There was just the clatter of horse hoofs on compacted dirt. The wind blew only to the point of a pleasant cooled gale. The clouds and sun had an easy truce. While a gray formation might block the ray, it didn’t for long. In return, the giant fireball in the sky didn’t beat down its heat. Dion, even with his taste of fanged chaos slept in peace. Doco sat in silent recollection. Kenan, for his part, did much the same as his other party members.
But his mind was anything but harmony. It showed in his sweat-drenched hands. The shake of his fingers and his dry mouth. Kenan was excited, worried, stressed, and relieved all at the same. The emotion bundled into a small ball in his core and it lacerated his insides.
And then his ride lurched, and his horse's head rocked back softly. It huffed and refused to continue until Kenan rubbed the back of its neck. The action snapped the serpent that strangled his emotion.
An older starved white mare had come to them. By that time Kenan's family didn't question his magnetism with animals. Nor did they give complaints when he nursed her to health. And when they found out she was pregnant, they all failed to stand up against Kenan's stubborn determination to keep both animals.
Half a year later, she gave birth to a colt. It had a dark black coat with white tipped hooves, an uncanny intelligence, and was named Jefned.
Kenan patted his horse. His thought had accumulated. He idled in curiosity and it burned. “Uncle?”
“Aye Ken?” Doco answered. In his mouth was a stolen long grass stem.
“What were you?” Kenan leaned down the saddle and snatched a blade to mimic. "Like what did you do before living with us?"
“Ahh. I was a soldier. I know Lucy used to make stories of adventures and whatnot. No, I just marched.” Doco’s head was away from his nephew. A part of his attention did look at the endless verdant plane. A landscape that would put any in a moment of contemplation with the tall grass, and the soft winds that stretched the stocks. But most of his mind went elsewhere.
“I don’t think…” The thirteen-year-old put pressure on the stirrup and stood. He looked to where his uncle was. When he found nothing he dropped with a grunt “I don’t think I believe you.”
“Oh? So I'm lying?”
“I...I uhh.” Kenan stammered. “I just. I think you are not... giving the truth. Not lying. You let us think what you are without clearing the question. I don’t know if it's because of my age. I don’t believe it is. I’ve noticed you step around the truth with Mom and Sis too.” He shrugged. “Dad doesn’t ask.”
Doco harumphed and stayed quiet for a while. Kenan studied his uncle for any sign of aggravation but noticed nothing more than a shift in the shoulders. He sighed and squirmed into a position that was something in the realm of comfort. As he patted his horse, Kenan released the reins and then he kicked off the stirrup. He heaved his legs up and crisscrossed them while he laid his head on Jefned's back. Dion, who napped just where his master's head lay, yapped in vapid annoyance. The fox fixed the issue by curdling on Kenan's chest.
“Your half-wrong.” Doco said.
“Does that mean that I’m half-right?”
“Nope."
“What am I if I'm not wrong?”
“Oh…huh.” Doco shrugged. “Then I guess your just all wrong.”
“Hey..”
“Nephew.” Doco cut off Kenan. He looked at him with hard eyes. No malice, or anger. Simple seriousness. “Your not one to ask idle questions. I’ve known your curiosity more than your parents. You find the answer to one thing, to the understand pieces of another. Just ask it. Don’t dance around yourself.”
Kenan sighed. A part of him was shamed. Not that he understood why he was. But that humiliation was quickly taken over by the roaring interest that had opened up. “I just… Dad has earth. His magic helps him with almost everything. Water cleans and Mom also uses it for plants. Lucy… I actually don't know her magic. But I think it aids her too. And you…” He trailed off. “I think that If I can know what I want to do when I grow up, I will know what magic I want.”
“Ahhh. Now that makes a lot of sense. Well, kid. Your thinking about it wrong. Your magic choice isn’t tied to your future. It has nothing to do with that. I’ve known warriors who’ve wielded paper to fight. You alter mana to wield magic, then you alter magic to fit your purpose. You don’t travel a journey at the finish line. If you picked a tome that let you alter paint, you don’t have to be an artist.”
“Then. How do I decide? Each magic has its weaknesses and its strengths. Nothing is perfect.”
“Aye. Don’t think about what the magic does, think about how it fits you. Does your father seem like anything but earth?”
“Uncle. You aren't helping.”
Doco laughed. “Ha! Your grandfather told me the same mysticism. Just trust your gut kid. You’ll be alright. Not that you have time to decide beforehand anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Kenan jolted up. Dion yelped in sudden surprise as he sailed through the air. Kenan saw, In the distance. There was a wall of stripped and pointed wooden walls. It stretched wide and wrapped around. He could see that just behind the spikes were guards. They had helmets with billowing dark green capes. Whatever was underneath was lost with the distance. But he strained to see more.
Then something riled the wind. It whipped in a sudden angry gust and whispered in his ear with a ghastly vehemence.
“purify in the fires of adversity”
