Vibrations: Harmonic Magic Book 1

by P. E. Padilla

  Attention back on the business at hand, he moved fluidly from the two attacks being directed at him. One was a sword and the other some sort of chain weapon. He moved left, feinted with one stick toward Chain Man and blocked a sweeping sword strike from the other. Kicking out his right leg directly behind him, he felt the ribs of a rushing attacker crack with the force. Somehow, he knew the man would be at that precise location even before the man himself knew.

  Sam marveled at how his intuitive battle sense had become more developed. The training he had been receiving these past months was really shining through. Even though he was better equipped for fighting, however, he recognized that these soldiers were not the same as he had fought before. These were better. Much better. They were obviously the more highly-trained and specialized troops in the Gray Man’s army.

  In fact, he was having trouble keeping up with them now that they were organizing their attacks, even being in harmony with the song of battle. These soldiers worked together flawlessly, rather than all of them attacking individually. One mistake could be fatal with these foes. He forced the thought from his mind, trying to clear it to bring himself more into harmony with the battle’s vibrations. He breathed rhythmically as five attackers moved in on him simultaneously.

  *****

  Nalia saw Sam’s nod just as she spun to open the belly of a woman who was attacking her with double long knives. Stepping clear of the writhing body as it fell, she wondered if this battle would be too much for Sam. She wanted to go to him, fight alongside him and make sure he remained safe, but she was needed to protect Dr. Walt. Sam had progressed well in his training and was performing admirably. Dr. Walt was defenseless. She and her father must remain with him.

  The conflict tugged at the edges of her mind. She had never felt for anyone as she felt for Sam. Though her duty was clear, she still wanted to go to him. She did not know what she would do if she lost him.

  Distracted by her thoughts, she barely dodged a shadow seen in her peripheral vision. After passing her head, she saw that it was a hardwood stick a foot or so long attached to a long staff by a chain. Spinning as she parried a sword slash from her left, she continued the spin striking the arm holding the staff with a vicious downward diagonal blow. The force of the strike, amplified by the spin, separated the upper from lower arm at the elbow. The assailant screamed as the chain staff spun uselessly from his now shortened arm. Nalia tried to clear her head of worry for Sam and she set about her task of cutting through the rabble, shrapezi flashing in the afternoon sun.

  *****

  Rindu’s mouth turned downward into a worried frown. As he fought off the attackers, snapping the arm of one attacking him with a sword so viciously that bone poked through the skin, he noticed what was happening in other parts of the battlefield. Snatching the steel sword—that was a fortuitous find, much better for his purposes than a ceramic blade— from the broken arm, he carved a path through the attackers as he thought. He had seen the silent interchange between his daughter and Sam. He had seen also the way they both seemed distracted. It was obvious that they were worried about each other. In a battle such as this, distraction could be fatal.

  Sam was doing well, better than could reasonably be expected with only a few months of training. He was naturally gifted with using rohw and he was also a very good student of physical combat, but he had so little training. These soldiers were the elite forces of the Gray Man’s army. They did not fight as most men. Most combatants were over-confident when they so severely outnumbered their opponent. Not only that, but most often, even competent soldiers resorted to fighting individually when attacking outnumbered foes.

  These men were used to fighting together. One or two would attack in a certain way to position their opponent for a killing blow from others. They were devious and skilled, and the groups acted almost as a single man. One could not be distracted or make a mistake with soldiers like these.

  Normally, he would not worry about Nalia, her fighting skills being supreme, but her mind was not entirely on the battle. She seemed conflicted, wanting to help Sam but knowing they had to protect Dr. Walt, who was defenseless. The leader, that big warrior, had yelled that they were to capture the doctor, unharmed if possible. No, they had to protect Dr. Walt.

  He looked once again at Sam and Nalia and, seeing that they were holding their own for now, set about his work. Using his stolen sword, a curved wide blade in the style of a Chinese broadsword, he spun, deflected, and dealt death to any who came close to him. The numbers of men seemed endless, but they could not be. All they needed to do was to survive long enough to kill all of them. That would not be so hard, would it?

