by Ben Hale
In halting words Alydian described how the magic of rage held no power by itself, yet it empowered every spell to monumental levels. Her strength charm had been strong enough to shatter her anti-magic walls, but like a vengeful wraith she’d stalked her captors and begun the slaughter. Her rampage culminated in the devastation of Dawnskeep, the fortress the oracles had called home since the Dawn of Magic. For a long moment there was silence, and then Elenyr inclined her head.
“I’m proud of you.”
Surprised, Alydian turned on her. “How can you be proud of such an act?”
“You escaped a cell forged to contain the mightiest of mages, but it was not your greatest fight. That came when you could have slain Devkin, when you battled for your soul. It may have controlled your escape, but the magic of rage was not your master.”
Alydian saw the love in her mother’s eyes. “I foresaw your death in Skykeep,” Alydian said, tears forming in her eyes. “I could not bear to let you die.”
They parted and Elenyr bore a smile on her face. “You saved many more lives than you took that day,” she said. “But now you must turn your thoughts to Teriah.”
“We’re weeks from facing her,” Alydian said.
“And it will take time to prepare,” Elenyr said. “You must be as strong as you were in your escape—without resorting to rage.”
Alydian raised her chin. “I used my solitude to train. I can defeat her.”
Elenyr shook her head. “You have learned much, that is true, but she will be growing as well. Make no mistake, she will have seen the destruction of Dawnskeep as a challenge, one that requires retribution.”
“Then what do you propose?” Alydian asked. “You cannot train me with magic, so how can you help?”
“I don’t require magic to teach,” Elenyr said. “I merely require a willing student.”
Alydian laughed lightly. “That you have.”
“Then let us begin,” Elenyr said. “Begin with the common magics and demonstrate what you have learned. I cannot enhance your skills until I understand their state.”
Alydian hesitated, her thoughts on the rebellion. But the hopeful look in her mother’s eyes convinced her to stay. Elenyr wanted to feel needed, and Alydian could spare a few minutes for her. Much to her chagrin, Elenyr was right, and it quickly became apparent that her mother had not withdrawn out of self-pity, she’d done so to prepare Alydian’s training.
Alydian used the earth and air, heat and water, sunlight and shadow, casting each into entities of battle. Most were golems, but she sought to vary the entities, turning several into human soldiers. When it became difficult to control them she stopped and turned to her mother.
“Fourteen entities?” Elenyr asked, walking among them. “Your ability has grown.”
Alydian flashed a faint smile. “Devkin once said that discipline was universal. In my cell I cast and fought dozens of shadow entities at once. It was only after my escape I realized Devkin was right.”
“Impressive,” Elenyr said, running her hand along the treewalker. “I find myself jealous of your six months as a Runeguard. It certainly built your foundation of discipline.”
“I would not have survived my imprisonment without it,” Alydian said seriously.
“Your training helped you master your magic,” she said. “Now you must master yourself.”
Alydian raised an eyebrow and gestured to the fourteen entities. “Have I not demonstrated that already?”
“Not yet,” Elenyr said, her eyes flicking over Alydian’s shoulder.
Alydian reflexively turned—but found a blade at her throat. Shock bound her tongue as another hand wrapped around her stomach, holding her fast. She sucked in her breath, fighting the rising panic, and the surge of rage.
Then abruptly the blade was gone, the hand wielding it retreating out of view. She whirled to find Devkin standing in her shadow. He grinned sheepishly as he sheathed his sword and retreated to a safe distance, wisely respecting the fury in Alydian’s eyes.
They have betrayed us!
Alydian fought to suppress whisper’s fury, the prospect of betrayal bringing the magic of rage into her flesh. Her blood thundered in her heart and red lightning curled up her arms. Her fingers balled into fists as she wrestled for control.
“She swore it was essential,” Devkin said, his tone apologetic.
Alydian rounded on her mother, fleetingly noticing that her entities had disintegrated. “You would betray me?”
