Seventh Born

by Rachel Rossano

  “You will not tell Eldivo, right?” I asked.

  Korneli looked up in surprise from his examination of the study plan outlined on a paper before him. “Of course not, this is for the ears within this room and the Sept Son, not a trainee.”

  “Thank you.”

  He shot me a confused look before Errol called his attention to a detail on the page before them.

  “He doesn’t understand,” Selwyn sent, his familiar wild taste filling my mouth. I turned in my chair to find him watching my face with sympathy. “It is difficult being different. I know from watching Ilias struggle with it. Korneli never completely understood his struggle. You will learn how to handle it. Give yourself time to adjust.”

  “Am I dangerous?” I asked. It was one of the most pressing questions that flooded my thoughts.

  “Follow the code and the Revelation and you will only be dangerous to those who oppose them.”

  It gave me a small measure of comfort. Resolving that I would spend more time studying both books, I attempted to clear my head and listen to the lesson plan for the next few months.

  TRUE TO THEIR PLANS, my lessons changed dramatically the next day. Selwyn arrived while the family was still at the breakfast table. At his appearance, Errol sent Eloine and me off to gather supplies for the day. For me, that meant fetching the new journal that Korneli had presented to me the day before for note taking, quill pens, and an ink pot from the study. Eloine, looking mournful, presented herself to Selwyn with a small bag of sewing slung over her shoulder and a book clutched to her chest. The meeting in the study had kept me content in my own thoughts for most of the day before so I still didn’t know what all of Eloine’s emoting was about, but I had an inkling that it was somehow connected to Eldivo. Regardless, Eloine was tagging along with us as chaperone while Selwyn taught me.

  Selwyn led us off into the forest in the direction of the tree house. I was surprised when we reached it and he set his load down among the gnarled roots.

  “Won’t Candra interrupt us?” I asked as he straightened.

  “She isn’t leaving the house today,” Eloine informed me with vehemence. “She is being punished.” Then before I could ask for more of an explanation, she addressed Selwyn. “Where would you like me?”

  Selwyn’s face was missing its customary smile; however, his dark eyes were sympathetic as he turned his gaze to Eloine. “I was thinking that the tree house would be the perfect place for you. You can see what we are doing without overhearing. It is also much cleaner for your chosen activity.” He gestured to the cloth bag hanging from her shoulder. “Go settle yourself and let me know if you need anything.”

  Eloine, with a dignity beyond her fourteen years, climbed up the swinging ladder and scrambled inside.

  “What happened?” I asked as soon as her feet disappeared over the ledge.

  Selwyn frowned up at the tree house and then looked down at me. “I am glad you asked, because Adreet asked me to inform you of the situation. From what I understand there was a verbal battle in the kitchen yesterday afternoon. Candra was pointedly rude to Eldivo, who then left in search of the more pleasant company of the gardener. Once he left, the three girls exchanged angry words. Eloine seems to have gotten the worst side of the other two’s tongues.”

  I realized that a fight between the sisters would explain her moodiness and moping now and the crying in the kitchen yesterday.

  “So, she is spending the day with us instead of Candra escorting us. Galatea is banned from any trips into the village in the foreseeable future and has been given all of her least favorite chores. Candra is banned from the outside for a month and has also been given hated chores. Every day, the two of them are required to spend three hours civilly in each other’s company.”

  I felt my eyebrows rising as he listed the punishments. “That must have been some exchange.”

  Selwyn nodded gravely. “I only hope that the discipline will teach the girls their lesson. Words are powerful tools that can wound the heart or heal the spirit.” Then turning his back to me, he began digging in his bag.

  Setting my own satchel of supplies beside a root, I settled myself next to it.

  “Don’t get too comfortable. We are going to begin with a demonstration.” Selwyn turned to me with a blindfold in his hand. “Come stand in the open area.”

  I obediently scrambled to my feet and stepped over tree roots to where he indicated. The turf, clear of debris, gave slightly beneath my feet.

  “I want to test what you have already learned and see what natural defenses you already have.”

  “Natural defenses?” I asked as he came around behind me.

  “Everyone has natural reflexes for defending oneself.” The blindfold settled over my eyes and the world went dark. I instinctively reached for my amoveo and suddenly I could see again, but only dimly. The dense movement of energy outlined the solid world that I couldn’t see, but I could not discern colors or textures. “When attacked, a person intuitively defends what is most valuable with everything at hand. A trainee’s reactions under similar stress can give a Trainer insight into how the trainee will fight and what techniques will work best.”

  “So, you are going to attack my mind?” I asked.

  “Yes. The mind is the most important battlefield and defending it is the most difficult accomplishment for a defender or any talent. While I can train your body to defend a physical attack, all of that skill can be used against you should they gain control your mind.”

  “So, you are going to teach me to fight with my hands?” I asked.

  “Hands, feet, everything,” he replied. His amusement flickered across my senses. “When I am finished you will be a fully trained defender.”

  “But...” I was about to point out that I wasn’t going to be a defender, but Selwyn cut me off.