  *****

  Nalia watched Sam whenever she could spare a glance in his direction. Parry, block, hook, slice, stab, look toward Sam. Dodge, weave, deflect, slash, kick, look to him again. The worry seemed to sap her energy, but she fought on, always keeping Dr. Walt within a few feet, dancing in and out of battle but keeping all enemies on her side and away from him, as her father was doing.

  She watched with horror as five attackers came in toward Sam at once. These men fought too well together. Five at a time would be too much for him. She stopped, turning her head toward him to yell a warning, “Sam, behind!” and it was then that her foot slipped in a puddle of blood that had formed on the rocky surface below her.

  The slip almost cost her life. Her right foot slipped backward and she began to fall forward, right into the path of a wicked looking polearm blade sweeping toward her. Shifting her body’s trajectory to fall more quickly, she virtually dove at the ground, twisting at the last moment so that the sweeping blade missed her head by a hair’s breadth. So close did it cut that it sliced her mask and, she thought, probably cut off some of her hair.

  Continuing with the roll, she thrust her left hand to the ground, pushed up while flexing her back, and flipped around in a butterfly kick that smashed the jaw of the polearm wielder. As she landed, she whipped both swords out and cleanly removed the assailant’s head before blocking strikes from two other attackers that had moved in. One block cut half way through the thick cudgel that was coming in toward her skull and the other sword block shattered the ceramic sword coming for her midsection, spraying hardened ceramic glass shards everywhere.

  She regained her harmony with the battle song and continued fighting, glancing at Dr. Walt to be sure he was still unharmed and at Sam, who was still fighting. He had reduced the five to two, but others were rushing in. So far, however, he had survived.

  *****

  Sam heard Nalia scream something at him but he couldn’t make out what it was through the rush of blood in his ears. His intuition told him that five attackers were surrounding him and moving in as one. Closing his eyes for the briefest of moments, he centered himself and felt the vibration of the battle magnify.

  Two men and a woman were visible in front of him. They wielded double sticks, a serrated bronze long sword, and weapons that looked surprisingly like nunchakus—two sticks, each a foot long and joined by a chain—though it was hard to tell with how fast they were moving. He felt that the man and the woman behind him had some type of hooked pole and a broad sword.

  Time slowed down as the picture of what was just about to happen came clearly into Sam’s mind. As the hooked pole came from behind to snag his right shoulder, he twisted toward it while bringing his stick up in a short arc, tapping the shaft just below the hook, deflecting it outward just enough so that it intruded into the path of the nunchaku that was aiming for Sam’s head.

  He moved his head just out of range of a sword slash from directly in front of him, batting aside one stick coming toward his face from the left and lifting his left leg up out of the way of the other stick rushing toward his knee. Time wound down and then stopped completely. A distant thought of how he must look at the moment flashed into his head. Standing on one leg, the other cocked up and out of the way, both sticks parrying and at the ready, head tilted back just enough to avoid the sw
ord’s tip by the merest distance, he must be the perfect picture of competency. Either that, or he looked like a man foolishly flailing about trying to keep from being killed. He wasn’t sure which was true.

  Not even having time to think of the sword thrust from behind that was aimed at his vulnerable lower back, time sped back into motion and his body uncoiled. The left leg snapped out, striking the stick wielder’s arm at the elbow with a satisfying crunch and continuing on into an arcing kick with the instep of his foot to the hand holding the sword in front of him, pushing it away from him. At the same time, his body twisted to the right, along with the motion of the kick, allowing the sword thrust from behind to punch through his clothes but not his skin as he whipped the stick in his left hand out and crushed the throat of the nunchaku wielding man and poked the right stick violently into the face of the woman holding the hooked pole, shattering her nose and spraying blood that seemed to hang in the air as perfect red droplets as she fell backward.

