by TR Cameron
He dragged in an awed breath. “It’s beautiful.”
Cali nodded. “Like a piece of history.”
He lifted the item and examined it in the light that filtered from the lamp hanging above the island. The gemstones glittered as he turned the pommel and he pointed to a line of script. “What does that say?”
She frowned and squinted to make the letters out but couldn’t translate them. “I’m not sure. When Emalia’s done with all her other tasks, I’ll ask her to have a look at it.”
“That’s understandable.” He laughed. “Certainly, you have things to do other than investigate your ancestry.” Almost regretfully, he folded the item into its wrappings. “Will you acquire the remaining pieces soon?” He couldn’t hide the note of hope, excitement, or maybe avarice in his voice.
“I plan to. It’s one of my highest priorities. Right after survival, more or less.”
“It seems as if your issues are in the proper order then.”
“I’d like to think so. Anyway, I have to get moving or Nylotte will make me pay for it.”
His grin returned. “Ah, indeed. One should never disappoint her. She has a long memory.”
She sensed a story but lacked time to inquire. Instead, she bolted from the shop with a wave and ran to the front of the Dark Elf’s home and business. She paused to suck in a deep breath and stepped inside. Immediately, the other woman’s voice floated up from the basement. “You’re late.”
Cali rolled her eyes and shut the door, then made her way down the stairs. “Am not. I’m perfectly on time.”
The Drow was seated in a lotus position in the center of the warding circle. Her outfit was all dark and almost identical to her own but of much finer quality. She raised an elegant eyebrow at her student’s arrival. “Which is late. Didn’t your great-aunt teach you proper manners?”
In silence, she sat across from her and bound her hair back with a tie before she responded. “Yeah, but you know, some lessons don’t take as well as others. Zeb makes a similar complaint from time to time.”
Nylotte laughed. “He is a man of considerable patience to deal with you on such a regular basis.”
With a sigh, she replied, “Are you this abusive to all your students?”
“Only the ones I like.”
“You have students you dislike?”
She grinned and showed her teeth. “They rarely last long.”
“I’ll pretend you simply mean they choose to no longer be taught by you. Please don’t bother to correct me. So, what’s the plan?”
The Dark Elf nodded and turned businesslike but didn’t bother to hide the amused sparkle in her eye. At least she’s not kicking me out or whatever. Yet.
“There are three things you need to learn based on what I’ve seen and been told by Diana. First, to master lightning. Second, how to use others’ magic as fuel. Third, how to properly swing a sword.”
Cali frowned. “I have more than enough magic and Sensei Ikehara says I’m fine with a sword.”
Her teacher shook her head. “Fine is not good enough. And with all appropriate respect to your martial arts instructor, my techniques have been refined by practical experience. You will benefit from the additional knowledge.”
“I bow to your great wisdom.”
Nylotte uncoiled into a standing position in a smooth motion that her student envied. Jealousy wasn’t a good trainer, however, so she rose and threw her jacket outside the circle, then turned her full attention to the other woman, who spoke without delay.
“So, you have managed to force the lightning to do your bidding at other times. Now, you will convince it, instead.”
Sure I will. “Okay.”
Her tone must have conveyed the doubt because the Drow repeated, “You will. Believe it.”
“I’m ready.”
“Now, you’ll do three things. First, you’ll draw the energy out of you and create a shield of lightning all around you. That’s the easy part as it already wants to come out. You simply need to tell it to stop afterward.” The other woman stepped outside the ring and gestured, and a shimmering cylinder rose to surround her student and reached to the ceiling.
Cali took a deep breath to focus and gave in to the constant pressure of her magic trying to escape. She transformed the raw power into electricity and let it slip a little before she pulled it back. It resisted like a pet straining against a leash. Instead of countering the impulse with force, she drew upon her martial arts mindset and redirected the energy to spin around her.
Her teacher clapped from her safe place outside the shield. “Well done. I’ve never seen one move like that before. It’s a very interesting technique.”
“Shut it,” she muttered, then spoke loudly enough for the other woman to hear, “Okay, what’s next?”
“Stop your whining. Okay, draw all that power into your hands. Later, you’ll be able to skip the whole-body step, but it teaches an important mental part of the process. Imagine the lightning coating your skin the same way you’ve used force to do before. It’s like a glove a centimeter away from the surface. If you need to make it move, that’s fine.”
Her voice was teasing at the end and made the girl smile even through the frustration of trying to learn the new magic that seemed so foreign to her. When Emalia had described it as forcing the lightning to do her bidding, that had made sense. This approach—coaxing and cajoling and essentially begging her power to do what she wanted it to do—somehow didn’t seem natural.
But maybe what’s natural isn’t necessarily what’s best, right? Natural didn’t get me lightning whips.
She visualized her objective and her skin crawled as the lightning coalesced around her fists. With a chuckle, Nylotte said, “We’re not forcing it, and you’re not about to punch anyone. Relax.” She obeyed and her hands ached as she forced them to unclench. “Now, imagine the power spilling forward toward the floor without losing your connection to it. Create the weapon you want.”
