Chapter 18
The silence after the Graxians left was different from before. It was the quiet of a held breath, of a decision made whose consequences were still unknown.
Thora finally spoke, her voice low. "Can you do it? Find water in their stone?"
Alistair looked down at his hands. "I don't know."
He had bought them time. He had turned a potential enemy into a cautious ally, for now. But the price was high. His authority now rested on his ability to perform a miracle for another clan.
He needed to understand his own power better. He needed to see the Graxian lands for himself.
Two days later, a small party stood at the edge of the Stonetusk territory. Alistair, Thora, and Borak, who served as their guide and, Alistair suspected, their watcher.
The change in the landscape was stark. The vibrant, humid jungle of Vance Haven gave way to rocky, arid foothills. The trees were shorter, tougher, their leaves a dusty grey-green. The air was drier, carrying the scent of dust and hot stone.
"This is our land," Borak said, his voice grim. "The life has been leaving it for many seasons."
Alistair closed his eyes, reaching out with his Admin senses. He could feel the ley-lines here, but they were faint, thin threads of power compared to the strong currents near his Core. The land felt tired, drained.
He knelt, placing his hands on the sun-baked ground. He pushed his awareness down, through the dry soil, into the rock below. He was looking for the tell-tale signature of water, the cool, flowing energy he could feel around his own river.
He sensed nothing but solid, unyielding stone for a long time. His power began to drain, the effort of stretching his senses so far from his Core taxing him heavily.
Then, deep, deep below, he felt it. A faint, cool thread. An underground aquifer, flowing sluggishly through a fissure in the rock. It was there, but it was impossibly far down, sealed beneath layers of impermeable stone.
He opened his eyes, his head throbbing. "There is water," he said. "But it is buried deep. My power cannot simply pull it to the surface."
Borak's face fell, his hope turning to ash. "Then it is the same. We know it is there. We cannot reach it."
"Not with your hands," Alistair said, his mind working. "But maybe not with my power alone, either."
He looked at Borak, then at the dry earth. An idea, a collaboration, began to form.
"Your people are strong with stone," Alistair said. "You break it. You shape it."
Borak nodded slowly. "It is what we do."
"And I can feel where the stone is weak. Where it can be broken to reach the water." He pointed to a specific spot on the barren hillside, a place where his senses told him the rock was fractured, closer to the water below. "There. If your people can dig there, break the rock, I can guide you. I can make the path easier."
It was a different kind of power. Not a grand display of earth-shaking, but a subtle guidance. Using the Graxians' own strength, amplified by his knowledge.
Borak looked skeptical, but he had seen the flower bloom from nothing. He had felt the earth move. "We will try," he said.
He called out in his own language. From behind nearby rocks, a group of Graxians emerged. They had been waiting, watching. They carried heavy stone picks and hammers.
Alistair directed them to the spot he had indicated. As they began to strike the rock, he focused his power, not to move the earth, but to weaken it. He poured his energy into the deep fissures, encouraging them to spread, to connect. The sound of the Graxians' work changed from a dull thud to a sharper crack as the stone began to fracture along the lines he was subtly influencing.
It was slow, exhausting work for all of them. The Graxians swung their heavy tools, their muscles straining. Alistair's power pool dwindled, his concentration a tight knot in his forehead.
But then, with a final, collective heave from the Graxians and a final push of power from Alistair, a large section of rock shattered and fell away.
A deep, dark hole was revealed. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, a slow trickle of water began to seep from the cracked stone, pooling in the new cavity.
It wasn't a gushing spring. It was a seep. But it was water. Clean, fresh water, welling up from the deep earth where there had been only dust.
A Graxian warrior dipped his hand in the pool and brought it to his lips. His eyes widened. He looked at Borak, then at Alistair, and gave a sharp, disbelieving nod.
Borak stared at the slowly growing pool, then at Alistair. The suspicion and calculation in his eyes were gone, replaced by something simpler, more profound. Awe.
"You did not bring the water," Borak said, his voice hushed. "You showed us where to find it. You helped our hands do the work."
Alistair, drained but satisfied, nodded. "That is the kind of power I have."
It was the truth. He was not just a destroyer or a creator. He was a guide. A steward.
The alliance was no longer just a bargain. It was real. Forged not in a display of force, but in shared labor and the first, precious taste of water from stone.