by Taki Drake
At his suggestion, Corda felt her tension drop away and noticed that Gerald looked much more at ease also. Nodding his head in agreement, Risee added his opinion by saying, “Bards and Makers frequently need privacy to do their work. There is too high of an incidence of theft of ideas in both Disciplines, and so it is far easier for Keve or me to get a secured spot.” Argah and Liz agreed immediately, with Liz saying, “we have a smaller problem of the same type in the Artist and Artisan Disciplines, but we are not as well-funded, so we don’t have as many rooms to reserve.”
Risee said, “Hold on a minute, while I set the muffling spell.” Corda observed as her friend created his spell, noticing that once again, his Maker channels controlled the creation of plates against his skin, which were then formed into the shape that he desired. The young girl could see that he had the potential for doing far more with his Magic, but that the reservoir level was low. I wonder what controls how much Magic is in the pool, she thought to herself.
Once the room was secure, the friends started going over everything Corda had learned. Knocking ideas back and forth, the brainstorming went on for hours. Corda noticed that Gerald was very quiet. There was a look in the back of his eyes that she didn’t know what it meant, and it worried her considerably.
Under cover of an argument between Argah and Keve, Corda asked Liz in an undertone, “Do you know what is upsetting Gerald?”
Liz responded, “At a guess, he’s feeling betrayed. Someone told him his Magic wasn’t very good and wasn’t very valuable. Now he’s found out that not only is it very strong, but it is immensely powerful. How would you feel?”
Corda looked at her roommate for a moment before she responded in a dark voice that caused Liz’s eyes to widen, “Betrayed and hurt. Unsure of whom to trust and questioning his very existence.”
Liz stared at Corda, and the two roommates felt their intent mesh into a unity of action. Getting up and moving in shaky steps to sit next to Gerald, Corda said, “I’m sorry. I was just so amazed at the power and the special nature of your Magic that I just blurted it out to everyone.”
Gerald looked at Corda and the pain in his eyes made her heart hurt and she grabbed his hand with both of hers trying to push her feelings of caring and support through him. From the other side, Liz slipped into his seat and added her one arm to embrace their hurting friend. Sitting there and quiet, the three of them just relaxed into their standard support structure. The feeling that he had people to watch his back gradually lightened the darkness in Gerald’s eyes.
“Thank you. Thank you, my first and best friends.”
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Working together, the group of six made sure to spend time with each other each day in the large and comfortable practice room that Keve had obtained for them. The Bardic student had warned them that he was going to have to demonstrate something of a musical sort at Winterfaire to justify reservation of the space. However, he had been working on a musical piece that Liz was augmenting with some of her artwork, and Argah supplemented with some ideas of Artisan components. Keve was hopeful that what they had to demonstrate would be adequate to justify a first-year student's request.
Corda’s classes had been increasing in challenges as they got closer to Winterfaire. The tests and lessons that she was facing within the Healer Discipline restraining her to the utmost. Many times after the combination of classwork and practical experience, Corda would be almost unable to navigate her way back to the dormitory.
Concerned, Risee and Gerald made a point of waiting for her to finish and escorting her back to the dormitory. Days when she was too exhausted to even go down for the last meal, Liz and Argah made sure to bring a tray of food back to the room and then nagged her until she ate it.
Still struggling with the Battle Magic curriculum in the arena, Corda continued to investigate how each of her friends threw spells. Exploring her own set up she found that she could distribute different types of spells along Magic channels that she usually didn’t employ.
Frantically trying to meet minimum requirements, the young girl worked out a hodgepodge of spells that could be thrown through different channels. Where none of her other friends could locate their nascent repositories, Corda could not only see them but use them. Unfortunately, their capacity for power within her was minimal.
However, her tireless work on defensive spells had finally paid off. On the second day of team activity, Hera and her two team members had been tasked to attack Corda and Argah’s group. The third member of their group was a young woman by the name of Shara Marte, a shy and retiring Bardic student with an unusually good grasp of attack spells.
