Vision of Light [The Renegades 1]

by Amanda Hilton

  She knelt, but before she could plop down further, he turned her around with her back to him. Picking up her braided hair, he placed it over her shoulder, letting it rest in front of her.

  "Relax,” he said when she turned to look at him. “You need to know how to run from danger—and do it properly. You siphoned some of my abilities. ‘Tis important to focus your energy properly. Otherwise, you will burst a vein or suffer a stroke, or worse."

  "Oh!” Desire ebbed as she became overwhelmed in her disbelief. She could not breathe.

  "Calm down,” he said in an impersonal tone.

  "You—you will train me?” She bit her quivering lower lip.

  "I only show you how to adjust your methodology. You are allowed only one sorcery master. Casting me in that role will close off all other avenues for you. Stop fidgeting so much and relax.” Cupping her shoulders, he shook her slightly, and then pressed along her spine to straighten her. “We will start in the normal regenerative mode. Usually, sleep takes care of replenishing your energy. Your body heals itself, but ‘tis a slow process. You speed up the process through regenerating burdened cells."

  He helped her relax by pressing against several pressure points against her neck, and gooseflesh pricked along her skin. “You regenerate when you have pushed your sorcery beyond normal limits or when your body is injured. Intensive regeneration is risky. Once you are in a deep stage, you cannot be interrupted physically. You are completely vulnerable, and therefore, you have to find a safe place. You will not learn deep regeneration until you have mastered a few skills. For now, we start with the basics of relaxing and meditating. You need to learn to relax until you reach a near-sleep state, but you cannot allow your brain to shut down for sleep."

  His voice lulled her. He did something that made her muscles relax. Even though he did not touch her as a lover, she was aware of where his fingers moved over her neck and her back.

  "You also have to learn to sit for a long time without moving,” he continued. “Your body is not naturally made to sit for long periods of time, which could extend to several days depending on the extent of your injuries. Eventually, I'll show you how to circulate your blood to avoid cramps and soreness. Every cell in your body produces energy. Let's increase your blood flow to your left thumb."

  He pressed a point against the back of her neck and her thumb tingled. Aislan swallowed and listened to his every word avidly.

  "'Tis a very long and tedious process. You have to learn to increase blood flow or your energy to a focused part of your body requiring some sort of sorcery action. You have to strengthen not only the physical energy all humans have, but also your sorcery energy. Your entire sorcery energy output is one unified phenomena, emitting from a certain part of your body. Sorcery is highly specialized. It takes many years to test your abilities, to learn what kind of sorcery power you possess. ‘Tis why it takes seven years of rigorous dedication to get the foundation in place. The first stage focuses on rudimentary skills and on discovery."

  He showed her how to breathe properly, from deep within her belly and through the nose and mouth. “Keep your hands here.” He adjusted her hands over her chest and tucked her feet under her thighs. “As you regenerate, energy will leave your extremities. ‘Twill channel energy back to your heart and your belly simultaneously. First, relax. Breathe properly. Feel your breathing in your belly. The process starts there. Over time, you will learn hand movements to direct your energy where you need, to eject it and turn it into physical force."

  He explained the use of the incantations novice apprentices practiced to help them step through the process. He kept up her basic education for several hours. As he talked, he demonstrated by applying the energy through her so she did not have to guess, as if he had no time for her to stumble about. Aislan knew the value of what he did. He was embedding years of training into her body by channeling her energy properly rather than leaving her to develop it on her own over time.

  "Stop thinking about other things, Aislan. Concentrate,” he scolded her again. “Focus is important, even for something as simple as taking each step properly to strengthen your endurance. You have to test every part of your body to discover your abilities. You have to become aware of motion so that you can eventually direct sorcery energy to each movement. You have to practice patience. Otherwise, you will not last through the many years of monotony where every breath, every movement, is a conscious decision until applying sorcery energy becomes second nature. If you drifted off in the middle of any session, including regenerating, you will have accomplished nothing."

  Eventually, he stopped.

  "Now, you sleep. There is no replacement for the natural process of sleeping. Lie down. No, here.” Positioning her over his cloak, he took off his dagger and put it on her body. “Keep warm with this.” He placed her cloak over her as a cover.

  "What about you?” she asked. He sat with his back against the tree, but only a mere few feet from her.

  "I need to keep watch."

  "I thought there is no replacement for sleep."

  "I'll catch my full sleep when ‘tis possible to do so."

  Lying there, she stared at him, and he looked back at her, no more approachable than before. She reached him only when he allowed her to and shut her out when he wanted to. Aislan thought of the time ahead where he maintained the distance between them. How long could she last being alongside him and not being able to touch him?

  "What is wrong with you now?"

  "You are very cold to me."

  "Get it in your head. No more sex. Sex and training do not go together,” he said, his eyes frosty.

  His tone made her feel like a harlot. Turning over in a huff, Aislan presented her back to him and pressed her hand against her mouth, determined not to bawl in humiliation.

