Walker

by Michael Langlois

  “Okay, open your eyes, but keep concentrating.”

  Daniel did so. The plate remained nearly weightless in his arms.

  “Now, I’m going to stop supporting you. You need to hold on to the power, and not let the flow collapse. And remember to move your feet out of the way if you drop the plate,” he added dryly.

  Master Dashel let go of Daniel’s shoulders and stepped back.

  The powerful surge lost its urgency, becoming a rivulet, rather than a raging cataract, but Daniel doggedly hung on to it anyway. He focused on the hollowness of his body and relaxed the tension there, placing the airy lightness he knew from Walker training inside it to push back the feeling of constriction, and the power began to flow steadily again. It wasn’t the Master’s torrent, but it was a swift running flow that felt comfortable, and more importantly, reliable.

  The plate again lost some of its horrible weight and Daniel managed to regain his upright position. He felt a giddy smile break out all over his face.

  “Very good. Now, I’m going to add another plate.”

  There was a murmur from the rest of the class. Apparently two plates on the first try was even more of a novelty than seeing a Walker successfully Channel.

  The second plate pressed down on him like a mountain. Worse was the thought that if he couldn’t hold up the seven hundred pounds long enough to get rid of it, his body could never deal with all those Daniel-smashing pounds of steel landing on it.

  The only thing between him and being crushed was the flow in his mind. As his anxiety mounted, he began to tense, and lose contact with the feel of the Veil energy running through him. The weight began to droop towards the floor, further increasing his fear.

  No.

  He reached for the flow and pulled it with all his strength. Rather than becoming passive and trying to allow the Veil to flow through him, he actively sought to move the liquid power and propel it through his body and out the top of his head. The feeling of the energy became more tactile, more solid. The speed of the flow increased, and he actually thought he could feel the texture of it buffeting him, like putting your hand into swift water.

  He could still feel the weight of the plates, but now it was different. The weight was a separate thing from the physical action of lifting them. He held them easily, while still being able to judge how heavy they were.

  Master Dashel’s eyebrows went up, and he nodded approvingly. He picked up a third plate. Daniel eyed it warily, beginning to feel that peculiar sense of focus fatigue. He knew that when he ran out of whatever endurance he used to maintain his control over the Veil, the end would come quickly.

  Still, he wanted to prove to himself that he could do this, and to be honest, he wanted to impress the hell out of everyone in the class. If two plates on the first try was unusual, he’d love to be known as the guy who did three. He pushed himself and held on.

  The third plate landed. Sweat was running down Daniel’s face, and he couldn’t seem to unclench his jaws, but he kept pulling at the flow, urging it with all of his might to move, to run through him. For several long, agonizing seconds, Daniel held the weight. Then just as he began to flag, Master Dashel stepped forward to take the plates from him.

  At that moment a sharp, stinging slap landed on Daniel’s back. It startled him down to the roots of his hair. Instead of losing the flow and dropping the plates, Daniel forgot about the imagery of the tubes and just clawed at the flow in a frenzied panic. He gave an involuntary yelp and threw the plates straight up into the air and jumped back. His sudden gripping of the Veil was instinctive, as completely unknown reflexes jumped to the fore.

  The class gasped as Daniel lost track of the airborne plates. Terror filled him at the thought of one of them coming down and turning him or someone else into a bloody paste.

  In a blur, Master Dashel reached out and caught a plate in each hand as they fell. The third plate was snatched out of the air by Mr. Gray, who was the one who had crept up behind Daniel and slapped him on the back when he wasn’t looking.

  “Goddammit!” shouted Daniel, his heart pounding and hands shaking with reaction. “You could have killed me!”

  Mr. Gray smiled and casually put the plate down on the leather mat.

  “Not at all. Dashel and I would have caught the plates long before they crushed you. I needed to test a theory, and you proved it for me nicely.”

  Master Dashel looked angry, but held his tongue.

  With the adrenaline rush fading, Daniel sat down heavily on the slick wooden floor. Spots swam before his eyes and he felt nauseous. Whatever power he supplied to access the Veil was drained, utterly. Leland came and knelt next to him on the floor, his gaze guarded, searching Daniel’s face.

