’t a suggestion.
Aonva nodded. She packed away her books, trying not to let the fact that Master Kaernin was talking more bother her.
Something’s changed. Something’s different, he knows it. I can’t use magic anymore. It’s only a matter of time before he ends my apprenticeship. Mother and father were right; the court doesn’t want a useless, timid little girl like me.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Apprentice Aonva,” Master Kaernin said. “Same time.”
Aonva nodded again. He was talking to her more. That was a bad sign, she knew it. He was letting her down gently. Her apprenticeship was over, even if he hadn’t said it yet.
She walked out of the room and into the empty corridors. Her footsteps echoed off the walls, making her feel more alone than she already did. There had to be some way to fix all this. This must’ve happened to other apprentices before. What had they done?
Nothing, because I’m not like other apprentices. Other apprentices make friends. Other apprentices have enough confidence to cast a basic light spell. Other apprentices aren’t failures like me.
She pulled up a map of the castle in her head. It wasn’t complicated; the corridors connected with one another in a square, so if you kept walking, you’d reach your destination eventually, but having something on which she could focus put her mind somewhat at ease. She found the fastest route from the study rooms to the library. It wasn’t that far. She supposed it made sense to keep the two close together.
The library. At least there she could pretend everything was okay. Maybe she could find answers there. Not to her current predicament, that was no good, but maybe if she found some sort of lead on Roshil’s condition, everything would go back to normal.
As hard as she tried to stay focused on the library, fear crept into her head.
My Lady Arch Mage chose me. She wouldn’t have done that without reason, right?
She was wrong. My Lady Arch Mage was wrong to choose me. She made a mistake.
She picked up her pace, trying to outrun her own fears. They crept through the shadows after her, whispering to her.
She made a mistake. She made a mistake.
Why did she choose me at all? She must’ve known I’d turn out like this. Couldn’t she tell I wasn’t right to be a mage? Mages have to be confident, they must be certain of the effects of their words, but I’m not. I’m not confident in anything. All I’m doing is wasting everyone’s time.
That’s right, young lady. So stop wasting time and come home where you belong.
Aonva wanted to hide from the voices, but they followed her no matter where she went. She wasn’t sure if she could even hear them. Maybe someone had used a spell on her. Maybe this was more punishment for failing Roshil.
I can make up for that.
Could she? Would doing more research really make any difference? Or would she only be wasting everyone’s time again?
I have to try.
There was still a problem before her. She could at least try to solve it.
The court has been working on the problem longer than I have, and they haven’t found anything. My Lady Arch Mage probably knows all the experts in the field. My Lord High Artisan has been watching Roshil for months. If they haven’t found anything yet, why would I be able to? There’s nothing I could find here that they couldn’t.
With the library door in front of her, she stopped. What was the point of it all? What could she do that they couldn’t?
I have to try.
If you learn too much, you’ll only argue about everything like your mother.
If you learn too much, men will find you irritating like your father does.
I have to help Roshil. This is the only way I know how.
What if I make things worse?
I have to try.
With that, she walked through the door.