Darkness Rising: Disciples of the Horned One Volume One (Soul Force Saga Book 1)

by James Wisher

  “Yes, ma’am. If we’re not to use our powers on other students how do we practice?”

  “Practice is different. Training in combat techniques with a master overseeing happens all the time, though not until you finish your first year of training. What I’m talking about is unsupervised mischief or violence. Also your movements are restricted to The Tower grounds until you complete your training.”

  As rules went those two seemed fair, after all the last thing they’d want is two boys fighting over a girl to blow up the dining hall. But it didn’t sound like he’d be visiting Jen and Lizzy anytime soon. “Is there anything else?”

  “Not really. Want to try a basic technique?”

  Damien’s heart fluttered. To finally tap his soul force was something he’d dreamed about for years. Now that it was going to happen his mouth felt dry and his hands trembled. “What do I do?”

  “Imagine a bit of your power, about the size of a grain of rice, above the palm of your hand.”

  Damien imagined the speck of energy flowing through his arm and out his palm. Nothing. His soul force remained as inert as ever. He slumped in his chair. It wouldn’t be any different here.

  “Not like that.”

  Damien looked up at his teacher. “Ma’am?”

  “Don’t try to push the energy through your body. That’s the way warlords use soul force. Our power can’t travel through our bodies. Picture the grain of energy appearing just above your hand like it came out of nowhere.”

  Damien frowned, held out his hand, and imagined the power just appearing. A blinding light like a second sun burst to life above his hand. He looked away and squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Douse it, douse it!”

  How the hell was he supposed to do that? Damien clenched his fist around the speck of energy and willed it to return to where it came from. He opened his eyes and spots danced before them. At least the light had vanished.

  Ann gaped at him.

  “Sorry, ma’am. What did I do wrong?”

  She threw back her head and laughed. “Not a thing, Damien. In fact you did something amazing. You recovered your unused energy and returned it to your core. That’s a rare skill. The excessive light was my fault. You used the exact right amount of energy; I failed to allow for how dense your soul force is. I need to adjust my instructions down by at least four times when I work with you.”

  She held out a hand and a ball of warm, golden light appeared above it. “This is what I expected. I used the same amount of soul force as you, but mine is so much less dense it only makes this little light.”

  “I see,” Damien said, though in truth he had no idea what she was talking about.

  “Don’t worry about it now. Let’s try something else. This is a mental trick unique to sorcerers that lets you see another’s soul force.” She held her hands together in a circle just above her belly button. “Focus here and try to look through my dress, skin, and muscle to the core of my body.”

  Damien stared, trying to imagine the thin black cloth parting, then the skin and muscle under it. He squinted and soon a ball of golden energy became clear. He flinched and it vanished. It seemed so different from what he sensed inside himself. His power felt roiled and agitated while hers seemed smooth and calm.

  When he pointed this out she said, “Everyone’s power is different. Yours will calm in time. Part of your problem is you’ve been prodding it to do things it can’t. Now that you’re using it properly it should smooth out. With time and practice you’ll be able to do more than see soul force, you’ll also be able to sense it as well. Now try again.”

  He focused and her soul force appeared at once, smooth and serene as the surface of a pond on a calm day. Then it vanished. Damien squinted, trying to get the image to reappear.

  “You can stop now. I raised my shield to block your vision. That’s another trick sorcerers developed to hide their power from each other. Of course, if you see someone with no visible soul force you’ll know they’re a sorcerer, just not how strong. Building your shield is the final thing I’ll teach you tonight. You’ll want to get your power hidden before you meet the other students.”

  Damien nodded, remembering how Eli had stared at him when they first met. “What do I do?”

  “Take a small ball of soul force, about the size of a marble, and imagine it turning into a liquid. Once you have that, imagine the liquid covering your whole body, always a little above your skin.”

  Damien did what she said and soon a golden second skin covered him. “Like this?” He couldn’t be doing it right. Her shield was invisible.

  “Exactly. I can’t see your core anymore. Now we just need to make your personal shield a little less obvious. Focus on the shield and imagine it turning clear, like water.”

  Damien did as she said. The light vanished, but he could still sense his shield. It was wavering like it wanted to shatter. “The power’s running out.” He tried and failed to conceal his concern.

  “That’s okay. You have to do one more thing to make it sustaining. Do you sense the power flowing into your core to replace what you used?”

  He turned his focus inward and sensed a rushing power, like a river with no origin, flooding into the small empty space in his core. “Yes.”

  “Good. Now imagine most of that flow going to your shield instead of your core.”

  Damien frowned as he tried to redirect the river. He divided it into small streams and sent them out just above his skin and below the shield. He sent a stream to each of his extremities, then some to his back and chest and finally his head. With the streams in place he sent little tendrils of power into the shield and it stopped wavering. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Sweat covered his back and neck. He’d run ten miles without getting this worn out.

  Ann was staring at him again. Now what had he done? “Ma’am?”

