by S. L. Viehl
many targets.
Bek often examined his target form with disbelief. “Ren, are your eyes not functioning?”
I was able to keep up with the demands of the class, but my knee was beginning to give me trouble,
especially on the more complicated pivoting moves. Thgill’s prediction about a serious percussion injury
kept me skittish. As a result, I avoided or faked my way through certain techniques, and occasionally
incurred Bek’s wrath when he caught me.
“You cannot skip your way through the shahada,” he told me after stopping a practice match I had
nearly won. “Every step is essential for your success and personal self-preservation.”
“They’re just shortcuts,” I said, feeling a little self-righteous. I hadn’t made any mistakes, other than gliding
through Bek’s more difficult whirling moves. “I’d have won; isn’t that the point?”
“Winning is always the point.” He took out his blade. “Now spar with me.” Ten seconds later he had me
on the floor, pinned under his footgear, his blade at my throat. “Any protector with adequate training
would spot these openings you create in your guard with your shortcuts. And use them to kill you.”
Only Kol seemed to have no problem at all. He handled the tån as though born with it attached to his
arm, and sharpened his attack skills to the point of never losing a sparring match. The Chakaran used him
more as an aide for a short time, then sent him to spar with the more experienced students while we
repeated form practice. It was during one of those sparring matches that he accepted his first challenge.
Several of Fayne’s cronies had been recycled back to second-level training, and Kol had the bad luck to
be matched against one of the bigger, meaner ones late one session. He defeated him with embarrassing
ease, which infuriated the larger, heavily clawed male.
“Orange does not beat red! I challenge you to the quad!” the loser shouted. “Then we shall see who
prevails!”
As usual, Bek didn’t stop the training, but ordered Kol and his challenger out to the quad. I couldn’t
concentrate, and took two jolts for missing kill zones before the Chakaran gestured for me to step onto
an insulator pad away from the rest of the class.
“Saj, you tempt me to send you back to white.” He glanced at the closed door panel between us and the
quad. “I will give you some advice: Dancers do not allow themselves to be distracted. By anything.”
“I know.” I studied my footgear for a moment. “Bek, do you have a family? A mate, children?”
“No.”
I met his flat gaze. “Did you ever want some?”
“No. They would be made to suffer because of me.” Absently he touched a burn scar on his brow.
“What has this to do with your inadequate performance?”
“I never thought I’d have a family, but this clan has become mine.” The hilt of my tån dug into my palm as
I put my entire training on the line. “Send me back if you want, but I need to be out there with him.”
“I see.” Bek’s head turned toward the third line, where my other five headaches had stopped seriously
practicing and were simply going through the motions while watching us. “The others feel the same.”
Thinking he might send everyone back, I panicked. “No, it’s just me—”
He held up a paw. “I have observed you seven too long to be deceived by your desire to protect the
others.” He gestured for the rest of the gang to join us. When they did, he said, “I have never encouraged
relationships among my trainees. It creates too much conflict with the work to be done. However, I can
see how strong this group’s interdependence is, and I doubt I can do anything to eliminate it.” He nodded
toward the door panel. “You are dismissed from training to observe the bout. Return when it has
finished.”
“Bek does not strike me as particularly empathic,” Danea said as we hurried out to the quad. “What did
you tell him?”
“That you guys were more important than my training.” I gave her an irritable look. “I lied.”
She hmphed. “I thought as much.”
Someone had spread the word to the third level, because there were dozens of red, green, blue, and
purple bands crowding the quad. As we pushed our way through to the front, I saw that Kol and Fayne’s
buddy were already well into the match, their tåns flashing in the shorter jyan form. Nalek used his bulk
to shoulder a space for us against the center of one side, but Kol was too busy countering moves to
notice our presence.
Both of them were in dimsilk, and moving so fast it was hard to see the individual moves, until their
blades locked and created a brief pause. Kol’s opponent broke the lock, swiping at Kol’s abdomen with
a choppy lateral cut and slamming a fist into his head from the opposite direction at the same time.
Kol’s obek-ten went flying, but instead of being thrown off balance, he used the opportunity to get under
the red’s guard, attacking with a savage thrust to his chest. Not anticipating the hit, the red staggered
back against the ropes.
The hoverdrone descended. “One hit to the red challenger.”
Everyone clapped their tåns as Kol scooped up his helmet. He saw us and made a quick gesture I’d
never seen before.
“What does that mean?” I asked Galena.
“Guard the House,” she said. “It means we are in danger and must watch out for each other.”