Elenyr didn’t flinch at her accusatory tone. “You have the mastery of magic but Teriah has lived for hundreds of years, and knows well how to control herself. Unless you wish to lose yourself to the magic of rage, you must prepare another tactic.”
“I can stop her,” Alydian growled.
“You can’t,” Elenyr said. “You couldn’t anticipate Devkin’s attack.”
“Teriah’s not here,” Alydian said, spreading her hands wide. “There’s no one for miles!”
“Did you examine your farsight when you entered the woods?”
Alydian bit her tongue to remain silent. She could have lied but her mother would read the truth in her face. Looking away, she ground the word out.
“No.”
“An assassin could lurk around every corner, every tree, every rock. For an oracle, the battle is not fought on the battlefield— it is fought in advance. It is fought here.”
Alydian rubbed her neck where the steel and touched her skin. “Did you have to use Devkin?”
Elenyr sighed. “I’m sorry, but you needed to understand, and Devkin was the only one I could trust.”
Alydian released the last of her lingering anger. “What would you have me do?” she asked.
Elenyr smiled, the sheer excitement to her expression inspiring curiosity. She began to step forward, advancing as she spoke.
“The oracles have examined the future since the Dawn of Magic,” she said, “and many have learned the art of combat. But none have blended the two, to see the battle as it happens, to foresee every attack before the foe can think to raise a blade.
“Those with magic train to be battlemages yet they have a fraction of magic, fragments of the whole an oracle possesses. We see every magic, feel every power, yet no oracles have achieved true mastery. Even myself.”
Alydian couldn’t help but smile at her mother’s excitement. “What makes you think I can do what you could not?”
“None have endured the hardship required,” Elenyr said. “You trained as a Runeguard, spent a year in prison, enduring solitude and madness, pain beyond anything an oracle has ever experienced. Even the strong would have broken, yet you found the will to escape, defied the mightiest of shackles to attain your freedom. They called me the phoenix of Therendor, but never did I reach the level you shall attain.”
“And what is that?” Alydian asked.
Elenyr came to a halt in front of her. “I want you to become a battlemage . . . an oracle battlemage.”
Chapter 14: Becoming
Alydian stared at her mother, uncertain how to respond. She couldn’t deny the prospect intrigued her, as much for the challenge as the advantage it would bring. Teriah and Meressa were both powerful oracles, not to mention Elsin, guildmaster of the Verinai.
Or we could destroy them . . .
Alydian shoved whisper aside and imagined what becoming an oracle battlemage would be like, to feel the future just moments before it occurred, to move before the sword swing, to strike—not at where her opponent was—but where they would be.
But was it possible? Oracles could see the future, but it took time and focus, neither of which were possible in the midst of combat. Then she thought of Teriah and Meressa, of what it would require to face them in battle.
The same grit that had been her survival in her prison returned, hardening in her gut. But the fire in her belly would not lead her to victory, it would just make her feel like she would triumph, and probably get her killed. She needed an advantage, and her mother
had provided one.
“How long have you been thinking of this?” Alydian asked.
She smiled. “Nearly a decade.”
Alydian burst into a laugh and looked to Devkin. “Do you think I can do it?”
“There is nothing you cannot do.”
Emotion clogged Alydian’s throat and she had to work to keep tears from her eyes. Devkin had stood by nearly every moment since her arrival in Skykeep, always with his hand close to his sword, ready to give his life for her.
“I take it you intend to help?”
“I helped you become a Runeguard, remember?” He grinned. “And I would dearly like to see Teriah humbled.”
“I as well,” Alydian said, “but how exactly do we do this?”
“Start where I started,” Elenyr replied.
She stepped to a tree and withdrew a sword from behind the trunk. The sight of Elenyr, a woman that had never needed steel in her life, with a sword, caused Alydian to laugh. Elenyr tossed the scabbard aside and glided forward, spinning her sword into an expert maneuver.