  * * * *

  Lucien woke from his light sleep to the sight of Aislan's perfectly shaped derriere, which gave him an immediate erection. Incapable of moving, he sat there and stared at her. She had pushed the cover aside because of the humid night. He kept looking as if he had never seen a woman's bottom before, until finally, she stirred, wiggling about. He could get up and go away, but no, Lucien reached over and whacked her on her backside a little harder than he should have.

  "Wake up!"

  She yelped and sat up, looking around. Her gaze met his as she rubbed her bottom, her startled expression giving way to thoughtfulness as she continued rubbing.

  By God, she liked the spanking! From the look on her face, he could see her arousal and curiosity. Lucien almost became undone, ready to pounce on her, ripping her clothes off and turning her over on his knee.

  Only with the greatest effort, he got to his feet. He went to the bag to get breakfast, fully aware of Aislan's continued stare. Ignoring the invitation in her eyes, he tossed her breakfast on her lap before he went to the river to wash his face. He needed a good dunk in the cold water, but that was not possible, so he settled for the next best thing.

  Going off for privacy, he took his time getting his miserable self together. A pity he had a woman and her scrumptious, willing pussy readily available and ended up relieving himself with his hand into a dry bush. Finally, Lucien returned but in no better temper. Freshening up at the river, Aislan stood when she saw him. Damn her for looking him up and down like her prized stallion. Did she think he was born for the sole purpose of servicing her on demand and training her when he was not humping her?

  For the most part, sex aside, Lucien tried to toe the line when it came to acceptable behavior. His past transgressions had never been of any serious nature. Only during the past few days that he had defied his king and his sorsverein, killed his sorsvasus brother, consorted with the traitorous Fulfillment, fucked the witch of his damnation who had a death warrant over her head, and ended up training her on how to defy the Sorcery Circle.

  However, there remained a fine line Lucien would not cross. At this point, sex between teacher and student was no different than between a
parent and child or a brother and sister, punishable by exile and ridicule. Even with the high possibility of being executed, until his head actually rolled off his neck, a small part of Lucien still hoped for a miracle. There was likely to be none. He already expected the words Murderer and Traitor carved onto his tombstone, but the thought of having Incest added to the list made him shudder in distaste, however ludicrous he found the word to ascribe to what he and Aislan had with each other. The Circle and the Church did not care how their relationship came to be.

  "'Tis time we moved on,” he told Aislan. “Come along. I need to prepare you for a run."

  She brightened up. Despite the fact that he would not touch her, he had to grit his teeth with the knowledge of what mattered most to her. He wanted to manhandle her for her self-serving intentions, but he controlled his temper, using the lightest hold on her arm to propel her in position.

  Sitting behind her, he straightened her shoulders. He touched her long braid and wanted to wrap it around his hand and press his mouth against the beautiful, shimmering strands. He caressed it lightly, caught himself, and with determination, tossed it carelessly over her shoulder to keep it out of the way. The soft skin at the back of her neck beckoned, and he stared at it for a moment before he shook himself visibly. How long had it been? Three days since the brothel. It seemed like eons ago. What the hell was he to do now? He could not be near her without wanting to taste every inch of the creamy satin of her skin. Struggling to control his raging lust, he focused on the task.

  "Now, you learn how to run fast—being a Swift.” To speed up the process and be more effective, Lucien needed access to Aislan's naked back to channel energy into her. However, he refused to train her without her top on. He had to go the normal, much slower route—through her clothes. Pressing his hand against her back below her shoulder blades, he forced himself to concentrate. “I'll walk you through each step slowly until it becomes second nature. The goal is for you to run for safety. Only another Swift can chase you, and there are not many I know of.” He spent the necessary time to prepare her for the exertion ahead. “Now, let's put this into practice."

  He started out making her walk fast, talking her through only the basics, drumming it over and over in her that the process required regular practice. He dared not show her advanced steps because he knew she would try them, consequences be damned.

  She was an extremely fast learner, but he already knew her to be a quick study and highly intelligent. While he talked, she seemed focused on every word he said. When he demonstrated, he felt her concentration on the flow of energy he physically channeled into her.

  However, she constantly looked him over without a trace of subtlety. Having turned into a nymphomaniac at the most inappropriate time, she tilted her lovely face whenever his came near and stared at his hands when he laid them on her, apparently expecting kisses and caresses. Without a shift beneath the boy's tunic, he could see the two pointy pebbles outlining enticingly against the material across her glorious breasts. She panted sometimes, licking those suddenly pouty lips often. He could smell her constant arousal, and several times, he came within an inch of turning her over his knee and giving her a good spanking. More than likely, she would like it and would look at it as a reward. Lucien did not know how much longer he would last before he pulled her braes down, spread her delectable thighs, and buried his mouth in the honey sweetness of her pussy.

  "Now, we run,” he snapped, using the opportunity to get himself under control.

