Chatoyant College, Book 8: From the Earth

By Clare K. R. Miller

Corrie and Dawn have reached their goal at last: their magic class with Professor Lal has moved from learning the theory of magic to learning how to actually wield it. Of course, new challenges lie ahead of them. Dawn can’t get her magic started, while Corrie can’t keep hers under control. Meanwhile, Edie keeps wandering off...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clare K. R. Miller
• Release date: Aug 27, 2020

Clare K. R. Miller

Clare K. R. Miller is a writer of urban and secondary-world fantasy and science fiction for teens and adults.

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Chatoyant College: Book 8

From the Earth

Clare K. R. Miller

Smaragdine Books

Corrie and Dawn have reached their goal at last: their magic class with Professor Lal has moved from learning the theory of magic to learning how to actually wield it. Of course, new challenges lie ahead of them. Dawn can’t get her magic started, while Corrie can’t keep hers under control. Meanwhile, Edie keeps wandering off…

From the Earth (Chatoyant College, Book 8)

by Clare K. R. Miller

Smaragdine Books

Text Copyright © 2020 Clare K. R. Miller

Shareable under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

Cover image by Clare K. R. Miller

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, and locations are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or events, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

This file is licensed for private individual entertainment only. The book contained herein constitutes a copyrighted work and may not be reproduced, stored in or introduced into an information retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electrical, mechanical, photographic, audio recording, or otherwise) for any reason (excepting the uses permitted to the licensee by copyright law under terms of fair use) without the specific written permission of the author.

Chapter 1: Practice

Wednesday, November 5

Corrie got up that morning feeling both excited and nervous. She was excited because she knew she could do the magic they’d be practicing in class. She’d already done it on Monday. On the other hand, she was nervous because she had no idea if she’d be able to control it. She didn’t really know what she’d done on Monday that had made the candle flame up like that, so she didn’t know how she’d do it differently.

She confessed her worries to her friends over breakfast. Roe gave her a confident grin. Don’t worry. I’m absolutely positive that you’ll figure it out.

You are? Corrie asked, slightly confused. Then her eyes widened as she understood—or hoped she did. You had a vision about it? Tell us!

Roe shook her head, still grinning. I’ll tell you later.

Oh come on, I want to hear what’s going to happen, said Edie. I’m not going to see it.

You’ll hear it from Corrie, said Roe. Come on, we have to get to class.

Corrie glanced at the clock, saw Roe was right, and hurriedly gulped down the last of her milk. Then she, Roe, and Dawn waved to their other friends and raced outside through the frosty air, not wanting to be a moment late for their second ever class in the practical use of magic.

They were the last ones there. Nobody else wanted to be late, either. Professor Lal had mentioned at the beginning of the year that it was possible some people wouldn’t be able to do magic, but Corrie was glad that hadn’t turned out to be the case. She would have felt bad, and guilty, especially since her own magic seemed to be so strong. That would have been too many emotions to deal with at once.

Professor Lal entered the room just as the clock ticked over to tell them it was time for class. She barely raised her eyebrows at the unaccustomed sight of the entire class sitting in their seats, facing forward, with nothing in their hands (they had been told to bring nothing to class), and not even talking—a hush had fallen as soon as the professor appeared. She was holding two very large tote bags, which she set down on her desk. She looked around the room for a bit before finally speaking. Brian, would you pass out the buckets? Everyone but Corrie gets one.

Corrie turned in her seat—along with most of the rest of the class—to see Brian stand up and reach for a pile of buckets that were in the back of the classroom, leaning against the back wall. Corrie hadn’t noticed them when she’d come in. Brian picked up several buckets and handed them to one of the people sitting at the back of the room, to be passed down the aisle. At the same time, Professor Lal started walking up and down the rows with one of her tote bags, taking out pieces of what appeared to be logs and tree branches and putting one down on each desk. Except, of course, for Corrie’s.

When everyone had some wood, the professor returned to the front of the class and explained. Since you all managed to light your candles in the last class, this class will be spent working on larger fires. The buckets are metal and further treated to be flame resistant. Each of you will place your wood inside the bucket, so as to avoid any danger, and attempt to light it on fire. The ultimate objective is an even, steady burn with noticeable release of both light and heat. Do not worry if you consume your wood too quickly or have any other problem with your wood; I have plenty more. She patted the second, untouched tote bag, which Corrie now recognized from the lumps in the fabric must also be filled with wood.

Noise returned to the classroom as people stood up and did as they were told, putting their firewood in their buckets. Professor Lal, I can’t get this to fit very well, complained one student.

That’s all right, she said calmly. Not all of the wood is of a convenient size. The flames shouldn’t spread, though; go ahead and reach for the magic. I will be walking around the classroom while you work, so I should be able to catch any problems quickly.

Corrie was sitting quietly at her desk, the only one with nothing to do, trying to keep the nerves from taking over. Finally, as the classroom quieted again, with everyone focusing on their task, Professor Lal opened a drawer and then walked up to Corrie’s desk.

In her hand was a plastic bag full of tea lights. There had to be fifty in there. Corrie grinned and stood up. I guess you’re not confident in my control.

I’m sure you’ll manage it, said the professor lightly. But it’s always good to have plenty of practice.

Chapter 2: Flame

Corrie opened the bag, took one tea light out, and placed it in the middle of her desk. Then she put the bag on her chair—she had no plans to sit down—so it wouldn’t be in her line of sight to distract her, and because she thought there was a small possibility that if she could see all the candles, she would end up lighting them all at once, and that would be bad for several reasons.

