by Taki Drake
The young man’s voice rang a chord of sympathy in Corda when he said, “I tried to do the right thing, Sir. I am sorry if I did it the wrong way.”
The older man snarled, and Corda knew that he was about to say something that would forever change the life of Enkill. Unable to tolerate any more pain or conflict around her, the young girl gathered her courage and said, “Please, Sir. May I speak?”
Corda could see both men staring at her in surprise as if they had forgotten that she was present. Bemused, the Armsmaster responded, “Since you were the one in danger, I am quite willing to hear what you have to say.”
The young girl could hear the audible gulp of the upperclassman standing to her other side. He sounded of despair tinged with regret, and Corda couldn’t harden her heart enough to ignore him. Blocking out his desperation, the first-year student said, “Isn’t the whole purpose of our education to teach us lessons? And if that so, some of the lessons are painful, but that’s to be expected.”
“Yes, that is true, but I don’t see how that affects what has just happened.”
“I think that hearing what has happened has taught me a lesson, which is that even if I’m only thirteen that I need to be aware of the things that I’m allowed to do or not do. I have also learned that I am responsible for standing up for myself and working with the knowledge that I have. Additionally, it might be that Lead Enkill has learned the problems with acting on knowledge that hasn’t been verified and the danger of failing to follow the chain of command.”
There was a pause before the Armsmaster answered her. His voice had changed from absolute fury to thoughtful consideration when he asked, “What other lessons do you think have been learned?”
Switching her eyes to look straight at the Armsmaster, Corda took a deep breath and blurted out, “That perhaps even an Armsmaster should be identifying things that have to be taught, even if they’re not techniques with blades and guns. Lead Enkill’s attempt to protect your program and your philosophy is admirable and indicative of loyalty. The fact that he didn’t feel comfortable coming to you with that information says that perhaps there’s a difference that needs to be made in what you are teaching in that area.”
Another pregnant pause and both Enkill and Corda jumped as the Armsmaster erupted in a roar of laughter. Slapping his thigh, the warrior said, “Well, girl, you certainly have a steel backbone. You know I would have demoted him and forbidden him any further involvement in arms training. Are you not afraid that he will take revenge on you?”
“I have experience with betrayal and bullying, Sir. Everyone deserves a chance to change and to learn. I am willing to give Lead Enkill another chance, and I’ve just met him. There was a reason you picked him for this position, and I hope you’re not telling me that any mistakes someone makes mean they are unrecoverable.”
Chortling, the arms instructor turned to the rigidly upright young man and said, “Learn from this, Enkill. Hopefully, the lessons you’ve learned mean that you grow and that I never have to have this type of discussion with you again.”
Chapter 17 – Conditioning
Slowly, Corda’s strength and mobility continued to improve as she gradually recovered from her injuries. For the most part, the young girl was content, absorbed in all the things that she was learning. Only in one class did she have a significant challenge, and that was the use of Magic in a fight setting. Frustrated at her mind’s resistance, and determined not to let her teammates down, the young girl kept pushing her limits physically and mentally.
As the classes continued, Corda did her best to keep her head down and continue her efforts to compete with classmates that were all older and stronger than she was. She knew part of the problem was that her 5-foot, 75-pound body didn’t have the muscle or stride length to win races or lift heavy weights. The only solution she could come up with was that she needed to be faster and more agile.
Any day that she had free time, the young girl would head back to the climbing area. There, hidden from everyone else, she would race against time the climb up cliff walls, or run an agility course.
Corda knew that she was getting faster because she could see her completion time improve. Even when her shoulders ached with the burn of overstressed muscles or her calves spasmed in vises of clenched pain, she was aware of just how much her abilities had grown.
Why then, can I not work out how to use my Magic in the arena? Corda thought to herself, It is not that I’m frightened of pain. It’s like something’s holding me back, and I don’t know what it is.
Soaking in the hot springs that were the graduating class project from several decades ago, Corda eased herself into one of the hottest of the cascading pools. Letting out a sigh of relief, the young girl stretched her neck and rested her head against the moss-covered edging. “Ah, that feels good.”
The water rippled as Liz stepped into the pool and submerged herself, so only her face remained out of the water. Echoing the young girl's relief, Corda’s roommate said, “If I knew who the students were that came up with these hot springs as their senior class project, I would kiss each and every one of them.”
Corda laughed a bit and said, “I know what you mean. It’s the gift that keeps on giving. Could you imagine fighting sore muscles without so much hot water?”
“Oh, I don’t want to. Right now, I just want the burn and ache to go away so that I can feel even marginally human again.”
The girls soaked in companionable silence for a few minutes, letting their bodies relax and recover from the intense session they had just completed in the arena.
“Liz, what am I going to do if I can’t pass this course? I can’t seem to do anything right. Even the weakest Mage in our class is doing better than I am.”
“I don’t know, Corda. It isn’t that you are not working hard. Everyone can see that. You have even had the head of the Healers here at the Academy tried to guide you through allowing the Battle spells to flow through your Healer channels. But nothing seems to work.”