The press of students in back of us suddenly took on a more ominous quality, and I moved behind
Galena. “Sparky, clear a space, will you?”
Danea also took a position at the back of our group, energy spiking her short hair as she scanned the
surrounding faces. Everyone within five feet abruptly shuffled out of striking distance.
In the meantime, Kol was back in the fray, transmuting his blade down to match his challenger’s shou-tån,
eliminating half the previous fighting distance between them. The fight was just as fierce and fast as
before, but I noticed the challenger had quit using the more sophisticated combinations and was battering
Kol with sheer brute power. The force of his thrusts and cuts locked up their blades more than once, but
Kol’s guard never faltered.
“One of them will snap a blade soon,” someone crowed.
“Is that possible?” I asked Renor.
“Given the nature of the tån, yes.” His crystalline face remained impassive. “A broken blade is counted as
a hit.”
The red danced back, out of reach, and turned away, presenting his unguarded back as he looked up at
the hoverdrone. For a moment I thought he might call it quits. Then he lunged at Kol, his tån separating
into osu form, slashing down at Kol’s chest from right and left angles.
With his blade still in shou form, Kol couldn’t match the move, and everyone knew it.
Then something impossible happened.
The challenger’s two blades screamed as Kol’s met them—he had somehow anticipated the attack and
shifted to osu-tån. He met the lunge with such force that a bone cracked, and the red shouted in pain.
Kol followed through from the other direction with a quick, efficient thrust, and buried his blade in the
challenger’s chest for the second time.
I’d never seen anyone react that fast.
“Two hits to the red challenger. Red is advised to withdraw from the challenge now.”
The challenger did just that by dropping his
blade and collapsing onto the quad floor. His broken arm
hung useless as he stared in complete disbelief at Kol. “You did not see. You could not know.”
Kol sheathed his blades. “There was no other reason for you to abandon your guard as you did.” He held
out a hand to help the challenger to his feet, and after a moment of hesitation, the red took it. “It was a
good bout; I learned much.”
A good bout. He’d learned a lot. He’d nearly gotten himself butchered, and he liked it? I made a mental
note to personally club him over the head at the next available opportunity.
I wasn’t the only one who thought the man was deranged. As the medics climbed into the quad, the
challenger cradled his arm and faced Kol.
“You will regret this more than I, crossbreed.” The red made a harsh sound. “I have but to recover and
retrain. The entire Tåna will seek to challenge you now.”
“Let them,” was all my lunatic ClanBrother said.
Bek appeared as Kol left the quad. He pointed to a dark figure waiting by the targeting room. “Uel
wishes to speak to the seven of you,” the Chakaran said. “Attend him now.”
We filed into targeting, and took up positions on our marks. The Blade Master dismissed the trainer
drone and went to the room console.
He didn’t mince words, either.
“Information affecting your homeworld has been received.” He pulled up a star chart and projected it as a
dimensional image into the center of the room. “Combat fleets from both the Allied League of Worlds
and the Hsktskt Faction have pushed forward through the Goldokis Quadrant and now threaten to engulf
Varallan space within the cycle.”
Which put Joren directly in the path of war. We looked at the projected swarms of ships approaching
from either side of the quadrant. There were thousands of them.
“Why tell us?” I asked.
“It is the consensus opinion of my staff that none of you will survive training.” The Blade Master shut
down the projection and turned to us. “I have decided to give you the option of leaving Reytalon so that
you may return and defend your homeworld.”
“You want us to quit?” I couldn’t believe it. “Just like that?”
The obek-la covering his face blurred everything but his chilly voice. “I offer you an alternative to death.”
“Why?” I stepped off my line, something that would have gotten me a good jolt from a trainer. “You
aren’t making this offer to anyone else, are you?” He shook his head. “Why just us?”
“Jory.” Nalek looked miserable. “Our homeworld is in danger. Our place is there.”
“Your homeworld, big guy. Not mine.”
Kol also moved off his line, walked up to Uel, and moved around him in a slow circle. “I would like to
hear the answer to Sajora’s question.”
“Not all of us are as skilled as you, Kol Varena.” Osrea folded his arms, making his exocartilage plates
grate. “What he says is true. We will not survive in the quad.”
Renor looked at the door panel. “The albino Skogaq directs her comrades to challenge us.”
“We cannot help our people if we are dead,” Galena whispered.
“Why are we debating this? Let the Terran stay if she wishes to embrace the stars.” Danea’s hair
practically stood on end. “Our homeworld is in danger. We go back.”