Cali closed her eyes and pictured the whips, each about five feet, extending from her palms to coil on the ground near her boots. When she opened them, her vision had become a reality. She lifted one carefully and flicked it experimentally. It wavered and for a moment, she feared she was about to lose control of it before it solidified again. A few moments later, she had it and slashed the air with her new toys, a fierce grin on her face.
Nylotte dropped the shield and threw in a sphere of light, and Cali struck it with a snap of her wrist. Her teacher challenged her with more throws, and she intercepted each one. Finally, the woman said, “Okay, enough.”
With a satisfied sigh, she let the magic fall away. “Not bad. Not bad at all. It only required a totally different perspective than any I’ve used before.”
“That’s all?” The Drow’s tone was amused. “Well, good job with it anyway. You’ll need to practice often in order to maintain them during a fluid situation like a battle, but I have no doubt you’ll get there. Now, conjure a shield.”
Over the next half hour, the Dark Elf instructed her how to siphon power with her shields rather than simply absorb or deflect it. She couldn’t imagine a scenario where she’d need to use the technique but was glad to know it, nonetheless. By the time they’d finished, her mind was tired and she was aching from the constant push and pull of magic. She groaned and the Dark Elf laughed. “Yes, if you’re sore, it means we’ve done a good job so far. Adapting your body to the demands of your magic is more difficult than it seems at first.”
“I believe that. So, are you serious about the sword?”
“I am.” Nylotte crossed into the storage area of the shop and returned with two wooden blades, each about the size of the heirloom that Alessand was restoring for her. She tossed one to Cali and spun the other through a complicated pattern of figure eights, circles, and slashes.
The hilt was worn as if it had been used to train countless students, and she was struck again by how many secrets lingered around the other woman. She made
a mental note to chat to Diana about her as the agent would doubtless have a wealth of information to share. The weapon was a little heavy for one-handed use so she grasped the hilt with both.
Her teacher shook her head. “You’ll need to be able to wield it one-handed. For now, you can practice with two as you’ll want to have the option to do both. But you either have to build your muscles or use your magic because the other hand will be used for casting or defense.”
She frowned. “You don’t think I’ll be able to cast magic through my family’s sword?”
The Drow shrugged. “There’s no record of that ability that Alessand or I could find so we can’t count on it. If you can, it simply means we can put a shield or dagger in your off-hand. Either way, you need the flexibility. Trapping both your hands on one weapon would be extremely foolish.” She moved into a fighting stance with the sword crossed before her. “Now, defend yourself if you can.”
As Nylotte darted forward and the weapon swung, Cali threw her best block up, knowing there was no chance it would be in time. Something tells me I’ll regret this in the morning.
Chapter Eight
The image that rippled on the other side of the portal was as strange as any place Cali had ever seen. With a nod to Nylotte and a grimace at the way her muscles hurt after the training session of the night before, she stepped from Earth to Oriceran and from the underground Kemana to the abandoned village the Drow had scouted for her.
The tear in reality closed behind her. The Dark Elf had offered to join her but this seemed like a task she needed to do alone, which was why she’d rejected the same offer from Tanyith, Zeb, and Fyre. Whether for herself, out of respect for her parents, or for some other reason, it didn’t matter. She’d handle this particular investigation herself.
And, if something unexpected happens, I’ll portal out and bring friends next time.
When her teacher had described the location as an abandoned village, Cali had imagined an image from The Hobbit—a cheerful community like the Shire. This was not even close. The homes were simple affairs of rough stone and cracked mortar. Freestanding barns suggested livestock or horses but nothing remained to indicate what might have once lived there. She’d thought of the location as a place people had recently moved on from. Instead, the town was cold, harsh, and utterly lifeless. Reflexively, she let her magic extend beyond the confines of her skin to detect any arcane danger before it could reach her.
If there had once been decorations or creature comforts of any kind, they were long gone. She shuddered at the unreality of the experience as she’d never seen a location on Earth like it and doubted she ever would. She pulled the map the Dark Elf had provided out of the back pocket of her combat uniform, oriented herself in the right direction, and stowed it again. An act of will summoned her sticks to her hands. Wary that this could be a trap, she strode forward.
The rest of the village was the same. A dozen or so families might have called the settlement home once upon a time, maybe more if they didn’t live by the same social rules that were considered normal on her planet. Eventually, the individual buildings gave way to what had probably been the town square and the large structure positioned at the far end of it. That was her objective—the town’s common building. She couldn’t hazard a guess as to why her parents had selected that location. Her inclination would have been to choose the least impressive part of the community rather than the most obvious one.
Although it was constructed of the same mismatched stones as the rest of the village, it rose twice as high. The entry doors were also double the height of those in the homes and appeared to be solid as she approached them cautiously. She nudged her magic farther outward to seek wards or other dangers but detected none. Still, caution ruled her and she pushed on the doors with her sticks rather than touching them.
