Vibrations: Harmonic Magic Book 1

by P. E. Padilla

  “Thank you, Nalia.”

  “Thank me? For what?”

  “For sharing your story with me. I know it is difficult to talk about. I appreciate you trusting me with it. You do me honor.”

  Tilting her head slightly to the side, she regarded him. “You are a strange creature, Sam. There is a saying amongst the Sapsyra: ‘Honor is given, honor is received, honor is returned.’ You honor me for allowing me to whine like a child to you and then you thank me for honoring you? Perhaps you have been listening to my father’s parables and now you are confused.”

  She bowed formally to him. “Thank you for our conversation, Sam. I feel at peace for the first time in a long time. I will sleep well. I wish the same for you. Goodnight.” She left.

  Sam sat on his log watching the dying fire for a few minutes more, then went to his own bed.

  Is this the way humans mate? Skitter sent to him as he was preparing to sleep. It’s so much easier to be hapaki. We don’t run in circles around a tree trying to find ourselves. Sam still heard the hapaki’s chuckling in his mind as he fell asleep a few minutes later.

  27

  Sam rode Shonyb, the swaying movement of the rakkeban lulling him into a relaxed stupor. The terrain they had been traveling was changing as they went further north. The trees were larger, the forest denser as they continued. Dr. Walt had told Sam that the Rabat forest stretched from where Southern California was on Telani all the way up the length of the state to the north, filling in the area between the coastal mountain ranges and the Sierras. They had gone through some thin areas, even some areas with few trees, but large stands of trees were never too far away, and thick forest prevailed.

  As they came upon a break in the trees up ahead, Rindu signaled Sam to follow him as the rest of the company stopped for a break. Leading him through a few stunted trees, Sam saw that there was a collection of massive boulders jutting up from the ground ahead. When Rindu stopped and dismounted, Sam did likewise.

  “I wish to show you more about using the rohw in an offensive manner.”

  Rindu stepped around one of the boulders. It was a squat, flattened barrel-shaped rock. It looked as if one of the old oak barrels Sam had seen used in wine making had started to melt and a helpful giant pressed it down while it was malleable. The Zouy started picking up flat pieces of slate that were littering the ground around it. Sam helped him.

  When he had enough for his purpose, Rindu walked back around the rock and, using a convenient boulder that had split down the middle and separated, he started stacking the slate pieces so they spanned between the two halves. After he had fifteen of the flat stones stacked, he motioned for Sam to step back. Sam backed up several paces, wondering what Rindu would do.

  The Zouy stood in front of the pile of slate. Then, stepping into a wider stance, bending his knees to settle into a low, stable position, he raised his hands upward, flexing them at the wrist like a symphony conductor. Sam could hear the sharp intake of breath as he did so, could see his whole torso inflate with the rush of air. As Rindu brought his hands down, slowly as if fighting through a pool of molasses, he exhaled a breath, his abdomen tightening to expel the air.

  Rindu put his right hand on top of the slate pile, fingers splayed out and palm resting on the stone. With a sudden motion, unexpectedly fast and decisive, his hand raised, barely an inch off the stone, and then came down on top of the slate, making a slapping sound. Sam’s mouth dropped as he saw the stone…disintegrate. There was no other word for it. A few chunks of rock remained, but most of it seemed to have been instantly pulverized. All fifteen pieces of stone. Each more than an inch thick.

  Sam had seen martial arts breaking competitions before. He was amazed at the masters who broke ten or more bricks with concentrated strikes. But he had never seen, never even heard of, something like this. The Zouy master didn’t just break the stones, he so completely destroyed them that it was impossible to distinguish which tiny piece from the pile of dust and gravel that was on the ground in front of him had belonged to which piece of slate. He also had stacked the stones directly on top of each other, not spaced out as he saw in the breaking competitions.

  “How…” Sam swallowed to moisten his dry throat. “How did you do that?”

