With trepidation, Ix tapped her foot on the floor stones. Once she found the one with the hollow sound, she knelt to inspect it. She tried to move the large flat stone, but it wouldn’t budge. Thinking maybe that the debris strewn about on the floor was interfering with the opening, she spent the next hour dragging the heavy objects out of the way and using a half-charred broom she had found to sweep the dust off the stone. The acrid scent of burned and quenched straw from the broom assaulted her as the dust floating around her made her sneeze.
When she finally had cleared several feet around the stone, she knelt and tried to move it off the opening once again. It still wouldn’t move. She wished she had one of the large hammers she had seen the house workers use to drive spikes into the ground for tying down the canopies at festival time. She didn’t though, so she looked around for another tool to use. After a moment, she thought better of it. The stone door was very thick, if she remembered correctly, and she would never be able to break through it.
Sitting on the flat stone and crossing her legs, she began to breathe deeply, rhythmically, as her father had taught her. She closed her eyes and relaxed. How had her father opened the stone door? She couldn’t remember. There must be a switch or latch somewhere, but she didn’t know where. There didn’t seem to be anything left unburned in the area surrounding the flat stone on which she sat. If she relaxed enough, maybe she would remember.
She tried a different approach and pictured herself in her mind. She was sitting, just as she was in reality, legs crossed and body straight, with her hands resting loosely on her knees. As she watched, she imagined herself suddenly on the other side of the stone, in the hidden room.
Instantly, she was surrounded by darkness, as if the sun suddenly had gone out. Opening her eyes, she saw nothing but blackness. She made an effort to continue breathing regularly and to tamp down on her fear. Once calm, she opened her eyes again and saw tiny shafts of light. As her eyes adjusted over the next few minutes, she recognized the lights for what they were. It was light leaking through the minuscule cracks surrounding the stone door to the secret room…above her! She had teleported, on purpose, directly into the secret room.
Ix got to her knees and started feeling around her. She found the closest wall and, using it as support, she stood as her hands slid up the carved stone surface. Another minute of searching for what she remembered her father using and her hand found a small lever on the wall.
She pulled the lever sharply and heard a crack and then a whirring noise. The stone door slowly moved to reveal the opening to the room. As it opened and allowed more light to pour in, Ix saw a thick rope attached to one side of the stone, the other side disappearing down a hole in the floor. From beneath her, she could feel the vibration of the counterweight as it ground its way to its resting spot. The door, fully open, came to rest and Ix looked around for the first time.
The light filtered in from above the ruined walls of the room above, illuminating dust and ash as it swirled in the air. All around the little room were the alcoves she remembered, each containing important scrolls or, in some cases, books. Each clan head was responsible for adding to the body of knowledge in their generation, and for copying any texts that were deteriorating. Because of this, you could not tell from the appearance of a scroll or book how old the information in it was.
Collecting everything in the alcoves—there were twenty-four scrolls and five books—she reverently packed them into a sack that was conveniently left at the foot of the ladder coming into the room. Ix looked around again to make sure she was not leaving anything behind. Not seeing anything, she began to climb up.
Before reaching the top, she stopped again, a memory tickling the back of her mind. Reaching up and setting the sack containing her treasures on the floor above her, she descended the steps once again to stand in the little room. After a careful search, she found the tiny release to a small compartment in one of the walls. Prying the door open, she found a half-expected treasure. She lifted the clan weapons reverently from their hiding place and added them to her sack, wanting to be in a safe location before inspecting them. With a long last look at the repository of the soul of her clan, she left the room.
With a few minutes given to inspecting the doorway to the secret room, she located a thin, tough length of rope running from the opening of the door and under the ground to her left. Standing and looking down at the ladder, she mentally traced its route. A quick search of the side of the room toward which the rope headed revealed a release consisting of two small paving stones. She had to experiment for several minutes until she discovered the secret. One stone had to be pulled outward while the other had to be shifted to the side, away from the first one. With a click, the door mechanism reset and the flat stone door started to lower slowly, activating a counterweight on the opposite side of the room from the first weight. It didn’t pull the door down; it merely raised the other counterweight back to its original position, allowing the heavy door to lower from its own weight. Ingenious.
With a grinding of stone on stone, the thump of the door settling, and the click of the lock resetting, the floor looked just as it had when she had sat on it scant moments before. Perhaps someday she could bring the clan treasures back to their hiding place, but for now, she had need of them. Picking up the sack, she headed back to the hunting cabin to start her new life.
19
Ix had spent the next five years perfecting her art. She studied the writings and practiced the techniques and exercises in them every day, first at the cabin, and then at other locations when she was forced to flee the people who were resettling the area that used to belong to her clan. She had learned to hunt and forage from her father, so she was self-sufficient.
She searched her memories for every shred of wisdom and guidance her father had given her about the clan martial art. She was very careful to practice everything slowly at first, developing perfect form, and only to increase her speed after she had practiced each movement for many days.
