by Kris Hiatt
“And he said it was possible for magic to be cast from a distance?” Treace asked, still not believing that either.
“Yes, but that’s not even half of the story.”
“Tell me,” Treace said, very curious about magic again. He didn’t realize how much he missed it until he was away from it. The challenge of it was a large part of the draw, he knew, and now a new, unknown part of magic was being presented to him.
“Not now, but I will tell you one more thing you won’t believe,” Drevic said, a very large smile on his face. “Nimbril wants me to be the next Archmagister.”
“What?” Treace said as much as asked.
“He said that once all of this business with the barons is over, he’ll name me.”
“Can he do that?”
“As long as he’s alive and the magister in question is in good standing, yes.”
“Are you even a magister?”
“I’ve been working on it and think I have it down,” Drevic said.
“You don’t think when it comes to fire, you know or you’ll pay,” Treace told him. It was widely known that trying to master fire was the most dangerous emotion to embrace.
“I have a great teacher,” Drevic said smiling.
Treace remembered the part of the story where Nimbril said there were better ways to teach. Drevic didn’t elaborate and Treace couldn’t wait to get back to the College to learn. “Speaking of that,” Treace said. “I keep failing at finding The Calm. I keep looking down to find my emotions to orient myself and find balance, but I fail every time.”
“Have you tried looking around you?” Drevic asked.
“No, Magister Kelvrin said to look down.”
“Looking down helps most students find it, but some, like me, find their emotions hovering just over their head.”
Treace thought about it and realized that he was so focused on finding The Calm that he never bothered to look anywhere other than where Kelvrin said to look. He never bothered to ask if it was the same for all students.
“Try it,” Drevic said. “But look around you, not just down.”
Treace concentrated on finding The Calm, which never took him long, and heard the sounds of the world around him fade quickly until they were no longer a part of his thoughts. He could feel his emotions tugging at him, mostly anger, but he fought it off and concentrated on finding his center, his emotional balance. He looked down briefly; old habits die hard. Then he looked around him. He didn’t see anything. He looked just over his head and at first didn’t see anything, but then noticed swirls of color above him. He could see them, but even if he could reach out in his mind, they would be out of his arm’s reach. He focused on the swirls and willed his mind to move to the center of those colors and he felt completely at ease. The swirls intensified and the light they emitted grew bright. They were tugging hard at him, begging for him to utilize them. Anger promised him revenge on those who wronged him and asked for release. Sadness reminded him of the loss of his father, while the fear of letting down his mother and Jensen pressed hard against his will. He could feel Jensen’s hand tousle his hair and felt his mother’s embrace as love beckoned to him. He ignored them all and focused on the center, on The Calm. His center, his Calm.
Treace opened his eyes a short time later.
“Congratulations,” Drevic said.
“How did you know that I found it?”
“Usually when someone is fighting their emotions, trying to find The Calm, their face tells the story. A grimace in perceived pain, a smile of love, a furrowing of the brow in anger, or the sharp intake of breath from fear all tell the story. But once you find The Calm, your face also tells that story. Serenity falls upon your face.”
“Is it always like that?” Treace asked, thinking it would be odd to continually make faces while trying to use magic.
“No, not usually, although some do. It depends on how fast and how well you find The Calm. After mastering it, most can find it with minimal expression on their faces.”
“How long was I under?”
“Ten breaths at most,” Drevic said.
“I can be faster,” Treace told him, and he knew he could be.
“You probably can be, but not now. There are too many eyes that are watching. You’ve already risked us twice; once with not telling the agreed upon story and just now by finding The Calm. Any former brother around here knows what you just did. I doubt they could see your facial expressions from any distance, but just to be safe, let’s hope no one saw your face.”
Drevic was right, and not for the first time. He had just risked a lot by doing that. If anyone with knowledge about The Calm were to see him and their word got around to the baron, his time here would be at its end and he couldn’t find out more about the gathering of soldiers.
“I think Liernin might be preparing for war,” Treace said. “The smiths are working hard on new weapons and armor, and I overheard a conversation that indicated they wanted several hundred more guards.”
“It makes sense,” Drevic said.
“What?”
“If you were in the baron’s place, would you want to be prepared for the worst and hope it all ends well, or simply hope it works out and be crushed if Shamir has already assembled a force and decided to take over Haven?”
“Has it come to that?” Treace asked, blown away by the real possibility of war.
“Let’s hope not, but if they don’t show they’re ready to defend their way of thinking by force, then why would the other go along with them?”
“Agree to someone’s way of thinking only by force?” Treace asked, not liking the way it sounded.
“I didn’t say I agreed with it. I’m just ready to accept it should that be the outcome. Let’s hope our meeting makes their gathering of men a waste of time and money.”
“He’s making the right choice, you know,” Treace said.
“Liernin?”
“No, Nimbril. He’s making the right choice with you Brother Drevic.”
“I hope so,” Drevic said, flushing slightly, something Treace wasn’t used to seeing on the man’s face.