  Transforming his motion into a downward cross block, trapping the sword that had now torn free of his clothes, he completed a full counter-clockwise rotation while pushing the sword out of the way and ended in a spin kick with his back foot that lifted the swordsman off his feet and crushed several ribs.

  Finishing off the remaining two assailants proved to be little trouble compared to what he had just been through. Only the swordswoman in front of him and the stick wielder remained, the latter having only one serviceable arm. A quick feint to one, followed by a knee-crushing strike and then a vicious overhand strike ended the sword wielder and a straight thrust with a stick, projecting rohw through it caused the chest of the stick wielder to cave in and the heart explode, killing him instantly.

  Taking a breath, Sam prepared himself mentally for the next attack. To his surprise, though, the remaining soldiers were not rushing him. They were moving to create a circle, walled in by bodies, with Sam in the middle. Not knowing what was happening at first, he realized that the big man, standing head and shoulders above all the others, was coming toward him in a rush. Sam lowered himself into a sturdy stance, sticks at the ready, and hoped his skills were sufficient for this test.

  48

  Rindu had seen, in between his own fighting, Sam’s tense moments with the five attackers. He saw that Sam was bleeding from a cut to his side, but it did not look serious enough to affect his movement. He knew that in battle, the energy flowing through the body made such minor wounds irrelevant. Sam probably did not know himself that he was injured. He thought, maybe for the first time since this battle started, that they would all survive, against all odds.

  Then he saw the big man—this had to be Shordan Drees—moving toward Sam, and knew he had to do something. Nalia had not seen it yet, but when she did she would not be able to resist going to his aid. Rindu had to act first.

  Cutting into the midsection of the man in front of him, causing the attacker to bend forward, Rindu jumped, planted his foot in the man’s back, which was almost horizontal now, and kicked off. He cleared the heads and weapons of several attackers, mostly due to their surprise and confusion, turned one perfect somersault in mid-air, and landed next to Sam. “Go protect Dr. Walt. I have made a promise that I must keep.”

  Sam looked at Rindu, dumbstruck for the briefest of moments until a stern, “Go!” from the Zouy brought him back to his senses. Rindu faced Shordan Drees as the giant of a man cleared the last of the attackers forming a ring. As the commander passed, the men closed up to make the circle complete. There would be no evading this battle.

  Standing straight at attention, bloodied broadsword cradled in the hollow of his right arm, Rindu performed the traditional salute, left hand vertical in front of his heart. He bowed slightly, showing proper respect for his opponent. Shordan Drees sneered at him and expelled a scream as he rushed in with a massive metal bound club, apparently meaning to crush the much smaller man in one blow.

  The man-mountain was a great deal faster than a man of his size should be. Rindu evaded the club blow, but his timing was not as precise as he had wished, so his counterattack had to be aborted. The Zouy dodged to the side, keeping a suitable distance. Drees was skilled. He recovered easily from the missed blow, not becoming unbalanced because of it, despite the force with which he had tried to strike.

  Again and again Drees attacked. Rindu, expertly using the broadsword, deflected the club and counterattacking with lightning-fast slashes with the sword, revolving it around his torso and whipping it out with great speed and force while still guarding against counterattack. Drees somehow moved the club fast enough to block the slashes, however, using the entire length of the weapon and the metal bands surrounding it. Each block was jarring to Rindu and he had to redirect the momentum of the sword at the last moment to keep it from shattering from the force of the blocks.

  Back and forth, the combatants waged their private war, neither being struck despite the speed and savagery of the attacks. Rindu, for his part, had been gauging his opponent’s style while keeping his predictable so as to be able to spring a surprise attack. The big man seemed to be tiring slightly, not used to working so hard to defeat an enemy.