“Mother?” Alydian stared. “When did you learn the sword?” She’d never seen her touch a blade, let alone demonstrate a skill in combat outside of magic.
“I may not be an oracle anymore,” Elenyr said, “but I still have my secrets.”
“We have time before Astin expects us,” Devkin said, drawing his own blade. “We’re going to have to steal time whenever possible, but for today, we start slow.” He began to spin his sword in extremely slow motions, gradually turning and twisting into techniques of attack and defense.
“Combat is fast,” he said, accelerating his sword into a blur of steel. “It’s fast enough that you train your muscles to act quickly, to react faster than your mind can think. I know you can wield a sword but you won’t have that luxury of training your body in the same fashion.” He came to a stop and pointed his sword at her. “You’ll have to train your mind to exist just moments ahead of the present.”
“Exactly,” Elenyr said. “You will have to dip into your farsight and watch your immediate future in more detail than ever before, to see the instant a blade will come at you and move to block. Once you can anticipate that, we’ll accelerate our attacks into full combat.”
Alydian cast a sword of fire and readied herself, recalling fighting the entities of shadow in her cell. She shuddered, the image of shadow entities clawing for her flesh appearing in her mind. Not since she’d destroyed the fortress of Dawnskeep had she raised her hand to fight, not since the magic of rage had filled her veins and empowered her magic.
Swallowing, she closed her eyes and dipped into her farsight, focusing on the tree representing her life. The branches all stretched away into thousands of choices and she pressed her consciousness into the trunk, to the impending moments . . .
Alydian felt the flat of a blade on her forehead. “You’re dead,” Devkin said.
“I hadn’t even seen the present,” Alydian protested.
“Be faster,” Elenyr said.
“I can’t use my farsight that quickly,” Alydian said.
“Then learn,” Elenyr said.
Alydian tried, and this time dipped into the trunk of her tree in time to watch Elenyr’s slow advance. But the sight of her drifting blade was too distracting and she could hardly focus, let alone use her farsight. Even though Elenyr attacked slow enough a child could evade, it ended with her sword on Alydian’s chest.
Alydian blew out her breath. “This is ridiculous. I can barely see you, let alone stop you.”
Elenyr nodded and took up position on the other side of her. “Concentrate,” she said. “Feel what is to come.”
For the next hour she struggled to see the impending battle, attempting to feel the blades coming for her, to see her mother and Devkin’s attacks. They tried striking from the flanks, individually, and with various techniques. Each attempt ended the same.
“You’re dead.”
“Dead again.”
“Concentrate, Alydian.”
“I’m trying!” Alydian said.
She wiped the sheen of sweat from her forehead. The evening air wafted across them, a welcome respite from her failure. She’d recast her sword several times but never wielded it. She threw a look skyward, irritated that so much time had passed with so little progress.
“Perhaps we can attempt another day,” Devkin said. “The army marches tomorrow and we should be rested.”
“No,” Elenyr said. “If she is to have a chance at this she must foresee our attacks. Unless you wish to quit?”
Alydian wanted to snap a reply but the fire in her gut had only grown over the course of the evening, and she jerked her head in the negative. Both smiled at her willingness to continue, and Elenyr stepped closer.
“Your farsight can reveal more than you imagine,” she murmured. “Dig deeper and allow it to show you. Now calm yourself and try again.”
Alydian tried again, diving into the tree of her future with as much force as she could muster, willing herself to see the battle that was to come. She’d used her farsight thousands of times and never examined her tree with such effort . . . but this time made a shocking discovery.
She’d always seen her tree as just that, a tree. Each fork showed a decision in her life, the more immediate choices becoming the new trunk. The ever-changing tree was filled with patches of fog indicating her future indecisions.
But that was not all the tree hid.
She’d always though the wood to be solid, but as she dived deep into the tree she found it to be formed of thousands of tiny choices, what to eat, what to drink, what words to speak. All were wrapped so tightly that they resembled solid wood, the insignificant decisions blending into larger choices.
