"Now, I do not know what you have learned previously, but it is obvious that you have some skill with the sword. Some," she emphasized, as Connor perked up.
"The Guardians, however, do not focus on attack. Our techniques are more defensive in nature, but that does not negate their offensive ability." She began the lecture, walking Connor through the fighting style of the Guardians.
She started with a few simple exercises, trying to determine Connor's general skill. Once he had demonstrated what he knew and was capable of, she began to instruct him in specific techniques. He was surprised at the simplicity of the style. The Phoenix Clan trained with swords, among other things, as part of their heritage. But so much of that training was based in a history long forgotten. The things that Connor and his friends had learned growing up were esoteric and steeped in legend. Lunete's teachings, on the other hand, were direct and functional. How to hold the weapon depending on the position of one's enemies. How to approach a confrontation with multiple opponents. Different footwork to address different situations. Connor tried to absorb it all.
Lunete was a skilled teacher, only repeating lessons when necessary, but she also made sure Connor understood and could use the techniques correctly. He could see why she had been a commander in the Guardians, and he also began to understand why being stripped of her rank had caused her to spiral down so hard. She’d clearly defined herself through her position. Until the arrival of the Aurai, she’d had had no purpose. But with their attack, and the subsequent need to protect her daughter, she had a new purpose, one that could bring her back to herself.
After a few hours of practice, Connor was covered in sweat and not a few cuts and bruises from Lunete showing him, very clearly, where he was doing things wrong. That evening, he collapsed on his small bunk and remained oblivious to the world for the rest of the night.
Eleven
Treatise
The water lapped at the hull of the boat. The heavy clouds that had been chasing them from the west finally caught them in the night, and the third day of their journey had dawned cloudy. There had yet to be any rain, but the clouds blocking the sun did little to lighten Laila's mood. The events in Terus, her parting conversation with her father, and her ineffectual attempts at conversation with Wyndam had left her feeling gloomy. The bright side to their current predicament, however, was that they were finally moving forward. That alone lifted Laila’s spirits slightly.
She sat to one side of the deck. The crew moved about around her, responding to the orders from the rear deck. The wind pushed into the wide sails above Laila's head and she could hear the creaking of the lines holding the canvas to the wooden mast. Sounds of glancing metal drifted down from the foredeck as Lunete and Connor practiced. She felt her heart lighten slightly at that sight. It had been hard to see her mother so broken. Now she had a purpose again, even if it had been altered.
She watched them for a moment. Lunete moved so smoothly; every swing of her blade and step forward or backward flowed into the next. Laila could remember her mother practicing in the gardens at home when she was younger, but watching her with an opponent was a different experience. She seemed to effortlessly counter any move that Connor made, deflecting his blade and even redirecting his own attacks back toward him, causing him to stumble. Even with his fumbling, however, Laila could see Connor's own movements slowly beginning to mirror her mother's, and every so often she could see the same fluid movement from him that she saw in her.
Laila turned her attention back to the task at hand, the heavy, leather-bound book that sat on her lap. It was the Treatise on the Sacred Waters. Now that she knew where they were headed, Laila had a focus with the Treatises of the last Magusari; she no longer had to fumble between the remaining four. Her staff lay across her legs, close to her stomach. She still felt its power, but it was diminished, as the Aurai had noticed. Part of her was hoping to use the Treatise to prove the elemental wrong, to prove that her power was not diminished, and that she could still tap into it at need, despite the doubt that crept at the edge of her thoughts.
She focused her attention on the book in front of her and opened the heavy cover. The now-familiar symbols of the language of the last Magusari greeted her, along with the various images and diagrams that she remembered from the Earth Treatise. These were different, but they held no more meaning to her, yet, than the ones she had seen a few months ago.
She summoned her magic through the staff. The warmth and confidence of the Earth moved into her. She allowed it to course through her, banishing her doubts and fears. Focusing on the flow of power, she pushed out the distracting images around her—the crew moving along the deck, Connor and her mother practicing—focusing her mind on the images in front of her, as she had done in Balon. With her mind, she pulled at the Earth through her staff, not completely sure of what she was doing, but trying to recreate the sense of knowledge she had felt in the library.
Slowly the images on the page began to seem more familiar to her. Now there was a degree of understanding behind them. A sense of knowledge. But it was still faint. She felt her hands grip her staff tighter, as though she could wring the power from her staff. The symbols had begun to coalesce into something she might interpret, but she could still not make out the meaning. Her mind was full of the magic from her staff, but she continued to pull more. It was as Wyndam had said, diminished. She did not feel as close to the Earth as she usually did, especially when calling on this much power.
Finally, as the world around her disappeared and she felt herself become absorbed by the symbols on the page, she began to make out small pieces of the text. Absently she reached out and turned the pages until she came to a page that held an image of a large waterfall.
...The Sacred Waters are where the waters of the world are believed to have originated. Protected by the ancient race of the Ondine, the Waters have always been a part of the tradition of the Magi...
Another page.
...Water is one of the strongest of the elements. Perhaps not for brute strength or for its permanence, but quite the opposite, for its adaptability. Water changes and flows, and, given time, can break down even the most permanent of mountains...
