Chronicles of Galadria II_Encounters

by David Gay-Perret

  “I understand, master.”

  “Then, in that case, back to work.” Then, as always, Kezthrem left the room. This time, though, Glaide set about his task without grumbling. He had no interest in repeating the display from earlier, especially not with someone before him who wasn’t as speedy as his master.

  Towards the end of the afternoon, he tried to make his sword disappear again. The result was less than satisfying, though; while he succeeded at picturing the entire weapon, guard included, he seemed to be incapable of making it disappear.

  With his undeniable progress over the course of the day, however, came an idea of something else he could do. He waited until night came, then pretended to go to bed. However, when he reached his room, he waited there quietly, listening to the sounds around him. He didn’t know if his master would allow what he was about to do. When he heard nothing in the house, he headed out, moving as discretely as possible, sword in hand. He quickly reached the garden without any problems.

  Once there, he allowed a smile to cross his lips. With his bare feet in the cool grass, he drew. He began to strike out with his sword in all directions, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Simply making the sword move filled him with joy. He imagined that he was being attacked by numerous adversaries, and for more than an hour, he attacked the empty space around him. The moon glinted off the blade from time to time, and the familiar weight of the blade forced the young man to wield his sword with both hands.

  Finally, he stopped, out of breath, but filled with happiness. It had been more than a month since he’d found himself in combat, and though he still knew little more than he had when he came, defeating imaginary adversaries did him good. More than that, he found himself forced to admit that Kezthrem’s training had not been as useless as it had seemed; though his movements remained disjointed and inefficient, he could see that every attack was more precise, more rapid, and more powerful. As quietly as he’d come, he climbed back up the stairs, promising himself that, every evening, he would come out to make a few passes with the sword, at least until his master finally taught him to fight.

  The next morning, sitting in the dojo to stare at his blade for the umpteenth time, his head filled with the emotion of the evening before, Glaide barely even noticed as his head began to droop, and his eyelids grew heavy. He had gone to bed late, then had woken early, and faced with an exercise as thrilling as the one he was working on, he found he had more and more difficulty staying awake. What was bound to happen eventually did, and he fell soundly asleep.

  Suddenly, a pain in his side woke him, brusquely. He rolled onto his side to dodge a second strike of the foot, jumped up with a bound, holding his sword high, and yelled, “Master, we’re under atta...” His cry froze in his throat; Kezthrem stood before him, a severe look on his face. “And I can see that you’re vigilantly standing watch,” responded the man, sarcasm filling his words. Glaide thought he could distinguish a glint of amusement in his eyes, but he didn’t dare say anything. “I came to see if you’d made any progress.”

  “Eh... umm... of course,” replied the adolescent, embarrassed. His master was obviously waiting for something. The adolescent steeled himself. “Okay, Glaide,” he encouraged himself. “This is the moment to show what you can do.” He held his sheathed sword before him, his arm stretched out. With a speed that surprised even him, it disappeared. He hadn’t even needed to concentrate or make much effort. Unfortunately, he couldn’t make it reappear so easily, and instead had to concentrate for a long time to make it reappear. However, there was one notable improvement: this time, the sword appeared mid-dair, sheathed and still. It fell safely to the ground.

  “You know what you still have to do,” the man said, simply.

  Glaide nodded, and his master left. That evening, the adolescent again fought invisible enemies, then went to bed, exhausted.

  Four more monotonous days passed. Each evening, Glaide practiced a few movements out in the empty space of the garden. It became a habit, and he took a great deal of pleasure in it. However, though the fourth day passed much like the three before it, the fourth evening revealed itself to be completely different. The young man reached the garden with his usual silence, and once again began his attack in all directions.

  This time, however, he used the movements to improve his technique. To do that, he choreographed a set of three attacks that he repeated over and over, until he could do them as quickly and precisely as possible.

  He chose to start by slicing diagonally from his left shoulder towards his right hip, then horizontally from his right arm to his left, then finally from his left hip up to his right shoulder. He repeated the three passes for a while, trying to execute them as neatly as possible. Just as he went to make the third slice, for probably the tenth time, he heard a voice resonate from behind him.

  “If you want to slice like that, you should move your back leg.”

  The young man froze. He knew that voice all too well. “I was stupid to think I could train behind his back,” he thought. “From the beginning, he knew what I was doing...”

  His heart beat rapidly, but he didn’t turn, instead starting the set of attacks again from the beginning, and this time, taking care to move his leg forward to place the last attack. The simple change made everything easier, and prevented him from losing his balance. He attacked twice more, then, hearing no other sound behind him, he turned around. There was no one in the doorway, though. Kezthrem had already left.

  “I wasn’t dreaming,” thought the adolescent. “He was there, and gave me a tip: one small bit of advice...” Feeling a bit feverish, he decided to go to bed.

