Unseen (First of the Blade Book 2)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “I don’t feel anything except the air,” Lilah said. “Is that what you want me to feel?”

  “Feel deeper. Feel some part of yourself. Feel what you recognize when you’re creating that protection around yourself.”

  Lilah shook her head, and Imogen knew that would disrupt whatever meditation she’d been in and however she was accessing that power. “I don’t do anything. It just comes. I’m holding this enchantment my family gave me and using it for protection, and it’s because of it that I’m able to do anything.”

  Imogen watched but continued to focus on Tree Stands in the Forest. Power was part of the pattern. She knew it, especially now. Why had Master Liu never revealed the truth of the pattern? Why would he not have shared that, unless he felt she needed to find the truth herself? Knowing Master Liu, that was probably only part of the reason.

  “Keep trying,” Benji said to Lilah as he sat back and pressed his heels beneath him again. He breathed out heavily and looked over at Imogen. “What about you? Have you found anything within yourself?”

  “You mean besides the connection to Tree Stands in the Forest?” She smiled, returning his gaze.

  “Call it what you must, but all that matters is that you find what is there. It is the reason you studied at the sacred temple. The reason all your people study there.”

  Imogen tried to maintain her concentration. This was nothing more than a meditation, but even as she did so, she could feel the pressure pushing outward and sweep against the walls around her.

  “How long can we stay here?” she asked.

  “How long would you like to?”

  “Until we recover.” She leaned back, closing her eyes for just a moment, and she frowned. “I’m tired, but I don’t know why I am so tired.”

  “Because of who you are, Imogen Inaratha. You have denied the truth for your entire life, much like many in your homeland. It’s time for that to stop. I suggest you try to find something within yourself, some way to understand the power within you. If you do, you will be strong enough to do what must be done.”

  “And what is that?”

  He leaned toward her. “You already know.” A darkness burned in his silver eyes.

  “You mean Timo.”

  Benji held her gaze for a long moment and finally nodded. “Regardless of what happens with the branox, you are going to need to find the strength within you to do what you have to do. Only you can decide what that will be.”

  “He’s my brother.”

  “He was your brother.”

  “He still is.”

  “Then you must find another way to save him.”

  Benji turned his attention back to Lilah. Imogen sat against the magically constructed stone wall, which pressed into her and strangely gave her a hint of reassurance, but she was still troubled. Not by the branox or the power that existed in the forest, but by the thoughts that filled her mind—thoughts that left her wondering what it would take to help her brother.

  That was, if she could help him.

  Regardless of her objections, there was still the possibility that nothing could be done for Timo.

  Her eyes drifted closed, and though she didn’t know if it was even safe for her to rest, she could not do anything to fight it. She let sleep claim her, knowing she needed to recover before she could take on the branox again.

  And as she slept, dreams came to her—the same ones that had always come to her. They were dreams she attempted to push out of her mind, dreams she had tried to block all these years, dreams that guided her, wanting to show her a path she had not known she could have.

  Dreams of Master Liu.

  Chapter Ten

  Interlude

  Imogen had come to appreciate the smell of spice in the air, knowing that it was associated with Master Liu and the temple, but there was always something about it that left her unsettled. It was foreign, yes, but there was something else about it as well.

  She didn’t see Master Liu, though she knew he was here. He rarely left the temple.

  A stone sculpture of a tiger loomed in front of her, and Imogen crouched in front of it. Tigers were rare, at least in the flesh. In this temple, Master Liu had dozens of stone tigers. The detail of the sculpture was incredibly vivid, and she could practically imagine the tiger studying her, staring at her with pride in its eyes.

  She tore her gaze away, not wanting to let that tiger peer into her soul.

  “Do you fear it?” The voice came out of the shadows, and she turned to see Master Liu watching her. His hands were tucked into the large loops of his robes, and the hood was settled around his shoulders. “I’ve seen you looking at the sculptures before. Do you fear the stone tigers?”

  Imogen glanced over to the sculpture again, turning her attention away for just a moment. “I don’t fear it. It’s just that it is so lifelike.”

  “And yet you fear it.”

  Imogen shook her head. “Again, I don’t.”

  Fearing the sculpture suggested she was afraid of something made of stone, afraid of something that could not attack her, which would be shameful. She had survived the journey to the temple—she should fear nothing.

  “I find them frightening,” Master Liu said, approaching the sculpture and resting his hand on it. There was something about how his hand moved as he patted the stone tiger—he did so with a hint of one of the sacred patterns, though not the complete movement. It seemed as if tracing the pattern above the stone tiger would grant him some greater connection to it. “I enjoy them, though, as you have likely imagined. I keep them here as a reminder of what is out there.”

  “You think the world is full of tigers?” Imogen asked, smiling.

  “Of course it is,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. “If you think otherwise, then you are the one who is mistaken, Imogen.”