  The monk wiped a bit of dust from his hand onto his robes and turned to Sam. “That is the power of the rohw. Have we not been discussing this ever since you arrived from your world? Is it so unbelievable to you?”

  “I know there is power and I know that masters such as you can harness the power, but what you just did is beyond anything I’ve ever heard of. Even the most famous of the martial artists and yogi throughout history in my world, even the wildly inflated legends about them, do not compare to the sheer power of the one-inch strike you just delivered. I just…I just can’t believe it.”

  “And that, Sam, is the problem. To do, you must believe. The bird who does not believe it can fly cannot. It is simple. Now, you must try.” Rindu took a single slate from those they had gathered and stacked on the ground, putting it in place between the rock halves.

  “But I can’t…” he stopped in mid-sentence, watching for Rindu’s eyebrow to raise. It did. “I mean, what do I do?”

  The nod the monk gave him was almost imperceptible. “We will start simply. I want you to breathe, gather your rohw, and then strike the stone downward with your palm. But do not just strike it, strike through it.”

  Sam tried repeatedly, hitting the stone with his palm, trying to project his rohw as he did so, but after six tries, his palm was feeling bruised and Rindu stopped him. “Do not worry, Sam. In failure we find the path to victory. Later, you will think on what you have learned from striking the stone, and with practice with the seed pods and with other exercises we will do, you will succeed when next we try.”

  Rindu looked at the remaining eight slates stacked on the ground. “Ah, we have gathered many targets, but they will not be used. It is unfortunate when things are not used for their purpose. Should we, perhaps, honor these stones from the earth by fulfilling the purpose for which we gathered them?”

  “Um, yeah. I mean, yes, that sounds like what we should do.”

  “Very well, then. I will use them to give you another lesson.” Stacking the stones on top of the one he had set up for Sam, Rindu counted them. “There are nine stones. Choose a number.”

  “Five” Sam answered.

  “From the top or bottom?”

  “Top.”

  Counting down from the top, the monk pointed at each slate in turn. “One, two, three, four, and five.” He tapped the fifth slate, which appeared to be slightly thinner than the others. Taking a piece of softer white stone from the ground, he drew some marks on the gray stone to mark it.

  Resuming his stance and repeating the one deep breath, Rindu placed his hand on the top slate. Taking a half breath, he hissed as he exhaled and Sam saw his hand twitch. He didn’t raise it as before, not even a little. He kept contact with the slate as he hissed and every muscle in his body seemed to concentrate their effort on his palm. As before, a cloud of dust and gravel blew out in a halo around the Zouy. Sam heard a clanking noise, a tinny slap of stone hitting stone.

  When the dust settled, Sam saw the one remaining stone, the fifth stone, the stone marked with the white marks, sitting on the boulder supports. All the other slates had been destroyed. The remaining stone appeared untouched.

  “When you master the rohw, you can direct it precisely. You chose this slate out and it has remained unharmed. I wanted you to see that even in destruction, we can be selective. Do not forget. Often, we must use violence, but true honor lies in not doing violence. That is the true beauty of the rohw. That is the true beauty of life.”

  As they walked back toward the others, Sam looked over his shoulder at the lone remaining stone slab, marveling at what he had seen.

  The rest of the day, he thought about what Rindu had taught him. Even more so, though, he thought about what he had learned about himself.
He believed in the power of the rohw, but maybe he didn’t believe in himself. He could see that certain things were possible, but why did he doubt that he could make the things possible for him? He would have to find an answer before he confronted the Gray Man. If he had any doubts when he did so, he would be lost, and all his friends with him.

  As the group started off again through the winding forest trail, he took out his seed pods, focused to generate his energy, and began to juggle. He had a lot of work to do and little time.