  “Class is dismissed for today, I’ll see you all back here tomorrow,” said Master Dashel as Mr. Gray pulled him to one side of the room where they could speak without Daniel hearing.

  Leland helped Daniel to his feet, amazement breaking out on his face once they were alone.

  “Holy fuck, mate! How in the hell did you manage that? I can’t believe that you managed three plates on your first try, much less threw the fuckin’ things to high heaven like that. I can barely manage three myself and I’ve been doing this for a couple of years now. You’re not even a bloody Channeler!”

  Daniel shook his head. “I have no idea. I wasn’t even thinking, it just happened.” Daniel grimaced. “Good thing Master Dashel and Gray were there, I could have killed somebody.”

  Leland laughed. “Not likely, we were way back by the time those things started coming down. You nearly threw them clear to the ceiling! I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  After a few minutes Daniel was just able to stand on his own without swaying and was starting to wonder if he could leave when Mr. Gray and Master Dashel returned.

  “Daniel,” began Mr. Gray with uncharacteristic civility, “I have to admit that I’m pleased with your performance so far. Both Master Giric and Master Dashel are also impressed with your abilities. More than impressed, actually. From now on, I want you to go to Master Giric before his morning class, and then come to this one in the afternoons until I say differently.”

  With that, he left the room. It was the first time Daniel could recall seeing him not angry, not to mention the fact that he called him by his first name. Not angry did not, however, describe Master Dashel if the bent plate in his hands was any indication.

  Handling the plates on his first day was quite an accomplishment, but the thing that Daniel took the most pride in was making it outside before throwing up. He was a little less proud of doing it in front of a group of students on their way to class, but he figured one victory a day was plenty.

  9

  The next morning’s class with Master Giric was brutal. They spent the entire session on focus drills, where Daniel would immerse himself in the minute details of a Sanctum, and then swap as rapidly as possible on command to another one. By the end of the class he was drenched in sweat, even though he hadn’t moved a muscle in two hours. He was trudging back to his room afterwards when he heard shouting in the hallway near his door. It was a man’s voice, angry and strident.

  “Do you want to be sent down? Do you? This is the second time, Drina, the second time in as many years!”

  A woman replied in a quieter, desperate voice. “Please, Mr. Camber, please give me another chance! My Thomas, you know he’s sick and he can’t serve, sir. Without me, we won’t be able to pay our Privilege and we’ll be evicted, and my boys will be taken. You know I’ll pay for it, sir, no matter how long it takes, just leave me enough every month to take care of things and then keep the rest.”

  “You think you deserve …”

  The man stopped shouting instantly as Daniel rounded the corner. He was tall and smartly dressed in an old-fashioned brown wool suit, and was clutching something in his right hand. The woman was in her forties, neat and trim, in a maid’s uniform with a round white cap on her head. Her eyes were red from crying.<
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  “My apologies, sir,” said the man, grabbing the woman’s arm tightly, “We’ll take this matter in private where it belongs. Come, Drina!”

  “Hold on a second. What’s going on here?”

  The man stopped and turned back around, looking grim. “I’m sorry to report that this servant damaged a piece of your property. We’ll punish her, not to worry, and she’ll pay for it out of her wages.”

  The woman’s eyes were downcast and her lips trembled, but she made no sound.

  Daniel knew that someone cleaned his room, much like hotel maid service, but he had never seen anyone doing it.

  “Let me see that,” said Daniel, holding out his hand. The man handed the pieces to him stiffly. Daniel recognized it as a small figurine that had sat on a bookshelf, part of the general bric-a-brac the apartment had come with. It was of a small porcelain knight, bland but likely expensive. It was so trivial a thing that he’d never really even looked at it before. He glanced from the heartbroken woman whose life was about to be similarly smashed to pieces over a piece of decoration to the taut, angry man who controlled her life. The whole idea of treating people like they were worth less than some aristocrat’s knickknacks made him furious.