  She nodded politely. It was the only thing she could do. She knew better than to object to Master Liu, especially these days. She’d been training with him for the better part of a year, and up to this point, she had learned many of the sacred patterns but never the way she believed she needed to.

  “Will we be training again today?” she asked.

  “You don’t think this is training?”

  “I don’t—” Imogen caught herself before she said anything foolish. She had to be careful with Master Liu, since he had his own unique way of teaching.

  What had she been thinking, wanting to come here? At the time, it had been considered a significant honor, especially because she was poor and had come from so little. She had devoted herself to her sword, using that as her way of advancing, but she never expected that she would be given an opportunity to study with the great Master Liu, nor had she ever expected that he would not teach her what she thought she would learn.

  When she’d come to the temple, Imogen had believed that there would be great glory. The journey to the temple had defeated others who had attempted it, but not her. Now that she was here, she had to continue to hone her skills and learn more complex patterns that were nothing like the sacred patterns he had taught her.

  What was so sacred about them, anyway?

  Then again, Imogen had seen how he had barely had to move and was still able to deflect every attempt she made to get to him. She blamed it on the reed she was forced to spar with, but she knew it was not because of that. Imogen had tried sparring with a staff, something with a much greater reach, and even with that, she had barely managed to get close to him. She simply was not good enough.

  It was the first time in her life that she had experienced anything quite like it. Master Liu made no point of telling her she was not good enough, but she didn’t need him to. There was no reason to point out the obvious—doing so would only shame her even more.

  “Of course it is training,” she said with a bow.

  She kept her eyes locked on the floor, but she watched for any sign of movement out of the corners of her eyes, knowing that it would take barely more than a flicker of effor
t on his part to advance. Imogen had her hand ready near the wooden reed strapped to her side, prepared for the possibility he would strike her at any moment. Besides, that was the entire reason she was here. She had come to learn, to train, and to uncover secrets.

  He didn’t move, though.

  “Everything in the sacred temple is training,” Master Liu said. “And I can see that you are starting to recognize that.”

  He brought his hands around and produced a staff she hadn’t seen. How had he been hiding that beneath his robes? He arced it down toward her arm and her shoulder, and Imogen spun, bringing her own reed up to block. She twisted and swept around as she struck.

  “Very good,” he said. “But once again, you remain rigid.”

  Rigid? It was his way of telling her that she had failed him, which had happened time and again—something that angered her more than she cared to admit. Failure was not something she was accustomed to.

  It was her precision with that skill that had garnered praise from everyone who had taught her. That precision and technique had given her the opportunity to even come to the sacred temple. Now that she was here, she wondered if perhaps she should have been a little sloppier.

  “Try this,” he said, tapping the staff once. The crack rang out in the hallway.

  Imogen spun her reed, preparing for what he might do, but he simply stood in place. She waited, watching him. He had attempted a similar technique before, and she knew that it was all part of his game, a trick he played on her—his way of showing just how skilled he was, and how unskilled she was.

  And it was that trick that made her angrier than anything else.

  She darted forward. She had taken no more than a few steps before Master Liu brought his staff around and smacked her once on the wrist and once on the backside. He swept her legs out from under her, then tapped the end of the staff on her chest. The blow knocked the wind out of her and left her chest throbbing, but it was not lethal. It could have been if he had wanted it to be, though.

  She rested for a moment, catching her breath.

  “Did you see what you did wrong?”

  “I was not fast enough, Master Liu,” she said.

  He watched her as she picked herself up off the floor, and his irritation showed on his face. Perhaps he was angry because he knew it was a lie.

  She was fast enough. She was one of the youngest warriors to reach the rank of First of the Blade in generations, though in this place, her speed and skill were not nearly as impressive as she had once believed. Still, she was fast.

  “Your speed has nothing to do with it, Imogen.” He brought the staff around in a way that was almost languid, and as she scrambled to move, she missed him doing something else. She’d been so focused on the staff that she hadn’t paid any attention to the foot coming up behind her to kick.

  It was trickery.

  “Thank you for the lesson, Master Liu,” she said, bowing her head.

  It irritated her to be so obsequious to him, but this was Master Liu, one of the most revered instructors in all the Leier lands. If she could not muster the necessary skill to bow before him, then she would never learn.

  Doubt crept in. Maybe she would never learn.

  She hated to acknowledge that. Imogen had failed at nothing when it came to the blade. She had always succeeded. But around the temple, when she saw several others with notches on their blades, she couldn’t help but wonder if her failure would persist and if she would never progress beyond First.

  Somehow, she had to find what Master Liu wanted from her.

  “Take your time, Imogen. Begin to understand your purpose here.”

  “I don’t know what my purpose is,” she said softly.