In addition to the unarmed fighting method, she also practiced constantly with her clan weapons, the pair of ring daggers she found in the secret compartment of the hidden room. The weapons were brought to Gythe by Chen Feng Dao himself and were fashioned of the highest quality steel. They looked like steel circles with heavy cord wrapped around one part, making a handle. On the opposite sides of the handles three razor-sharp daggers jutted out from the outer ring of the circle, the middle dagger being longer than the two on the side. Because of the round shape of the main body of the weapon, the three sub-daggers radiated outward, creating a fan of blades. Every surface except the wrapped handles was razor-sharp. The configuration of the weapon allowed a skilled user to attack in many different ways, block, and catch weapons to disarm opponents. Ix became an expert in their use.
Before leaving her secluded life, the girl who was Chen Hua Ye changed her name. She didn’t want anyone knowing who she was, what clan she had belonged to. More than that, though, she felt as if little Hua Ye was truly dead. She was no longer that person. Her new name, Ix, was taken from the name of one of the letters in the Old Kasmali alphabet, but it also meant, roughly, “fence in” or “destroy” in that language. That seemed fitting. Thus was Ix the fighter created.
When she could, she fought with others. As she got older and her fighting skill became greater, she fought for money, either in organized fights or just by picking fights and betting with others on the outcome. Because of her intense self-training and her natural talent, she never lost, though a few times it was her sheer persistence that allowed her to finally defeat the opponent.
She also practiced her teleportation ability, refining it into a fine art unto itself. Not only did she use it for travel, but she developed ways to use it in combat that gave her an edge over any other opponent, even one who could use vibrational magic. She never used it in her contests, though, so that she could hold it in reserve as her secret weapon.
When she was thirteen years old
and had no match in fighting ability, she visited the two warlords who had betrayed her father. Killing each of them, after revealing her identity to them, she satisfied her vengeance for her family's murder.
In the prison of one of the warlords was an old assassin, one who was famous, but who had been captured due to treachery from his apprentice. Ix had heard the man was interned there and broke him out of prison, killing his three guards in the process. She bargained with him. She would release him and he would train her in his art. He was the best at what he did and Ix wanted to learn it all. He agreed.
After training with him for two years, Ix had become an assassin for hire. She developed her skills further, made more money than she would ever be able to spend, hid it in secret places, and moved on, toward the West. She had heard of the ocean and wanted to see it for herself.
She was sure there would be jobs in the West as well. Wherever there were power struggles, there was need for a good assassin. And there were always power struggles. Always.
When she found one of the Gray Man’s Collectors, she had followed the man, curious. He traveled to the Gray Fortress and Ix infiltrated the stronghold to see what was in it. Eventually ending up in the Gray Man’s large meeting room, she observed the villain with his minion, a huge man with armor and every sort of weapon hanging from his body.
She saw the Gray Man smirk and glance to where she was hiding. A moment later, when she stepped out of the shadows into the light of a brazier, Shordan finally detected her and attacked.
He was lightning quick for such a big man, but not as fast as Ix. She sidestepped his blows, lunged in under his guard, snapped an open-palm strike to his nose, and then dance back before being hit. The big man’s nose cracked loudly and blood spurted out. As Shordan Drees prepared to redouble his efforts, the Gray Man held up one hand and the big man stopped. “Who are you, and why are you here?” the Gray Man asked.
Ix introduced herself and explained her curiosity and how she had followed the Collector. When all was said and done, Ix had agreed to work for the Gray Man, who was impressed with her abilities to infiltrate so far into his keep, not to mention fight his large minion to a standstill.
She had served him ever since. Not because she had to. No, she had more than enough money. Not because he could really do anything for her. She served him because she was the best, and to be the best she had to keep in practice, had to search for the next challenge. She figured he would have more than enough jobs to keep her in practice. And he did. He did indeed.
Shaking her head to clear the memories, Ix finished gathering her supplies. Concentrating, she vibrated, shimmered, and then disappeared from the Gray Fortress.
Several hops later, she finally arrived near the compound. It was inefficient and frustrating to have to teleport several times to reach her destination. If she would have been familiar with the location, familiar with the feeling of the unique vibrations there, she could have traveled directly to the spot. Since she didn't, she had to make her way there more slowly.
The important thing with her talent was to prevent teleporting and rematerializing inside a tree, rock, animal, or anything else. She could make hops and project her senses in front of her so that she didn't disastrously materialize inside something, but with only a rough location, she couldn't travel that far south to an unknown location in one go.
She had teleported just a few miles from the compound and had immediately gone there to observe before taking any other action. She scouted all around the compound, watching it for several hours. There were three people there, servants. It seemed that it was as she suspected: the scholar and his guards had gone.
To be certain, she waited until it got dark and then made her way into the compound. There was only one person keeping watch and he was not very attentive. She easily maneuvered around the area and confirmed that there were no people there, other than the three she’d seen.
