Power Nexus (Vorcian Imperial Chronicles Book 3)

by Taki Drake

  The man perched at the bottom of her infirmary bed switched his gaze from her grandmother to her eyes, and again Corda felt that shock of familiarity. In a shaky voice, the man said, “I am Matthua Washick. My son Jaxom was your mother’s first husband. From what I can see and what Misha has just told me, you are my dead son’s daughter. And my only grandchild.”

  Chapter 46 – When Plans Evolve

  Corda had been exhausted by the discussion with her family and meeting the man who said he was her other grandfather. Somewhere in the middle of a conversation with her brother, Corda fell into a deep exhausted sleep.

  The young girl woke up tense, wondering what new emergency would greet her when she opened her eyes. When only the dim light of the darkened room and the sleepy quiet of the infirmary at night greeted her, she finally felt like she could relax. Too much in one day, she thought to herself.

  Corda had scooted herself up in the bed, adjusting it so that she could sit upright. The young girl felt very strange as if she were in a surreal landscape, and spooky music should be playing. Imagining her own eerie accompaniment, she slid into a contemplative mode.

  So much has happened to me in just a little while. There has not been time to examine the changes or where I am. I am not sure what I am at this point. First, I was worried about passing a test. Then my friends were going to show me how to shop because everyone knows, except me. I had not learned even that part when we were attacked. People were going to hurt or kill us, so I did my own combat test. We survived, which means I passed. The blows kept coming, and there has been no place to hide or moment that the barrage stopped.

  Closing her eyes, Corda used her internal senses to examine her core, checking on her general health. With the perception that she was learning as a Healer, the young girl could tell that her bodily functions, including heart, lungs, and nervous system, were operating well. All that looks good, she thought to herself.

  It was when Corda turned her perception to looking at where she knew her repositories for Magical energy were located that she caught her breath in surprise. This does not look at all the same! The whole middle of me is different.

  Every single one of the repositories that she had seen in her friends showed an increase in size and how much energy resided within them. Maker, Artisan, Artist, Bard, Healer. All were more full and darker in color.

  A sixth amorphous shape was faintly visible along the same arc that held the five Discipline repositories. The young girl had no idea what it was but decided it was probably another Discipline that was not common on Barkin Prime. Perhaps, a different type of a Mage would know what it is, Corda thought to herself. So I can either ask somebody or do my own research.

  In the center of the arc defined by her Magical repositories, Corda saw the largest difference from before. Not only could she see three different pools, but she saw a wall of fluidly moving mist that surrounded that area and kept separate from the repository grouping.

  The wall was, at the same time, more visible and more fragile. While the mist had darkened and now defined the boundaries of that barrier, the barrier also showed where it was ripped in places, like the rent skin from sharp claws. Rapidly casting about in that area, Corda was not surprised to see a similar wall on the outside of the arc, separating the Magical repositories from the rest of Corda’s body.

  This wall had much larger holes, and the swirling mists barrier was thinner. I wonder if the damage to the wall is from the backlash or if when I threw the last Magic Missile and felt something go down in my mind if it was this barrier getting shredded?

  “Corda, May I come in?” It was the Academy Mind Healer, Bethon. “I was wondering if you would be awake, and since I was in checking on another patient, it seemed reasonable to stop by.”

  “Of course, it is all right. Healer Bethon, I really appreciate everything that you have done to help me recover. I hope when I am fully trained, that I can do even half of what you do.”s

  Corda was not sure why the woman looked very sad for a moment, but when the Healer came fully into the room, the young girl could see that Bethon had her typical smile and seemed to be her usual serene self.

  Bethon walked over to the young girl and touched her lightly on the shoulder. Corda could tell that the Healer was doing a quick check on her health, similar to what Corda had done earlier. Waiting patiently, the young girl saw that the Healer appeared conflicted and indecisive.

  “Is there something wrong, Bethon? You look like you are worried about something.”

  “Actually, Corda, I am inclined to have a discussion with you about something that I am sure will come up again in the future. I just do not want to create any more stress or difficulties for you.”

  Swallowing mildly, the young girl answered, “I would rather know about something, even if it is bad. The surprises are worse than anything else.”

  Once again, the Healer gave the young girl a long, hard look. Nodding decisively, Bethon explained, “It should not surprise you that the Academy is quite interested in how you constructed your spells and why your spellcasting is much stronger than it was. While you were unconscious, several groups of Healers, both from Barkin Prime and other worlds, came to examine you. All of them could see your Healer energy pool and your channels. The pool in your body of Healer energy is small, and the channels that go from that area are thin and underdeveloped.”

  “Maybe that is why I could not throw Magic Missiles loaded with sleep!”

  “I think that is exactly why. But what is frustrating everyone is that this condition would normally mean that your Magic is very weak and somewhat fragile. But that is not true. So we are left with a conundrum. A Mage who should be very weak according to what we know, but is instead powerful, but not in a predictable way.”

  Corda asked in a small voice, “Does that mean that I have to leave?”

  “Oh, my dear, that was not the intent of this discussion.”

  “Then what is?”