  “Enough questions. Ready yourself.” He stepped away and I hurriedly threw up the few defenses that Errol had taught me and solidified the energy sphere around me. I didn’t trust Selwyn not to use a physical tactic to distract me from mental defense.

  He waited. I could feel him standing there. Calm and confident, he watched me. I waited, sweat dripping between my shoulders and gathering on my forehead beneath the blindfold. Nervously I traced the defensive walls, sealing the cracks.

  Suddenly he attacked, prodding a part of my mind far from my focus. Then as quickly as he had been there, he was gone. Poking again, he touched another area; this time it was walled. The defense crumbled. Fear flickered across my thoughts. Errol’s lessons were going to be worthless.

  Then for the next five minutes, I had no time to think. Selwyn laid out a pattern of strokes. Unlike the first, these were annoying. The touched nerve recoiled, shuddering painfully. Unable to think of what else to do, I frantically followed his flicking taps, building walls and defenses as fast as I could form them. They fell as his assault increased. Madly erecting fortifications, I struggled to preserve myself.

  Finally, as I tried to rally after a particularly stinging onslaught, he changed tactics again. A shard of ice cut across my mind. White and numbingly cold, it cut through my thoughts, freezing my reflexes in its wake. Defenses shattered before it, too brittle to resist. The shard continued onward, its path set and pace slow but steady. With half frozen resources, I realized that it was making a path toward the center of my consciousness, the nerve center. If he had control of that, he had everything. The pain grew as it neared its goal. I had no more options. Walling, sealing, and shuttering could not defend against this. Finally in desperation, I grabbed at everything within me and threw it at my adversary.

  The world went black. I sat down hard on the ground and waited for the darkness to lift but it didn’t. Selwyn’s exclamation as my connection to my amoveo broke, assured me that I was still conscious. The blindness puzzled me for a moment before I remembered the blindfold. I pulled it off and blinked in the sudden brightness of the filtered sunlight.

  “What was that, girl?” Selwyn dem
anded. He was just gaining his feet a short distance from where he had been standing before. He frowned at me grimly.

  Slightly fearful of the intensity in his gaze, I lowered my eyes and busied myself with the knotted cloth around my neck. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know? You just flung me two feet with a blast of energy and closed your mind so tight that I could not even read a trace of talent, and you are telling me you don’t know how you did it?” He stalked over to loom above me.

  I cautiously looked up. “I don’t.”

  He continued to frown, but something new flickered in his eyes. “You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?” he declared and offered me a hand.

  I accepted it. He pulled me to my feet and walked over to his satchel. Pulling out a worn leather bound book that fit in the palm of his hand, he flipped through it. “Can you touch your amoveo still?” he asked without looking up.

  Reaching within, I brushed the organ and energy responded. “Yes.”

  “Good.” Finding his place, he shoved it into my hands, taking the cloth. “That is what you did,” he informed me, pointing to a heading halfway down the page.

  Consummo Propugnaculum (Complete Defense)

  A technique that results in the complete instinctive and volatile blinding of all energies from within and without a talent’s center of awareness. When used, the talent will block any access to and from the mind by foreign attackers, influences, or thoughts. If done thoroughly, the subject will appear to have no talent to any observer and will disappear from the sensory detection of other talents. This tactic is difficult to teach and impossible to completely control. It is hypothesized that some are incapable of performing it. Very rare cases of completely unlearned, instinctive ability have occurred. See Kilor the Taller and Portus of Manot.

  “I wondered if you had the ability to ConProp,” he mused as he studied my face.

  “ConProp?” I stared up at him.

  “ConProp is short for Consummo Propugnaculum.” He settled on the ground at the base of the tree and pulled a slate and chalk out of his bag. “Hand me the book and then come and sit. We will begin the first lesson. Now that I know what you are capable of, I know how to approach things.”

  I obeyed, moving by rote. Unsure of what to think of this new discovery, I fetched my journal and writing utensils. Hopefully, Selwyn’s lesson would shed some light on exactly what I was capable of doing.

  “This is the line that divides those with talent,” he said as he drew a wide line down the center of the slate with a chalk. “On this side,” he began writing on the right side of the line, “we have the Sept Son and his followers.” He listed the positions in the following order, each slightly lower and farther from the line than then next: Sept Son, defender, assistant, trainer, tester, recruiter, user, and trainee. Then he began writing of on the left side of the slate. “On the other side, we have those who hate, reject, avoid, disavow, and oppose the Sept Son and those who follow him.” He listed words that I had only heard of in passing while studying with Errol: Elitist, Viscus Voro, Impendo, and Denego.

  “Over our time together, I am going to teach you to defend yourself from each of these.” He pointed to the left side of the slate. “To do that, I am going to be giving you insight that only three of these positions have.” He indicated the top three on the right: Sept Son, defender, and assistant.

  “There are two reasons that not everyone knows what I am going to teach you. First, it is for their safety. If all talents of every level knew all the techniques of engaging those who oppose the Sept Son and the code, they would become overconfident and attack without provocation. Second, this knowledge is powerful. Only those who have demonstrated that they have the strength of character and discernment to determine when to use the techniques should hold this knowledge.”