“I’ve tried meditation, visualization, research, everything I can think of. I don’t know what else to do, and if I can’t pass this course, I will not be allowed to go on with the rest of you.”
Tears started to slip down Corda’s face, but she made no sound to accompany her weeping. It had never been safe for her to sob openly, and habit still held her securely. She knew that unless Liz opened her eyes and looked through the rising mist of the hot water, that her secret tears would remain just that, a secret.
Liz offered comfort as best she could, “You are working very hard. I know how determined you are, and I truly believe that you will have a breakthrough. Just don’t give up. Promise me you won’t give up!”
Knowing that her roommate would not stop pushing her until she responded, Corda answered, “I promise.” The young girl was confident that Liz was unable to see through the rising mist and the turbulent water of the springs to track the tightly crossed fingers of both of the young girl’s hands.
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Corda exploded into her dorm room, throwing her backpack onto the bed and whirling to slam the door shut. She was sore, frustrated, and infuriated with an intensity that frightened her. What a horrible day this has been, she thought to herself. A failed lab experiment, only a ninety-eight on my test, and, worst of all, I got paired with Hera in our sparring exercise. To put the absolute best topping on the whole thing, she beat the living daylights out of me, both physically and Magically.
The young girl’s neck hurt even more than the bruises around the rest of her body. With a flush of shame, Corda remembered how she couldn’t even raise a minor shield to stop the blows from the practice wand that Hera took such delight in using. As part of a waking nightmare, the tiny girl could still hear the slap of the wood against her flesh and the zap of the little electric bolts of Magic that Hera had used to sting her repeatedly.
The other girl had seemed to take perverse pleasure in hurting Corda, going as far as to repeatedly yank
on the younger girl’s braid. Each time Hera whipped Corda around by her hair, she would taunt the smaller woman with comments.
Her enemy had kept her voice down so that none of the instructors could hear her, but Corda felt like they were burned in her brain. “… Nice of your charming brother to show us your weaknesses…”, “You should just give up, you can’t pull your own weight and are going to let your team down…”
It had been even worse when they had switched roles in the exercise. Corda had been unable to land a single blow on Hera, and none of the things that she tried using to generate a Magical attack had worked. Not one.
Hera had even managed to grab Corda’s braid one more time, whipping the tiny girl around with such force that she could feel strained and burning muscles in her neck. It reminded her so much of the attack by Pharyl that the young girl was teetering between screaming, rabid fury, and cowering in the back of her closet in fear.
I feel like such a failure. I don’t know what else to do. Why won’t my mind and body let me accomplish this?
Trying to calm down, Corda paced around the small room that she shared with Liz. Unable to settle or focus, she stalked from one end of the room to the other, her mind spinning as she tried to think of a solution.
After a while, the frenetic energy eased, and the young girl became more aware of her surroundings. Noticing that there was a small stack of envelopes on her desk, Corda went over to inspect them and realize that mail and other correspondence had been delivered while she was in class today.
A smile lit her face as she saw the distinctive stripe of Diplomatic Corps correspondence and recognized her grandmother’s signature on the envelope. Knowing how busy her Nona was on her current assignment, Corda felt a flush of gratitude and warmth as she started to open the envelope. At least Nona loves me, even if I couldn’t damage a one-legged frog! What the…
Corda stared in astonishment as a folded note tumbled out of the envelope and released a glowing rectangle. Tracking the card as it seemed to hover in mid-air, the young girl reached out without thinking and snagged the crisp plaque. Her hands seemed to burn for an instant, and then Corda’s whole body echoed with an overwhelming SNAP that set off shooting stars across her vision.
Corda’s thoughts seemed fragmented as she alternated between sensation and observation, What of the 1001 gods just happened? This is not one of Nona’s cards! Why do I remember this card? I have never seen this deck!
As if from a dream of long-ago, Corda was surrounded by the feeling of a familiar room and saw in front of her a table covered with velvet. A card very similar to the one she was holding was the focus, and that plaque too seemed to shine with its own light. A voice that sounded like, yet unlike her Nona was saying, “…Judgment, the card that states the core motivation in your life will be centered around awakening, reflection, and reckoning.
For a moment, Corda stared at the plaque in her hand, wondering about the impact of this card in her life and what to do with it. Standing as if she were sleepwalking, the young girl retrieved the carved box that she had found in the chest that was one of her first assignments.
Placing it on the table, Corda raised the lid to extract the silk velvet cloth inside. Carefully, she wrapped the card in the shielding silk, placing the protected package inside the carved box and gently closing the lid.
Reluctant to lose the connection to the card, the young girl held the box against her chest and felt the power of the Magical plaque thrumming through her.
Fragments of images darted through Corda’s mind, and she let them flow, refusing to grab at them or use them for any purpose. She recognized some of them, more pictures of the card reading session, loving times with Nanny in the nursery, helping her twin brother and sister when they first learned to walk. Her heart was filled with a complex mixture of joy, sorrow, and regret. Aching, the young girl watched as a different type of image flashed in front of her.