  28

  The days passed, each one filled with new sights and activities. While riding, Sam practiced with his rohw, either generating a “rohw ball” in his hands and passing it from hand to hand, feeling the heat and the resistance as he manipulated the energy, or he used his seed pods. He could keep all five of them in motion now, though it was shaky, erratic motion that often ended with him having to chase the seed pod balls as they rolled on the ground. After lagging behind the rest because he had to stop to pick up his “toys,” and receiving stinging comments from Nalia and a raised single eyebrow from Rindu, he reserved his practice with all five for when they were stopped for a break.

  He was almost ready to move on to using pebbles, and he was happy that his skills in both absorbing the energy around him and in using that energy were increasing. Rindu had told him several times that he was naturally gifted in the use of the rohw, that he was easily capable of doing more, but that Sam had to convince himself before it could happen.

  Sam, for his part, thought that he might be limiting his progress by analyzing it too much. Maybe Rindu was right and he could make leaps and jumps in his skill, but that didn’t seem reasonable and so he thought it possible that he was holding himself back. He tried to progress. He practiced constantly, listened to everything Rindu said, and he was doing well, just not as well as the monk told him he could do. And he still could not travel back home.

  His practice with Nalia was sharpening his fighting skills, and his study with Dr. Walt was helping him understand the unique languages and culture of this world. He loved learning everything he could from all of his teachers, but he felt deep inside that what Rindu could teach him was the most important thing. If he could master the rohw, he could get home. He could challenge the Gray Man. He could keep his friends safe and could get home safely himself, to his mother.

  He helped with the foraging also. Edible roots, fruit, and vegetables were abundant and the path through the forest seemed well-traveled, so they made good time. They had not seen anyone else on the path—he hesitated to call it a road—but it was clear that it was used because otherwise the vegetation would have reclaimed it.

  When they were two days from Bayton, according to Dr. Walt’s estimate, they came upon the first sign of human presence since they had left Raihar.

  Several large logs had been placed directly across the path as it went through a particularly congested part of the forest. They were large enough and spread out enough that they would be difficult for the rakkeben to jump over even if the wolves were running. When Sam, saw the men coming out of the trees, he realized trying to flee was out of the question. Several of the bandits had bows in their hands, arrows nocked and ready. The party got down off their rakkeben, looking around. They were surrounded.

  One of the men jumped up on one of the larger logs. He was dressed in dirty clothes that did not fit him, obviously being made for a thicker man. Or maybe they were his but hard living had whittled away any spare weight he had previously. He was scarecrow thin and the clothes hung off his stick-like frame. His long face was dominated by a long, sharp nose and his tiny little rat eyes scanned the party. Shaking his greasy black hair from his face, he finally settled his gaze on Rindu.

  “This here is our road, and as such, you have to pay tribute to pass through. It's a fair price. We just want those fancy beasts you're riding.”

  “No.” Rindu's short response hung in the air and slowly drifted over the men and toward the forest floor.

  Blinking twice and then shaking his head, the man looked back over each shoulder as if to make sure his men were in place, then looked back to Rindu. “You don't seem to understand. You don't have no choice, here, old man. You will pay up or we will take the payment from your corpses.”

  The Zouy did not move, did not blink, and the expression on his face remained neutral, not changing at all. “You will let us pass or we will be forced to pass through you. We have no time for your foolishness. Move aside.”

  Sam watched the man as his face went from incredulity to anger to rage. Blood rushed upward from the man's neck until the skin from neck to forehead was flushed and reddened. He opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t have a chance to utter a word.

  With lightning speed, Rindu was in motion, but not to attack. He spun as he dodged an arrow that was shot at him, bringing his hand up at the last possible moment and catching the shaft as it passed by his body. Then, he stopped in the same relaxed position he was in a moment before, holding the arrow loosely in his hand.

  The man, mouth agape, shouted to his men: “Stand down. Who shot that arrow?”

  One of the men from the trees off to Sam's left came out, raising his hand. “Uh, I did Tem. It was an accident. My fingers slipped and it got away from me.”

  Tem glared at him. “I will deal with you later. I don't want any more accidents. Our friends here were just about to pay the toll and be on their way. It's bad business to kill everyone who comes through like we killed that last group.”