  He taught her to concentrate on each movement, reminding her to breathe properly to keep up her stamina. “See the point ahead of you. Focus on it. Channel your energy, from here.” Pressing his fingers beneath her shoulder blades, he let her feel the zing of energy spreading through her legs. He lessened the pressure of his fingers. “You know how that should feel. Do not rush it. ‘Tis similar to a baby taking its first steps. Channel your energy into each step, a step at a time. Now, focus.” His held her hand and ran, like a parent holding a child's hand as an anchor. He let her go at her own pace, yet gently prodded her in the right direction, stopping her when needed. “Not too fast. You need to sustain your stamina. Breathe properly all the while. Focus at the point ahead of you. We will run. When I touch your arm, slow down but do not stop.” He taught her to recognize her limitations and wind down, then regenerate quickly.

  They stopped late afternoon for a quick meal consisting of freshly caught fish.

  "How do you learn about what power you have and to go about using it properly?” she asked, looking him up and down again.

  Lucien did his best to ignore her seductive appraisal. “'Tis where you need formal training, and time. Sorcery abilities have different processes. It begins the same, but to continue, you have to know the next step to take. You must test where the stress level starts."

  Lucien thought carefully about what to reveal to her at this early stage. He could not determine the true extent of her patience, and how long she was willing to wait for results. A woman of extremes, she would either learn very quickly or could be a hopeless case for anyone to train. Everybody learned differently. Whatever kind of personality she had, he had to provide her with basic survival skills. She faced formidable forces ahead, and his sense of fairness demanded that she at least be capable of breaking free to run away.

  "You have the ability to move objects heavier or stronger than you,” he continued. “When you are in danger, run away. Never stay to fight. You do not have combative skills. You have the strength to break free, depending on the extent of the force applied to you. Wait for the best moment, free yourself, and then run. Come, we continue practicing."

  "Lucien.” She looked at him, all dewy-eyed.

  The little seductress did not get it. She could not ply him with affections anytime he showed her something new.

  "Back to running,” he snapped again, turning his face away as he extricated himself from her arms. She had become utterly impossible with all these kisses and hugs.

  They practiced until late in the night. He deliberately tired her out near the end to put a damper on her libido. Finally, they stopped for another meal. This time, he built a small fire and fished for their supper again. Finally, Aislan's strenuous day took effect. She looked exhausted and murmured about a bath in the river, but he bade her to go to sleep. She lay down on his cloak while he slept sitting up against a tree again.

  They woke up the next morning and repeated the same routine, then repeated another night. He did not let her bathe, finding it easier to keep his distance with them both getting filthier. Even the thought of her naked was too much, let alone actually seeing her nude.

  By early afternoon, they left for the edge of the forest and headed for the path to Danier.

  Chapter 15

  The Royal City

  Thousands of people poured from every direction. Aislan loved it, the bustling activities and the overwhelming surge of humanity. She had thought herself a loner but discovered how much she liked being around people.

  "This could not be normal!"

  "'Tis the Contender Tournament."

  "Tell me more!” She was so excited she nearly jumped up and down as she pulled on Lucien's arm.

  He smiled at her enthusiasm. “Each year, North Sharland holds the Contender Tournament to recruit for the Royal Army. The best sorcerers and warriors from all clans and organizations in North Sharland attend and compete for ranks and titles."

  "And the best serve the king?"

  "The topmost—the Royal Tier, yes, immediately. The second to fourth tiers will pay homage to the king and serve on demand. They take their rank back with them and capitalize on it in their respective towns."

  "When will the Tournament be held?"

  "In a sennight."

  "Why are there so many people here already?"

  "These are your early birds. Those that wait too late will end up sleeping in tents."

  Aislan hung on Lucien's arm as they walked through the densel
y packed street. The cacophony was deafening.

  Danier was not filthy like Maligan. Here, far more wealth abounded with a thousand times more people. Many shops overflowed with people, usually well dressed. Some densely packed buildings rose many stories, some truly a dizzying sight to behold. The streets had to be ten times wider than Maligan's main street. Both sides were lined with street vendors selling everything imaginable. Aislan had never seen so much life or felt so much energy. She loved it, this royal city of Danier.

  The wider street allowed horses and carriages to traverse in both directions. Aislan stopped in front of shelves of books one street vendor offered at a kiosk. Horses nearly trod on her before Lucien pulled her aside. The riders on the horses wore red and blue uniforms.

  "The Royal Army,” Lucien said into her ear. He stopped in front of what seemed to be a huge restaurant. “We eat here."

  Aislan looked at the elaborate sign. Like always, the letters intrigued her, but she could not decipher them. They went inside and settled down on one of the square tables. Lucien ordered their meal. Aislan looked about the restaurant, full of patrons, bustling with activity.

  She leaned close to him. “Will it not be risky for us to be in the royal city?"

  "There are too many actively moving sorcerers here to track. With so much energy, you cannot make blood distinction to find anyone based on senses alone. ‘Twould be like searching for a stone thrown into a mountain of rubble.” Even while speaking, Lucien stared at her fingers almost quizzically.

  "What is the matter?"

  "What are you writing?"

  "Writing what?” She looked at the clean table.

  "You wrote something on the table."

  She looked at her finger scratching the table. Reaching across, he took her finger and traced a shape on the table, then a second shape.

  "Go on. Finish it."

  She moved her fingers along the lines and curves from memory.