Disciple of War Disciple of War (Art of the Adept #4) - Michael G. Manning Page 0,165

chuckle emerged from the ring. “I’m pretty sure you do.”

Desperate for hope, Will immediately latched on to the hint. “What is it?”

“No idea,” said Arrogan with complete sincerity. “But from what you’ve said, your new talent has matured. If you can imagine using it the way you suggested, then there are probably several other ways it could be used if things get truly bad.”

Will rubbed his eyes to clear them of sleep. “It would be nice if you just gave me a neat solution rather than a nebulous bunch of dung.”

Arrogan growled, then paused. “Fine. I really don’t know, but I do have some practical advice. What was the biggest limiting factor when you used your talent in the past?”

He sighed. “Obviously the fact that it’s just sound. Lightning or mountain moving would be a lot better—something destructive or defensive.”

“You destroyed a gate already. Your talent seems plenty destructive to me,” said the old man.

“That took time, and from what I could tell it wouldn’t work on an open field with a large array of different things. I’d need to get close and focus on one thing at a time.”

“Describe what you mean,” said Arrogan.

Will tried. “I could probably break a boulder, or a building, but I think it has to all be made of the same thing, like stone or wood. It probably also helps if it’s relatively rigid, but I’m not sure. It might work on a person too, but either way, I’d need to be close to them. There’s no way I could do that to an army at a distance.”

“I see what you mean.”

“So, I’m stuck with my original plan,” said Will.

“Don’t be so gloomy. Inspiration will strike when it’s needed. You know what they say, desperation is the mother of annihilation.”

Will chuckled. “I think you got it wrong. The saying goes ‘necessity is the mother of invention.’”

“Yeah. That works too. Doesn’t roll off the tongue as smoothly, though.”

“I guess I’d better get up and get moving,” said Will reluctantly.

Arrogan wasn’t quite done, though. “Wait. You didn’t quite get it right when I asked my question about limitations a minute ago. A better answer would be that the limiting factor is the amount of available turyn.”

“I can only absorb so much.”

“Not yours, idiot. Remember what you said about casting your voice across an entire city? You didn’t do that with your personal turyn.”

“Oh.” Will thought about it for a moment. “But I don’t have any control over the amount of ambient turyn in the environment. It varies somewhat, but it seems mostly random within a certain range.”

“Surely you’ve fought some enemy sorcerers by now?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“What was the thing that scared you most?”

Will was truly confused. “Dying?”

The ring let out a sigh of long-suffering. “And what did you think would kill you?”

“The enemy?”

“Gah! It’s going to be me if you don’t start answering properly! How did you think they could kill you? What was the biggest threat to your immediate wellbeing?”

“At Maldon it was probably someone dropping a big rock on my head. Of course, I did that for them in the end.”

“Exactly.”

Will felt he’d been doing well for a while, but now he seemed to have completely missed the point. “I don’t follow you.”

“You weren’t scared of their magic. Remember how I died?”

That was a particularly traumatic memory for Will. “How could I forget? You were shot with a crossbow.”

“Now you know what to be afraid of, but more importantly, you should also know what you never need fear again. Right?”

“What’s that?”

“Magic, you clod-headed-dolt!”

“Ahh.” Will turned the idea over in his head a few times then replied, “That master vampire wizard nearly turned me inside out.”

“With magic?”

Now that he thought about it, no. Alexander had made himself largely immune to Will’s attacks and then relied on his superior strength and speed to mangle him. “I guess not.”

“Now you’re starting to see the light. You’ve come into your power. You still have some maturing and a lot of growth ahead, but the one thing you really shouldn’t ever have to fear is magic.”

He frowned. “Not even if I meet a stronger wizard?”

“You already did,” pointed out his grandfather. “You could be outmaneuvered or tricked, but other than a force spell from behind, no one is going to be able to kill you with magic.”

That made some sense to him. A force spell couldn’t be manipulated or stolen by an opposing caster, since it was in some way an extension of one’s self. Other magic users would have