Laila felt something pulling at her mind. A sound, but distant. She was enthralled by the words on the page. Too engrossed in her power. She turned another page. This one had an image of what looked at first to be a person. But, as she looked closer, she could see that the image seemed to move and change, like a reflection in water.
...The Ondine, the elementals of Water. They sought to cast me down, stand in my way, as Eris reigned. With the Warden's assistance, they were put away...
Laila felt the pulling again. Then she felt something on her arm. It tugged her back to the present.
Her mind could not grasp what was happening as her awareness returned to the ship. The horizon was not where it should have been, and it swung and changed violently.
"Laila!" Icarus shouted at her over the roar of the water.
She became aware of his hand on her arm, shaking her. The boat lurched and bucked beneath her. The crew scrambled across the deck, trying desperately to keep the ship upright as the very water they floated on raged against them. Captain Drachus was shouting orders over the tumult, trying to maintain order as his crew ran back and forth. Connor and Lunete held to the ship's railing near Laila, shouting with Icarus.
"Laila, you have to stop!" Icarus continued.
The ship pitched violently, and Icarus grabbed at Laila's staff to steady himself. As he did, Laila felt a surge of power tear through the staff and into her. She felt as she had on the peak of Mount Obrussa, like she could see all the way down into the core of the world. For a moment it overwhelmed her. The boat continued to buck and roll, trying to keep itself right in the violent waters. Laila glanced down at the Treatise one more time and caught a final statement on the page.
...Perhaps they should not have been...
She released her power, released the strang
e sensation she had felt when Icarus had grabbed the staff. Immediately the ship began to settle as the water of the lake calmed. The crew slowed for a moment, staring at Laila. Captain Drachus looked in her direction.
"Is she done?" he snapped at Icarus.
Icarus looked at Laila for a moment. She could see the concern on his face, but also fear. What had she felt when he had grabbed the staff? It had been more than his power as a Magus, she was sure of that. But what? Casting those thoughts aside for the time being, she returned the Magus's gaze, nodding her head slowly.
"She is done, Captain," Icarus answered.
"Good," came the response. His attention returned to his crew, getting the ship back on track.
Icarus reached down and offered his hand to help Laila stand up. With a deep breath, Laila closed the Treatise on her lap and set it aside, taking Icarus's offered hand and standing up slowly.
"I hope you learned something..." Icarus said.
Laila raised an eyebrow briefly and shrugged. "Unfortunately not."
Icarus looked as disappointed as she felt. "May I suggest that you do not try that again, at least not while we are on the ship."
Laila nodded, leaning down and picking up the heavy book from the deck. Connor and Lunete approached.
"Are you all right?" asked Connor.
"Yes."
Connor smiled. "At least you didn't collapse the whole ship. That would have made this whole journey a lot harder. Not to mention, I don't know that I could swim all the way to Kios."
"Sorry," Laila said.
"It's all right, child," her mother said. "It could have been worse."
"Aye," said Connor.
Laila suddenly felt the press of everyone around her. "I'll be fine. Just give me a moment."
She moved past Icarus and back toward the cabins. She glanced back briefly as she entered the small door, making sure no one was following her. Her three companions watched her from the railing but did not follow. Moving down the narrow hallway, she opened the door to their small cabin. Wyndam was standing in the middle of the room, his long arms holding the bunks attached to the walls. His eyes were open slightly, and Laila could see that the grip on the bunks was tight enough to cause the knuckles on his hands to be white had his skin not already been so pale. Dio lay on a bunk, clutching at his stomach. There was a sick smell in the room.
"I believe your friend is not accustomed to the violent movements of the ship," the Aurai said, his willowy voice quiet, as though he were struggling with sickness himself.
Laila, thoughts of solitude forgotten for the moment, stepped into the cabin and brushed past the Aurai, kneeling at Dio's side. The sick smell was stronger near her friend, and she could see wetness near the edge of his bunk.
"Are you all right, Dio?" she asked softly.
Dio opened one eye to look at her. His face was drawn and pale, with a green tint to it. As he looked at her, the boat shifted slightly, righting itself from its earlier tumult. As it did, Dio's face grew greener and he placed a hand over his mouth. Laila smiled slightly; she had not realized Dio was so motion sick.
"Let's get you some fresh air," she said as she reached out to help her friend up, all thoughts of being alone now forgotten.
Dio slowly wrapped his arm around her shoulder, allowing Laila to support some of his weight. She felt him grip her shoulders tightly and forced herself to stand tall even under his pressing weight. She moved toward the door, but Wyndam was still blocking her path.
"Would you care to join us?" she asked.
The elemental looked at her over his shoulder, still gripping the bunks tightly. "Are you quite finished trying to capsize the ship?" he asked.
So, he could sense when Laila was using her power.
"Yes, I am finished."
The Aurai nodded. "Perhaps it would also do me good to feel the air on my face again, despite the water that runs beneath our feet."
