It had rained heavily the day before and as a result the derusa trees has flowered again during the night. Dozens of bright red blossoms were scattered across the pool―the footwide blooms filling the room with a scent like lavender. Mark had decided that the derusa trees were like huge gardenias, genetically designed to bloom all year. Hell, according to the lectures he'd been attending, even their food crops were like that, producing harvest after harvest all year long. This world was really something.
Servants appeared from a side alcove and began to scrub Mark and Ikawa with pumice stones that always stung initially, but soon left them feeling loose and tingly. The public nature of all this, and the casual acceptance of nudity in Allic's court, still left Mark uneasy. But to the Japanese it was almost like the communal baths of home.
One of the servants finally gave Mark a gentle nudge out of the cascading shower. It still made him feel like a little kid as he sat down in the mirror-smooth culvert that went into the hot pool below. It was like riding the sliding board into the pool at Coney Island.
The hot tub made him feel like he was melting. He floated lazily for several minutes, wishing that he could slip back between the warm sheets and pretend today was Sunday morning, and breakfast in bed would soon be served, along with the Sunday Times.
But there was the responsibility, always the responsibility. Opening his eyes a crack, he saw that several of the men were already out of the pool. Yamir stood stoically to one side, but his impatience was already apparent. Reluctantly Mark swam over to the far side of the pool, and finding the exit hole, he ducked under the water.
With a quick push he slipped into the current and let it suck him along for its short length until he reemerged into the cold water pool in the adjoining bathroom. With vigorous strokes he crossed the pool and stepped out on the far side next to another cascade of water. This was the tough part.
Holding his breath, he ducked under the shower and let the icy water splash over him, shocking him into full consciousness. As he stepped out on the far side, more servants greeted him with towels and gave him a quick rubdown.
Now he was ready at last―but damn it, how he craved a cup of coffee.
"Thinking about coffee, sir?"
"Kochanski! I'd like to get back home just so I could have a cup and a pack of Luckies."
Kochanski was looking over a smiling dark-eyed redhead walking by outside in the garden, who boldly returned his gaze.
"I don't know about that, Captain. I bet this bathtub's better than anything I'd ever have back on Earth." His gaze returned to the girl. "It'd take more than a cup of coffee to get me to give this up. Like this age stuff. Now, I still don't know if I believe it or not, but according to what we've been told, people who can use the Essence can live for a thousand or more years if they stay here. Why would I want to leave?"
"But what about home?"
"Home to beautiful Trenton, New Jersey?" Kochanski said softly. "Home to getting my ass shot at by Zeros?"
"Or ducking ten tons of bombs from a B-29."
The two turned as Ikawa and Sergeant Saito came up beside them.
"Just talking about home," Mark said evenly.
"It's what we're all thinking about," Ikawa replied as he reached for the light blue tunic and breeches that one of the servants presented to him. It was the standard dress for Allic's sorcerers.
"If we start talking about that again," Saito interjected, "it will only remind us both what stands between us back there―or could still divide us here."
A single bell sounded in the distance, interrupting any response. Dawn had come, and with it the start of another day of training.
The elderly sorcerer who stood on the dais reminded Mark of one of his old briefing officers, but Valdez was far more of a perfectionist.
"As I have told you before, you must learn to focus your thoughts. That is the key, the source of your strength, to focus."
Allic had ordered him to finally start with the offensive training, but Valdez felt it was far too early for that. He looked at his charges for a moment then, exasperated, turned away. Thirty days of this, he thought. The ones called Japanese were learning at an acceptable rate. It seemed that their minds were better trained for what was needed―it must have something to do with how they worshipped their god. But the ones called Americans, they were too haphazard, they would not force their thoughts sufficiently inward, or worse yet, they had the annoying habit of acting like they already knew it all.
As Allic's master trainer Valdez was entrusted with preparing these men to use the tremendous potential that they all had, but Allic wanted miracles. These men were out-worlders, barbarians without any social graces.
"Now watch me."
Valdez took the crystal wristband off his right wrist and handed it to his daughter, then looked back at the outlanders.
"Damn it, Walker, watch me, not my Liala. She's not the one with the gift, I am."
"I'd say she's got gifts enough," Walker mumbled.
"What was that!"
"Nothing, sir, nothing." The men around him chuckled.
"All right you clowns, knock it off," Mark ordered. "This could save your life someday, so listen up." He nodded for Valdez to continue.
The old trainer ignored Mark. Raising his hand, he turned to a straw dummy that was propped up across the courtyard. The audience grew quiet as a pulsing shimmer seemed to encompass the old man.
Several seconds later a sheet of light snapped from his hand and towards the dummy, which burst into flame.
"That is the power of the Essence," Valdez said, looking back to his audience. "It is part of the very fabric of this world. When Jartan and the other gods transformed Haven, they gave of their own creative spirit and their Essence, brought with them from the Great Void. The gods and their descendants may draw upon this power to create and to destroy."
"Does that mean," Giorgini asked with a touch of sarcasm, "that you claim to be a descendant of a god?"