  Bethon smiled, a real smile full of approval. Her eyes glowed in the dim light as she caught Corda’s gaze with her own. “I thought you had the right to know. It will cause you some difficulties, I am sure. Many of the Mages at the school and the people that know of you desperately want to understand how you are throwing such powerful spells. Those people may use different types of pressure to find that out. Please, child, be careful.”

  As silently as she came into the room, Bethon left.

  Corda sat for a long while, just thinking before the young girl flattened out her bed and went back to sleep.

  << <> >>

  The next day held additional surprises for Corda. The infirmary attendants had her up and moving around early in the morning, and she began to take short walks up and down the hallway under the ever-present eyes of her bodyguards. On the third circuit of the infirmary floor, the young girl was so exhausted that she chose to sit in a sunny, otherwise deserted waiting area.

  Still in a somewhat reflective mood, Corda was letting her mind float free while she watched the brightly plumed birds flitting from branch to branch in the garden outside the window. The measured tread of several feet drew Corda’s attention, and she looked at the hall to see that two men that she knew were walking toward her.

  “Commander Rankev and Minister Rodray! What a pleasant surprise! I hope everything’s okay.”

  It was Rankev that answered Corda, saying, “Good morning, Corda. Actually, the Minister and I came to talk to you.”

  With Bethon’s warnings fresh in her mind, the young girl asked suspiciously, “What about? Do you need more testimony?”

  “No, nothing like that. General Washick is handling all that, these days. I certainly do not envy him that task. It is on an entirely different matter. To make sure that everything is fair and above board, I commed your grandfather, and he is on his way in, and I think it would be best if we waited for him to get here.”

  Corda felt immediately more relaxed and chatted with the two men briefly on what had happe
ned since their meeting almost a month ago. After a few minutes, the young girl saw Advocate General Amity making his way down the hall to join them.

  After the men all greeted each other, Corda’s Bonpa asked the Minister, “Lane, what is all of this about?”

  Lane Rodray cleared his throat and said somewhat diffidently, “I could pussyfoot around it, but Rankev and I have been talking and would like to make Corda an offer. We would like to recruit Corda for the Peacekeepers. We have been planning on creating blended combat and weapons teams that include Mages. You know, Epheth, how often we have critical situations where a Mage that can throw remote shields would be a godsend.”

  Whatever the elderly Advocate had been expecting, Corda could tell that this was not even close. Her Bonpa was only shocked for a moment before the practiced mask of an Advocate slipped over his face, and he reminded the men, “Corda is only thirteen. She is far too young to entertain the offer of a real job.”

  “Rankev reminded me of that same point. However, she has a flexible mind that is needed to help us develop the protocols and the rules of engagement for such a unit. Obviously, she needs additional training and education, but her instincts are good. There is such a difference between a Mage that can fight and one that knows how to keep the peace that we wanted to make our interest known.”

  Corda sat there, frozen in surprise by what she was hearing. When her Bonpa turned to her and asked, “Little one, what do you think about this?” She answered with total honesty, “I think I would like that, but I do not want to interfere with my classes. There is so much I have to learn.”

  Rankev stumbled into speech, saying, “Perhaps you could act as a consultant to the PKs. You might even get the Armsmaster to work up an elective for you that allows you to get credit while working with us. And if for some reason you did not have funds for your training, the Minister here has said that we could pick up the entire cost of your education in return for you working with us for couple years after graduation.”

  Corda was looking extremely interested, but all three of the men could see the caution in her eyes. Completely ignoring her grandfather and the Minister, the young girl leaned forward so that she could see Rankev’s face without the concealing shadows. She asked softly, “Will this really make a difference?”

  Rankev’s equally soft response was, “It will make an enormous difference to many people.”

  Chapter 47 – When Plans Collapse

  Master Healer Tinels followed Corda down the hall, catching up with her just as she entered her assigned infirmary room. “Just the young woman I wanted to see. How about if we talk about a couple things before you take your nap?”

  Corda grinned and perched on the side of the bed, looking curious. “Healer Jerroy, we can talk about whatever you want to. I am not very busy here, as you probably have noticed.”

  “I know that you are going to be very busy once you leave this floor. But I really wanted to talk to you about a couple of things. The first is that you need to be very, very careful of overextending your Magic. This is not like Healing! It is far more dangerous and has the possibility of crippling or outright killing you.”

  “I know everybody’s been talking to me about it, but what I get out of what people are telling me is that I need to train faster, harder, smarter.”

  The Triage Healer laughed to himself, replying, “I think you are probably right. But, you need to start considering the risk of doing something before you act. Or one of these days when they bring you in, I am not going to be able to save you, and that would break my heart.”

  Corda’s eyes grew misty, thinking to herself, I do not understand why all these people are so kind to me. Out loud, she said, “I promise I will try.”

  Before the young girl could say anymore, the three evaluators that had cleared her for class purposely walked into Corda’s infirmary chamber. Politely, but quickly pushing Jerroy out of the room and the door began to close, the thirteen-year-old saw two Academy Security Guards take sentry places in the hallway, alert to any danger.