  Chapter 21

  AFTER a while, Glaide began to believe he truly had dreamed it; three days passed after the incident, and his master never once mentioned it. Worse, his training hadn’t changed even the tiniest bit. Glaide grumbled and complained to himself about it all the time. Kezthrem, seemingly unaware of Glaide’s boredom, only added in a few new endurance exercises from time to time, and nothing more. Nonetheless, the young man was sure that that new day would be the dawn of a new era: the evening before, he had managed to make his weapon disappear and reappear directly in his hand, rather than at his side. He was finally able to instinctively reach the state of mind that allowed him to superimpose his thoughts on the reality around him. He’d tried several times, just to make sure that it wasn’t just luck, and had had perfectly satisfying results. Every time, his weapon had appeared exactly where he wanted it to, and with or without the sheath – whichever he wished for at the time. Even if he left his weapon sitting on his futon and turned his back on it, he was still successful at making it appear in his hand. In the bright light of morning, he rushed to find Kezthrem, who was sitting in the middle of the dojo.

  “Master, I have good news!”

  “Do you?” he replied, his face impassive.

  “I think I’ve got it! I’ve mastered making my sword appear and disappear!”

  The man said nothing, and simply got up. He fixed his gaze on his disciple, his eyes seeming to penetrate deep into his disciple’s soul.

  “Are you certain?” he asked in a serious voice.

  For a moment, Glaide doubted himself. But he had no time for self-doubt now. He had already checked and rechecked the night before, and didn’t expect his master to simply take him at his word. He would repeat his exploit today.

  “Yes,” he said confidently.

  “Then let’s see it.” As he said the words, Kezthrem made his own weapon appear. The young man copied him with such speed that it was a surprise even to himself. His master raised one eyebrow, a sign of satisfaction. However, the test was far from over, as Glaide well knew. The man advanced towards him with a menacing air. The adolescent hesitated to decide how to proceed, knowing that he had no chance in direct combat. He decided to step to the side, forcing his adversary to follow him. And so the master and his disciple began to circle each other, slowly, carefully observing each other.

/>   Suddenly, Kezthrem bounded towards him, blade held high. Glaide let down his guard to let his sword disappear, so that it wouldn’t get in his way, and somersaulted to the side. As he came out of the roll, with one leg still on the ground, his sword reappeared so that he could attempt an attack. His master was faster, though; he’d anticipated the move, and as the young man raised his gaze to make his attack, he saw nothing but the shadow of Kezthrem passing over him. The man touched down like a cat, almost silently, and the young man knew it would be pointless to turn. Instead, he made his sword disappear, then rolled forward to put himself out of reach of his adversary, who had made his own sword reappear, ready for an attack.

  As Glaide had hoped, the steel struck nothing but air. This time, he had time enough to get up, and with a cry of rage, he launched himself towards his master. As he ran towards him, an idea crossed his mind. He lifted his blade as though to slash his adversary from top to bottom, thinking all the while of his ability to make his sword disappear and reappear. With that technique, he could make his adversary believe he would strike from above, but then make his weapon disappear, move his hands in front of him, and make it return, to pierce his enemy wherever an opening was offered.

  The first part of his plan went perfectly, but in the split-second when Glaide made his weapon reappear, Kezthrem made his own disappear, then pivoted, so that Glaide faced only his profile. The blade of the young man, instead of touching his opponent, encountered nothing but empty space. And worse, his attack had brought him too close for safety, and his master, his hands again empty, required no great effort to strike him in the stomach hard enough to knock the wind out of him. The adolescent fell to his knees, trying to both defend himself and catch his breath at the same time. Kezthrem, though, proved himself to be a merciless aggressor. He launched a kick at his disciple’s shoulder that sent Glaide flying several yards away. Under the force of the impact, he dropped his weapon. He tried to collect his thoughts and make it reappear, but it appeared a few seconds too late. The man was already upon him, his own sword in hand.

  Of course, he did not give the kill blow, but he also did not help his student up. The latter, though at the cost of great effort, managed to get up, and noted that his master didn’t even seem winded, though a bit of sweat had beaded up on his brow. Glaide was still breathing heavily, and his mind felt muddled and confused, but he distinctly heard the words of his master through the fog.

  “It seems that that step of your studies is indeed completed.”

  As a reward, the young man was given a day off; he didn’t train, and instead spent his day wandering about the area around the house. That evening, when the disciple and his master sat down to dinner, the latter seemed unusually talkative.

  “Tell me, Glaide... When we first met, you briefly spoke of your voyage from Shinozuka to here. You mentioned encountering a protector and his magg, but did you cross paths with anyone else?”

  The young man took a moment to finish chewing and swallow. He was pleased at the idea of a proper conversation, and launched into his story. He recounted everything that he had experienced: his meetings with the dwarves, with Ayrokkan, and with the gypsies. The more he spoke, the more his excitement seemed to take over. Simply remembering his experiences made him feel as though he was living them again. His master didn’t interrupt once. He listened carefully, interest visible on his face.