  She gave herself a little shake. “Sorry, but whatever you’ve created here is far more than a simple shield to hide your core. Your body generates more soul force every minute than some sorcerers can contain in their core. With that much power running through your shield I could probably drop a boulder on you and not break your skin. It’s absolutely amazing.”

  “Thank you?”

  Ann smiled. “I know a little about warlord training. While our powers work differently, the focus and mental discipline you’ve gained through your earlier training has clearly made this transition easier for you. I’ve worked with many students and no one has used their power as naturally as you. I think you’ll find your training serves you well as we continue your studies.”

  She yawned and stretched. Damien tried to ignore her breasts straining to escape out the top of her dress. “I’m beat and you look all in. Let’s call it a night. Come back in the morning after breakfast and we’ll pick up where we left off.”

  Damien leapt to his feet and bowed. “Yes, ma’am. Any time in particular?”

  She got up and waved a hand. “Whenever you get done eating is fine.”

  They walked together to the staircase. When they reached the landing she turned to continue up. “Good night.”

  Damien nodded. “Ma’am.” He started down the stairs to his room.

  He’d only gone a couple of steps when he heard her mutter, “So formal.”

  As he walked down stairs he reflected on what Mistress Ann had said. Maybe all the time he spent meditating and failing to move his power would turn out to be time well spent after all.

  When he reached the second-floor landing his stomach rumbled. He’d completely lost track of time. Was dinner over? Damien turned toward the dining hall, hoping he hadn’t missed his chance. He smelled garlic and onions, but heard nothing that suggested anyone was in the hall. He pushed the doors open and sighed. The room was empty of students. A pair of women in black-and-white servants’ uniforms scrubbed the tables and a third person, a bald man as wide as he was tall and wearing a grease-stained apron, stood behind the serving counter.


  Damien put on his best smile and ambled up to the counter. “Excuse me, I was late finishing my day’s training and missed dinner. Is there any chance you have some leftovers?”

  The man scowled at him. “I don’t know you.”

  “No sir, this is my first day.”

  “Ah, you’re the one everyone was talking about. They seemed disappointed you weren’t here.”

  Damien blinked, surprised anyone besides Eli was even aware he was here. “Well, I’m sure I’ll see them at breakfast. So, do you have anything? Please?” His stomach growled its own request.

  “Just a minute.” He ducked back into the kitchen, grumbling all the way. Damien smiled, relieved to find at least one normal person in this place. He’d feared the kingdom had gathered up all the oddballs and sent them here. The cook returned a minute later carrying a plate with a roll heaped with meat and onions. “This’ll have to do. There’s water in the barrel down at the end of the counter.”

  Damien accepted the plate and bowed. “Thank you, sir.”

  He ate quickly and returned his plate and cup to the cook. He yawned and headed for his room. It had been a long, strange day and he was ready for a good night’s sleep. He met no one on his walk back. Inside his room he found Eli sitting at his desk reading. His roommate glanced at him and smiled. “Got your shield up I see.”

  Damien nodded, sat on the edge of his bed, and kicked his shoes off. “Did you break into a sweat the first time you made a shield?”

  Eli laughed and closed his book. “Are you kidding? It took me three days to get mine to work. How’d you manage it in an afternoon?”

  Damien shrugged. “I just did what she said and it worked. It was one hell of a relief, let me tell you. I’ve been beating my head against the wall for a year and a half trying to get my power to move. It helps if your teacher tells you the right way to use it.”

  Eli snorted. “I imagine it does. Everyone will be jealous of you. Not only did you get your shield to work on your first day, but you got assigned to Mistress Ann. Talk about lucky.”

  “Lucky?” Damien thought he understood what the other boy meant, but wanted to be certain.

  Eli held his hands out in front of his chest. “Don’t tell me you didn’t get a good look at her. It’s a wonder you could concentrate on your lesson.”

  Damien thought about Lizzy constantly appearing naked whenever they met. A woman with her clothes on, even one as well proportioned as Mistress Ann, wasn’t enough to break his focus. “She certainly wasn’t what I was expecting.”

  Chapter 7

  Damien woke at five. There was no window in the room he shared with Eli, but he’d woken at five every day for as long as he could remember and, sunlight or not, his body knew when to get up. In the pitch-black room the only sound was Eli’s deep, steady breathing. Damien slid out of bed, dressed by feel, and slipped out as quietly as he could. Outside, glow balls hanging from the ceiling in glass jars lit his path. Damien walked down to the dining room hoping to get his breakfast and get to training.

  He pushed through the swinging doors and found the hall silent and empty. He’d have thought the cook would be up and started at least. Maybe he could get in a workout before breakfast. Eli hadn’t shown him a gym yesterday, but they had to have something.

  Damien went down to the ground floor and out into the yard. The morning was cool and clear, the sun just turning the sky above the wall gray. It was a beautiful late spring day.

  A few guardsmen stood on the wall and Damien ran up the steps to talk to them. If anyone knew where he could find the gym it seemed like it would be the guards. He trotted up to the nearest man, a middle-aged fellow with a pot belly and salt-and-pepper beard. On closer inspection maybe he wasn’t the best one to ask.

