by Thomas Rath
Thane shook his head but couldn’t help smiling back. “Very good, Dor. Now, since you seemed to have mastered the top, let’s move onto something more challenging. Place your hand on the side of the bag.”
Dor complied, his smile still evident, though he doubted Thane’s reasoning. Thane was special. He had a special gift. There were no stories told of others manifesting his power other than the one the Chufa called traitor, who they now understood to be anything but. Still, there was something inside him that hoped his friend was right and that he could do more with his gift that would help in the war. Sensing poison and holding ones breath under water for extended periods was all well and good but thus far, they really hadn’t made much of a contribution to fighting the enemy.
Bren edged closer, intent on everything that Thane said while keenly watching what Dor did.
“Now,” Thane continued, “clear your mind of everything and concentrate solely on the water in the bag. Sense its presence. Make contact with it. Let it touch your senses and then call it to you. Pull it from the bag.”
While the others watched, almost leaning forward with anticipation, Dor closed his eyes and let out a big breath. Placing his hand on the bag he tried to make contact with the liquid inside. He could smell it. He could sense its make-up and relative purity. That it was safe to drink was certain, but he knew that he needed more, a closer connection, if he were to do as Thane had asked. He needed to make contact, but how? He concentrated harder, willing the water to make itself known, to answer his call and break free from its prison.
He suddenly felt the anxiety of those watching him like a great weight upon his mind as if demanding he succeed. Drawing on that pressure he tried to focus it into his hand willing the water to connect with him, willing himself to connect with it and pull it from the bag.
Long minutes passed and Dor’s body began to shake slightly. Come to me, he willed. Answer my call and break free. Over and over again he chanted the words in his mind like a mantra as he tried to make a connection but all he felt was his own energy beginning to wane as if the water were pulling him in instead of him pulling it out. Doubt began strangling his will as time continued to slip along and the reality of failure crept into his mind, gaining strength with each passing moment. It was no use. He was not like Thane. He did not have command of the elements as his friend did. He would fail. He had failed.
Pulling his hand from the bag, he opened his eyes and shook his head. “It’s no use,” he said, wiping what must have been sweat from his hand. “I do not have the power you possess my friend.”
Thane grinned. “Why are you wiping your hand off then?” he asked, motioning to the hand that had been on the bag.
Dor sighed. “It’s just sweat.”
“Really?” Thane asked, obviously not convinced. “I think it is more than that. Did you make contact with the water? Could you feel it in the bag? Could you sense its makeup? Its elements?”
Dor nodded slowly. “Of course. It’s water. It’s the thing with which I feel most comfortable.”
“Exactly!” Thane replied, his enthusiasm obvious. “I think you made contact, and what you find on your hand, that you now wipe off, is water from the bag. I think you were more successful than you realize.”
Dor stopped and stared at his hand. Some moisture still remained on the inside of his fingers but he could not tell whether it was really water or just sweat. What if Thane was right and he really had connected? But if he, in fact, had, he was unaware of it. How would that be helpful? He couldn’t very well climb onto the back of a dragon and hope for the best without knowing what true contact was or felt like. “But I didn’t feel anything. If there was contact and I did indeed pull some water out, I don’t know how it was done. Nothing felt different or out of the ordinary.”
Thane’s eyebrows curled in thought. “That may be so. I did feel a definite connection when I pulled that water from the dragon. So much so, in fact, that I could more easily do it again should the need arise, now that I understand what to reach for.”
Dor nodded his agreement. “Right, so where does that leave me and my feeble attempt?”
Thane smiled. “I would say that leaves you with a lot more practice ahead of you. Practice until you feel the connection and can call all of the water from the bag instead of a few drops only.”
Dor wanted to protest, but the fact that Thane still held to the belief that he’d actually succeeded, that the moisture on his hand was actually water and not just sweat, gave him a sudden boost of confidence. Maybe he was right. Maybe, with more practice, he could make the connection and recognize it for what it was. The idea of complete success sent a thrill through him. Such a boost in the powers of his Tane would indeed make him useful. If Thane was right and he could do it, it would change the whole Chufa race and even possibly the war. Though he knew that that was a stretch, the glory of it still filled him with the desire to continue and try.
Reaching for the bag, he once again closed his eyes, this time using some of the concentration exercises DaxSagn had taught them when first learning to fire a bow. Again he reached for the water, willing his hand to connect with the liquid waiting just on the other side of the thin leather.
Turning to Bren, Thane open his mouth to give the healer his own instructions but found he had already retrieved his own water bag and was in the process of trying to pull water from it. Thane placed a hand on his shoulder. “I think it best we start smaller with you,” he said. “First you must learn about the Tane itself and see if you have any skill with it.”
Kat moved forward. “I would learn too,” she stated flatly as if daring anyone to deny her. Were all women this stubborn?
Thane just nodded his assent. “Of course. The more that can learn, the better it will be for all of us. In fact, once either or both of you acquire the skills, I would expect you to teach it to all the healers you can.”
