Vitiosi Dei (Heritage of the Blood Book 2)

by Brent Lee Markee

  First Secondday

  Serenity Valley

  Instructor Boulette was once again using Shawnrik as a training dummy. He had gotten used to it over the last month, but a part of him still wanted to rebel against all the punishment he received in the name of making the other students better fighters. Today, they were working on what to do if your opponent has a knife and you don’t.

  “The first thing to remember when in this type of situation is that you are most likely going to end up getting cut,” Boulette said, his scowl in full effect. “How much, however, depends on how well you are able to keep your focus. Our natural reaction is to freak out and stop the pointy thing from getting anywhere near us no matter the cost, but there are much safer ways to go about it than most of the ways a scared mind will come up with.”

  The rest of the class stood in a circle around the pair, as they did with most demonstrations. This meant that Shawnrik and the Instructor would often perform maneuvers several times facing different directions, but it also allowed the students to see the fight from every angle.

  “The next thing you need to know is that the person coming at you isn’t going to be using these pretty cuts that we practice in training. They are going to often be short, vicious, and wild strikes. You not only have to deal with the knife, but you have to deal with the person holding the knife.” He motioned for Shawnrik to come at him.

  Shawnrik swung the blunt practice blade towards the grizzled veteran knowing full well that it was going to mean pain in the next few seconds. Boulette moved his body to the side, making it less likely that the blade would reach him, and used one of his hands to push the blade away while using the other to redirect the blow.

  “There are two things you can try here, depending on how strong your opponent is. The first and wisest choice is to try to twist their arm and pry the knife from their grasp. The second way is to immediately switch your deflection into a push and try to stab your opponent with their own blade. Now, obviously the second choice is only something you should try if you are sure that you are much stronger than your opponent.”

  The pair went through the different motions several times, showing several different ways the action could take place. Shawnrik’s arm was twisted and pinched in more ways than he thought possible by the time Boulette was satisfied that the rest of the students understood.

  “Something like this wouldn’t work against someone like Shawnrik, however,” Boulette said, and they showed what would happen if you tried either maneuver on someone with Shawnrik’s strength. Shawnrik simply didn’t allow Boulette to deflect or redirect his attack and used pure strength to push the knife home. “If you are faced with someone like this your best bet is to stay as far away from them as you can. Keep your distance and focus on evasion until you can find something to give you an advantage. On the small chance that you are in a completely flat and open field with nothing to use but dirt, your best bet is to try to get inside his reach and go for any available weak spots.”

  Shawnrik groaned as he realized what would be coming next. Sure enough, Boulette motioned for him to move forward with his attack and the man took a short “cut” on his forearm in order to move in for a debilitating kick to Shawnrik’s man parts. It was all done in slow motion and well controlled, but the blow still came and it was no comfort in that moment that it could have been much worse.

  “Now, I want you all to split into your usual partners and practice what you’ve just seen, minus the last one,” Boulette said, eliciting a small uncomfortable chuckle from the gathered boys. “Nice work, lad,” Boulette said, helping Shawnrik off the ground. Shawnrik knew he was heavy, but the chiseled veteran showed no strain as he pulled his student's bulk up.

  “Next time you can attack me with the knife, and I’ll kick you in the groin.” Shawnrik grumbled quietly to the Instructor, which earned him one of the man’s rare smiles.

  “Bullshit,” Boulette whispered back. “All you’d need to do is deflect that knife with one of those bracers and coldcock your attacker into oblivion. You aren’t going to have to fight too many things that are bigger than you, boy, and if you ever fight anything stronger than you, it might deserve to win just on principle.”

  “I bet a Dreadnaught is stronger,” Shawnrik said.

  “Aye, but you are probably only on your second or third growth spurt, huh? I bet another one and you’ll be able to hold your own.”

  “Wait…” Shawnrik turned to the Instructor so that the man was looking straight at him. “What do you mean second or third growth spurt?”

  “Well, I’ve heard rumors that you have Giant blood in both sides of your family,” Boulette said, suddenly appearing uncomfortable for the first time since Shawnrik had met the man. “I just assumed that you had already gone through some. I’ve heard stories about cross blooded Giants that went through a half dozen growth spurts in their lifetime.”

  “I went through one over a year and a half ago,” Shawnrik whispered. “If it hadn’t been for Dunnagan, I’d have probably died from it.”

  “Dunnagan Stormhammer?” Boulette said, his voice rising for the first time. “Don’t tell me it was David who trained you.”

  “Yes sir, though most call him Ashur.”

  “I’m sure they do,” Boulette said, his scowl returning in full. “I’ve always hated that nickname, but he wears it proudly. I don’t suppose he told you the story of how he got it?” Shawnrik shook his head and the Instructor continued. “Well, it’s not my story to tell, so you’ll have to hear it from David. On to more important business, though, what do you mean you’ve only had one growth spurt so far? Not only that, but why do you seem surprised that there will be more?”

