And found nothing.
Maybe you're already in contact with the Weave, Sarraya had told him, not so very long ago. He remembered that, remembered that he'd failed because he was trying to find something he already possessed. He had been trying to touch the Weave when he already was connected with it, in ways that extended beyond a simple touch. He was a part of the Weave now, a living extension of it, an extension strong enough to alter it with his very presence. He didn't have to touch the Weave, for he had already found his connection with it.
You've been growing stronger and stronger, even without trying to use your magic, she had said. Could she be right? Could he be ready to regain his powers? He thought that he understood the mistake he had been making before. This time, instead of trying to touch the Weave, he should try to simply use his magic. But with no magic inside him, how would he affect the magic of the Weave? He would have nothing to exert force against it, nothing to push it out of the strands to do as he needed it to do.
The strands bent towards her, as if her very presence exerted force on them, he remembered thinking when he saw the Sha'Kar woman, when she had forced him to find the core of his power.
Could that be it? Could his very presence, the power of his ability alone be enough to cause the Weave to respond to him? He reached out with his senses, closing his eyes tight, reaching into the Conduit, into the strands, into the air around him, sensing every iota of magical power that surrounded him. He could feel the magic there, the strands, the flows, the little surges of power that flowed through them like invisible blood. He could feel the magic, sense it, see it with his mind's eye. And since he could see what he was trying to affect, it allowed him to try to use it.
It was almost ridiculously easy, and it felt much like using Druidic magic. He pushed against the Weave not with power inside him, but with the force of his will and the power of his innate magical ability. He felt the Weave shudder, then vibrate, then burst out into a strange choralling sound that only a Sorcerer could hear, an odd harmonic of energies that seemed to cause the strands to vibrate, almost to sing.
And the flows pulled free of the strands.
He sensed the differences immediately. The strands fought against him, actively resisted him, trying to wriggle free of his will and return to the Weave. He had to clamp down on them and force them to do his bidding, force them with an intense concentration that reminded him of his first days as an Initiate, struggling to maintain his grip on a single flow. They fought against him, but the force of his will finally broke them of their rebellious nature, and they bent to his demands.
They coalesced around him, around his paws, surrounding him with their power. He was so caught up in the exultation of his success that he nearly forgot what he was doing, but he quickly got himself under control. Flows of Water, Earth, and Divine energies wove together beneath his paws, flowing into the Aeradalla before him, the flows of healing. They merged into a powerful weave that scoured the magical contamination of the crown out of the Aeradalla's body much like a wife scrubbed the dirt from her doorstep. Then they assaulted the severed stump that had once supported a wing, overrode the body's refusal to grow out to restore the lost limb. With sickening cracking sounds, a bud of a new wing tore through the Aeradalla's robe, then quickly expanded and filled out, gaining length by the second, until it reached a comparable size as the other wing. Then feathers sprouted from that bare limb, growing as fast as the eye could take it in, leaving behind a wing that was healthy and strong.
Almost as an afterthought, he sent those healing flows through the other wing, restoring muscles melted away by months-years-without use.
"Tarrin!" Sarraya squealed in glee, " you did it!" She threw up her hands and let out a cry of happiness. "You did it! I told you you'd get your powers back within a ride!" she laughed in delight.
He could feel it all now. The tiniest fluctuation of the Weave rippled through him, the smallest variation in its delicate matrix twinged in his consciousness. In that fleeting moment, he was not just connected to the Weave or a part of the Weave, he was the Weave. All of it was within him, or he had expanded until all of it was encompassed within his consciousness. He again found himself staring into the unseen face of the Goddess, lurking within the Weave, and her eyes smiled down on him in loving benediction.
Behind him, the Conduit flared with sudden light, a light ten times brighter than the sun, as a choral harmonic arose from it that saturated the air with wonderful music, like a thousand voices singing in perfect harmony at the same time. In that moment, he felt as if he commanded the power of a god. In that moment, he felt absolutely invincible. But then reality regained a foothold within him, and common sense restored his mind to practical dimensions.
With little more than a thought, he released the magic from his command, and it returned to the Weave. The Aeradalla sitting in the chair had slumped back, sleeping a natural sleep. Tarrin opened his eyes, and blew out his breath in weariness.
He had done it.
He remembered how he did it, and he knew that, just like before, all he had to do was do it once. Do it once to show him how. He would have to practice until this new way to use the Weave seemed natural to him, and he still had to learn how to wield regular Sorcery and High Sorcery, but those were simply building blocks set upon the base he had just formed with his power. He had regained access to his Sorcery, and all he needed to do now was practice. In time, he would return to his former ability.
Sarraya had her arms flung over his face, hugging his cheeks as she kissed him exuberantly on the tip of his nose. "I knew you could do it! I knew you had it in you! I'm so proud of you, Tarrin!"
"Well," he said mildly, using a paw to push her to where he could see her, "now I know one thing for certain."
"What?"
"I'm hungry."
She gave him a look, then laughed. "Well, I think we can fix that, in a bit. What about him?"
"He'll sleep until morning, and he won't remember a thing," he told her.
"Now that you have your power again, we can just jaunt on down-"
"It's not that easy, Sarraya," he cut her off. "I figured out how to use Sorcery again, but I need to practice it. It's different than before. I'm not going to be jumping off the edge of the city any time soon, because I don't feel confident enough to do something like that yet. Unless we want to stay up here until I practice enough to get competent, we're still going to need a ride down."
"Oh. I thought that as soon as you managed to figure it out, you'd be like you were before."
"No, not really," he said with a shake of his head. "I still don't know how to use High Sorcery yet. I still have some things to learn. But for now, it's good to know that I've regained at least a portion of my power."
"You think you have enough to get down off the pillar?" she asked. "I'm still wiped out from getting us up here."
"I think I can do that," he replied after a moment. "It's not that far, so I don't think I'll lose my concentration before I'm safely down."
"Good. Let's find someplace to rest, and as soon as I feel up to it, I'll conjure you anything you want to eat. Anything."
"I feel so special," he mused, wiping sweat from his brow. He hadn't sweated since that fateful day he had come into his full power. The effort of his weaving had caused him to sweat, probably out of reflex than out of getting hot. And the sweat was cold in the crisp night air.
They turned and left the crown, forgotten in the excitement, behind. After ruling it out as the Firestaff, it had no more importance to Tarrin, and he had more important things to worry about, things to ponder and things to feel happy about. They left the crown and the Aeradalla behind, who would be protected from the corrupting spell of the crown for another day or so, more than enough time for him to wake up and leave the obelisk. They were out of sight, and they quickly were out of his mind. He had better things to think about than them.