She was a shadow, unobserved and unsensed. She circled back to the man keeping watch. Easily coming up behind him without being detected, she applied a chokehold until he was unconscious, and brought him to an area a half mile from the compound. She waited for him to wake.
When he did so, she began to ask questions. It didn’t take much more than vague threats of violent torture to find out what the man knew, which was little. Most of the rest of the servants had fled in different directions, afraid of retaliation from the Gray Man’s forces. The three who remained thought it would be just as risky to try to make it through the forest to a town or village and so stayed, taking a chance that they were insignificant enough to be overlooked.
The doctor, who called himself “Dr. Walt” according to the captured man, had left with his two protectors and the other man, Sam, a week and a half after the attack. They had gone southwest.
Ix was experienced at interrogation and kept pushing the man for other information. He finally recalled that he had overheard the doctor telling his protectors that they must go to the Gray Fortress.
“The Gray Fortress?” Ix asked. “Why would they go there?” The man didn’t know and Ix herself couldn’t think of a reason. Still, she was sure the man was telling the truth.
When she had taken all the information from the man that was useful, she left him, bewildered and frightened, by simply teleporting to a thick stand of trees just outside the small clearing in which she was interrogating him.
Watching from the foliage, she saw him look around in surprise, take a deep breath, and tentatively get to his feet. Looking around again, he slowly edged out of the clearing and back toward the compound, obviously familiar with the area. When he reached the trees and nothing happened, he broke into a run. The others wouldn’t try to follow her, she knew.
She left the three alive. She was not being paid to kill them and they were not a threat. They would never know how close they came to death, though. A less professional assassin would have killed all three.
Ix teleported a few miles north, found a nice defensible location in a small hollow, wrapped herself in her cloak, and went to sleep. She would begin tracking her prey at first light. She would find them, she would kill this Dr. Walt's guards, and she would take him back to the Gray Man. With pleasant thoughts of meeting the challenge of his protectors, she went to sleep.
20
Sam woke abruptly, groggy and wondering where he was. He was disoriented, so tired that he didn't even remember falling asleep. Shaking his head and trying to rub the sleep from his eyes, he sat up and looked around. No, he wasn't home. The gray/tan colored rough cloth of which the tent was made surrounded him, encasing him. He was on Gythe, and he was in his tent.
Thinking back to the day before, he realized that he now had a rakkeban friend that he could ride. It was a strange feeling, one that would definitely take some getting used to. As he swiveled his head to survey his small tent, his eyes caught the shape of something just to his right. He turned his head slowly, heart racing, then jumped when the shape resolved into a person. His wide eyes focused and he saw that it was Nalia.
“You scared the wits out of me,” he said to her. Was she smirking under that mask? It would be impossible for him to tell if she was, but it felt like she was smirking at him.
“I am sorry that you are so easily frightened. I came to get you so we can start your training in earnest. Are you ready?”
“Yes, I think so. I mean, yes, definitely. Just let me get something to eat first.”
She shook her head slightly. “No, it would be better if you did not eat. That could get...messy. I said your training would start in earnest. We are finished taking it easy on you, Rindu and I. Now you must learn.”
Gulping, Sam got up and followed Nalia outside.
Two hours later, Sam was exhausted, lying flat on his back on the grass and trying to catch his breath. She had been right. Had he eaten, he would not have been able to keep the food in his stomach through all the intense activity. For a wonder, he was not as bruised as he would have thought h
e'd be. Nalia seemed to be taking it to heart to actually try to train him. She didn't seem focused on just trying to beat him up anymore. That was good. Skitter, as was his habit, lounged under a nearby bush, watching. Sam was thankful the hapaki wasn't in a teasing mood today, though he did recognize a few stray thoughts filter through during his training, thoughts that seemed extraordinarily like laughter to him.
“You have good reflexes and good coordination.” she said to him. As he couldn't help a small smile from playing across his face, she continued, “For a child. But I must teach you to fight as an adult. We must go beyond children's games.”
Another almost-laugh from Skitter drifted through Sam's mind.
Sam sighed loudly. “I am trying, Nalia. I really am. I just don't understand how I am supposed to get better if I can't practice movements slowly until I perfect them. Isn't there a set of exercises made up of fighting postures and strikes and blocks that I can practice so my body gets used to doing them? That’s the way we train in fighting on my world.”
“We have told you that is not the way of things. The method of which you speak is used here on Gythe as well, but not by those who know. Not by the Zouyim and not by the Sapsyra. If you wish to be an expert at combat, you must leave behind what you knew before and grasp what I am telling you.”
“I want to,” he said, “I really do. I just don't understand how I can do it.” He didn’t like it that he sounded, even to himself, like he was whining.
She huffed. “Sit up, in a meditating position.” He did so. She sat next to him, her knee touching his. He felt a tingle, but it quickly went away when she readjusted so that their knees no longer touched.
“Now, breathe well and deeply. Relax your whole body, go to the edge of trance. Do you know this, of what I speak? Trance?”
Vibrations: Harmonic Magic Book 1 Page 14