As usual, Hera’s group had come in on an active approach, trying to build an overwhelming attack force and trample any possible defense. Corda could see the confidence in Hera’s eyes, and the young girl experienced a wash of dread when she thought about the damage that the arrogant woman could cause Corda’s team. Seeing Hera smash Shara to the side as the woman made a beeline for Corda, the 13-year-old felt a spark of fire within herself that made her see red.
No! This is enough, Corda thought to herself. Grabbing Liz’s upper arm and dragging her quickly toward the downed Shara, the young girl moved as if she were in a dream. Channeling the small amount of Artisan Magic that was in her repository, Corda threw up an insubstantial baffle of force in front of the advancing enemy that caught their weapons and succeeded in wrenching one of the wands out of the hands of Hera’s team member.
When the 13-year-old and Liz reached their downed member, Corda kept their defensive structure stable while Liz swooped down and assisted the stunned young woman to stand. Readying spells along the Artistic and Healer channels, Corda watched as Hera, and her fellow attackers spread out, trying to englobe the defenders.
Hera’s harsh voice rang out, “Hey, dimwit! Don’t you know defense is supposed to be backed up against a wall or something? That way, you don’t have to protect all the different ways you can be jumped! Of course, you too much of a baby to understand any of that sort of thing.”
Corda ignored the verbal diarrhea of her constant enemy to focus on the critical points. The young girl’s focus narrowed down to their battle. Understanding why was not important at this point in this fight. The cold, logical portion of the youngster’s brain insisted that only the interaction of forces deserved attention. Reflection and review could happen later.
Hera and the rest of her force advanced on the translucent shield wall that Corda had created. Crying out disparaging remarks, the three women confidently charged the flimsy appearing barrier.
A reverberating smashing sound echoed around the arena, and everyone in the stands stopped what they were doing and stared. Hera and the two other fighters had smashed into Corda’s barrier expecting to overwhelm it. Instead, the amplification that she had layered with the Artisanal spellcasting use their force against them.
The power of their advance and their blows reflected back in perfect angles that ripped weapons and shields out of competent grips and flung bodies back with bone-crushing force. Hera was the only one that stumbled to her feet, staggering as if she were punchdrunk. Advancing two more steps, the battered fighter dropped to her knees and slowly curled in on herself, struggling to breathe.
Pregnant silence converted to roars of overwhelming approval, as the spectators, students and instructors alike, stood and roared in triumph as Corda released the shield and went to assist Liz with Shara.
Chapter 21 – Creepy Stalkers
As satisfying as it had been to finally defeat Hera, in the days after the watershed fight, the young girl had been very conscious of Hera haunting the edges of whatever area she was in and glowering at her. At first, it had freaked Corda out, but eventually, she had calmed herself down and decided that she would just have to cope with whenever Hera chose to attack. Even in her most optimistic scenario, the chance of Hera not attacking did not appear.
I know that she will come at me from one way or another, or even att
ack my friends. I just have to be ready to respond. I’m not gonna let her force me into avoiding my life, just because she’s this big, bad bitch waiting to get me.
The next day was the start of Winterfaire, and Corda was both nervous and full of anticipation. With her Nona still off-planet, Corda had decided to call Advocate Amity, the man she now called Bonpa.
Calling his office number, the impersonal and efficient person who answered the call did her best to insist that Corda make an appointment. After trying to be nice for several minutes, Corda became a little irate and half yelled into the comm-unit, “Do not give me that type of twaddle. I called to speak to my Bonpa, I know he’s always available to me. Put me through!”
Stuttering in shock, the snarky receptionist became instantaneously cooperative and, muttering multiple apologies, put her call through. Almost immediately, the laughing voice of Epheth Amity answered her, saying, “Hello, Corda. I understand you been terrorizing my assistant.”
Before Corda could apologize in a wave of guilt, the elderly man added, “Good for you! She needed to be taken down a peg or two. Better you than me, so thank you for the gift.”