"No, damn it. And don't blaspheme," Valdez replied. The genetic pattern of all humans who were brought to Haven thousands of years ago has been subtly altered so that we mortals cannot draw upon the Essence. Occasionally someone like me is born who does not carry this genetic trait, and thus we can work what you call magic.
"It seems that your god did not leave any Essence in creating your world, or perhaps attempted to make too much, and thus the Essence was dissipated, spread out too thin to be of use―for even a god is limited in how much he can create."
"Without the direct presence of the Essence it seems probable that your god did not bother to give your race the genetic trait that our gods chose to give us. Therefore you have the ability to use the Essence here like few others, but it takes practice and concentration. Otherwise you'll be more dangerous to yourselves than to anyone else."
"Ah, but burning that dummy is easy. I've been practicing this stuff on the side," Walker replied.
Standing, he extended his hand and pointed. A second target dummy smoldered and gradually burst into flames, while his comrades and even the Japanese cheered his performance.
"Just fine," Valdez replied sarcastically. "But inelegant and crude. Now watch me."
Valdez snapped his fingers and his daughter handed back the wristband which he clicked into place. A second later there was a bunding crack of light. The head of the dummy Walker had ignited disappeared in a lightning flash. Valdez swung his hand around towards a row of dummies mounted in a line. Two holes were drilled where a real man's eyes would have been, the next one exploded in a gout of flame, the third was decapitated by a fiery sword of light, and the fourth simply disappeared into smoldering ashes.
Valdez swung around, and before anyone could react, the Air Corps insignia on Walker's hat congealed into a flowing puddle of fire. The frightened tailgunner whipped off the flaming headgear.
"That is the power of the Essence," Valdez said coldly. "Think of your body as a sponge drawing in Essence, expelling it as energy
as you squeeze, and then refilling. It is the crystal that focuses my power. I send the power of the Essence through it―to narrow it, to magnify it, and then to use it. But to do that I must first learn to control it. Those who have the gift to use the Essence can use it at any time, but it usually is dispersed and can only be projected short distances. Only with the crystals can we focus it, send it to distant targets, and turn it into a finely balanced weapon or tool."
"Without the ability to calmly control the Essence, you will never receive a crystal of attacking power. We know you have the innate ability to focus your Essence for attack. That is why you men have been chosen to learn under me. Attack and defense all of you will learn, but some of you will also reveal your powers in additional ways; some for farseeing, some for healing, creating, or any of several other skills. But for now you will be trained as warriors."
"A moment of anger, even a careless thought, and you could do damage to yourself, or worse yet, to someone innocent. You must learn to be able to turn the Essence on and off as it flows through you."
"You must learn to use the Essence for defense before anything else. Lord Allic has given you defensive crystals which you should all be practicing with."
Valdez walked over to the group and approached Walker, who looked warily at him.
He grabbed Walker's left wrist and held it up so that the crystal in the wristband was before Walker's eyes.
"Why didn't you use this when I attacked you?" Valdez snapped.
"Well, ah, you see..."
"No excuse... There is no excuse if you're dead. We've been over this many times. You must learn to divert part of your thoughts to your defensive crystals even while attacking your foe. Visualize a sphere around you that lets nothing in. A blast will bounce off a good shield and save your life."
Valdez suddenly brought his hand up as if to strike Walker and the lanky tailgunner crouched down low and brought his left hand up. A dull crackling hum filled the air as what appeared to be a protective sphere materialized around Walker.
"Good, very good," Valdez replied. "You must train your instincts to focus your Essence into the crystal of defense. It should be done in a blinding flash, without thought, but by instinct alone. Remember that pointing your left hand towards the blow will focus the energy of your shielding to better deflect or absorb a strike from that direction."
"If you wish to live long enough on Haven to take advantage of the longevity that the Essence provides, you better learn this quickly. The sorcerers you face might have five hundred years of training, and they'll not excuse your slowness and retire with apologies until you are ready. They'll leave you dead."
"Another thing you must remember. If your opponent diverts more of his strength to the attack, you must equal that energy with your defense. But know that once that happens, if he is stronger or more skillful than you, you're dead."
Valdez turned and walked back to the dais. "Now you remember our lesson on bows, don't you?"
The men mumbled an affirmative.
"Good." Valdez reached down to a low platform to one side of the dais and stood back up again, a heavy longbow in his hands. With a single fluid motion he snapped an arrow out of the quiver, nocked it, and then pulled the bow to full draw and pointed it straight at Walker's chest, whose shielding went up to maximum power.
"Now watch, damn you," Valdez roared. Turning, he pointed the bow at the last dummy in the line. A tiny defensive crystal hung around the dummy's neck. With the bow still drawn, Valdez stared at the necklace, and a defensive shimmer developed around it. He released the arrow.
The arrow streaked to its target and with a thunderclap explosion merged with the glowing defensive light.
Fragments of the dummy arched into the air, and the courtyard walls reverberated with a roar like the burst from a flak shell. As the smoke cleared, the men gaped in amazement at the six-foot-wide crater where the dummy had stood.
"Damn you, why did you turn on your defensive shield when I pointed the arrow at you?" Valdez roared.
