The repairs on the rocket had been going well. Arthur knew the necessities of spaceships very well now, needing to fix one up practically every time he needed to jump to the next planet. Paladin, for his part, was extremely useful, thanks to his enhanced strength and his little light orb that could get into nooks and crannies that may inadvertently cause them to shoot out into the depths of space.

  Arthur thought it would take them four days to fix it up, but it would likely only take three. This was good, because he didn’t know how much longer he could stand being in that scrapyard. He didn’t know if he was paranoid, Paladin certainly wasn’t nervous, but he swore he could hear the dragons under the scrap, scratching to get out. Would they hatch soon? Had killing the mother disturbed them in some way? Arthur had no idea. He just knew he wanted off this planet as soon as possible.

  Magic training had not been going anywhere near well as the rocket. Arthur knew, and Paladin had repeatedly told him, that it wasn’t going to be something he picked up in two days. Still, that didn’t make him feel any better about it. He’d felt something when he first grabbed Paladin’s sword, but it didn’t help actually do anything with the vague sense of magic he could feel.

  Two days after they pierced a dragon with a giant lightning spear, they were back in the townhouse they chose to take over. It was relatively close to the scrapyard, not that damaged by looting or raiders, and would have been a relatively nice place to stay before the clockwork sky became absolute. It was also one of the very few places Arthur had found on his journey that still had running water, allowing them to refill their canteens, although they made sure to boil it as best they could first: if a reservoir had existed this long after the apocalypse, it was unlikely everything was working properly.

  They were in what had once been a nice living room, Paladin sitting on a side table that had somehow endured where most of the furniture had not. Arthur’s lamp hung from a hook on the ceiling, casting a warm glow on the two of them. They were running out of oil, and Paladin had refused to use his magic while they were back home, for reasons he did not explain to Arthur. Now, he held out Paladin’s sword again, the crystal on the hilt glowing faintly under his grip.

  “I…I think I’m getting something,” Arthur said.

  “How would you describe this…something?” Paladin asked.

  “You know what it’s like! You’ve done it before!”

  Paladin nodded. “Alright. Call to it.”

  Arthur sighed. This was where everything usually went wrong.

  “You will not be able to do this if you think you can’t,” Paladin explained. “Just by holding the blade and sensing its presence, you have shown yourself as more magically capable than the majority of beings from my world.”

  “Sure, but does that really matter if I can’t do shit?”

  “You can. You just need to figure out how.”

  Arthur lowered the blade. “How do you call to magic? You kinda just…do it.”

  “I’ve had decades of practice, fighting a near constant war for most of my life. I’ve had plenty of time for my magic to become instinctual. But, when I started…I closed my eyes and reached out. I thought, if I believed my power was physically in front of me, that I could reach it.”

  “Did that work?” Arthur asked, sitting on the table next to Paladin.

  “Yes. It is not a good strategy for combat, I admit, but it is useful to practice.”

  “I have a gun for combat,” Arthur said. “This’ll do fine.”

  Arthur held out the blade, and closed his eyes. He felt the energy running down the blade, a warm, calming sensation. Then, he tried to imagine the energy forming up into something physical in front of him. Something came to rest against the blade, like it was pressing against felt or cotton. Something in Arthur panicked and he swung the blade, opening his eyes.

  What he saw was a constellation of stars where his blade had slashed. Miniature galaxies, tiny stars, floating against a black smoke that created the illusion of a deep, dark space. Arthur lowered the blade for a second, looking at what he’d just created. This was how space should be: bright and beautiful, not hidden beneath bronze.

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  “This is your magic,” Paladin said.

  “It’s incredible…” Arthur muttered, before turning to Paladin. “How is this useful to us, anyway? Yeah, it looks nice, but the light isn’t that much better than my lantern, and I can’t just use your sword all the time.”

  “It gives us a starting point,” Paladin explained. “My magic is not natural for this universe. Rather, I am drawing the power this universe has and twisting it into how my universe works. I believe where I come from, magic is more malleable and follows the intent of the user, while here it has a certain shape. While still powerful, I make a mockery of this place. This is how it should be.”