With one small, round candle in its little metal holder in the middle of her otherwise empty desk, her focus narrowed to just that one thing. She couldn’t see anything but her own desk, and while she could hear other students muttering to themselves or yelling at their wood to catch fire (Professor Lal had told them to experiment with words and movements to see if there was anything that worked as a good focus for any of them), she was able to tune that out easily. She took several deep breaths to calm her mind and her body, and then reached.

Professor Lal had explained it in Monday’s class. She’d said there was a place inside you—both physically and mentally—where magic lived. You had to go looking within yourself, and it might be tiny, but you would recognize it when you saw it.

Corrie had thought, at first, that this was an elaborate metaphor. She certainly hadn’t believed that magic had a specific location in the body. But she’d found it on Monday, lodged, a little embarrassingly, in her pelvis. If someone had given her a skeletal model, she would have been able to put her fist in the place. And that was how big it was—about the size of her fist, warm, glowing, and pulsing. She’d never encountered anything like it. And like Professor Lal had said, she’d recognized it immediately, and mentally grabbed hold.

The only problem was, now she couldn’t find it.

When she allowed herself to think consciously about that fact, her eyes focused, and she realized she was staring down at her body, as though trying to find the magic visually. She jerked her head back up and refocused her gaze on the candle. The magic wasn’t visible—not until she did something with it. At least, it hadn’t been on Monday…

She took another deep breath. This time she reached down more slowly. She stopped looking. She didn’t have a mental image of her magic other than what she’d come up with later. It was a feel, not a look.

And this time she found it. She let out a quick breath and a smile and grabbed hold.

The candle caught and for a moment she thought she’d done it right. Then the flame widened, flared up, and suddenly vanished again. Corrie sighed and leaned on her desk. Just like on Monday, she’d used up all the wax in an instant.

You’ll get it, don’t worry, said Professor Lal from over Corrie’s left shoulder. Corrie turned, startled—she hadn’t even realized the professor was there.

Are you sure? she asked, hoping she didn’t sound like she was whining.

Yes. I have never heard of anyone who has strong magical power and cannot learn to control it. You have plenty of time, and plenty of candles. So just keep going. Professor Lal looked around for a moment, then stepped up to her desk to drag a mesh metal trash can out from underneath it. She set it down beside Corrie and swept the tea light’s used metal canister into it. Get the failures out of the way. Out of sight, out of mind.

Got it. Corrie turned and pulled another tea light out of the bag. She set it in the middle of her desk and, once again, focused.

This time it only took a moment for her to find her magic. Her nerves must have gotten the better of her. She remembered how she’d reached down a minute ago, and did the same again. Her mental hands—or whatever those were—grasped the warm, pulsing ball.

The candle flared up and consumed all of its wax again.

She gritted her teeth, threw it out, and went for another candle. Around her, she heard chanting, curses, and a few cries of triumph. She tuned them out, but maybe a focus was what she needed. She’d tried a lot of things last class, but that had been before she’d managed to find her magic.

She leaned forward and cupped her hands around the candle. Then she reached for her magic. A split second later, she snatched her hands away as the flame and heat flared up.

She sighed and took another one. This time she used a word, spoken softly: Catch. The same result. She tried pointing at it. The same.

But she still had most of a bag, and most of a class, She could do this.

Chapter 3: New to It

Dawn stared down at the piece of wood in her bucket. It had evidently been a branch from a birch tree, judging by the white, papery bark with black spots throughout. She wondered if Professor Lal had just wandered around the woods and picked up fallen branches. She looked for a spot that would be good for starting the fire. She knew she was procrastinating.

She took a deep breath and started to hum. Professor Lal had told them on Monday to experiment with gestures and sounds to focus with, and she’d found that humming helped. The low sound seemed to have a kindred relationship with her magic, which vibrated at the back of her mind, spread out like a pair of wings and glowing white.

At least, that’s what it had been like on Monday. Now, she couldn’t find it.

She gripped the edges of her desk and told herself not to panic. She knew it was there. She was just looking for it wrong, or something. She tried closing her eyes and mentally looking, but she could see nothing.

She still wasn’t giving up. She hummed louder, then started chanting under her breath, nonsense words, as she looked for the magic. Finally, it came to her—vibrating, fluttering weakly, and seeming much smaller than before, but still there at the back of her mind. She frowned, wondering why it seemed so different, but didn’t allow herself to become distracted. She focused again on the spot she’d chosen earlier, where several pieces of the papery bark were curled up, thin like kindling.

She hummed, and focused, and tugged at the wings in the back of her mind. On Monday, once she’d found the magic, the fire had caught right away. But today it seemed to take more time. Smoke wafted up from the spot, so she must have been getting somewhere.

Finally, she saw a spark. Excited, she blew gently on it, but it went out. She frowned, wondering why that had happened—she’d set plenty of campfires before, and she knew how hard to blow on a spark to encourage it rather than kill it. She reached into the bucket to touch the wood very carefully, but it was still cool. She glanced up and looked around the room, at everyone else focusing on their firewood (and Corrie staring intensely at a candle), and suddenly realized that she’d let go of the magic.

That was why the fire had gone out. She hadn’t intended to let it go, though. She frowned and reached back. Once again she had to look for a while, but this time she found it more confidently, knowing it was different than it had been on Monday. Maybe it just changed all the time. She would have to experiment in between classes, if she could figure out how to do that without actually lighting anything on fire.

Dawn focused again on the spot she’d chosen,