They swung open with only a whisper of protest to reveal an empty room beyond. In the center, a circle of stones surrounded a dark area with a place for the fire’s smoke to escape in the ceiling above. The image of a community coming together there at night, parents and children, cooking and sharing stories and generally being with one another, rippled in her mind’s eye.
Me? Emotional about family? Nah. She sniffed at the thought and moved toward the far end of the space, where a divider that stretched across three-quarters of the building’s width separated the back portion.
Smaller doorways set in the side walls provided entry and exit, and low stone tables that she guessed were for food prep filled most of the area. What caught her attention was the section of the floor made of wood instead of stone. The heavy planks were as rough as the rest of the structure but they had one very compelling feature—a tall wooden ring that jutted from the center.
Cali tried unsuccessfully to lift it, pushed power into her muscles with magic, and failed again. She crouched beside the wood square in thought, then joined her sticks into a staff and pushed it through the handle. The lever plus her enhanced strength were sufficient to pop the cover free, and she let it fall to one side.
She directed a small ball of flame through the opening. The fire illuminated a short ladder leading to a basement that was barely higher than she was tall. “This doesn’t look promising,” she muttered but descended carefully. She directed the sphere around the cramped area—which was only slightly larger than the living room in her apartment—and found nothing other than the packed dirt floor under her feet and the stone walls on all four sides. Disappointment welled within her but she pushed it away.
The dagger had to have led me here for a reason. She examined each of the walls—first with her eyes, then with her magic, and finally, ran her fingertips in slow exploration over the surface and pressed inward.
By the time she had completed the two sides and made it halfway through the back one, she had begun to feel a little despondent when she found something new. A slender opening, more tall than wide, was hidden from view by a clever shadow cast by the surrounding stone. If she’d relied only on vision, she wouldn’t have discovered the crevice. With growing excitement, she pulled the dagger out and pushed the tip into the gap. It slid fully into place with only the hilt on the outside. She waited but nothing happened. “Well, that’s anticlimactic.”
Her words echoed in the small space. Trying to turn the knife brought no change, and her attempt to move the weapon in any direction other than in and out met with the same result.
“Fine. Be that way.” She took a deep breath and shunted magic into the blade, willing it to reveal whatever secrets it held. A click sounded, and a portion of the wall about a foot to the left of the dagger swung inward. She had to crouch and pass through sideways to fit. Fortunately, the passage beyond was short. It ended in a wooden door, one far less rough than anything she’d seen thus far in the village. It opened on well-preserved hinges as she pushed through. Behind it lay a room that immediately reminded her of her parents’ bunker in New Orleans.
A lamp overhead came to life as she entered and a soft glow emanated from it to banish the room’s shadows. It was rectangular, longer than it was wide, and the two side walls had long tables running down them. Again, they were wood and of a craftsmanship that exceeded the village outside. So my parents probably brought them here by portal. The far wall held three floor-to-ceiling wooden cabinets, each with closed double doors.
Wooden storage boxes rested on about half the table area and the remainder of the space was empty except for the sheen of dust that covered all the horizontal surfaces in the room. Two uncomfortable-looking chairs were tucked under the table to the right. She lifted the lid of the closest box and set it aside. Within the container was a jumble of books and papers. She examined a few but they were written in the language of House Leblanc that she hadn’t yet had time to learn. With a sigh, she returned them and covered the crate again.
She checked a few more but discovered nothing that brought either information or clarity. I’ll have to take these to Emalia. She can add them to her to-do list
. The thought of her great-aunt inspired a smile. Her efforts in New Atlantis agreed with her, and she seemed more alive with each day that passed. It made pushing so much work on her almost guilt-free. Almost.
When she was no longer able to distract herself by checking the less interesting items, she approached the cabinets at the rear of the room. They were identical in every way, and the tables ended far enough from them that the doors could swing open unhindered. She opened the one on the left and was surprised to find it empty. The hangars and shelves reminded her of the locker in her parents’ other secret hideaway, and she assumed they might have once stored the uniforms and associated equipment there.
She checked the one on the far right next. Four black backpacks, each filled to bursting, rested on shelves. She pulled one out and almost dropped it on her foot due to the unexpected weight. It unzipped to reveal a treasure trove of emergency supplies, from packets of dried food to first aid items.
So, my parents had go-bags for us. That was smart and they are something I need to move back to Earth. Being able to portal from danger made the gear less necessary than it might be for someone without that ability, but preparation was always good. She hauled out the other three and lugged all of them into the center of the room.
Finally, she couldn’t delay it any longer. She strode to the remaining cabinet and yanked the doors open. Inside, carefully mounted in what could only be custom holders, was an assortment of more weapons than she’d ever seen in a single place other than Alessand’s shop. The doors and the sides held smaller ones like knives for cutting, stabbing, and throwing. One with a missing partner looked exactly like the dagger she’d used to open the room, and she tucked it into her belt.
The back wall had a clear dividing line about two-thirds of the way up. Above were four pairs of pistols and two rifles. Below were swords, two sized for larger people and two for smaller. Unlike the elegant weapon she attempted to reconstruct, these were basic items designed for efficiency. The leather-wrapped handles looked well worn.