  After nearly an hour, the adolescent finally felt forced to stop; his tongue felt thick in his mouth, and he was short of breath from too much talking. Besides that, a part of him seemed prone to melancholy. His travels, the action and adventure... All of that had taken place in just two weeks of his life, and though the tedium that he felt now, due to his training, was nothing compared to the boredom he had felt on Earth, it was also not nearly as impassioning as his travels from before. His story had also brought to mind the meeting he had arranged with Tyv and Paeh. He remembered pointing out that he might not make it, and he hoped that his friends understood that since the date had passed, and he had not appeared, that that meant he’d found what he was looking for. Kezthrem spoke then, interrupting the thoughts of his student.

  “It was the nomads that told you about me?”

  Glaide nodded.

  “I do remember crossing paths with them. And you say they’ve decided to construct a village near here?”

  “Right. I wonder how things are going for them.”

  “Well, soon enough you’ll have a chance to find out. We need to have our clothing laundered, and to buy some supplies. We’ll go tomorrow to see if they can help us with that. Also, if their leader wanted to speak with me, then I owe him a visit.”

  “Right, master,” agreed Glaide enthusiastically. “But...” and here he paused, but finally continued, “I’ll get some of my money together, then. I have enough, and I want to help with our expenses. At any rate, the money does me little good here.”

  “Your money?” asked the man, visibly surprised. “Where did you get money from?”

  “From Rackk...”

  “I see,” murmured the man. “Well, if you think that is what they would have wanted, I will not stop you.”

  “Great. Until tomorrow, then.”

  With that, the two headed for their rooms.

  Chapter 22

  THE next day, Glaide gathered together his traveling clothes, so he could leave them off at a laundry – if they found one – and his master collected a sack for the supplies they would need to buy. His master also collected several flutes made of bamboo, with an unusual shape. They were straight, with five holes – four on the front, and one on the back – and with the bottom flared out slightly. He also packed some knives and other utensils in the bags, that he appeared to have made himself. Glaide wondered for a moment why he was bringing such things with, then realized that his master intended to sell them. “That must be how he makes a living,” he thought. “While I’m here, at least, he’ll be able to save up some.”

  The pair left the house mid-morning. The adolescent explained that the gypsy village was only a few miles away, assuming the gypsies hadn’t changed their mind about the spot they’d picked. He hoped that their village wasn’t far, because he found himself in charge of carrying all of the different sacks. While they didn’t seem heavy now, they certainly would be once the two had made their purchases. Kezthrem walked slowly, and his disciple, who was used to traveling on his own, and at a more rapid pace, found himself forced to slow his steps in order to stay by his side. The adolescent, seeing in their trip an opportunity for conversation, began to speak.

  “Tell me, master. What are those flutes you’ve brought along?”

  “They’re called ‘shakuhachis’. One of my ancestors, who was a great musician, made a number of them. He passed on his knowledge through the generations. I actually carry with me the one he himself played.”

  “And what does it sound like?”

  “I can answer that better by letting you hear it...”

  The man took slipped his own instrument out of a fold in his cloak. It looked much like the others, though it had a darker color, a testament to its age. He lifted the instrument to his lips and began to play. He played a slow, melancholic melody. Glaide let his mind wander as he listened to the whimsical notes that sometimes mingled together, and at other times broke into cascades of short, staccato tones, falling bit by bit into a lovely melody – a melody that touched Glaide’s soul. The timbre of the instrument reminded Glaide of a pan flute, and he could hear the breath of the man as it passed through the instrument on its path to becoming music. The sound reminded him that this being who was playing the music, and so toying with his emotions, was, first and foremost a human, made of flesh and blood. When the music stopped, Glaide felt as though he was waking from a dream.

  “So, did the music please you?” asked Kezthrem, as he carefully tucked away his precious instrument. The throat of the young man felt tight, and he found it difficult to speak. His voice sounded rough as h
e said, “It was truly... magical.”

  “And moreover, there isn’t a trace of any eoren or charm inside,” Kezthrem said with a laugh. The adolescent smiled.

  “Could you teach me to play?” he asked, timidly.

  “The main thing is simply that you get such an instrument of your own, because the difficulty doesn’t lie in the technique. No...” “The man’s dark eyes fixed on his disciple. “What you play simply comes from the heart. The shakuhachi expresses what you feel. Every melody is unique, and each one depends on the musician, because no two musicians are the same.” With that, Kezthrem began moving forward again, leaving his student rather surprised.

  “An expression of my heart...” thought the young man. “Of whatever is deep within me. I don’t have to learn anything; I simply have to listen... to listen to what I am...”

  With that thought in his mind, he hurried to catch up to his master, who had stopped at the top of a hill, his hands resting on his hips. He looked satisfied, and the adolescent immediately understood that they had arrived at their destination. It had only taken half an hour, which meant that the nomads had shifted their final location a bit from their original plan.

  They were now settled into a great plain, bordered to the north by a few tall, rocky, but narrow peaks, with only a small trail passing through. To the south stood a great woods, dense, and filled with tangled plants, making it impenetrable. To the east and the west, the plain was bordered by hills like the one the man and the adolescent had just climbed. In that way, the village could easily benefit from the protection to two sides, all while maintaining accessibility for commerce to the other sides, something that would be necessary for the inhabitants’ survival.