These were the ones that she knew were outside of her experience, and she yearned to be able to interpret them. A picture of an older man, level gray eyes, and iron-gray hair in a determined face stood at the top of a small hill, throwing massive balls of fire that streaked across a broad valley. Power radiated off of him as his Magical Attacks demolished impressively tall fortifications.
The visions switched once more to an unknown time and place. Another man was pictured, slender but powerful with a hauntingly familiar nose and mouth. He held a shield of force in front of him expressed as a scintillating globe. Corda vibrated with his humming, notes that were syncopated by the impact of automatic weapons fire against his shields.
Abruptly, the vision released Corda, leaving her disoriented and shivering. The words and images resonated in her core, fountaining up before distilling down to a crystalline determination.
Hearing an irritating clattering sound, Corda looked down to see that she had somehow picked up a pair of scissors in the last few minutes. Where did those come from? I haven’t seen them before.
The young girl stared at the scissors for a moment before moving instinctually as the experiences of her day and the vision that she had just experienced came together in a resounding clap of realization. Unhesitatingly, Corda reached around and grabbed her long braid of hair, used the scissors, and cut.
Standing in the dim light of her dorm room, Corda stared at the 2-foot long thick bundle of hair in her hand and thought, This is my sacrifice. A symbol of my dedication. It is time that I truly woke up. While there is a time for reflection, there comes the point when the reckoning is due.
Chapter 18 – Revisions and Changes
The day of her vision marked a turning point for Corda. Although her roommate had been surprised by the young girl's sudden hairstyle alteration, Liz had accepted without question the younger girl’s desire to make a change. Surprising Liz and Corda, Risee turned out to have some skill at trimming hair and cheerfully shaped Corda’s newer style into a fashion statement rather than a rebellious gesture.
Liz had asked her young roommate what she wanted to be done with the hacked-off braid. With a set face, Corda had said, “I don’t care. Just throw it in the trash if there is nothing better to do with it.”
Risee teased their grimly serious friend, saying, “Hey now, no pout faces or you will hurt my tender feelings. How am I supposed to make tons of money as a hairstylist if you are going to rain on my delicate artistic parade?”
Everyone in the room had laughed, even Corda and Argah. Liz was the only one that saw Gerald carefully pick up Corda’s hair and quietly placed it into his pocket. She smiled and tucked her thoughts away to examine later.
The laughing and teasing managed to lighten up everyone’s spirits, and the conversation quickly switched to the plans for the next few weeks. Corda was content to listen in. She was still trying to come down from the intensity of emotion that she had experienced with the vision and her decision to focus. Only half-listening to her friends, the young girl suddenly realized that the room had gotten quiet and that everyone was staring at her.
“What? What did I miss?”
As usual, Liz was the first to burst into speech. “We were discussing the team exercises that were outlined in the arena this morning and trying to figure out when exactly Winterfaire would cause a break. Do you have any idea?”
Seeing everybody looking at her with expectation, Corda said, “I understand what the schedule is and when the team exercises are going to change, but I have no idea what Winterfaire might be.”
“You have to be kidding,” exclaimed Risee. “Are you telling me that you’ve never gone to a Winterfaire?”
Corda just nodded and stared at the stunned faces around her. Even Argah looked so surprised that she actually volunteered a statement, saying, “I love Winterfaire. There are so many vendors of things that we don’t see most of the year, and the food booths are incredible. There is free entertainment, and I’m pretty sure that the upperclassman and all of the Bardic students will be taking their turn
on the open stage to show off their skills.”
Liz chimed in, burbling, “I love it! Because I’m so lazy and usually wrapped up in a project, I always do most of my gift shopping at Winterfaire. It’s far easier to find interesting items with such a broad selection, and it’s fun to haggle with the shopkeepers.”
Seeing the alarmed look on Corda’s face, Gerald spoke up, suggesting, “Why don’t we go as a group? It’d be fun to enjoy the fair together, and that way, Corda can have three guides that can show her each of our favorite parts of the event.”
Relieved, Corda said, “Thank you, Gerald. I was actually getting scared thinking about it. But I heard Liz say that she was buying gifts. What are the gifts for?”
Deafening silence met her question, and for the second time today, Corda saw everyone looking at her with a stunned expression on their face. This time it was Gerald who broke the silence to answer her, saying, “It is the holiday where most of us exchange gifts with our family and friends. It’s a way of telling the other people in our lives how grateful we are that they are there.”
Argah added, “You don’t have to buy expensive gifts. In my family, at least, we look for something that expresses the fact that you understand and care for us as your friend or family. It becomes sort of the guessing game that shows how well you know someone. Only with that knowledge, can you find a gift that someone will truly like.”
Liz giggled, saying, “I know what you mean. It makes my eldest brother totally crazy that even though he’s a very conservative dresser, every Christmas, most of us give him wild, colorful socks. I’ve never seen him wear them, but it…” She smiled in glee, “I know for a fact that they go through his laundry, and so he must be wearing them somewhere.”
The conversation became more general, and the group of friends figured out that they had a few more days of individual sparring, and then the team phase of their arena training was going to begin. Noticing that Corda was looking a bit down, Gerald asked her in an undertone, “What is worrying you? Is it something I can help you with?”