  “No one I’ve talked to has said anything about it. Dunnagan wasn’t sure what was going on, though the Dracairei seemed to have dealt with such things before, from what Ashur told me.” Shawnrik’s mind was racing, and he now wondered if his own body was a ticking time bomb, just waiting to go off.

  “Damn these people and their secrets. You’ve come to one of the few places on Terrazil that has dealt with this kind of thing before, and they just decide to leave you in the dark. They probably think it is best if you don’t know, so that you can fully enjoy the time you have in case things don’t work out. I know they have lost several students over the years because of such things, but those all had all been people who hadn’t known they had Giant blood in their family tree.” Boulette spat. “I bet it is that damn Headmistress. She of all people should know that you don’t keep secrets like this.”

  Shawnrik was in a daze, his mind unable to comprehend in that moment the information he had just received. Not only did it sound like he would have to go through not just one but multiple excruciating growths, but this time he wouldn’t have Dunnagan to keep him alive. Boulette must have realized that Shawnrik had a lot to work out, because he handed him a practice sword and they began to work through sword drills.

  Around the time that they started attacking each other in earnest, Shawnrik’s mind began to return to its normal level of functionality. Once again, one of his Instructors knew exactly what to do to get him into the proper frame of mind, even if this time it was the Instructor who had put him into an improper frame of mind to begin with. He let his mind relax and allowed his body to do what he had spent well over a year of every day training it to do. Neither of them were being particularly aggressive, simply allowing their bodies to act and react to their opponent’s movements.

  Having been in this type of position nearly a dozen times over the last few Eightdays, Shawnrik was getting much better at retaining his awareness of what was going on around him. As they danced around the ring, his peripheral vision registered the rest of the students going through their drills, though most were only going through the motions as they watched their Instructor fight head to head with his student. One notable exception was Rigael Ironfist and his partner who stood watching the fight, Rigael's gaze focused and intense.

  Sh
awnrik knew that eventually he would have to deal with the young Stroml’dier, but today Rigael was not even on his top priorities list. He was going to have to find someone who knew more about his condition and get as much information out of them as possible. Part of him understood why they would keep the information from him; there wasn’t anything he could do about it, after all. Another, much larger part of his mind was livid that they had kept the fact that he could be incapacitated at any moment from him.

  Unfortunately, his schedule was packed full until Fourthday afternoon, so he very much doubted he would get answers until then, though he hoped that Instructor Daymarr might be able to point him in the right direction during Basic Mathematics the next morning.

  Shawnrik had just decided on this course of action when Instructor Boulette tricked him with a high feint, leaving him wide open for a blow to the chest. Both of them bowed signifying the fight was over and Shawnrik conceded his loss. He just hoped he wouldn’t lose the battle to come.

  First Thirdday

  South of the Abandoned Mine

  “How long do you think it will take us to reach the forest?” he asked Pershanti as Troublefinder ran circles around them in the snow.

  “As long as the weather remains pleasant, we should be able to reach Death’s Edge in four days.” Pershanti replied.

  “Is the forest very big?”

  “Big? Death’s Edge? That’s like asking if the ocean has a lot of water in it, or if the sky has a lot of stars,” Pershanti chuckled. “Yes, Death’s Edge is big. It starts at the southern coast, going as far east as the Great Desert and just shy of the eastern half of the Blade’s Edge Mountains here in the north. Traveling through the forest from east to west might take a week at a good pace, but from north to south you are looking at more like a month.”

  “What lives there?”

  “Lots of things, depending on what part of the forest you are in, the Quaelyne being the most widely known resident. There are tiny insects that will burrow into anything they can to lay their eggs, all the way up to the giant spiders that live in the higher canopies. Further south you can find lizards that can change the color of their skin to blend in to their surroundings, and Drakes that are larger than most Cradium Lizards.” Pershanti’s hands waved around wildly as he described the inhabitants of Death’s Edge.

  It had quickly become obvious to the boy that Pershanti had a great love for information of all sorts. He had learned that the only thing that the strange, squat man liked more than learning something new was sharing the information he had gathered in his lifetime. During the last day, the boy had learned more about the area than he ever thought he would need to know. He found himself learning about the migration habits of a dozen different species of birds, all the way down to the soil content. The things that Pershanti seemed to know appeared to be endless.

  “There are several tribes of Quaelyne in the northern territories that keep the predators there relatively in check. It is probably one of the safest places on Terroval if you can get the Quaelynes' permission to live there. Not to say there aren’t still dangers, but the Quaelyne have a different opinion than most creatures as to what they consider a threat.”

  “I hear that the Dracair steer clear of the place,” the boy said, watching Troublefinder run off to explore. The ease with which his furry friend traversed the terrain made him more than a little jealous.

  “Yes, for some reason the Quaelyne have a blood vendetta against the Dracair and the Blood Mages. I think that in the past some Mage got ahead of himself and decided to try some testing on the Quaelyne, but that is just conjecture. The Quaelyne might be able to tell you, but they are very selective of who they talk to.”

  “They can talk?” the boy asked, looking at Troublefinder.

