Hauss and Rosalia nodded. Aleister started to follow her, but a motion from Hauss kept him in his chair. He gave a shaky sigh as his mage disappeared.
“Well, that went quite well, son. I figured she might have already known.” Hauss clapped him on the shoulder.
Aleister narrowed his eyes at the elder Arkaddian.
“Then why-”
“I also knew you wouldn't speak up. Far better to take care of it now than when you were training. There was always the slight chance she didn't know and finding out that way would not have made her happy,” Hauss said. Aleister wilted.
“Guess not…”
“I know 'not', son. She was my student remember. Oh yes, while you're here, we might as well get your check-up for the week done. Close enough to tomorrow anyway.”
Aleister shrugged and waited patiently while Hauss evaluated him and put him through the weekly questioning. Satisfied, the Chief Healer let him leave and the Sky Fox wandered to his quarters. Through the link he sensed that Kalla was not quite asleep. Rather, she was in one of the deep trances he had learned to associate with journeying. Aleister rifled through the stack of books he had borrowed from the Kanlon library. Finding one of particular interest- a slim volume of Argosian lore- Aleister settled to read.
* * *
Morning dawned bright and cold, a promising beginning to the Winter Solstice. Sunlight streaming through the window woke Aleister and he groaned, dismayed to find he'd fallen asleep while reading. His neck and shoulders were stiff from sleeping sitting up. He stood and stretched, sending his mind in search of his mage. Wherever she was, her mind was guarded and he couldn't quite place her. He wandered down to the dining hall where he found Warryn and Shelk.
“Where is Kalla, milord? I … eh… can't sense her,” Aleister asked.
Both Warryn and Shelk broke out into big grins.
“No doubt. She is closeted with Hauss, the Sveldtlander Healer and a few others. They are working on something for the feast, something that's to be a surprise to you. She asked that Shelk and I keep you entertained for the day,” Warryn replied.
The next few hours passed in a blur, as Aleister learned how to play chigali from the Archivist and his magister. The game, popular among the magi, was played on a gridded 10 x 10 game board, and was designed to teach strategic thinking. Each player had twenty pieces. Here at the Kanlon, the pieces were color coded to different Houses. The game was so popular that most magi kept a personal set of pieces with them and were more than happy to play at a moment's notice. As a Solstice gift, Warryn gave Aleister his own set of pieces, Artisan-crafted from deep red garnet.
The Sky Fox took to the game like a fish to water, so easily did cunning strategy come to him. Even so, Warryn gave him more than a run for his money. Aleister was more evenly matched with Shelk, though the quiet magister was content to sit in the sunlight streaming through the library windows and read. Aleister smiled ruefully. Before meeting Kalla and Warryn, he'd never cared too much for reading. Now, he found he quite enjoyed it. The Archivist's love of learning seemed to rub off on those he was close to. They spent hours absorbed in the nuances of the game, and before they knew it the big bell of the Kanlon was ringing out to announce the beginning of the feast.
“Guess we lost track of time,” Warryn said with a grin, “C'mon. We should get to the Great Hall.”
Aleister followed Warryn and Shelk, casting his mind for Kalla once more. As before, he found his mind blocked. They entered the Great Hall and Aleister gaped at the changes. Whereas before the huge room had been lined with bench after bench in neat, tidy rows, there were now low tables spread out all over the floor. Cushions were piled around them, serving as seats. However, what drew his attention more than anything were the massive Arkaddian thunder drums set up on the dais at the far end of the room.
Aleister followed Warryn and Shelk to one of the tables nearest the dais, where Rosalia was already saving them a seat. He settled down, still focused on the thunder drums. There was a single great-drum flanked by twin bull-drums. Fanning out from each side of the bull-drums were two side-drums and two ground-drums. Several drummers walked onto the stage, led by a tall Arkaddian whose long silver hair was pulled back into a loose tail.