"Seemed like the right thing to do. Anyhow, I figured you wouldn't shoot."
"Figured, so you figured, eh? Suppose I was a turncoat, a traitor? If I'd fired that arrow I would have killed you and half the men sitting around you―that would have been damn good service for one of Allic's enemies."
"Remember, your shield will turn an ordinary arrow, except perhaps for one fired at very close range. But damn it, there is one sure way for an ordinary man to kill a sorcerer, and that's to possess an arrow tipped with a sliver from the red crystal of fire. When a red crystal hits a shield, it's converted to the pure energy of the Essence. The bigger the crystal, the bigger the blast. A catapult bolt tipped by a large enough crystal can blast down an entire wall if it is shielded. They're hard to forge and facet, but in any flight of arrows, always assume there's one of them coming in. You can spot it by its red glow, and through concentration you should be able to sense it even before you see it. Remember that!"
"Some of you might be bodyguards to Allic and it will be your job to always watch for a red-tipped arrow. You'll only have a couple of seconds to react and blast it down, but react quickly, by the gods, or your lord and you are dead. It's one of the favorite tools of an assassin."
"I keep hammering and hammering that all of you must learn the art of concentration. You must be able to react in a second and come to full defense while preparing your offense, and at the same time be able to sense the presence or approach of a red crystal. I look at all of you here now, and only hope that you'll be alive a year from now."
Valdez fell silent for a moment and they looked at one another uneasily.
"Enough. There are more practice dummies on the other side of the courtyard, and for the rest of the morning I want all of you to practice with projection of the force to create fire. I want control, damn it! And I want focus. A good sorcerer, even without a crystal to focus his energy, should be able to ignite a human size target at thirty paces. Now move it!"
As the men assumed their practice positions, Mark could only feel anxiety. Walker and a number of the Japanese soldiers made it look so easy. But damn it, every time he tried to focus his power he found himself breaking into a cold sweat.
As if to add insult to injury, Walker called for everyone's attention.
"Hey, watch this!"
He turned his back to a target dummy and projected an over-the-shoulder shot at his straw opponent. Valdez was all over him in an instant, but Mark decided not to intervene. He was having enough trouble just trying to work up enough energy to equal a Zippo lighter.
Back in the real world he never had any real anxieties about command. He was a damn good pilot, one of the best, and the men wanted to fly for him, believing that he had "the luck"―that indefinable ability to always bring a crew back safely.
The luck, he thought sadly. Well, that ended on a hillside back in China. Was he finished now in this new world? He couldn't control this thing called Essence for attack, while all around him his gunners and the Japanese soldiers were proving their superiority. Would he be nothing but a fifth wheel here, his ability to control the respect of his men gradually drifting away as a new leader emerged, for a new world?
He looked over at Lieutenant Younger. As if Younger were reading his thoughts, his copilot snapped out a narrow focused beam at his target, then smiled at him with a sarcastic grin, as if challenging Mark to do better. Younger turned away from him and started to speak softly to Sergeant Giorgini and the two of them laughed.
"Captain Phillips."
It was Varma, the dwarf companion and jester to Allic, who had come up to stand by Mark's side.
"How goes your training?" Varma asked in a friendly voice.
Mark was tempted to bark a sarcastic reply but realized that Varma was only trying to be friendly. He liked the jester. Some of the men thought his strange appearance amusing, but Mark had already noticed that Varma possessed a brilliant mind, and beyond all the jokes and foolish rhyming
he was one of Allic's most trusted advisors.
"Oh, quite well," Mark replied quickly.
Varma looked up and smiled at him. "But of course. Well, not to worry about it, that's what I say. Anyhow, my Lord Allic requests the presence of you and Captain Ikawa, so let us go." And turning, Varma scurried over to Ikawa's side.
With a sigh of relief Mark left the firing line and followed Varma. He could not help but notice that Younger and Giorgini followed him with their gaze and continued their quiet conversation.
There would be problems with them, he was sure of that now. But being without their ability, how could he ever respond?
* * * *
"So how goes the training?"
Damn, everybody has to ask the same question, Mark thought.
"My lord Allic, your Valdez is a good trainer," Ikawa replied.
"Please, when there is no one else present, we can drop the 'my lord' routine," Allic said, a smile lighting his features. "It gets tiresome after a while. Here, have a drink."
He pointed for the two soldiers to sit by his side and handed them a couple of goblets.
"A little early for that, isn't it, my lord?" Varma inquired.
Allic gave his jester a silencing stare. "I've lived my first thousand years without too much of a problem, but apparently I still can't have a friendly drink in the morning without some lackey interfering."
"Just doing my job," Varma said.
"Then, do your job and bring Hort in here, and stop nagging me. I'm a demigod, damn it, and I should be able to take a drink without some fool dwarf interfering!"
With his hands raised in a mock display of terror, Varma backed out of the room, bowing low.
"Some people think that being the son of a god has all the advantages," Allic said, looking into his wine cup, "but let me tell you, gentlemen, it can be a downright nuisance at times. They're always checking up on you and passing down some admonishment."
Crystal Warriors Page 8