The veins of the wood were so complex she could barely grasp their magnitude. She could raise her arm and block her mother’s blow, turn it aside as she would in regular combat. Or she could evade the blow. Or she could cast a charm, or summon an entity—or use the air—or earth—or—
“You’re dead.”
She’d been so preoccupied with the discovery of her farsight, Devkin had closed the gap and touched his blade to her throat. But the prospect of what she’d seen filled her with excitement and she opened her eyes. With quick words she detailed what she’d seen, and when she finished Devkin raised an eyebrow to Elenyr.
“Could you really see all that?”
Elenyr nodded, her eyes tinged with anticipation. “Are you ready?”
Now eager, Alydian readied herself again. This time she dipped into her trunk and went straight to the next few seconds in time . . . and saw her mother’s advancing swing. Rather than consider a more elaborate defense, she merely raised her arm to block the strike from where it would land. Her angle was off, but she felt a satisfying impact along her arm.
“Better,” her mother said as she retreated. “Now let one defense flow into another. Devkin, attack the right flank.”
He nodded and they drifted apart as Alydian readied herself again. This time she brought her arm up and blocked Elenyr’s strike before twisting to avoid Devkin’s driving lunge. She moved as slowly as they did, mimicking a dance as she twisted and turned.
Devkin’s skill was legendary, and he employed techniques that would have destroyed her swordplay—if they were full speed. This time she held her own, keeping just ahead of the present to survive. She lasted thirty seconds before a distraction cost her. On the next attempt she lasted a minute.
Each duel lasted longer and longer and Alydian found a surprising equilibrium. If she pushed too far into the future, the myriad of choices left her confused. If her thoughts remained too close to the present, she couldn’t react quickly enough.
The duels intensified, not in speed but in complexity and duration. Alydian willed her thoughts to remain moments into her future, a smile spreading on her face as she felt the swings pass in front of her body, drifting between them and striking with her own blade.
The combat
was oddly exhilarating, and like watching ghosts moving ahead of her mother and Devkin. The ghosts quickly separated, the blades swinging in different directions, showing the various choices of her combatants. The closer she came to the present the closer the ghosts merged. The farther she pushed into the future, the more indistinct the figures became, the ghosts merging into the purplish clouds she’d always seen in her farsight.
A spontaneous laugh burst from her lips as she realized the clouds were just her mind attempting to show the thousands of possibilities of her future. If she could master combat farsight, she’d be able to defeat anyone—without resorting to the magic of rage.
“Excellent,” her mother said, and Alydian came to a halt and turned to her.
“I can see it,” Alydian breathed. “Every one of your motions, every one of your possible attacks—all before you could think them.”
“Well done,” Devkin said with an encouraging nod. Then he glanced at the sky. “But we should be getting back.”
Alydian followed his gaze and realized it was getting dark. They’d been dueling for several hours but she was not fatigued, not after the endless hours of training in her cell. Elenyr smiled and sheathed her sword.
“I think that’s enough for today,” she said. “You know how to use it. Now you have to do it at the speed of combat.”
“How hard can that be?” Alydian asked, excited at the prospect. “Did you ever reach this point?”
Elenyr smiled. “In less time than you.”
That brought Alydian to a halt. “Then why didn’t you master it?”
Elenyr turned to face her, her expression turning intense. “Every oracle that has sought farsight mastery has attained the ability you have, to fight opponents moving slower than normal. None have managed to push it farther.”
Alydian frowned, realizing her accomplishment was not as spectacular as she’d first assumed. She’d thought her quick mastery deserved praise, but now realized it was hardly groundbreaking.
“So how do I do more?” Alydian asked, squashing her pride.
“I don’t know,” Elenyr replied, her piercing gaze settling on Alydian. “Many have reached the same barrier as you, and none have found a way around it. This will be the test of your willpower, daughter. Rise to the challenge and nothing will be outside your grasp. Even defeating another oracle.”