The man wore baggy pants and was bare-chested save for a sash woven blue and silver across his chest. In his hands he twirled the strikers used to beat the biggest of the drums- a monstrosity that stood two feet taller than the tall Arkaddian. Aleister blinked as he realized the man was Hauss. As he studied them he recognized several of the other drummers as well, all Healers. The drummer bearing the twins to Hauss' strikers was the Sveltlander Healer, Manny. His jaw dropped when another of the drummers came close and he realized it was Kalla. His mage wore baggy pants similar to Hauss' and an equally loose-fitting tunic. Kalla's hair was pulled back into a bob and she carried a set of smaller strikers. She took a place at one of the side-drums closest to where the Sky Fox sat with Warryn and Shelk. Waving to them, she released the block that had kept him from finding her all day. Her mind bubbled with laughter at his thoughts.
“Surprised?” she asked.
“Just a little…” Aleister replied.
The rest of the drummers took their places at the side-drums, bull-drums, and ground-drums as Hauss and Manny took up their positions at the great-drum. Four more filtered on-stage, bearing shoulder-drums, followed by a mage Aleister didn't recognize. An older Argosian with grey streaking his black hair, his black robes were trimmed in alternating slashes of ruby red, sapphire blue, emerald green, and amber yellow, as all of the 'Sin's robes were. Around his neck he wore a pendant that consisted of the four House Guardians woven around and through the Spiral of Cryshal. Aleister leaned closer to Warryn.
“Who's that? I haven't seen him yet,” he asked softly.
“That would be Jasper sin'Solidor, the Grand Maester of the Kanlon. He's the one in charge of everything,” Warryn whispered back. Aleister listened as the Grand Maester welcomed them all to the feast. He led them in a brief prayer and toast, before turning the show over to Hauss. The Chief Healer bowed, touching fist to heart.
“I thank you, Master sin'Solidor.” He turned to address the crowd. “Well, let's get the show started!”
The crowd roared its approval and the Magister guessed that the thunder drummers were well-beloved acts at Kanlon festivals. As the first notes were struck, he recognized the piece they were playing. It was 'Season of the Blue Wolf', a piece oft played at winter festivals throughout the Arkaddian Empire. His gaze swept the drummers, coming to rest on Kalla. Her eyes were half closed, and she had fallen into a relaxed rhythm with the strikers, easily keeping pace. Her body rocked slightly to the beat of the drums. Aleister was surprised. Mastering any of the thunder drums was difficult, but she played with an ease that belayed long years of practice.
All of the drummers were having the time of their lives. Those with the shoulder-drums danced as they played, weaving in and out among the stationary drums. Aleister watched, mesmerized, until the piece wound to a close some fifteen minutes later, then joined the crowd as they gave the drummers a standing ovation. As one, the thunder drummers bowed to the crowd and filtered off-stage, to be replaced by players bearing pan-pipes and basacaila, a stringed instrument unique to the Rang'moori. Hauss and Kalla joined them then, sinking down onto the soft cushions, both grinning like crazy.
“Where did you learn to play thunder drums, milady?” Aleister asked as they settled down. Kalla laughed.
“Well, Hauss thinks that it provides good discipline. Most of the Healers know how,” she replied.
The magister could only shake his head. By this time servants were weaving around the room, placing platters of food on the low tables. Several bustled over to theirs, laying down plates of potato dumplings, roast duck and lamb, baskets of brown bread, salads, trays of fruit and cheese, bowls of rice, and a fish dish that he didn't recognize. Pitchers of fury wine followed, along with a stack of smaller plates. Hau
ss and Kalla murmured thanks as the servants departed. A few turned and waved at the magi. Aleister followed the example of the others as they each took a smaller plate and filled it. He turned his attention back to the stage, listening to the pan-pipes and basacaila. The players finished their piece, to rousing applause. As they drifted off-stage, they were replaced by players bearing Argosian fox-flutes and Dashmari tambourines. As the feast progressed, several more sets were played, alternating between the pan-pipes/ basacaila players, and those with the fox-flutes and tambourines.
Soon enough Hauss and Kalla stood up again and made their way back to the stage. Other drummers came up, but not as many as before. This time both Hauss and Kalla took up shoulder-drums, settling them across their backs, before taking places at the great-drum. Aleister frowned. There were few pieces in which one drummer used more than one drum, and all were exceedingly difficult. As Arkaddian and Argosian struck the first notes he realized they had decided to do the hardest of these- the 'Dance of the Dragon'. Aleister snorted a laugh. Why should he be surprised? It seemed that those of House Solidor all tended to push themselves to their limits and beyond, in everything they did.