  The Armsmaster stood at the foot of Corda’s bed, while the Mage Historian took a seat on the chair next to the left side. Mind Healer Bethon stood on the right side of the bed. Feeling surrounded, Corda looked a bit panicked, and the Armsmaster tried to calm her down.

  “We need to talk to you, Corda, about something very important. It is highly likely you are going to be upset with us after we speak, but I want you to think about this and talk it over with your Nona, Bonpa, and anyone else that you wish.”

  Corda’s voice was unsure and trembling when she said, “Okay.”

  The Mind Healer interrupted, “Hony, you are scaring her. It is going to be a big enough shock, so just come out and tell her!”

  When the Armsmaster took a deep breath, Corda realized the man was nervous about what he was going to say to her. Rather than frightening her more, the understanding that even people that she admired had things that scared them relaxed her.

  “I am sorry, Corda, but you are in the wrong major. There is no calling to be a Healer in your internal setup. We have had multiple people come in and see what Discipline you should be assigned to, but none of them have had a clean-cut answer.”

  The Academy Historian took up the conversational thread, saying, “There is a wealth of documentation that shows the extreme dangers for both you and anyone around you if you try to force Discipline channels to carry the wrong kind of energy.”

  Corda protested, “But I am doing well in my Healer classes. I may not be the fastest one, but I have completed all my labs and turned in my homework. My practicals are going well also. I am getting to actually help in the infirmary, and I got A’s in all those classes too. So how can you tell me I am not a Healer?”

  Feeling like the walls are closing in on her in a full-blown panic attack, Corda almost snarled out, “I have to be a Healer. All of the Waterns have been Healers. And I know that if I do not have a Discipline, then I am going to be a second-class citizen forever on the planet of my birth.”

  Bethon tried to calm her down, saying, “I know this looks bad and we are not talking about you dropping out of the Academy, it is just that you are truly not a Healer.”

  “Am I supposed to just bounce around from class to class with no direction to go? How will you be able to set goals and expectations for me? When I graduate, who will want to be associated with me, let alone marry me? You are asking me to give up my whole world.”

  His eyes apologizing for what he had to say, the Academy Historian told the young girl, “In every case that we have been able to find, those that ignored their true Discipline ended up dead or insane. Some of them tried to heal without having Healing energy and killed the very people they were trying to help. Is that what you want to risk?”

  The Armsmaster said with rough sympathy, “Corda, none of us are happy to have to tell you this. We spent the whole time that you were unconscious, trying to find out how to solve this problem for you. Unfortunately, the answer is it just will not work. You cannot use Healing channels for Battle Magic. Trying to take the arena fire spell back in, we believe you unconsciously tried to fit that energy into the pool of Healing energy that you have inside. That is what almost killed you.”

  “But the Waterns have always been Healers. How can I be anything else?”

  Hony answered her with a gentle rumbling voice, “Little one, you are not a Watern. Their expectations do not apply to you.”

  Corda collapsed into tears, feeling her whole world crumble around her. She so desperately wanted to wave a Magic wand that would make her father love her, or that would make her mother the woman from Corda’s early childhood, resolute and brave. But those were not the plaques that she had drawn in this game.

  Finally, Corda’s tears stopped, and she went and washed her face so that no one would know just how hard she had been crying. For a while, she sat numbly on her bed, entirely dressed, and wondering what to do.

  When one of the upperclassman
Healers came into the room and told Corda she was free to go back to her dorm room, the young girl moved like a sleepwalker. Blindly moving, Corda was surprised when she found herself next to the climbing wall. The young girl did not see anyone else using the facility, and so she began to scale the wall and run the obstacle courses.

  As she moved, the twisted ball of energy that had been pressing on her sternum and diaphragm started to dissipate. Letting the exhaustion and her muscles overcome her sense of uncertainty, Corda moved from the last of the agility courses to the range on the far side of the area where they practiced their spells.

  Corda prepared five targets, ones that would record hits but would not be destroyed after a single successful shot. Looking deep inside of herself, Corda saw the differing pools of Magical energy and began to rapid-fire the Magic Missiles from each repository in turn. The smell and taste, the touch on her fingertips, identified what type of Magic Corda was firing, and the young girl threw herself wholeheartedly into experiencing how each of them felt.

  The deep maroon energy of the Maker Discipline puts strength in her muscles, firing sharp edge projectiles like hunting tips for an arrow. When Corda next tapped the Artist Discipline Magic, her feet almost left the ground, and she felt light and intuitive. However, the projectiles that came out of the Magic Missile spell with that energy crackled with an electrical punch carried by solidified air.

  Corda’s whole body was dripping with fat droplets of sweat, and tears ran in an unending stream down her face. Determined and focused, the young girl pushed through her body’s exhaustion and grabbed hold of the Artisan Discipline pool and focused it on the next target.

  The deep orange of the Artisan Magic did not come off like five Magic Missiles in parallel. Instead, the five were linked and followed the first projectile, impacting one after another into the target. The sense of logical progression and order screamed inside of the Magic until Corda’s head felt like it was going to explode.