Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [238]
It burst, spitting out a horizontal column of flame through the air just above Galladon’s head. The column crashed into a bookshelf, immolating the structure in a massive explosion. Books and flaming pages were tossed into the air, slamming into walls and other bookcases.
The column of fire disappeared, the heat suddenly gone, and Raoden’s skin felt clammy in contrast. A few burning scraps of paper fluttered to the ground. All that was left of the bookcase was a smoldering pile of charcoal.
“What was that?” Galladon demanded.
“I think I just destroyed the biology section,” Raoden replied with wonder.
“Next time, sule, I recommend that you not test your theories with Aon Ehe. Kolo?” Galladon set down a pile of mostly burned books. They had spent the last hour cleaning up the library, making certain they doused any smoldering flame.
“Agreed,” Raoden said, too happy to be defensive. “That just happened to be the one I was practicing—it wouldn’t have been so dramatic if I hadn’t put so many modifiers on it.”
Galladon looked back over the library. A dark scar still marked the place of the incinerated bookcase, and several piles of half-charred tomes lay scattered around the room.
“Shall we try another?” Raoden asked.
Galladon snorted. “As long as no fire is involved.”
Raoden nodded, raising his hand to begin Aon Ashe. He finished the character’s double box shape and added the Chasm line. He stepped back, waiting anxiously.
The Aon began to glow. The light started at the tip of the coast line, then burned through the entire Aon like flames sweeping across a pool of oil. The lines turned red at first, then, like metal in a forge, turned a bright white. The color stabilized, bathing the area in soft luminescence.
“It works, sule,” Galladon whispered. “By Doloken—you actually did it!”
Raoden nodded with excitement. He approached the Aon hesitantly, putting his hand up against it. There was no heat—just as the books had explained. One thing was wrong, however.
“It’s not as bright as it should be,” he said.
“How can you be sure?” Galladon asked. “This is the first one you’ve seen work.”
Raoden shook his head. “I’ve read enough to know. An Aon Ashe this big should be powerful enough to light the entire library—it’s barely as bright as a lantern.”
He reached up, tapping the Aon in the center. The glow faded immediately, the Aon’s lines vanishing one at a time, as if some invisible finger were undrawing them. Then he drew another Aon Ashe, this time including all the power-increasing modifiers he knew. When this Aon finally stabilized, it appeared slightly brighter than the first one, but nowhere near as powerful as it should have been.
“Something is still wrong,” Raoden said. “That Aon should be too bright for us to look at.”
“You think the Chasm line is wrong?” Galladon asked.
“No, it was obviously a large part of the problem. AonDor works now, but it’s handicapped in power. There must be something else—another line, perhaps, that we need to add.”
Galladon glanced down at his arms. Even against the dark-brown Dula skin, it was easy to make out his sickly Elantrian splotches. “Try a healing Aon, sule.”
Raoden nodded, tracing Aon Ien in the air. He added a modification stipulating Galladon’s body as the target, as well as all three power-increasing marks. He finished with the small Chasm line. The Aon flashed briefly then disappeared.
“Do you feel anything?” Raoden asked.
The Dula shook his head. Then, raising his arm, he inspected the cut on his elbow—an injury caused just the other day when he slipped in one of the fields. It was unchanged.
“The pain is still there, sule,” Galladon said with disappointment. “And my heart does not beat.”
“That Aon didn’t behave properly,” Raoden said. “It disappeared like before, when we didn’t know about the Chasm line. The Dor couldn’t find a target for its power.”
“Then what good is it, sule?” Galladon’s voice was bitter with frustration. “We’ll still rot in this city.”
Raoden laid a comforting hand on the Dula’s shoulder. “It isn’t useless, Galladon. We have the