“Well, maybe not as good as Brental,” Treace said hoping to continue Drevic’s level of uncomfort.
“I’ll remember you said that when I’m the Archmagister,” Drevic said, smiling.
“It was good to see you,” Treace told him.
“Likewise, now get back before Liernin sends someone after me thinking I stole The Wolf,” Drevic said, shooing him away. “Which is a story I can’t wait to hear.”
“Ask Moff to tell you, if he’s back at the College. I haven’t seen him for weeks.”
“I’ve been gone for a couple of weeks myself, but the last time I saw him was with you headed for Haven for the first time.”
“Well, if you see him,” Treace said, not wanting to get further into it.
“Take care,” Drevic said and started to walk away.
“Oh, and you’ll see a fellow named Drokier at the College soon. Liernin is sending him to ensure the place is secure for the meeting,” Treace told Drevic before he moved very far.
“Well, that’ll be two visitors then,” Drevic said as he walked.
Treace thought for a second and then remembered that Drevic had spent the last couple of weeks with Archbishop Vrindel in the priory. He didn’t offer many details on that part while he told the story; he was trying to cover most of what happened with Nimbril and the story of the former Archmagister, Truntil. But, the second visitor was a member of the Church, visiting the College much the same way that Drevic visited the Church.
He watched his friend walk away for a few moments before turning around and put his attention on his new task of training a young boy. He had a good idea where to start since he was that age when Exodin had first taught him, so he decided to think about the finer points of finding The Calm. He wanted to practice, but he couldn’t very well do it in the general quarters since there would be people around. He usually onl
y risked practicing at night in the barracks, when the men were either asleep, on shift, or out drinking depending on their rotation that day. He also took a few chances by practicing during his patrol for a few minutes when his route brought him near the docks where he could pause and look at the sky over the water. But right now, it wasn’t night, he wasn’t in his barracks, and he wasn’t near the docks.
Chapter 20
It was clear to Treace that Liern would never be the swordsman that he was. Not even by half. He thought a tenth was even a generous estimate given the little progress the boy has made in the last month and a half. He was small for his age, which was not something he held against the boy considering he was, and still slightly is, when he was that age. But the boy was uncoordinated and had little to no strength. If Exodin thought Treace was weak at that age, he would take that back if he were to meet Liern.
He refused to use a shield, citing that he wanted to learn to fight like The Wolf, and Treace knew he couldn’t begin to use a large shield properly, and probably would have a very hard time with a small shield as well. He wasn’t faring well with using a sword in his offhand, or main hand for that matter, and Treace was starting to get a little frustrated, not at the boy directly, but at the absurdity of the whole thing. The boy wasn’t ever going to be a swordsman and Treace felt like telling him, but didn’t want to break the boy’s heart. For all his physical faults, Liern never let that deter him and he was a bright young man with lots of energy and an active imagination and Treace enjoyed being around him.
“Did I do that one right, Treace?” Liern asked.
It took him over a week to get the boy to call him Treace rather than The Wolf, to which the boy didn’t really like; he preferred calling him The Wolf, but it felt odd to Treace that a young boy he was teaching would refer to him by the name Moff came up for him. In the end, he agreed to let him call him The Wolf in front of his friends that showed up to watch, which was only once or twice every couple of weeks.
“Close,” Treace lied. He had thrust ahead slowly, expecting Liern to parry the attack down and out with is right sword, perform a thrust with his left, and step slightly to his left all close to the same time. His footwork was non-existent and his attacks were so slow and delayed that Treace thought he might fall asleep before the blade reached him. If they were fighting with real swords, Treace guessed he would die of old age about the same time Liern connected with one of his slow-motioned thrusts.
“It felt a little better that time,” Liern said, smiling and seemingly quite pleased with himself.
“It was still too slow, and the moves weren’t fluid enough,” Treace told him.
“But you said it was close.”
“Compared to the last one, it was,” Treace said, trying not to deflate the boy too much.
“I’m not good, am I?” Liern asked, standing up straight and letting his small wooden swords fall to his sides.
“No,” Treace said, finally being honest. He was sorry he said it as soon as it left his lips. Liern sighed heavily and Treace thought the boy might cry.
“But you’re good here, and here,” Treace said, pointing first to his chest and his head. “And that’s far more important.”
“Do you think so?” Liern asked, with some level of enthusiasm.
“I surely do,” Treace told him.
It was the truth; the boy was bright and seemed to have a good heart. He had spent a lot of time around the boy in the last several weeks and the boy listened closely to everything he said. It was hard to describe how quickly the two bonded, but Treace knew they had a solid friendship regardless. He had always asked Treace if he wanted some of his food when he ate and always said what was on his mind. Even if it was a negative comment, he had a way of saying it so that you weren’t even sure if what he was telling you was bad or not. Treace thought that particular ability would serve him very well in the future.
“But I’ll never be a great swordsman like you, will I?” He asked sullenly.
“No, but you’re already as good as I am here,” Treace said, pointing to the boy’s chest again.
