Aurora Burning (The Aurora Cycle #2)(82)

Above, my own personal storm rages on, but all around, the Echo remains as golden and beautiful as it’s always been. The sun shines down gently, wreaths of red and yellow flowers hang from nearby trees. The air smells so good you could eat it. But as I drag myself to my feet in the broken crater, my heart is racing, my face streaked with tears. I turn my head, and there’s the crystalline figure of the Eshvaren, rainbows refracted in its shape, watching me as impassively as ever. A light seems to shine from inside it, setting all its colors glittering.

Again? it asks immediately.

“Just g-gimme a minute,” I beg, doubled over, hands braced against my knees, “to catch … m-my breath.”

That is not air in your lungs, it tells me. That is not sweat on your skin. You have no physical self in this place. Here, your only limitation is your imagination. Your only obstacles are those you place in front of yourself.

I close my eyes, trying to fight the frustration I feel at another round of psychobabble. It’s been going on at me like this for hours now. I realize the Eshvaren knows what it’s talking about, but I’m really trying here. And being told every failure is my own fault isn’t helping.

“This isn’t working,” I sigh, straightening slowly. “This isn’t working even a little. I’m getting worse, not better.”

Your performance does appear to be declining, the Eshvaren agrees.

“Why are we even doing this? What’s the point?” I wave my hand at the roiling sky. “Am I going to have to fight my way through a storm to get to the Weapon?”

The Eshvaren shakes its head. Patience is required in your training. There are two steps in mastering your power. The second is far more difficult. We will begin with the first: you must learn to summon your abilities on command. You apparently find even this simple lesson difficult.

“Well, it hasn’t gone great for me so far,” I point out. “I mean, my power has gotten us out of some tough spots, but using it is a lot like unleashing a tiger to fight for you. You’re really not sure who’s going to get bitten in the process.”

As long as the battle is won, what does it matter who the tiger bites?

I blink. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The Eshvaren simply shakes its head, the air around it tinkling like soft laughter. Through the warm glow surrounding it, I know it’s smiling at me.

First lesson first, it says simply. Let us begin again.


Kal

The golden sky is fading to purple, tiny stars opening like flowers in the heavens overhead, when Aurora finally staggers into our camp. She looks exhausted, her hair snarled, her eyes pouched in shadows, but still, she is beautiful. With a sigh, she walks forward so I can enfold her in my arms. Kiss her brow. Hold her tight.

“How was your first day of training, be’shmai?” I ask.

“Tough day at the office,” she replies.

We settle down in our camp. In truth, the place is unworthy of the name—it is simply the spot where we have chosen to sleep. It is situated in a gentle hollow, under a tall, silvered tree with purple leaves that sweep down to the grass. We have no beds. No real shelter. The weather is perfect, and it is not as though we need walls around us. But it still puts me on edge to be sleeping in the open.

“How was your day?” she murmurs, cradled and whole in my arms.

“Unproductive,” I reply. “I tried walking to the crystal city. I thought to take a closer look at it, to see if perhaps it might be a better place for us to rest. But no matter how far I trekked, it remained forever on the horizon.”

“Weird. We could ask the Eshvaren about it?”

I shake my head, pressing my lips thin. “Do not trouble it, be’shmai. I think perhaps the less I deal with our host, the better.”

She glances up at me. “Did it say something to you?”

“No,” I admit. “But when we first arrived … it did not feel pleased to see me. I do not think it wants me here.”

“Well, that’s tough, Legionnaire Gilwraeth,” she says, snuggling further into my arms. “Because I do.”

I smile, holding her tighter. For a time we simply sit in silence, enjoying each other’s warmth, the way our bodies fit together. With her this close, I cannot help but think of our night on the Zero before we came here. I long to burn inside that fire again. But for now, it is enough to simply be with her.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

“No,” she replies.

“… Nor I,” I realize.

“The Eshvaren told me this place isn’t really physical,” she murmurs.

“I suppose it makes sense that we wouldn’t feel physical needs?”

She chuckles in my arms, wriggles closer. “Speak for yourself, legionnaire.”

I think perhaps Aurora is making … what is the Terran word for it … innuendo? But then she sits up straighter, calls out into the gathering gloom.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

The air ripples, and without even a whisper, the image of the Eshvaren is suddenly, soundlessly floating before us. The light within it refracts and shimmers on its crystalline skin. It turns its gaze upon me, and though I am struck again with the sense it does not want me here, I still admire its beauty.

Yes? it says, its voice like music.

“Hi,” Aurora says. “Listen, I know this might be a strange request, but could we maybe get some food? I know we technically don’t need to eat but …”