  The knight pointed at the galaxy as it faded out of existence, leaving only the lamplight.

  “Now we know how it should look,” Paladin continued, “you can focus on what you want to make. Start with something simple, like my light.”

  “Alright.”

  Arthur closed his eyes and focused. He raised his sword again, but felt Paladin’s hand on the blade.

  “I don’t think a sword will help make a light,” Paladin said.

  “I know,” Arthur snapped back. “I thought I needed the sword to use magic at all.”

  “Just holding the sword will be enough. Reach out your hand.”

  Arthur did as he was told, closing his eyes as he did so. He felt the same energy as before, but now he could envision the shape. A swirling galaxy of stars surrounded his arm, a sensation and image that was incredibly alien to him. He reached into this galaxy, and grabbed something hot. He winced, but held strong, having experienced worse pain on his journey, and knowing how badly he needed this.

  Pulling his arm back, Arthur opened his eyes and his palm. A small orb of fire floated free, like a miniature sun, bright and fierce. It didn’t shed as much light as Paladin’s version of the spell, but the light was warmer, kinder, and still far better than the oil lantern. Arthur looked at his palm. It was badly burned.

  He smiled, and then laughed. “I did it! I…I can use magic!”

  “Congratulations, Squire!” Paladin said. “Now, where in your pack would I find burn medicine?”

  “O-Oh, top left pocket. That’s where I keep the first aid kits.”

  Paladin nodded and left the room. Arthur kept his eyes on the light as it floated. He tried to get it to move in the same way Paladin did, but it refused, not moving even when he pulled his arm down. Instead, he tried batting it away with the sword, which worked. He sighed: even when he created magic, he couldn’t exactly do anything practical.

  While Paladin was busy, Arthur closed his eyes and tried finding something else. He tried to reform the magic into something, but it was too ephemeral, like sand slipping through his fingers. It was unusually cold as well, like he was literally reaching into the depths of space. Amidst all this, he suddenly felt something physical. It felt like a leather hilt, not dissimilar to the one in his other hand. He wrapped his hand around it, and started to pull.

  Whatever the object was, he felt a little bit of give, but nothing happened. Suddenly, he felt something against his arm, something he hadn’t felt in a very long time: another human hand.

  “Paladin?” Arthur said. He opened his eyes, but he was still alone. Both the handle and the hand suddenly vanished from his grip. His own star had also faded from existence. Now only the lamp lit the room, getting dimmer by the second. He sighed, collapsing onto the floor, surprisingly tired just from this small orb. Paladin re-entered the room with the burn plasters, handing it over to Arthur.

  “Thank you,” he replied, wrapping it around the burn. “I think I’m done for the day. This magic shit is harder than you make it look.” He stabbed Paladin’s sword into the ground. Paladin took the blade and sheathed it.

  “You’re making good progress,” Paladin said. “Either the people of this universe have stronger aptitude than those of my universe, or you’re a prodigy. Both of those are good.”

  “How am I going to cast anything in combat, though?” Arthur asked. “You need your sword, right? I can’t channel magic without it.”

  “That is somewhat true,” Paladin said. “What channels the magic is the gem in the hilt. You just need another.”

  Paladin removed his left gauntlet, and then took off the glove underneath. There was a similar blue gem on the back of his palm, currently unlit. Paladin grabbed it, and with some considerable force, yanked it out. Arthur winced watching it. What was left was a giant scab in the back of his hand that healed over unnaturally swiftly. Paladin handed the gem over to Arthur like nothing unusual just happened.

  “I will be expecting this back once we find a more suitable replacement,” Paladin said, sternly. “Do not lose it.”

  “I won’t,” Arthur swiped the gem from Paladin, examining it, before putting it in his pocket. “Well, let’s call it for the night. Got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Thank you, Paladin. For all of this.”

  Paladin simply nodded, turning to go upstairs. Arthur took down the oil lamp and snuffed out the light.