  “Not in the same way that you and I are now. They are able to communicate mind to mind, using what the Mages call Telepathy. Our little friend over there has probably not developed enough yet to be able to touch our minds in such a way, though, much as a toddler can understand concepts and recognize words but are not yet able to fully communicate.”

  They walked in silence for a while, the chill winter air making their breath billow out in steady bursts. As far as they could see, the landscape was white, broken up only by the dozens of trees and rocks that defied winter’s grasp. There were few clouds in the blue-green sky, promising them at least a few hours free from storms.

  “It seems to me that you are asking a lot of questions, but never the ones that you really want to know,” Pershanti said as they stopped next to a set of boulders they had come across on their journey.

  “I…” the boy said, his eyes downcast.

  “You are afraid of what you might find out?” Pershanti replied, his tone soft, but prodding.

  “Not afraid, exactly. I just don’t know who I’ll be once I find the answers.”

  Pershanti laughed so hard that he slid off the boulder he had been perched on and fell into the snow. He didn’t seem to mind as he continued laughing for some time until noticing that the boy looked offended. “I’m sorry, your statement just brought back memories of an argument I had on various occasions with one of my brothers.”

  “About me?”

  “No, about information and how it changes who we are. I posited that every piece of information we receive changes us in some slight yet fundamental way, while he was adamant that anything he learned didn’t change who he was as a person. Now, I cannot say for certain which one of us is right and which is wrong, but it is a perfect example on how differently each of us thinks. The fact is that you are whoever you choose to be. What you learn over time may or may not change who that person is, but the choices you make will. Yes, things will come into play beyond your control that may affect you in ways that will indelibly change the way you see the world, but how you respond to that knowledge will reveal who you truly are.” Pershanti sighed. “I’m sorry, I get undeniably verbose at times. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

  “I think…” the boy started, his eyes scanning the horizon. “I think you are saying that it is my choice on who it is I will be. But what if I was someone else once, and he wants to be someone different?”

  “That, my boy, is an interesting question. Let’s assume that a part of you has been erased or hidden away. You have different experiences and knowledge, but you still share the same mind. Maybe you will turn out fundamentally different. On the other hand, you still have parts of that boy’s knowledge inside your mind or you wouldn’t be able to communicate as well, or in as many languages as you are able to. The core is still there. I think that should you and he ever meet, you might find that you get along rather well.”

  “I hope so,” the boy said, moving to help Pershanti regain his footing.

  “Tell me something,” Pershanti said, his tone becoming cautious as he wiped the snow off of his backside. “Do you have vivid dreams that seem so real that you are sure they must be someone’s memories?” The wide eyed look that came over the boy’s face seemed to be answer enough for the Grenaldin. “I thought you might. I’m going to tell you something that you might have been wondering since they began: you are not crazy.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. We have been studying this phenomenon for untold millennia. We began our research on the Dragons, and then, once most of them made the change, on their progeny.”

  Giant reptilian eyes, in a multitude of shapes, colors, and sizes flashed through the boy’s mind. “Progeny?”

  “Oh, sorry, their children, and their children’s children.”

  “So…”

  “Yes, you have the blood of Dragons running through your veins. As do I and most of the creatures on this continent. Some, however, are born with the ability to unlock the memories that are hidden away in the blood. Most are only able to get snippets, usually something that went a long way in the memory owner’s development. These people can sometimes develop skills and languages much faster than their
contemporaries.” Pershanti looked into the boy’s eyes. “If someone were able to access all of the memories of the people that came before them, all the way from birth to the time they conceived their child, the development potential of that individual would be nearly limitless.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yes, I see you understand where I am going with this.”

  “So, this ability to extract memories from wherever they are stored, will it help me regain my own memories?” The boy said. His interest suddenly ignited.

  “It might, given time,” Pershanti replied. “That will all depend on the nature of your amnesia. If it is from a trauma of some sort, you might naturally regain the memories over time. But if it is some sort of Mage-induced amnesia your mind and will may have to become stronger than whoever created the block in the first place before you gain access to what was hidden.”

  “Mage-induced amnesia? Is such a thing even possible?”

  “Oh yes, theoretically. Though theoretically almost anything is possible with enough knowledge and power, but I shudder to think about the experiments that most likely went into developing such a technique. It would require an intimate understanding on the fundamental principles of neurology, especially as it relates to the prefrontal cortex. Of course, that is all information that has been lost on this world for thousands of years.” Pershanti sighed as he noticed the boy blinking rapidly at him in confusion. “Simply, they understand how your brain works and are able to affect it in such a way that your personality is muted or disconnected from your consciousness.”

  “Right, so what do I have to do to fix it if it is something like that?”

  “You are not broken,” Pershanti said, taking hold of the boy’s shoulders. “You don’t need to be fixed. However, if you want to reverse what was done to you, I think you have several options. First, and probably the most likely thing that could help, is meditation. If you are able to get in touch with your inner mind, you might be able to find the blocks yourself and work away at them. Of course, that could take years or decades, but it is also the least likely way for something to go wrong.”