Chapter 4
“Five-six-seven-eight!” Desmond bent his knee just as Mariah leapt, watching her intently. She used the magic to judge her surroundings – to judge the walls and the floor, and to propel herself forward. She was still a strong warrior, still in good shape, and could still outfight most people. Still, her blindness put her just off balance, and he managed to steady her as she went by, quickly placing a hand on her taut stomach. She landed like a cat – soft and crouching.
“How was that?”
“It was fine,” he replied, not wanting to admit he was a bit out of breath. Mariah was focused, relentless, and they had been at this for hours.
“It was sloppy,” she said, shaking her head as she stood up. “And you know it.”
“Mariah,” he said, as he stood as well. “It was better than most could do, never mind a lack of sight and age.”
“Age?” She quirked an eyebrow. “Do you think I've gotten old?”
“I think that's a fact,” he answered. “But it does not make you any less–”
“Hello!” a voice called out, cutting him off.
Both of them turned, interrupted in their training. Sienna was standing at the door of the empty training room, looking on in curiosity. Desmond was aware that the off-planet visitors would stay another day or two, to take advantage of the headquarters' amenities. Whatever she was supposed to be doing, she appeared to have broken away from her group.
“Hello, little one,” he said. “Mariah, it's Sienna. We were just training.”
“You are Maestros,” she managed, and even Mariah had to smile at that.
“Yes,” she said. “But even Maestros need training every once in a while.”
Sienna cocked her head, registering that Mariah's eyes were sightless. She paused, unsure of how to proceed, and then turned back to Desmond. “You…qualify for me? To fight?”
He took a moment to think through what she might have meant. “Modify?” he asked. “Modify training for you?”
She nodded. “You have occurrence in it?”
He realized she was referring to the modifications they were making for Mariah in a simple routine.
“Aye,” he said. “But Nathaniel, my former Tiro, is the stronger warrior. If you are looking for a modified training program, he is the one to speak to.”
“Nathaniel?” she asked, remembering him. “He is…distant.”
“He is not usually,” Desmond answered with a smirk. “The day you met him, perhaps.”
“I…” She took a step forward and then faltered.
“Desmond!” Mariah sensed her magic first, feeling it flicker. Her sightless eyes flashed, and Desmond rushed forward, catching Sienna before she fell.
Her body was burning with heat, her limbs trembling. She clearly wasn't well, although she was doing well to hide it.
He eased her to the ground, and she reached out for his hand, grasping it tightly.
“AH!” he suddenly cried as she squeezed his hand. It hadn't been intentional, but she had lashed out for magic and strength. And without even thinking about it, his magic had flowed to her, offering her healing and strength to make up for hers.
She looked so surprised by it that she stopped moving all together, this feeling completely foreign to her.
Desmond had felt it before, though, with each of his three Tiros. To take strength that easily without even thinking about it was part of the bond between Maestro and Tiro. Their bonds were so strong that they could predict it before it even happened, their thoughts becoming one.
She looked up at him with wide eyes, saying nothing. He tried to smile, cradling her gently.
“Is that better?” he asked.
She nodded, sitting up cautiously. She pulled away from him slightly, her long hair falling into her face. Mariah sat down beside them and touched Desmond's shoulder. He reached out for her hand to tell her without speaking that all was well.
“Yes,” Sienna replied.
“You are not well,” he scolded her. “You should have told someone.”
“No,” she said picking up on the meaning clearly. “No one cares.”
“Sienna,” he gave her a look. “Of course, they do.”
“Too…frequent,” she answered, and his heart ached.
“It doesn't matter,” he replied. “If you are unwell, you should be looked after.”
“Training,” she said, and he smiled.
“Is that all you care about?”
“Yes,” she answered curtly. That much was clear, and he chuckled.
“Sienna, we should go to the med bay,” Mariah said tentatively. “You shall not train today.”
“Please,” she begged, but Mariah pushed herself up from Desmond's shoulder.
“No,” she said. “A good witch does not enter battle if they are at a disadvantage,” she said. “You must always be your best self in order to help others.”
The sentence went over Sienna's head, so she simply rose, stronger than before.
“Training after?”
“Maybe,” Desmond replied. “If you are better later.”
“Promise?” she asked, and he smiled.
“If you are better, then I will walk you through a session. And I always keep my promises.”
She seemed content with this and walked with both of them, only pausing once. It saddened Desmond to see how comfortable she was in the med bay, and he assumed she was quite used to it. She stuck out her arm for blood work like the needle was an extension of her own limb. As Tara drew the curtain closed, Desmond leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. Mariah leaned into him and enjoyed the moment of privacy.