  Just when Rindu was about to spring his trap, the big man backed up two steps, shouted, “Now, Ix” and disappeared in a sea of bodies as the circle closed about Rindu and he was attacked from all sides. The last thing he noticed before all of his attention was taken by the mob surrounding him was the slender form of the assassin woman appearing suddenly next to Dr. Walt, reaching out to grab him and Shordan Drees, only for all three to disappear. Sam was still fighting his way toward Nalia and neither he nor his daughter could do anything for the old man. Clearing his mind and breathing rhythmically, he proceeded to wreak havoc upon the attackers surrounding him.

  *****

  When the battle was done, which happened more quickly than when the others had been worrying about protecting Dr. Walt, there were dead, dying, and severely injured soldiers littering the ground. Sam had some minor cuts and a few bruises, but no serious damage. Nalia’s mask was torn and a few of her hairs were cut short, but otherwise she was uninjured. Rindu was dirty from the mud and the blood that had splattered on him, but no weapon had touched him.

  Sam sat down tiredly at the edge of the battlefield after checking to make sure Shonyb and Skitter were all right. The hapaki had emerged from his hiding place unharmed. The rakkeban had some minor cuts that had already stopped bleeding. She nuzzled him affectionately, sniffing him to make sure he was not harmed. He petted the fur on her head absently.

  “So many,” he said to the air, “so much death.”

  “It is what the Gray Man brings, Sam,” Rindu answered. “It is the world as it would be if the Gray Man had complete control.”

  “What will he do with Dr. Walt?” Sam said, changing the subject.

  “He will perhaps try to extract information from him. It appears that the Gray Man is in search of information much the same as we are. We must get to the Gray Fortress and rescue Dr. Walt before the Gray Man determines him to be of no further use.”

  Sam felt horrible. “How far are we? Can we make it in time?”

  “I do not know, Sam. We are perhaps two days from the Fortress, if the rakkeben are not so injured so as to affect their speed. It may be time enough. We will hurry and hope that we are not too late.”

  Sam said nothing, only studying the muddy ground. The muddy red ground, made that way by blood that had washed over it from other parts of the battlefield. Looking up, vision blurred by moisture inexplicably filling his eyes, he saw Nalia looking at him. His mouth worked soundlessly, trying to find something to say.

  She came to him, hugging him and making shushing noises. “We are alive, Sam, and as long as we are alive, there is hope. We will get there and we will rescue him. Do not let the actions you were forced to take here trouble you overmuch. These soldiers came here for one reason, to kill us. Their fate is upon their own heads. You acted with honor and fought with
valor and skill. Do not let it trouble you.” At that, it was as if a dam had burst. The tears came unbidden and unwanted.

  Sam sobbed uncontrollably for several minutes. He wasn’t sure why, exactly. He just knew that if he didn’t do so, something inside him would break. Nalia held him, silent, the entire time. When his tears finally stopped, she kissed him on the forehead and pulled him into a tight hug one last time, and then let him go. Shonyb licked his hand in consolation. Skitter remained mercifully silent, obviously sharing some of the feelings as they leaked out of Sam’s mind into the hapaki.

  “I have never killed anyone before,” he said. “I know they would have killed us, but still, they were people. Someone’s son or daughter, maybe mother or father.” He sniffled and made a mighty effort to stem the tide of his tears. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  Nalia put her hands on the sides of his face and pull him toward her. She kissed him gently, tenderly, on the lips, letting the kiss linger until he lost track of time. “There is nothing wrong with you Sam. You are kind and thoughtful and life is precious to you. I would hope that will never change.” She held him for some long minutes, until he felt his heart beating more slowly and felt more at peace.

  Finally, he stirred. Looking into her eyes, he thanked God that he had found her. “Thank you,” he said to her as he straightened his back and lifted his chin. “Well then,” he said awkwardly, “I guess we should dress our wounds…” He pointedly looked to Rindu and Nalia trying to force a smile, but failing “…those of us who have them, and get started. The Gray Man won’t wait for us to get there before carrying out his plans.”