Relieved, Corda laughed in return and told the Advocate about her problem. The man listened intently and then said, without a trace of amusement in his voice, “What you are telling me is that you will be going to Winterfaire for the first time and that you have no experience on how to pay for things or any of the other skills that are attached to shopping in such a market. Is that correct?”
The young girl was mortally embarrassed, and she started to apologize, saying, “I am sorry, but…” The retired Advocate General cut her off, saying gently, “No need to apologize, my dear. It is a shame that you were denied such a common pleasure before this.
“I would suggest that you take both an electronics fund card and some amount of cash for incidental purchases. It sounds like your friends will help you with negotiating techniques, etc., but if you were willing to indulge an old man, I would love to host you and your friends at a tradition of Winterfaire. There is a midnight meal that is served in a central area to celebrate family and friends.”
“Bonpa, that would be wonderful. They all have traditions, and I feel like part of me is broken because I don’t have any.” Almost in tears, Corda clearly heard the man with the perfectly-controlled voice say in tones thick with tears, “Then you, your grandmother and I will just have to invent new ones.”
After a quick catch up on Nona’s plans, Corda closed the comm channel and covered her eyes for a moment. I am blessed, she thought to herself, Even with all the pain, I would not trade where I am today.
When Liz came back to the room, Corda told her what her Bonpa had said, and her caring roommate came over and hugged her, saying, “You deserve it, girl. Your Nona is awesome, and it sounds like your Bonpa is equally wonderful. I have to say that your brother Bertor is pretty cute too.”
Corda laughed and then chuckled again when Liz asked extremely casually, “Does your brother have a girlfriend?”
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Dressed for walking and armed with a special wristband and a wallet of small bills that had been delivered to her a few hours previously, Corda couldn’t stay still. Waiting for the rest of their group in the foyer of her dormitory, the young girl was more excited than she could ever remember being before.
Cheerful greetings and warm hugs were handed around as the rest of her group of friends descended on their meeting spot. Corda was so thrilled and excited that her eyes sparkled in her face with the light of unexpected joy. Speaking happily with one another, the group of six soon started off for the Winterfaire.
Only as they left, did Corda see the glowering stare of Hera, lurking in the corner of the big lobby.
Walking through the town and down to the river, the group of friends was soon at the wintry splendor that marked Winterfaire. Corda’s eyes were huge, and she looked around. Everywhere her eyes landed, there were bright decorations, vendor booths that ranged from tiny to huge, and a milling, happy crowd.
Her nose was assailed by scents of a hundred cuisines and thousands of different spice blends. The music of different languages and the cadence of different cultures created a musical tapestry that made Corda feel like she could fly. Darting from booth to booth, the young girl let the experience flow into her, amazed and feeling blessed by the exciting sights and sounds.
Wandering through the Winterfaire, Corda let her spirit loose, protected by her friends, and finally able to be a child. The relief of fear and pressure made Corda feel like the sun had come up in an unending landscape of dark and dreary days. She could see the effect on her friends as each of them laughed a little longer and louder, while their smiles bloomed more frequently.
Buskers on every corner sang and danced, manipulated illusions, and did Magic tricks to enthrall the crowd. Wandering announcers used beguiling tones to tempt people to performances and offerings that overloaded Corda’s mind.
Luckily, Liz had extracted her roommate’s list of gifts that needed to be purchased. She and Argah, reinforced by Risee and Keve, worked out a plan of attack and began to direct Corda through the labyrinth that was Winterfaire.
Corda was beside herself with excitement. Totally focused on her first-time impressions of Winterfaire, the young girl missed the concern glances that her friends exchanged when they realized that they were being shadowed by a group of people that exuded an air of danger.
Deciding not to ruin Corda’s first Winterfaire experience, her friends tacitly agreed to just keep alert. Pulling the excited young girl passed the many people putting on Magic shows, the group moved quickly to the large tent where Bardic students were expected to take a turn at entertainment.