Liern smiled and dropped his swords and surprised him by rushing forward and giving him a fierce but quick hug. The boy only came up to the middle of his chest and even though he only pressed himself quickly against him, the imprint of the wolf paw was clear on the side of his face. Treace didn’t know what to say, he’d didn’t have a younger brother and he knew Liern was an only child, but figured brothers could hug like that without comment, so he said nothing.
“Can we keep doing this move? I would at least like to do one move correctly before you go with my father to the College. I want to show him I can do it.”
Treace thought it would require working on pretty much nothing but that particular move to get him there. That or fake it. That thought gave him an idea.
“Sure, and we’ll have a demonstration for him of what you’ve learned. I’ll set it up a few days before we leave,” Treace told him.
“Can my friends come too?”
“I don’t see why not,” Treace said, guessing it would actually be better if they were there.
Liern grinned at him in response, picked up his swords and got into a defensive position.
“Hit me, if you can,” he taunted.
Treace tried, or pretended to, but always seemed to miss Liern at the last second, and his idea suddenly seemed to be very sound.
#
Treace whirled around, leaving his back to Liern as he spun, something that was foolish to do in a real fight, but he wanted it to look good to the onlookers. He drove his right sword in, coming in wide from his right and giving Liern time to get his sword in line. Their swords connected and Treace pulled back his sword and spun the other way, this time coming in wide with his left, which Liern also parried.
Treace was already proud of Liern, he might not be able to thrust quickly or with power, and he might not be coordinated to move his feet and his hands at the same time, but when it came to just focusing on one thing, he was actually fairly competent. Granted, it took much more effort for Treace to pull his blows so that they struck Liern’s wooden swords with enough speed to be believable, yet not have enough force to hurt the boy.
Liern drove his sword forward, which Treace parried to the side, much, much later than he could have, and drew a few oohs from the crowd. They were enjoying the show, which was the whole point.
Treace brought both his swords out wide, telegraphing his intent, and was glad that Liern settled his weight on his back foot; he was ready to duck backward.
He swung in both swords furiously, from outside to in, knowing Liern would get out of the way in time, and was rewarded with several gasps in the crowd as his swords swished ferociously through the air where Liern was standing a moment before. It had taken a full day to get Liern to do the move correctly, and by the intake of breath from the crowd, he knew it worked perfectly.
Liern countered with a straight forward thrust that Treace caught in the V of his crossed swords and pushed to the side.
He drove his own sword in, aiming just to the side of Liern’s head, and was lucky Liern didn’t move the wrong way, because he didn’t pull the blow as much as he could have, hoping Liern would react properly.
The sword missed wide, and Liern even managed to get his own sword up to connect with Treace’s. It was much too late to prevent the blow from landing if it was actually directed at his head, but the sound probably had fooled many in the crowd.
The mock fight went on for a few more minutes, Treace ducking, parrying, or dodging blows at the last possible second and always missing his quarry. He knew that anyone with fighting experience in the crowd, and there were many, far more than Treace had anticipated, would see the fight for what it was; a façade. But he knew that Liern’s friends and many others in the crowd wouldn’t know the difference. Sure, they’d suspect, but they didn’t have the eye to pick out the flaws in Liern’s moves like the experienced fighters would.
Treace brought both swords up, high in the air, signaling to Liern that the end of the show was at hand. The boy wore a smile that had been on his face the entire fight and Treace wondered if his face might be permanently stuck that way.
Liern stood at the ready and when Treace brought both swords down powerfully, Liern jumped to the side long before they hit the stone floor under them. The wood splintered under the weight of the blow and Liern jumped in, thrusting his sword right for Treace’s side. It connected much more quickly than Treace thought it would, happy for Liern that he got that last decisive move correct.
Treace dropped the broken swords as he fell to the ground, pretending to be mortally wounded. He felt pressure on his side and was surprised to find Liern had planted his foot on his side and had triumphantly thrust his sword in the air to the delight of the crowd. They howled, clapped, cheered, and generally looked amazed. The experienced fighters nodded their heads in approval at Treace, obviously knowing how hard it was for him to make the fight look believable yet not endanger Liern. The ladies looked amazed too, but Treace could tell most of them simply couldn’t believe Liern had bested The Wolf.
Liern removed his foot and came around to the front of Treace and extended his hand, which Treace accepted and got to his feet. He put his arm around the boy’s shoulder and Liern’s arm went around his waist. They bowed to the crowd who whistled and cheered more.
“Great job, Liern,” Treace said so only the boy could hear.
“Thank you, Treace,” the boy said, smiling much the same smile, only broader. “You’re the best birthday present ever.”
“You should thank your father,” Treace told him.
Liern did just that. He pulled away from him and ran to his father, jumping into his arms and enveloping him in a hug. Liernin swayed him side to side for a second, Liern’s feet swaying with him before dangling to a stop as his father set him down.
Liern looked at Treace and nodded once, a proud smile on his face.
He was happy he could give the boy something nice for his birthday. Even if it wasn’t real, he hoped Liern would remember it.