“Sajora will have her answer now”—Kol continued circling Uel, his hands on his blade hilts—“or you will
dance with me, Blade Master.”
Uel held out his gloved hands. “Calm yourselves.” He turned to me. “Jorenians have a reputation for
seeking revenge on those who harm their kin. Revenge is why you are here, is it not?”
“We could be here because we’re bored,” I told him, and wondered if the dancer from the Chraeser or
Uzlac was responsible for what Uel knew about us. “What does that have to do with it?”
“Official inquiries have been made regarding your whereabouts. One from a council member’s bondmate.
We use certain methods to preserve our anonymity, but it is only a matter of time before your people
track you to Reytalon.” He turned back to Kol. “Our training techniques already violate your HouseClan
laws about harm inflicted on kin.”
Nalek shook his head. “We can shield you before our Houses, and no retribution will be taken.”
Uel nodded. “And what will happen if your people arrive and find you have perished here?”
“They will declare ClanKill on you and the trainers,” Kol said.
A little silence fell over our group as we all imagined what the Tåna inductors and trainers, all of whom
were blade dancers, would do to a group of enraged Jorenian warriors.
“We’re not going to die here.” I looked steadily at Kol. “Joren isn’t going to war tomorrow. We’re going
to stay and finish our training.”
“Joren is in danger!” Danea shouted.
“Not yet.” For once I didn’t feel like snarling back. “And if you go back when it is, what will you do?
Shock all the Hsktskt to death? I don’t think you have enough juice to do one, Sparky.”
“We will join our HouseClan warriors; we will… They will have to allow us…” She trailed off as Kol
shook his head. “Surely during war, Kol. Surely they would not detain us again.”
I frowned. “What do you mean, again?”
“It happened three revolutions ago, during the last attack on Joren,” Osrea said. “I was sent to a security
facility and kept there for the duration.”
“My ClanLeader feared I would betray our HouseClans in battle,” Nalek admitted. “Inadvertently, of
course.”
Birdie looked like someone had given her a full-swing face slap. “My ClanMother said it was for my
protection. That I might be captured… harmed…”
“Did they do this to you, Kol?” He nodded. I already knew Ren had been stuck in a cell. No wonder
they’d wanted to come with me. If they’d stayed on Joren, they’d have ended up in prison. “Oh, yeah,
they’re definitely going to welcome you back with open arms this time. Hand you weapons, send you out
to battle for the HouseClans, et cetera.” I made a rude sound.
“You say you will complete your training, Sajora,” Uel said to me. “How will you keep yourself and the
others alive?”
I thought for a minute. “We don’t accept any more challenges. Doesn’t matter who makes them; we turn
them down. That’ll keep us out of the quad. After sessions, we’ll train by ourselves. Focus on dealing
with our handicaps. Watch one another’s backs.” I turned to Kol as he came to stand beside me. “We
can do it, if we work together. That’s how we got this far. You know we can, Kol.”
“It must be a commitment we all make.” He eyed Danea. “What says the HouseClan? Do we stay or
go?”
“I am not eager to return to an isolation chamber,” Renor said. “I will stay with you.”
“I did not enjoy being detained before.” Nalek looked at his footgear. “I stand with our House.”
“They have likely filled in my dugout,” Osrea said. “I do not feel like digging another. I stay.”
Galena stroked the new feathers covering the top of one wing. “I miss my ClanMother, but… I will
remain with you.”
Danea stepped between me and Kol, still seething. “You persist in annoying me, Terran.”
I smiled. “I haven’t even warmed up yet, Sparky.”
Her purple lips thinned. “Kol, know this: If
anyone kills Sajora, it will likely be me.”
“I trust in your restraint, Danea.”
She nodded. “Then I stay as well.”
“That makes it unanimous.” I glanced at Uel. “What say you, Blade Master?”
“There are many ways to progress through training in the Tåna. In some cases, courage and
determination count as much as acquired skill.” He tossed a bundle of red bands at Kol, who caught
them reflexively. “You seven are advanced to red and will move to third level, effective immediately.”
“It could have been another trick, like the prison and the magma pit,” I was saying to Ren as we left our
new quarters the next morning. “Uel could have come up with that story about the war approaching
Joren, just to see how we’d react.”
“It is unlikely,” he said. “Such a test would be given to all students, not merely we seven. Third-level
trainees are given access to the Tåna’s database, so the facts can be easily verified.”
