by R. M Garino
From the distance, Angus heard a voice bark “Rhen’val!”
“Kal’Parev!” Another voice barked. This one was much closer. Even members of the crowd jumped back at the rancor in the voice of the approaching Mala’kar.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Caul
“What you did,” Trenton thundered, “was beyond inexcusable!”
Arielle stood at attention, gaze locked on the middle distance. They stood just inside one of the lecture halls, the soul lights glowing a dim red in the far corners. Trenton stalked back and forth, prowling in front of the lectern as if he were a ridge cat. His arms swung wide and expressive as he spoke, making the tattoos inscribed on them dance in the glow of the soul lights. She focused on her breathing, following Trenton’s movements with her peripheral vision. He stopped. Arielle lifted her chin higher.
How much trouble am I in? Arielle worried. The admonishment of her father was still fresh in her mind. She did not think he would tolerate another infraction so soon after their conversation, especially one that evoked a reaction such as this. Her stomach fluttered with the thought. This was bad, she knew. This was serious.
It had been so natural at the time, such a simple step to end an unpleasant situation. His sin’del was right there, pulsing in time with his misguided intentions. All she had needed to do was reach out and touch it. It was as if it had called to her, as if it had wanted her to seize control. And she had. Without thought or a moment’s hesitation. She had drawn away his energy, his life force, and neutralized the threat he posed. It would make him think twice about approaching her in the future, and it might even curb his tongue.
“Well?” Trenton said, ripping her from her reverie. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Arielle’s breath caught. “It seemed like a strategically viable option, sir.”
Trenton cocked his head, as if weighing her words. “Explain.”
“I sensed a hostile situation, with more than one adversary,” she said. “I could have met hostility with hostility, but that would have only exasperated the problem. Instead, I saw an opportunity to disable my opponent with minimal exposure to personal risk. Incapacitating him, taking him out of the fight before it started, would also prevent further aggression on his part.”
Silence answered as he regarded her.
“Your tactics were sound,” Trenton said at last. His voice had lost its sharp edge, but the grim rasp was anything but soft. “It is your methods I am calling into question.”
“I am not sure how I did what I did, sir,” Arielle said. “I was focused on the why of my actions, not the how.”
“Who showed you how to do that?”
“No one, sir.”
His glower showed that he did not believe her. “Your brother would be familiar with this particular technique.”
Arielle met his glare. “Shane did not show me how to do it. It was something that occurred to me at that moment. If it is something that’s ‘inexcusable,’ Shane would never attempt it, much less instruct me in the method.”
Trenton was watching her from beneath a lowered brow. He could glare as much as he liked. He could accuse her of misdeeds to his heart’s content. But she would not stand here as he disparaged her brother in so casual a fashion. If ever there was a Blade worthy of the title Elc’atar, or Mala’kar for that matter, it was her brother.
“The truth might surprise you,” Trenton said.
His words had given her pause, as they echoed those of her father just hours before. Shane had indeed changed in recent years. He had graduated decades before her, and had moved upward through the ranks with speed and precision. She sought to emulate his actions, but had never given any thought to the effect that those actions, that new knowledge and sense of self could do to an individual. Did she truly know her brother anymore? Would she be surprised by what he knew, by what he could or would do?
“You’re thinking,” Trenton said. He was watching her, studying her while she grappled with the thoughts and doubts he had planted within her. “That’s good. Strength of conviction is a wonderful thing, so long as that conviction is not blind to the world around it.
“Shane is a Mala’kar, the highest expression of the Blademaster’s art. He is a Bladeless Master. He has moved beyond the need of a weapon to challenge his enemies. He is the weapon. You aspire to be like him, to scale the same heights as he has. And yet, you have never given serious consideration as to what it means to be Mala’kar. How does it change you to become a Blade? What happens to the mind when it is forged into a weapon?”
Trenton lowered his arms and approached her right side. He moved with only the slightest rustle or sound. He stepped behind her, his pace slow, incremental. A shiver ran down her spine as he studied her.
“These are questions that few ask, but all should. Those few who do, question what we have allowed ourselves to become. They fear us, and they are right to do so. We are dangerous. There is a violence in us that is all the more awful and awe-inspiring because it is directed and restrained.”
Trenton moved into her field of vision again. Arielle kept her eyes locked straight ahead.
“Terror is our armament, but it is only one in our arsenal. And our armory is vast.”
Arielle swayed on her feet, fighting to keep herself steady. Standing had become a chore, breathing an effort.
“With a thought we can maim,” Trenton said, circling her again. “With but a word we can kill. We are the weapon, wielded by our will, tempered by our conscience.”
Arielle dropped to her knees, her palms slapping against the stone floor to keep herself from falling. What was happening to her? She felt herself dwindling, her vision fading. It was as if sleep was washing over her, taking her ability to move, but leaving her awareness intact.
“But what good is a conscience to a Blade? We kill. We do not mourn as we do so. Conscience is a crutch that keeps us weak. A weapon must be strong to be effective. It must not break beneath the pressure placed upon it.”