  Rindu still had not moved. “You have seen a small sample of what I can do. I say to you again, let us pass.”

  “You can catch one arrow. I'm impressed. Can you catch three dozen at one time? Can all the rest of your friends do so? No, you're not in any position to demand anything from us. I’ll give you one more chance to pay up. If you still refuse, I'm afraid there will be many more arrows than you can catch coming at you.”

  Rindu whispered to the party: “When I move, you must take cover.”

  Sam was looking right at Rindu, but still he couldn't tell exactly what he did. He moved so fast, it was just a blur. The arrow in his hand shot forward at blinding speed, traveling as fast as if from a bow. It flew straight and true and struck Tem's shoulder, spinning him around and making him fall off his log. Sam saw that a half a foot of arrow was protruding from the back of the man’s shoulder. He had no doubt that where it struck was exactly where Rindu intended it to strike. He could have killed the man easily, but he only wounded him.

  Suddenly, everything was motion. Nalia physically threw Dr. Walt into a bush behind a tree and then rolled off the path into the forest herself. After throwing the arrow, Rindu had darted off the path to the other side. The rakkeben, sensing the situation and the mood of their bond-mates, leapt into the forest as well. Everyone had gotten off the path. Except Sam.

  Unsure of what was going on, he had frozen for just a moment and now he was facing the mob, most of them with bows drawn and ready to fire. Time slowed and the seconds seemed like minutes.

  He watched the man Tem spin off the log and disappear behind it. He heard indistinct yelling, though several men seemed to have used the word “kill” in whatever they had said. He watched the archers swivel their bows to try to follow the escaping party members, only to see them disappear. He watched as they turned their bows toward him. He knew he was going to die.

  Just as he saw the first arrow begin to leave the bow, he drew a sharp breath, screamed, and pushed. Later, he would think that word “pushed” was wholly inadequate, somewhat like calling a lightning bolt the glow from a firefly. He did the same thing he did with his seed pod balls to juggle them, but magnified. Magnified many times over. He felt the rohw flowing through him, being sucked from the surroundings, from the trees and living things and from the air itself, and being channeled through his body and out of his palms. It flowed in a great arc in front of him. And then everything went black.

  A moment later—at least, he thought
it was only a moment—his eyes opened to see Nalia's mask inches from his face. She had a damp towel and was wiping his face with it. “Are you well, Sam?” she asked. He sensed concern in her voice. He was flat on his back on the ground.

  “I don't know. What happened?” He sat up carefully.

  Rindu came over to him. “You used your rohw, Sam. You used it powerfully.” He stepped aside to let Sam see what was behind him, on the path.

  Sam rubbed his eyes and widened, and then narrowed, them to focus. The path, where the massive logs were spread across the trail, was clear. More than that, though, the logs look to have been picked up and thrown, crushing brush and smaller trees a dozen feet on either side of the path. For a good twenty feet ahead, the path had been turned into a clearing thirty feet wide.

  “Wh...wh...what happened? How did those logs move like that?”

  Nalia answered. “You pushed them, Sam. With your rohw.”

  “I pushed...I pushed them? With my rohw? Did it kill anyone? Did I hurt any of us?”

  “No, though men were thrown a dozen feet. Some were injured, but they all fled as quickly as they could. I do not think they will be trying to block travelers again. As for us, we were behind you and so were not affected at all. You pushed forward.”

  Sam let out a breath. “That's good. But how did I do that? I've never shown that much power.”

  Rindu squatted down beside him. “In times of emergency, sometimes ability does not wait for belief. I have told you that you are capable of much, but you do not believe. When your belief was suspended because of the danger, your abilities manifested their full strength. Or maybe just a fraction of your strength. It is as the storm said to the breeze, ‘little brother, you do not know the power you will have when time and circumstance conspire to quicken your strength.’” Sam’s aching head refused to try to figure out what the Zouy was saying.