Both quickly nodded in agreement.
“Now,” he continued, “the MarGua Tane.”
Into the night they discussed what it meant to be MarGua and the powers that came with it while Dor continued to fight the water skin with a tenacity that surprised them all. He was determined to succeed. No matter that he did not progress any further than his first attempt, he continued to feel after the water and struggled to bring it under his will. By the time Bren and Kat left the camp for their own, both could smell moisture on the wind and accurately choose between two liquids which was safe to drink. Thane was amazed at their ability to pick up the subtleties that were the MarGua so quickly. At this rate, he wondered if both would not be pulling water from skins before Dor could, though he hoped not. Such a defeat might dishearten Dor enough to convince him to stop trying.
Chapter Five
Jack exited his tent leaving Teek and Domis still curled up on the floor fast asleep. Since he had taken them in, neither had spent much time away from him and both insisted, though at his objection, that they should work as his servants to pay for his kindness and help. So far that consisted of them running errands on his behalf. Once they tried to prepare him a meal but he put a quick stop to that. Not even Erl would have sniffed at the concoction they’d put together.
Thinking of his long absent wolg friend, he scanned the horizon in every direction to see if he couldn’t catch the slightest glimpse of movement but all was still. He didn’t worry about Erl’s safety, knowing his large friend was safer than any of the rest of them, but he did miss having him around.
Picking his way through the encampment he found Thane and Jne at the head of the refugee camp taking in the grand city in the pre-dawn light. The people from Haykon would have to stay where they were currently camped until the king was made aware of their presence and accommodations secured for them. Movement to his right revealed the approach of Colonel Braxton closely followed by Prince Ranse and his bodyguard Jace. Jack was surprised to find the prince still in his traveling garb having thought he would be in full royal regalia for a meeting with
his father but apparently he still felt it necessary to keep his identity shielded.
Dor and Tam quickly materialized from his left and all converged on the spot where Thane and Jne stood. Dor looked drained. He’d tried a good part of the night to pull the water from the bag but never got any further than a wet hand. It was progress though and he was determined to make the connection. He knew Bren and Kat had been more successful in what they were learning but he also knew that calling water through a sold object was many grades higher than smelling water on the wind. Most non ArVen could do that when a storm was close enough.
Tam had not stayed very long, deciding instead to get what sleep most of the others had forgone. Thane had promised he would teach her later and she didn’t doubt that. She also knew that though another set of eyes in the air might be helpful, Thane was more concerned about fighting right now and how best to use their gifts to their advantage. If he could get them to pull water from their foes, they would have one more tool to help tip the overwhelming advantage Zadok had.
All remained silent, exchanging mere nods of greeting as they quickly fell in line behind Ranse and Jace who would lead the way to the palace and the king’s court. A sudden call shattered the silence and all heads turned to see Teek and Domis running up behind them calling out for them to wait. Everyone turned questioning looks to Jack who glared back. “What?” he snarled. “I didn’t invite them.”
“Master Jack,” Domis called, “You didn’t wake us.”
“For good reason,” he snapped. “What do you both think you are doing out here making such a ruckus? Do you mean to wake the whole camp?”
The two boys looked at each other somewhat shocked and then put their hands to their mouths as they looked around at the people behind them, some currently stirring in their blankets. “Sorry,” They whispered in unison.
“We thought you were leaving without us,” Domis added.
“I was,” Jack retorted. “You were not invited.”
“But Master Jack,” Domis continued, “isn’t it necessary for one representing Teek’s people to be present? After all, this is a war that affects us all.”
Jack glared at the Waseeni boy but then quickly softened his features. In his frustration he wanted to point out that Teek was no longer the representative of a people but merely himself but knew such a blow would be worse than a sword stroke to the young lad. “Possibly,” he finally harrumphed, “but that does not explain your presence.”
Domis looked surprised that Jack had even asked him to justify himself at being there. “Why Master Jack,” he said, the incredulity obvious in his voice, “one of your station should not be without a servant when addressing the king. It would not look proper.”
“My station?” he roared, causing grunts from many in the near proximity who were still trying to get some sleep before the sun rose.
Oblivious now to the volume of his own voice, he was preparing to unleash a barrage on the young boy when the prince appeared at his elbow and whispered, “Is there a problem, Jack?”
He looked at the prince and then back at the two boys who were giving him their most innocent smiles. He sighed heavily. “No, my Lord,” he seethed. “We are ready.”
Ranse smiled, knowing all too well the dilemma Jack faced. “Then let us be on our way,” the prince said lightly.
Jack glared at Domis and Teek and held up a finger of warning. They knew they had gotten away with something enormous but they also knew not to press their luck any further. They would be as quiet as mice in a cheese shop if they knew what was good for them, and they did.