“Did it bother you so?” she asked, and he looked down at her.
“I don't think that's the right word,” he said. “She must have had a fever of 103, and she took strength from me as if I was the right medication.”
Mariah jerked at that thought. “Desmond,” she said. “You can't be thinking what I think you are.”
“What am I supposed to think when a Tiro exhibits a bond that has occurred three times in my life before?” he asked, not meaning to snap.
“First of all,” Mariah said, trying to keep her voice low, “she is not properly trained for her age; she's at least a few years behind. In addition, her life expectancy is not going to reach the tests. And even if she does, the level of care she needs would damn her to the lowest level quests.”
“And aren't we taught to have patience and to take paths that frighten us, ones that others wouldn't?” he asked.
Mariah switched tactics. “What about Nathaniel?” she asked.
“What about him?” Desmond replied.
“He may have passed the tests physically, but emotionally, he is not ready to separate from you. He is happy now, the two of you bouncing about the school, and he may even take a quest again by himself. But you and I both know he took the tests because he was aging out, not because he was ready. If he had his way, he'd still be with you until he turned at least thirty.”
Desmond sighed. “He has to grow apart from me sometime, Mariah. Despite his age, Nathaniel is less than two years away from me. That's hard for any Tiro; you know that. The first few years are the worst.”
“Are you prepared for the level of care she will need?” Mariah asked. “Can you handle all of that by yourself?”
“I…” Desmond wanted to say yes and that he was invincible. But a good witch did not falsely take on responsibilities when they put others at a disservice. The truth was, he was past his prime, and she was young. “I don't know.”
“And then there's us,” Mariah put in.
“Us,” he said, keeping his voice low. “If what you say is true, training her will be a few years, nothing more. We have waited so long, Mariah. Can we not wait another few years? What difference does it make in the grand scheme of things? We are together here as we have always been. A few years in our lives is no different.”
“Desmond.” She reached her hand out, touching him. “Do you truly feel drawn to this girl?”
“Yes,” he said. “Please believe me.”
She sighed. “I believe you,” she said. “But I'm not sure you are equipped to take on the challenges that she presents. And you are asking me to wait a few years while you figure that out.”
He lowered his voice. “I would not do this if it meant losing you. But I know that it does not mean losing you, does it?”
Their faces were inches apart. She wanted to scream; she wanted to cry; she wanted to tell him that yes, it meant losing her.
But she knew how devoted Desmond was. If he felt a bond with this Tiro, she couldn't deny it.
“No,” she said. “But I want you to think this through; figure out how you are going to handle it. The last thing I want is to get so close to our futures, and then have it taken away because of some accident or some carelessness.”
“Mariah,” he tried to assure her, “It's not going to be like that.”
“Why? Do you have a plan?”
He considered everything that she said, his mind reeling. And then, all of a sudden, the answer hit him like a tidal wave.
“I think I do,” he answered.
“What is it?”
“I'll tell you if it works out,” he said. They separated as Tara pulled aside the curtain.
“She's fine,” Tara said. “She's just not used to such a busy day. An IV infusion, and she'll be all right.”
Sienna looked oddly comfortable with a needle in her hand, watching the three of them. Desmond smiled, stepping forward.
“Little one,” he said, pointing to the call button and then holding up his com-link, “I have to go for a bit. But if you need anything at all, please call me.”
She seemed to understand the connection between the two objects and nodded, reaching out her hand to grab his. “Thank you,” she said, and he nodded.
“Of course,” he replied. “I'm sure everything will be fine. I'll see you soon.”
“Where are you going?” Mariah inquired, and his eyes sparkled.
“You asked me to have a plan,” he said. “When is it that the bids for Tiros are due?”
“Tomorrow,” she said. “You know that. After every showcase, you only have a few days, and then they are gone.”
“Right, so I don't have that long,” Desmond said. “I'll see you for dinner, Mariah.”
“Will you?” Mariah replied, clearly not happy. “This better be an amazing plan.”
“It might be a terrible one,” Desmond answered. “But at least it's a plan.”
Mariah sighed as she felt him leave the room. He usually had plans like this that either worked out or failed miserably. He always rushed off, not telling her anything. She was used to this, but for just once, she would have liked to be in on it. After all, this was about their future, their hopes, and their dreams. They had never been so close before, never had it within reach. If any of his plans ever worked out, she hoped this one did.