  “She must have just found the pieces,” Daniel said firmly, “I broke it this morning.”

  The man pursed his lips. “Sir, she confessed it to me when she committed the act. There’s no need to trouble yourself over it, I’ll take care of any unpleasantness, I can assure you. It won’t happen again.”

  Daniel stepped forward and asked him quietly, his eyes narrowing, “Are you calling me a liar?”

  All the blood drained out of the man’s face and he took an involuntary step backwards.

  “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean that at all, sir, of course you broke it, sir!”

  “So there’s no reason to punish this woman in any way, correct?”

  “Oh, no sir, entirely my mistake, sir.”

  “Good. You may go.” Daniel gestured to the woman. “May I see you for a moment?”

  The man spun around and walked away as quickly as he could without actually running. Daniel opened his door for Drina and followed her into his apartment.

  Her face was rigid, and her eyes were on the floor. Daniel closed the door and stood in front of her, trying to get a grip on his outrage and put words around what he was feeling.

  Drina reached up with one hand and began to unbutton her blouse, stiffly.

  Daniel gaped and asked, “What are you doing?”

  Her hand froze. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said, barely above a whisper, “I know I should have waited for your order.” She let her arm drop limply to her side, completely defeated, her shirt still half open. “I’m sorry.”

  Daniel choked down another surge of anger. “Is this what happens to you? You’re only protected when some Veil Gifted jerk wants something in return?”

  She said nothing, just waited with her head lowered.

  Daniel dipped his head a little so he could look into her eyes, but she was staring resolutely at her feet.

  “I swear to you, Drina, that’s not what this is. I just wanted to help, that’s all. It doesn’t even have anything to do you with you personally, it just makes me angry to see people treated like they’re worthless because they aren’t rich or powerful. I’m sorry if I made it worse for you, I just thought I was doing the right thing.”

  Drina looked up slowly, hesitant to meet his eyes at first, but then looking into them searchingly for a sign that he was toying with her and at last finding none. She buttoned up her shirt and took one deep, ragged breath.

  “Thank you, sir, you’re most kind.”

  “If the bare minimum of human decency counts as kindness around here, then somebody needs an ass kicking.”

  She gave him a shy smile, which transformed her face from the mask of a terrified servant, to that of somebody’s wife and mother.

  “I should be about my duties, before I give Master Vaughn cause to be angry with me once more. Thank you, again.”

  She hurried out the door and closed it silently behind her.

  Daniel had planned on taking a nap between classes, but instead spent the time yanking down every decoration he could find and storing it in a locked closet. In the end, he went to his Channeling class more irritated than he had been after Drina left.

  After yesterday’s class, Leland had shown him the locker room next to the main floor area, so Daniel headed there to change into his new class uniform. It was similar to any standard martial arts uniform, with loose, square brown pants and a slightly baggy white shirt with wide three-quarter length sleeves. The fabric was thick, sturdy, and extra scratchy. Several students filed in while he was changing, Leland among them.

  “Daniel, how are you, mate?” he said, slapping Daniel on the back. “Glad to see I didn’t have to drag you in here kicking and screaming like last time.”

  Daniel grunted, his mood lightening some despite himself. Leland started shucking his clothes and throwing the wadded up articles rapidly into his locker.

  “A warning, today’s going to be a bit different,” said Leland.

  “Yeah,” said another man on the far side of Leland, “but don’t worry, superstar, I’m sure you’ll impress everybody.”

  Leland jerked his head to indicate the speaker. “That’s Lyle, he’s an asshole.”

  Lyle was a big man, both tall and wide. He had a barrel chest and massive arms and legs, with none of the narrow-waisted, cut and defined shape of the bodybuilder about him. Instead he had the thick, meaty look of a powerlifter. He smirked and said, “Remember that when you’re limping to the medical station tomorrow morning, Leland.”

  Leland shook his head. “He’s also the combat leader for our morning close quarters class, which you’re lucky enough to skip so you can gaze into the Universe’s navel.”