Calandra, though touted as the grandest city, was something of a disappointment as they first approached. Though the city proper was all that it claimed, and certainly more to those, like Thane, who hailed from simple circumstances, the outreaches of the city had grown into a type of slum area where the poorest, and possibly the roughest sort resided. The homes, if they could be called such, were mere shacks and hollows held up with whatever could be scavenged. And because they did not approach the city from an actual road, they had to pick their way through those dwellings like walking through a giant maze. More than once, Ranse had to turn them around and retrace their steps when they came to a abode that had been placed right in their path.
They didn’t run into many people as most were still in their hovels escaping the harsh realities of their world in the blessed dreams of the night. On the occasion a person did appear, most merely turned about and disappeared again into their shelter or scurried away as if in fear.
They stayed as far from the center of the path as possible as that seemed the designated spot for refuse and human waste. Steam drifted into the air from where the debris had been cast creating a pungent fog that ran through the streets like a vaporous wraith ready to catch the unwary. The smell, at times was almost too much to bear as they moved along as fast as they were able. No one spoke as each contemplated what was likely to happen to these people outside the walls of the city. Thane realized with heavy heart that the people of Haykon, who they had been able to save and bring this far, would likely be forced to remain where they were and expected carve out what life they could with the other poor who lived like outcasts from the city proper. He tried not to think about what that meant when Zadok’s army reached the area.
Finally reaching the north road, their pace quickened as they approached the city’s northern gate. The city wall was made from rough rock that at its greatest height was possibly twice as tall as Thane and stretched out to either side for as far as he could see. An archway supported a double gate made of plank wood that would probably only cause a slight pause to an invading army. He could hear Jne’s snort of derision as they neared. It didn’t take a great general to realize that this was not a fortress.
Two guards were posted at the open gates but neither said a word as the group approached and then passed silently into the city. The mud of the previous road was now replaced by rough cobblestones that had been haphazardly placed into the dirt and packed down over time to create a rough surface that was only slightly better than the dirt road. The buildings were also an improvement, however slight, from those that were left outside. Rough stone structures marked, like the road, a step up in class and income from those forced to live outside the city gates.
Though the street remained straight, a web of pathways and small avenues fingered out on either side into a maze of stone structures that mimicked the disorder of the outside city in its seeming chaotic creation. Most of the buildings were one story in size although an occasional anomaly existed in a second story as if to proclaim its inhabitants were that much above the rest of the people with whom they were forced to share space.
A few people came in and out of the buildings, beginning what would be another backbreaking day as they struggled to feed themselves and their families. No one talked to the group as they passed, in fact, most scampered away at their approach like beaten dogs accustomed to the sting of the master’s boot. Those they did see were dressed similar to that of their buildings; rough clothes made from canvas that were put together to be as hardy as possible with obvious signs of constant repair. The clothing lacked any color other than gray and dirty gray and seemed just sufficient to protect the wearer from the outside elements.
An occasional doorstep displayed the body of a sunken figure sleeping off whatever was the drink of choice the night before. The companions watched as one such figure was rudely awakened when the door he was propped against opened up, dropping his head to the ground with a thud eliciting a slight moan from the drunkard’s lips. But it was the bucket of water that followed that roused the man to sputters and curses as he sluggishly extracted himself from the doorstep while swinging wildly for anyone close enough to feel his wrath.
Jack stopped and watched the man with the bucket easily duck away from a wild punch before placing his boot on the vagrant’s rear and pushing him out into the street where he landed in a clump at Jack’s feet.
&n
bsp; “Wess?” The man moaned slightly and then kicked out a foot trying to connect with Jack’s leg. Jack caught the foot easily with his own boot and then kicked back hitting the man’s thigh and educing from him another groan. Marching over to the shop keeper, he asked to borrow the man’s bucket and then filled it in a nearby barrel before dumping it on the pitiful creature still sprawled out in the road. The man gasped and, with effort, pushed himself into a sitting position as he tried to open his eyes and focus on his attacker.
“Show yerself so I can kill ya’,” the man slurred, still trying to force his vision to clear enough to distinguish between the blurry shapes that seemed to dance about his head taunting him.
“Wess, you old flea bag, it’s Jack.” Jack stood over him now, still keeping clear of any fists that might suddenly lash out but stooped down so the man could get a good look at his face.
“Jack?” The man sounded confused. “Did I cheat you in cards?”
Jack laughed. “As a matter of fact, yes you did.”
The man smiled. “Then you must be a friend,” he slurred, gripping the cobblestones in an effort to steady himself.
Jack smiled but returned to the water barrel before dumping the bucket on the man’s head again.
“All right, all right,” the man said, batting at something only he could see.
Jack squatted down beside him again, this time grabbing the man’s shoulder and shaking him gently. “Wess, what has happened to you?”
Wess opened his eyes slightly and stared at him for a long moment. “Jack?”
Jack gave an impatient sigh. “Yes, you dolt, it’s Jack. What are you doing down here sleeping in a doorway?”
Wess tried to spit in disgust but only managed to drop it on his chin. “That rat king, that’s what I’m doing down here. Takes away my post and then releases every last one of us to fend for ourselves.”