Arielle bowed, as if pulled down by the earth itself. Cold crept into her limbs, spreading from her fingers and toes to race along her veins.
“This is what you did,” Trenton said as he continued his circuit around her. “It is called the Caul, and as you can see, it is most unpleasant.”
The room darkened, and the edges of her awareness folded in toward her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Discovery
If there was any justice in the world, Angus thought as he wiped his mouth and straightened, he would be asleep right now. The fact that he was still awake gave testament to the absurdity of life and all its institutions.
They were having a good day.
Sure, they had been porcupined, again, but they had completed four pyramid passes within the required time. That alone was worthy of celebration. It was the stuff of legend around here.
And then there was Arielle. She was right there. After all his empty weeks hoping for a chance encounter that never came, she was there in front of him. She had seen him, as filthy as he was, and she had responded with a glorious display of interest.
The Third stood at attention as best they could. They were exhausted, and they were soiled, but they held themselves rigid and stiff as was expected of them. Angus had vomited the moment the strange shimmer left him, and his stomach was still roiling.
A press of Elc’atar brandishing cudgels had broken up the fight and cleared the field. Hironata had earned a wicked gash on his upper arm from someone trying to prevent their exit. Angus was sure that Demona’s wrist was broken, and Thomlin had to steady Enid on occasion. She had received a good whack on the head even after her weapon was sheathed.
Most members of the Fifth had been taken to the infirmary for healing. The two that remained stood at the other side of the field, also at attention. The Mala’kar stood between the two groups, with several Elc’atar in attendance. Angus could not hear what they discussed. Making his squad wait did not se
em to disturb them in the slightest. A little courtesy would have been nice after the day we’ve had, Angus thought. Damned Fel’Mekrins.
A Blade, a Yearling judging by her constant appraisal of all around her, trotted onto the field and headed straight for the senior officers. She came to attention, and offered a salute that was far too casual. The officers continued their conversation. Bloody arrogant bastards, the lot of them, Angus thought, though he took great pains to hide his feelings.
Hammer returned the salute. Several words were spoken, and the Yearling passed something over. He read the missive, dismissed her with another salute, and focused on the Third. Several Elc’atar peeled off with him. As they approached, Angus was relieved to see they were all Le’Manon or Kal’Parev.
Angus rethought his relief as each stopped before a member of his Pride. Hammer, himself, stopped before Angus. Brodhi before Thomlin. From across the field, Angus could see the Fifth duo marching off the field. Probably for a nice little nap, he thought.
“Concern yourself with your own problems, graduate,” Hammer said. Angus jerked his eyes front, but Hammer was glaring at Thomlin.
“Your behavior tonight,” the Mala'kar said, “was a brash, vulgar display. Fel’Mekrin dogs might be content to fight in the street, but you are Kal’Parev, and should not be so base.”
Hammer crossed his arms and surveyed them. “You lot are a walking bundle of trouble. I cannot but turn around without the need to discipline one, or all of you. So, I should not be all that surprised to find you in the middle of this fiasco. I was hoping to end today by commending you all for your perseverance and performance.
“Instead, I find myself needing to discipline you all again. Yes, you were attacked, and yes, you defended yourselves. You rushed to the aid of a comrade who was outnumbered by unworthy and dishonorable opponents. You threw yourselves into the fray without any regard for personal safety. The sentiment is commendable. The action was stupid. You rushed an enemy of superior numbers, without a thought of setting a perimeter or guarding your flanks in hostile territory. An enemy with half a brain could have trapped you in a heartbeat, and several were starting to do just that. That you won the day against a first-tier squad might mitigate the discipline you receive, but I expect better of you next time.
“That is why I’ve assigned a personal physical trainer to help you all retain the lesson. The Elc’atar before you have volunteered to help you remember to think like a team before you act. Fall out! Now!”
A chorus of jeering invectives such as “Move it!” and “Run, scrub!” followed the last command.
Angus looked at Hammer, who was watching him with an intense curiosity.
“Hyde will live,” Hammer said. Beneath the weight of fatigue, Angus was slow to understand. Hammer noted the confusion, and with a sigh, elaborated. “Hyde, the Fel’Mekrin whose face and neck you shattered. We’re not sure what his life will be like after tonight, especially after drawing his blade for a fist fight, but at least he’ll have one.”
“That is good to hear, sir. I was not aware I had hit him so hard.”
“He should have taken your arm off.”
“He should have.” Angus frowned, shaking his head. “I honestly don’t know what happened.”
“Explain it to me as best you can. You can leave out the stupidity of trying to block a sword with your arm.”
“I can’t. My sin’del seemed to . . . shrink. It pulled in, tighter than I have ever felt it, and the blade bounced off it. I honestly have no idea what I did. But it left me sick to my stomach.”