  “Yeah, what about that? If you’re a Walker, what the hell are you doing in this class? Shouldn’t you be learning to drink with your pinky out and shit?” asked Lyle.

  Daniel shrugged. “I’m just doing what they tell me, you know?”

  Lyle slapped his locker shut and hitched up his pants. “Maybe so, but this isn’t the place for people who don’t know what they’re doing, no matter how many friends they might have in high places.” He walked out of the locker room. Leland shrugged at Daniel apologetically, then they followed Lyle out into the classroom.

  Five minutes later the class was again assembled in the middle of the floor, standing quietly in rows. The students looked serious and relaxed, more like a military unit in training and less like a karate class at the Y, which is the kind of thing Daniel had expected.

  The murmuring started up when Master Dashel walked out onto the floor with Iyah walking beside him. She was dressed like the rest of the class, with the exception of having black pants like Master Dashel instead of the brown ones worn by the students.

  Master Dashel addressed the class, causing the whispering to stop instantly. “As you can see, we have a guest with us today for combat focus training. Many of you know her from our classes, but I would remind you that this is no excuse for familiarity during the exercise. As the Protector for the First Tracker, you will address her as Protector Kernig, or preferably not at all, since this a class and not afternoon tea. Arrange yourselves around the mat. Boro, please bring the weight harnesses.”

  A heavyset young man with a coffee and cream complexion and jet black hair pulled back into a braid stood up and trotted lightly over to the equipment racks. He picked up a weighted vest in each massive fist and carried them slowly across the floor with great concentration. Master Dashel took them from him with a nod and set them down at the edge of the sparring mat as if they weighed only ounces.

  “Ekani, Tenny!” he called out. Ekani, the young woman who had impressed Daniel the day before with the iron plates, jumped up and approached the mat. So did a slender man in his thirties with pale blonde hair surrounding a
pronounced bald spot and a thin, pinched nose. They stood very still as Master Dashel and Iyah fitted them with the heavy garments, cinching the straps tightly so that they did not move or slide around on the student’s bodies.

  Ekani and Tenny stepped onto the mat and were handed long, black wooden staves. They nodded to each other and began circling, slowly. Their faces were stiff with concentration as they moved.

  Master Dashel turned to face the class. “Daniel, since this is your first experience with this exercise, allow me to explain. Pay close attention, so that you might avoid being injured today.”

  Daniel heard Lyle snort quietly behind him.

  Master Dashel continued, “These harnesses contain about five hundred pounds of lead shot. To wear one on the mat requires that you maintain your contact with the Veil at all times, regardless of the imperatives of the match. Should you lose the flow, the harness will pull you to the ground, a process that will in all likelihood tear ligaments in your knees and ankles. The Veil can reinforce your tissues to an amazing degree, but only while you actively draw power. The passive reinforcement that you get from your subconscious connection to the Veil won’t be enough to spare you an injury here, although it will speed up your recovery. My advice to you is that if you feel yourself falter, simply fall backwards and let the harness hit the ground. Don’t try to keep standing, and whatever you do, don’t let it push you straight down, that’s a good way to dislocate your hips.”

  Daniel grimaced.

  “The goal of the exercise is to be the first to score three touches on your opponent. This requires some quick movements, and complete attention to your opponent’s weapon. The purpose here is to train you to fight while in contact with your strength. A Protector is useless if they can’t bring their power to bear in a fight, regardless of what’s going on around them.”

  He turned back to the students on the mat. When signaled, they began to spar in earnest. Tenny lunged forward instantly, hoping to catch Ekani off guard, but she smoothly swept his staff off-center and countered for the first touch, followed almost immediately by a counter-touch from Tenny’s rapidly reversed staff. They broke apart and circled for a long moment to collect themselves, then Tenny attacked again, this time low. Ekani was forced to shift herself quickly to the left, taking most of her concentration to move the weight quickly, and her defense fell slack. Tenny quickly scored two more touches, one to each side of her vest, the rapid fire hits sounding like firecrackers. They dipped heads to each other and stepped off the mat. After being helped out of the vests, they stepped back into line.