  Not wanting to be rude now that he’d approached Damien said, “Excuse me. Do you know if there’s a gym or somewhere for the students to exercise?”

  The guardsman laughed. “Not so far as I know, young sir. Sorcerers aren’t much for exercise.”

  Coming from a fat guardsman that was a laughable statement. “Would you guys mind if I ran the wall?”

  The guardsman waved his hand. “Be my guest.”

  Damien shook his head and jogged away. He did ten circuits, about five miles give or take. The guards all stared at him in disbelief as he kept running. It was like they’d never seen someone exercising before. Given their lack of conditioning Damien guessed most of them certainly hadn’t run in a while.

  He stopped beside the same guardsman. “What time is breakfast?”

  The man grumbled and glanced at the sun just peeking over the wall. “Another hour at least.”

  Damn, they didn’t get started very early here. He grabbed the lip of the wall and swung over, hanging by his fingers. He did forty pull ups, then reversed his grip so his back was to the wall and did forty more. Damien pulled himself back up on the walkway and rolled his shoulders. What was he supposed to do for another hour?

  He jogged back inside and up to the dining hall. Pots were clanging in the kitchen, so that was progress. He dropped to the floor and did some crunches. The doors squeaked and a familiar voice said, “I figured I’d find you here.”

  Damien grinned and kipped up to his feet. Standing by the door, a matching grin on his face was a boy a year older than him with long brown hair, a lean, fit build, and a chiseled, handsome face. John Kord, his oldest and best friend.

  Chapter 8

  “John! What’s it been, three years?” The boys bumped fists. Damien hadn’t seen his childhood friend since he started training at The Citadel and had forgotten John was supposed to be studying at The Tower. “How’s it going?”

  “Good, turns out I’ve got a gift for healing. The old man didn’t like it much, he wanted an artillerist. What about you? I thought you were going to be a warlord.”

  “You and everyone else. Apparently the seer screwed up when I was born.” Damien shook his head and sat on one of the benches. “A year and a half trying to use internal soul force and all the time I was a sorcerer. To say Dad wasn’t thrilled would be an understatement.”

  “I can imagine. How many generations of your family have been warlords?”

  “Since the first colonists came over from the old empire.”

  John laughed at his impression of his father. “Well, we can’t help how we’re born, can we?”

  “Nope. Anyway, Jen can carry on the family tradition. She’s a better warrior anyway.”

  John’s expression turned wistful when Damien mentioned his sister. His friend had always had a crush on Jen. That she was completely indifferent to him made it even worse. “She can’t inherit the demon sword though, can she?”

  “No, Lizzy won’t work with a female partner. What’s the general up to these days?”

  John sat across from Damien. “Dad’s up north, keeping an eye on the ice trolls and ogres. Some days I’d swear he wants them to attack just so he’ll have something to do.”

  “Really?”

  “Nah, he’s too fond of his men to want any of them to die in some stupid war. He’s just bored.”

  Damien got up and did a handstand followed by pushups. Between reps he said, “This is a weird place, John. There’s no gym, no real schedule. Mistress Ann said to just show up for training whenever I finished breakfast.”

  “You got paired up with Ann? Lucky dog. She’s the best-looking teacher in the tower.”

  It looked like Eli wasn’t the only one with a crush on his teacher. Of course, John had a crush on most every woman he laid eyes on. Pots clanked in the kitchen and Damien rolled to his feet. “So I’ve heard. Who’s your master?”

  “I’m in a group of three studying healing with Master Jones: tall, skinny and bald.” John sighed. “Still, he’s regarded as one of the finest healers in the kingdom.”

  “Is he by any chance in charge of making healing potions?”

  John nodded. “Yeah, why?”

  “I wanted to thank him. I’
ve drunk enough of the damn things over the last year and a half.”

  John laughed again though Damien found nothing funny in his broken bones. The kitchen door swung open and the cook came through carrying a steaming pot. Behind him the two women he’d seen the night before followed with trays covered with bread, fruit, and jars of golden honey. Damien turned and jogged to the pile of bowls at the start of the line. His morning exercise had left him starving. The cook filled his bowl with oatmeal which Damien then topped with blueberries and honey. He added a slice of bread, collected a cup of water, and headed back to their bench. John joined him a moment later and they set to eating.

  Damien hadn’t managed more than a mouthful when the doors swung open and half a dozen students poured through. John waved to one of the girls, a cute brunette, before turning back to his meal. Damien raised an eyebrow.

  “Marie’s in my healing group. She’s a third year. Nice girl, but kind of shy.”

  Damien had eaten half his food before the door squeaked again. He looked up to see Eli leading two others into the hall. There was a girl with flaming red hair and a tiny build and a stout boy with sandy hair and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Those two had to be the other first years. Eli waved and Damien returned the gesture.

  “Friends of yours?” John asked.

  “My roommate and the other first years. Eli said he’d introduce me today. Have you met them?”

  “John!” The redhead leapt at his friend and wrapped her arms around his neck. “How’s my sweetie pie this morning?”