  A heavy blanket of responsibility fell over my shoulders. The weight pressed down on my frame. I was to be given something that even Errol did not know. I looked up to find Selwyn’s dark eyes watching my face.

  “I am not sure I am ready for this,” I said.

  He nodded his understanding. “That is alright. I know you are ready. You are going to have to trust me.” The depths of his brown eyes searched mine.

  I felt the gentle brushing of his mind against my thoughts, not changing them, just soothing the nervous thoughts that rose to the surface. His calm, steadfast confidence soothed me, but I found the greatest peace came when I reached out to God. Lead me, Almighty. What should I do? The answer came immediately in a wave of quiet assurance.

  He had a purpose for me. I still wasn’t sure what it was, but I was certain that this was what he wanted me to do. I trusted Selwyn as I trusted one of my brothers, but I trusted the Almighty more.

  “Where do we begin?” I asked.

  Chapter XV

  Hadrian

  I stared out the window. Snow blanketed the ground, muting the world. The time of the death watch had begun. Death watch was the three weeks when most of the elderly died. As they fell, overcome with age or infirmity, the white expanse of snow was marred by patches of brown, freshly-turned earth.

  Only four hours ago, I had stood beside one of those plots of raw earth and watched as a man too young to qualify for the death watch disappeared beneath the plods of dirt. Consus Faluvius turned only forty-three last month. I knew him from my days of training under the late Sept Son. His life ended abruptly a few days ago when he consumed the poison meant for me. We knew immediately. He was rushed off to the healer’s ward and the meat burned in the fire of the dining hall.

  Although Tristan tried to dissuade me, I went and sat by Consus’ side. The man was dying in my place. The least I could do was hold his hand and ease his passing. While his body contorted and flailed as the poison attacked his organs, I held his mind at a distance. He wasn’t aware of the pain as he readied himself for eternity.

  “Hadrian,” Renato’s voice cut through my thoughts as he waved a hand before my face. “Hadrian.”

  “Yes,” I responded, blinking back to the present. The familiar surroundings of my study fell into place, pushing aside the horror of the past day.

  “I called your name about six times. Are you feeling alright?”

  “Yes, fine,” I assured him. To demonstrate my health, I picked up the nearest open letter and struggled to focus on the words.

  “I came to bring you something from the courier’s packet.”

  “You said there was nothing that needed my attention,” I commented, setting the paper aside so I could center on my assistant. His normally calm countenance was obviously shaken.

  “I was wrong,” he replied. With shaking hands, he dropped a thick packet on the desk top before me. “Master Faroro wrote about news of Blandone or rather the lack of news.”

  “Why?” It didn’t make sense to write about the lack of news.

  “Blandone is missing.” Renato’s voice shook slightly.

  My head came up as I sought out his face. Worry creased his forehead and his eyes were unusually moist as he avoided meeting my gaze. “How? Why?” I demanded.

  “Eight days ago, Blandone and his wife suddenly disappeared from the community. Then three days later, there were a handful of strange events initiated by the leadership. Master Faroro speculates that the Elitists discovered Blan and when they moved in on him, he escaped. However, Faroro cannot see how he managed to evade both the Elitists and our men. No one has passed word to him or any of the contacts and spies that are stationed around the compound.

  “The only other alternative is that Blan is dead.” Renato frowned. “I don’t believe it, but Faroro hints at it strongly.”

  “I will write to Faroro with orders to keep looking for a sign of him.”

  “But...”

  I stopped his protest with a raised hand. I completely understood the firestorm of fear that raged behind his golden eyes. I had gone through it when Selwyn went missing for a month, back when he was still on a
ctive duty. Prayerful waiting was the only action available while your soul screamed to be doing something. Unfortunately, Renato didn’t have the Almighty’s promises to carry him through.

  “I know that you want to do more, but there is nothing else we can do. If we go running in there, we would only be repeating the actions of the last confrontation with Elitists and ruin all of Blan’s efforts. Inserting another operative this soon would be risky and foolish. Now that their suspicions are aroused, they are going to trust no one. I am not going to risk another man’s life. Blan gave us enough to formulate a plan. Now, we just need to use what he has given us.”

  My assistant nodded without meeting my gaze.

  “Renato.” I waited until he raised his head and looked into my eyes. “We will find him. I promise that I will not rest until we do.”

  “I know,” he replied, “But I cannot help fearing the worst.”

  I nodded. “Do you have correspondence to finish?”

  “Yes.”

  “Staying busy helps. If you need to talk, you know that I am always available.” I didn’t really expect him to accept the offer, but I felt compelled to give it. Sometimes things assumed on one side of a relationship are not as obvious from the other side. I needed to let Renato know that I cared.

  “Did Selwyn ever go missing when he was on active duty as a defender?”

  I grimaced. “More times than I can count, but it never grows easier.”

  “If he survives this, I am hoping there is never a next time.”

  “Don’t count on it. Selwyn didn’t quit until it was too dangerous to the Sept Son for him to continue.”

  Renato nodded slowly in understanding. I didn’t know Blandone well enough to know if this was true of him also or not, but I guessed it was.