Entering into the tent, they saw that empty tables were spotted around the room, and Gerald was fast enough to claim one close to the stage. Settling Corda, Liz, and Argah at the table to hold it, Keve nervously headed for the back to get ready for his turn, while Gerald charged-off to get them food and drink.
Risee watched around them with such a tense posture that Corda asked him, “Risee, what is wrong?”
His eyes switching from side to side, the young man responded, “Nothing to worry about.”
Switching instantly from happy to relentless laserlike focus, the youngest member of their group demanded, “Do not try to cushion life around me! What the hell is wrong with you?”
Startled, the young man immediately apologized, “I am very sorry, Corda. All of us wanted you to have a wonderful experience, but we are uneasy and not sure why.”
Corda stared at the crowd around her for a moment before she responded, saying, “What are the signs that you are worried about. Perhaps, if we actually communicate with each other, we can figure it out.”
Blushing in embarrassment, the young Maker explained, “Hera has been hanging around the fringes of wherever we go at the Academy and glaring. That would not be a problem normally, but we’ve also spotted her in conversations with people that we would call thugs. Additionally, she’s followed us here. The combination is setting off every protective instinct that Gerald, Argah, Keve, and I have.”
Calmly, Corda said, “We all knew that Hera would need to make an attack. Keeping any of us, especially me in the dark, is doing no one a favor. Thank you for telling me.”
Liz interrupted, demanding, “How can you be so calm about this?”
Corda’s response was, “You forget that I’ve lived in a war zone for most of my life.”
Immediately, Liz covered Corda’s clasped hands with her own. Argah pulled the young girl close in a one-armed hug while Ricee nodded to the young girl and resumed his area monitoring. Shaking internally, Corda didn’t relax until she felt the warmth of Gerald’s hands on each of her slender shoulders. Thinking to herself, They care about me and will protect me. That doesn’t mean that I’m totally safe, it just means that I’m not in this alone.
Chapter 22 – Showtime!
Before Corda could
travel down any portion of the dark path of despair and anticipated pain, a Bard with the Magically enhanced voice announced from the stage, “The next set is going to be performed by Keve Preedams. It is a combination of music and multimedia experience. Let’s make a warm welcome for Bard-in-training Keve.”
Scattered applause spotted the audience, and Keve walked out on the stage visibly shaking. Corda heard Argah’s breath hitch as she realized how terrified their friend was, and the young girl patted the arm that still held her in a hug.
Keve carefully positioned himself on the stage, making sure that he was in the center of it and fingering his instrument. The young Bard started with shaky notes and voice, obviously not impressing the crowd. Supportive of their friend, Argah was the first person to join in, humming the descant that they had practiced. As her crystalline notes joined the Bard’s voice, Keve’s tone stabilized and started to round out slowly, seeping into the vast space and filling it with the smell and taste of spring.
The next to join in was Liz as clouds of butterflies began to swirl and rise through the stage, many of them disappearing into the tent surface, while others made individual landings on fascinated listeners all over the chamber.
Corda knew precisely when Gerald joined in as the smell of living flowers, and the warm sun added a sensory input that was second to none. The walls of a building, clad in marble and wood arced over the stage as the audience was transported into a different space and time.
Drawn by the imaginary world built on the now rich baritone of their friend, the Bard Ricee, Corda let her energy flow. Swelling on her power, the sound of waves hitting the shore and the gentle breeze of serene days touched everyone in the huge tent. Silently the audience sat or stood, enthralled as the Bard sang of love and friendship, all couched in the warmth of the summer, swirled through the tent.
The song was over, and Keve stood up and bowed awkwardly to the audience. His stricken face told his friends that he thought he had done poorly, but he had not taken more than a single step before the entire chamber rose in a spontaneous roar of approval. The thunderous sound of many hands clapping brought tears to the young man’s eyes and a blinding smile to his face.