He took a halting step toward the door and then led the way down the narrow hallway and out into the cloudy day. Laila helped Dio along as he kept one hand on her shoulder and another on his mouth. She felt guilty that she had caused his discomfort, but she also found herself amused at Dio's sensitive stomach.
As the sun set on their third day out from Terus, they reached the mouth of the River Teraus. Laila had recovered from her episode earlier. Focusing on helping Dio get over his motion sickness had helped. She caught the occasional awkward glance from the crew as they moved about the deck, but she tried to ignore it. The sun was just dipping below the horizon, and Laila noticed that the ship was no longer moving, having stopped about a hundred feet from the mouth of the river. In the dim light of dusk, she could just see the line to the east that marked the forest that coated the western coast of the Red Bay. She and Connor had made their way through the southern part of that grove on their mad flight from the Manders. That seemed like so long ago now. Another lifetime almost.
Captain Drachus made his way past her along the deck, moving away from his usual post on the rear deck. She took the opportunity.
"Captain, may I ask why we are stopping?"
He stopped and turned toward her, taking one glance behind him to make sure his crew was complying. "We can't risk the river in the dark. The River Teraus is wide, but there are plenty of rocks and sand bars. I'd rather like to keep us afloat, and running afoul of any of those obstacles would slow us down far more than it would to drop anchor for the evenings. And it gives the crew a chance to relax after the lake crossing."
"I see. How far are we from Kios?"
"We should be there the afternoon of the day after tomorrow. Moving with the current makes the passage must faster, even with the stops."
She was grateful that the captain did not seem too put off by her dangerous display earlier that afternoon. He was distracted, constantly glancing around, making sure everything that needed doing was being done, but he did not seem angry with her. Once again Laila found herself liking the captain. As commanding as he could be, he had a certain disarming quality that she enjoyed, especially with all the tension of the past few days.
"You should bring your friends out, those that aren't already, at least. We have a tradition the night before we start a river passage to Kios." He smiled, his sun-darkened face lighting up mischievously. "Gives the men something to look forward to on a longer voyage like this."
Laila raised an eyebrow slightly, but the captain did not say more, moving off to help one of the crew with some small task. Shrugging inwardly, she walked toward the cabins. Connor and her mother were still on the foredeck, finishing whatever lesson they had been working on after Laila's attempt to read the Water Treatise. She saw Dio standing against one of the railings and walked over to him.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
He turned toward her slowly. The green pallor was finally gone from his face, though his eyes were puffy. "I've been better. But I think I'll live." His voice was scratchy, a significant departure from his usually soft tone.
"I'm sorry," she said again, stepping next to him at the railing.
"Don't worry about it. I don't think it was completely your fault. I was already kind of feeling ill before everything that happened. What did happen, anyways?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"I heard some of the crew talking as though you were the one that caused it..."
"Yes, well...I did, I guess." She stumbled over her words, suddenly self-conscious.
"Really?" Dio's eyes widened. "How?"
"It was silly. I thought I could do something, but it didn't work. And it put everyone else in danger. I won't be doing it again."
Dio looked at her, concern plain on his face, but he fell silent. Laila found herself wishing he would ask more. She did not want to explain freely, but she felt an odd longing for Dio to want to know. Turning to look out on the eastern coast of the lake, she pushed her feelings down. With both Dio and Connor around, they had become much too confusing. She would rather simp
ly ignore them.
Laila noticed that the crew was no longer scrambling around the deck securing lines or performing other sailing tasks. Some of them had gathered near the center of the deck, which spanned the distance between the twin hulls. Most were lounging against the various barrels and boxes that housed the ship's equipment. A few who were now joining the rest were carrying small bags or cases. Laila assumed this must have something to do with the tradition that Captain Drachus had been taking about.
"What do you think that's about?" Laila asked Dio.
He shrugged. "I have no idea."
They walked over to the small gathering, standing on its outskirts. Connor and Lunete had made their way down from the foredeck. Laila saw Connor breathing heavily. Her mother had been pushing him hard; she had heard his snores in the night, though she did not notice any new bruises today. Perhaps he was getting better. She smiled at him as he approached the edge of the gathering.
"What's this?" he said, his voice heavy.
Now it was Laila's turn to shrug. "The captain mentioned something about a tradition, but he didn't find it necessary to elaborate."
Connor nodded, leaning down to grab Lunete's bag of weapons. Lunete placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I can do that, Connor. You stay. You may like this." She motioned toward the gathering.
Without another word, Lunete gathered her bags and walked off, headed toward the rear cabins.
"Apparently your mother knows," Connor said.
Laila shrugged again.
The three of them watched as the crew with the bags and cases opened them up and pulled out a series of instruments. Laila recognized some of them. There was a lute, its long bent neck easily recognizable, and a couple of wind instruments, a flute and something long and narrow that she did not recognize. Another pulled out a violin and Laila sensed both Connor and Dio perk up slightly. She understood Dio’s response—many Artisans devoted their callings to music, and the violin was considered one of the more prestigious instruments—but she was not sure why Connor might be interested.
Heart of the Ocean (The Equilibrium Cycle Book 2) Page 13