Hammer’s gaze shifted to the middle ground. “What you describe is a very difficult thing to do. Few learn how. The Mala’kar have mastered it. Those few Elc’atar who can take years to learn it. What you describe is an armor, the strongest there is, and it is made from nothing more than your own sin’del. It can protect you absolutely, but its strength is dependent upon your will, your continual focus. If either slips, so does the armor. Do you understand?”
Angus nodded slow and thoughtful as he considered his words.
“To be honest, I had not expected one so young to learn how to do this. Especially not an undisciplined scrub like you. It is . . . unprecedented, to say the least. If you can perfect your control, you will rise far.”
“Control it? I have no idea what I did. I don’t even know if I can—”
Angus stumbled back as Hammer struck him, a full-armed punch to the jaw.
His head rung, and spots swirled across his sight. He went several steps, but kept his feet. Aside from the initial impact, there was no pain. He had been punched several times in his life, and he knew full well what it felt like. This was different, as if his head were wrapped in cloth when struck. He examined his fingers, watching the clear white light shimmer tight against his flesh. He could not help but smile.
Turning to show Hammer his success, he was too slow to deflect a kick that was aimed for his middle.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The Silver Knot
Downward Arielle descended into the darkness of her own consciousness. Her vision failed. She was not yet prone, as she still felt the cool stone of the floor against her hands. Her arms were beginning to quiver, unable to bear the weight they tried to hold. Panic dulled her thoughts, forcing them to run in elliptical circles, desperate to escape the situation.
In the back of her mind, buried deep within, a soft light beckoned, pulsing with familiar rhythms. It drew to her, although it was not real, not present in any conventional sense. She reached for it, and it grew clearer. Power flooded into her, buoying her, and the room brightened. She could sense a presence there. It was separate from her, and yet inside her at the same time, cohesive yet distinct. Her sin’del flared as the presence filled her.
“This is what you did,” Trenton said. “This is what he felt as you bled the life force from him. This is how it feels to have your life stolen from you. It . . . is . . . wrong . . .”
Arielle was aware of Trenton’s words trailing off, but gave it only half her mind. Even as he siphoned off her energy, the other source filled her. At first it was a trickle, a small stream that attempted to replace the flood that fled from her. But as the awareness of it grew in her mind, it grew to where she existed in stasis, a balance between the two flows, like a rock embedded in the flow of a river. The presence enveloped her in comfort, replacing the warmth stolen from her limbs. Despite the difficulty, Arielle focused her strength and raised her head. She was smiling.
Trenton glowered. His sin’del was a tremendous, swollen thing that showed his confusion, his shock at what he was seeing. Her smile made him start, the soul lights brightening. His gaze flicked to the side, to a space just beyond where she knelt, and his frown, his confusion, deepened.
“If this thing is evil . . .” she said. She struggled to collect her sluggish thoughts. “If this thing is evil, then I must remember not to use it.”
Trenton glared at her, indignation now washing across him in crimson waves. He moved out of her vision, and she moved her head to follow him. He walked to the door, and searched the hall. He waved a dismissive gesture, and the debilitating flow vanished. With a slow, gentle tide the energy flowed back to her, and she felt her strength return. At least Trenton had been kinder to her than she had been to Davin.
The silver, pulsing knot in the back of her mind faded as well, overshadowed by the glow of her own sin’del. With a tremendous effort she stood, her limbs weak and tremulous. The sensation lessened with each breath she took. She swayed as she concentrated on a simple breathing exercise.
Trenton was still watching her, his scrutiny moving between her and the door. She was not sure, but she believed that the fury was absent from his sin’del. Then again, it was drawn so tight against him that she had difficulty ascertaining any emotion within him. He was studying her, as if trying to puzzle out why things had not transpired as he expected.
“See that you don’t,” he said. He pivoted on his heel without
a sound, and left the room.
Arielle watched him go and waited for her strength to return. The realization of what had happened was slow to filter through her mind. Trenton had performed the Caul on her. She had resisted and fought him to a standstill. But she had done nothing. Whatever had fought him off had come from outside of her. But, she knew, it was something inside her too. The knot of silver light.
She remained standing as she was for some time. She felt drained, wrung out, stretched thin, as if her skin did not quite fit right anymore. And at the same time she felt . . . glorious, and trembling, and more alive than she could ever remember feeling. Something had happened, something . . . brilliant, which had allowed her to resist. She beheld the world in a sharper focus, and the colors were deeper, more intense.
It was as if she had been sleepwalking throughout all her life. Now, she was awake.
But the sensation was slipping away. For a moment, just a moment before she spoke, she had felt . . . whole. Now, however, she felt empty, bereft, worse than when Trenton was drawing her life away. She could think back over the decades her life had thus far spanned, and could not recall having experienced such an existential void before.
And yet, she knew, she had.
This had happened once before.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Satyagraha
Angus jumped backward, trying to put as much distance between Hammer’s foot and himself. He was too slow, and caught the full impact just below the navel. Once again, the blow was muffled by the strange armor. The pressure was there, but it was lessened to such a degree that it was easy to ignore.