The pair set up a fast pace, strikers mere blurs as they alternated between striking the great drum and the shoulder drums. As they played, the bull-drums and ground-drums chimed in, creating an intoxicating beat. By the time they had finished, Aleister could tell that Kalla was exhausted. Happy, but exhausted.
The celebration didn't last much longer. It was now late in the night and most were sleepy and content, ready for bed. The magister yawned as he followed Kalla and Hauss. Warryn and Shelk had already bid them goodnight and were heading in the direction of Spire Malkador.
Aleister tensed as he caught an unfamiliar sound, stopping to listen closer. The sound came again, a soft scraping noise. Growling laughter filled the night as a firestorm erupted down the corridor. Aleister jerked Kalla to the ground, even as both magi threw up shields. Hauss, in the lead, took the brunt of the attack, roaring with pain as the flames engulfed him. They tore through his half-formed shields, and the Healer crumpled to the ground. Luckily, Rosalia was closer to Kalla and so had the benefit of the female mage's shields as well.
Kalla jumped up, torn between following their assailant and helping Hauss. She paused long enough to make sure that he was still alive, but more people were flooding the corridor to find out what the commotion was, so she left him in the care of his magister and pounded down the corridor, the Sky Fox right beside her. As he ran, he willed twin Arkaddian swords into existence, along with supple snake-skin armour like that favored by Argoth's Praetorian Guard.
Kalla slowed as she came to the Solidor courtyard. Beyond, there was only gloom and darkness, but she sensed it wasn't as empty as it seemed. The mage carefully strengthened the protective shields and conjured a globe of magelight. She eased into the courtyard, followed by an alert Aleister.
No sooner had both mage and magister entered the courtyard, than a warding swept around it, sealing them in and causing the magelight to wink out. They couldn't leave nor could they expect any help till the warding was broken. The growling laughter came again. With a sound like thunder, the courtyard filled with light, revealing the source. Kalla's jaw dropped. In the center of the courtyard stood Vander and Shingar, the War Mage looking even thinner than the last time she'd seen him. He sent another jet of flame racing towards them, forcing them to jump to either side of the entrance, the fireball barely missing them. It slammed into the ward and dissipated, absorbed into it. Kalla stood carefully, keeping a wary eye on the volatile War Mage.
“Take care of Shingar. I'll handle the War Mage.”
“Yes, milady,” Aleister growled, moving off to circle around the pair. Vander ignored him, but the spiky magister stepped forward to meet him.
“Think you'll fare any better this time, Fox?” The big magister's voice was deep and gravely, full of contempt.
“I think I've learned from my mistakes,” replied Aleister. Shingar snorted, sounding like an angry bull, as the pair engaged in a deadly dance.
Nearby Kalla faced Vander. The Healer wondered how he had freed himself. She approached him warily, noting that his ears were flat and his mane bristled with anger, the long pony-tail draped over his shoulder. For one brief instant his countenance changed. His shoulders slumped, and the ears became submissive rather than angry. The War Mage lifted his head, turning it slightly so that he looked down at her from the corner of his eye.
In the time it took Kall to take a breath, the uncertainty was gone. Lightning crackled in the air, slamming into the ground to all sides of her. Her shields held, but before she could do anything, the War Mage sent another fireball careening into her. She shook her head, casting her own power into the ground. The earth heaved and churned, exploding with a fury, but the War Mage was by far the more skilled in offensive magick and easily blocked it. Kalla racked her mind for a solution, as more lightning washed over the shields. They wouldn't last much longer under the relentless attack. She was going to have to act fast. Something Hauss had once told her came flooding back to memory.
A Healer is far more dangerous than any other, even the War Magi. Why? Because if a Healer can merely touch a person, he can kill them. Our gift, the nature of it, can surpass even the strongest shield if we can touch the person.