  He tapped the staff on the ground again. Another crack rang out, echoing all around him. The air filled with that sound, which seemed to spill out farther than it should, as if it were carrying some great power beyond the room. There was something within that power, something within the way the staff reverberated along the stone, that had been enough to press outward.

  Was he using magic?

  The idea was laughable. The Leier, and Master Liu in particular, would not use magic.

  He watched her with an amused look, and she bowed.

  “Keep studying,” he said. He drifted down the hallway, leaving Imogen alone.

  She let out a frustrated sigh once he was gone. The other students at the temple were generally secluded in their rooms, much like she spent her days. Because coming to the temple was considered an honor, most students spent all their time studying and training, and she was expected to do the same. But even though she had been here for as long as she had, Imogen hadn’t benefited from any of it.

  She was supposed to be a fighter, but everything she’d learned at the temple seemed to be the antithesis to that. It was almost as if Master Liu did not want to fight.

  She paused and crouched in front of one of the stone tigers again and traced her fingers along its spine. She tried to mimic the same pattern Master Liu had used, but it was difficult. Whereas the typical Leier patterns were meant to be precise, there was something about the way he used his patterns that was not at all precise. That imprecision bothered her more than anything else.

  The stone tiger simply looked at her.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  She spun and came face-to-face with Jorend. He’d never forgiven her for sparring with him as aggressively as she had, though Imogen made a point of pushing as hard as she could with all aspects of her practice.

  “Apparently, I’m training,” she muttered, starting down the hall and tapping the reed against her side.

  She felt the movement before she saw anything. She twisted, sweeping the reed up and dropping it down to block Jorend’s blow. He was quick, but so was she. She whipped her switch around, and she caught him first on the shoulder, then in the belly. Imogen backed up as he grunted and doubled over while holding his fists to his chest.

  “You didn’t have to attack so ferociously,” he said.

  “I didn’t. You wanted to spar. I was giving you that opportunity.”

  “I only wanted to—”

  He swept his gaze down the hall and scrambled to stand, pressing his fists to his side. Imogen frowned, then realized that General Derashen was coming down the hallway.

  He led the Leier troops and served as a de facto right hand to the ruling council. What was he doing here?

  She darted off to the side, holding her fist at her side like Jorend did. As the general marched past, he didn’t look in either of their directions.

  There had been a time when she’d wanted nothing more than to serve in the army under him, when she’d thought that she would train in the temple, master as many sacred patterns as she could, receive several notches in her blade—much like General Derashen—and then join him in defending the homeland from the Koral.

  He had trained at three of the five sacred temples, far more than anyone else in the Leier homelands had ever done. It had given him the opportunity to learn fighting styles and merge them together, turning him into something even more powerful than most. Imogen was lucky just to come to one sacred temple.

  “What do you think he’s doing here?” Imogen asked Jorend.

  He remained silent, pressed up against the stone with hands clenched at his sides.

  “He’s gone. You can step forward,” she said.

  Jorend walked out of the shadows and frowned at her. “I do not know why he’s here. He’s never come in the time I’ve been here.”

  “And you have been here—”

  “Four years,” he said.

  Four years. Was that to be her fate?

  Staying in the sacred temple was considered an honor, but Imogen had started to question whether this was where—and how—she wanted to spend her time. Still, it was more than just her questioning. It was her persistent failure.

  Stubbornness kept her here.

  She refused to fail. She had succeed
ed in everything she had done with learning the blade, and she would not be defeated now. Certainly not by Master Liu or by anyone else here.

  “How have you stayed this long?” she asked Jorend, shaking her head as she turned and looked in the distance. “How have you been able to train with these patterns?”

  “It can take a lifetime of study to master the sacred patterns,” he said. “I am so close to understanding the concepts of Stream through the Trees.”

  “It’s a stream through trees,” she said. “And there’s nothing to master about it. The patterns are little more than a way of trying to focus your mind so you can use your other fighting styles more effectively.”

  At least, that was what she’d come to believe. Since Master Liu had made no attempt to correct her, Imogen had not given it much thought otherwise.

  “They wouldn’t be sacred patterns if that was all they were,” he said. “If you were to devote yourself to your studies, Imogen, you might find that you can learn. Even you.” He turned away.

  “What do you mean, even me?”

  He paused and turned back to her. “I have seen the way you’ve been working. Or not working, such as the case may be. You believe that what you know is enough.”

  “I’ve never believed I know enough,” she said. That was what had driven her and turned her into the fighter she was. It was that belief, the desire to know more—to be more—that pushed her. She wasn’t about to let somebody like Jorend make her feel otherwise.

  He scoffed. “You believe you know enough.”

  “We spar to better ourselves,” she said, repeating another mantra they had trained with their entire lives.

  Could Jorend really have changed so much in his time here that he would no longer believe that? What was the point of coming to a sacred temple if you started to change who you were?

  “We spar to better ourselves, but you spar for another reason,” he said. “You spar to prove yourself.”