This revelation had been followed by a little demonstration. Hauss had made her shield herself, then reached out and gripped her wrist. The Healer's gift had flooded into her, but instead of healing, he'd frozen her lungs for a second or two. It had been a frightening thought then, to think that her gift could be used in such a way. Unfortunately that way might be the only one now. She needed to goad the War Mage into becoming careless, into getting closer, giving her the chance to touch him. Kalla took a deep breath. Time to take the wolf by the tail. She only hoped her gamble would pay off.
Kalla straightened, recovering from the latest assault. She drew herself to her full height, green eyes blazing. The petite Healer took several steps forward and her bold behavior threw the War Mage off for a moment. He faltered, giving ground. For another instance his shoulders slumped, the ears relaxed, his head turning to the side.
“What's the matter, cubling? You can't tell me you're afraid of me,” she snarled. The War Mage recoiled and she pressed forward. “That's it isn't it?
“You're weak, Vander kyl'Solidor. You're a disgrace to House Solidor,” Kalla hissed out. His reaction was almost instantaneous. The thin Mage snarled back, putting every ounce of strength behind his attack. Lightning twined with fire slammed into her shield. It crumpled like paper and she dropped to the ground, dazed and disoriented. As she struggled to get up, she heard his footsteps come closer. On the far side of the courtyard she could hear Aleister and Shingar. The Sky Fox seemed to be holding his own for the moment.
Vander stopped before her and she looked up at him. The War Mage's face was flushed, and his lips were pulled back, baring his long carnassial teeth. At his sides, his hands were clenched tight. Madness glittered in his icy eyes.
Close enough… Kalla lunged, latching onto his wrist. Vander tried to jerk away, but she'd already sent her power racing through him, freezing his lungs. A look of surprise crossed his face. As he sank to the ground a cold voice slithered through her mind.
Go ahead… end it… this one is of no use to me anymore… Go ahead. Kill him. You know you want to…
Kalla frowned, gazing into Vander's now frightened blue eyes as he slowly suffocated. Yes… she could finish it. There wasn't anything he could do. She could implode his heart, fry his brain, or simply wait until things stopped working on their own, and there wasn't a single thing he could do about it. The cold look on her face was enough to drain the fear from his eyes, replacing it with a look of utter hopelessness. His ears wilted and his eyes fluttered shut, unable to face her empty indifference. He lifted his chin, twisting his head around so that he was almost facing over his shoulder. Kalla finally
realized what it meant. It was the gesture of a submissive wolf to one more dominant, baring the throat in an act of silent supplication.
As his life began to fade, images came to the Healer's mind, much as they might when a serious Healing was undertaken. A tiny child, the seventh son in the family, and the only one not born with a twin. Not only that but to be born scrawny and thin and oh so different, with his odd red hair.
A young boy, four years old, beaten half to death for not being strong enough or fast enough. And always the reminder that he 'didn't belong'. The same boy, age nine, with two magi. He had the gift, surely his family would be proud. They weren't. The father was willing to pay to have the 'little freak' taken away.
Scenes flashed by of the boy at the Kanlon, but even there he didn't fit. Small and thin for his age, the fact that he was Dashmari didn't help. The children were cruel as only children could be and the youngster soon learned to keep to himself. Only one other, a young Argosian student, stepped in to stop his torment. The bullies soon learned to fear the one they called 'Wolf that Sleeps' and left him be if she was around, but they made it a point to catch him alone later and then things were twice as bad.
As he grew older, the abuse and his own insecurity bred in him a smoldering rage. The Master of the House noted this and put him through training as a War Mage. It came naturally, but the inherent feeling of weakness was still there and, though he excelled at it, it wasn't what he would have chosen had he been given the choice.
Fast forward a few years and the Dashmari, now grown into a handsome young man, once more approached the Argosian, but was firmly rebuffed. He bottled his hurt and unhappiness into anger, channeling that anger into his studies. Soon enough he was named maester and sent out to find a magister. When he returned with Shingar, the Argosian's dislike was almost palpable. Though a maester already, she had fought tooth and nail against taking a guardian of her own. Years passed and he went and carried out the tasks the Master of Solidor set him. He wasn't sure when, but at some point during his service to Grosso, a voice began to fill his mind. It made promises, if only he would continue to do Grosso's work, for the Master of Solidor served the voice as well.
Mother of Wolves (Evalyce Worldshaper Book 1) Page 11
