The Sword of the South
Page 39
“I don’t really care about that,” Trayn said hotly. “If she goes into a training crisis—and Semkirk knows that’s likely, as hard as she’s pushing—I can’t let her die! I’ll have to try to crack her shields, and you and Wencit—damn his eyes!—will simply have to trust my discretion.”
“You don’t understand,” Lentos said softly.
“I understand how important it may be, damn it!”
“No, you don’t. You’re thinking only of her, and you think I’m thinking only of Wencit’s plans for her. Well, I’m not. I’m thinking of you.”
“Me?” Trayn blinked in astonishment. “What about me?”
“If she’s willing to risk killing herself to hide whatever it is, hasn’t it occurred to you she might be willing to endanger others, as well?”
“You mean—?” Trayn looked at him in shock.
“Exactly,” Lentos said grimly. “I love her, too, though I haven’t been in rapport to deepen the emotion the way you have. But I also have to recognize that she’s dangerous. If you have to break her shields, it’ll mean she’s lost so much control her life’s in danger—and that means she’ll be reacting on pure instinct. You say she’s afraid of her own knowledge? Fine. I accept that. But if fear’s her primary emotion when you break her shields—if you can break them—she’ll react out of fear. And if she does—”
“—she’ll try to kill me,” Trayn finished softly.
“That’s precisely what she’ll do,” Lentos said very quietly.
* * *
Mistress Josilan Greenoak faced her star pupil and bowed from the waist. She monitored the rise in her adrenaline level, letting years of experience tell her exactly how much boost was useful, and settled into a guard position.
They circled, bare feet silent as they moved gracefully. Gwynna’s long braids were pinned atop her head, the coils flashing red-gold in the sunlight spilling through the skylight, but her eyes were cool and clear. She and her teacher watched each other and their hands opened and closed, flexing as patiently as two cats, total concentration gripping them as they reached out with hands and minds alike.
Josilan’s hands flashed suddenly at the girl and a foot scythed for her ankles, but Gwynna reacted before the move was well begun. She slithered through the reaching hands, and one wrist intercepted the swinging ankle as she threw a rolling block at her instructress’ legs.
Josilan leapt over the slender body and landed in a crouch as Gwynna rolled upright. The trainer chopped flat-handed at the girl’s ribs, but Gwynna took the below on a forearm. Josilan followed through the combination, hard hand slashing for Gwynna’s temple, but Gwynna’s head wasn’t there. She swayed minutely, and the hard knuckles skimmed past, close enough to ripple her hair with the wind of their passage.
She fell backward, somersaulted, and catapulted feet-first at Josilan. Crossed forearms hammered up under her ankles, upending her, but she landed rolling and vaulted back upright just as Josilan rushed her. A crossed-lightning exchange ensued as Gwynna stepped into her teacher’s attack. Their hands flashed and flickered as they struck, yet the blows flowed with an almost impossible smoothness.
Josilan stalked her like a cat, but the simile wasn’t really apt, for this was one child it was most unsafe to stalk. Gwynna was still a head shorter than her teacher, but her hybrid reactions and strength were incredible, and they gave her an advantage that forced Josilan to carry the attack to her. Yet speed and strength alone weren’t enough, for the older woman was still stronger, with a longer reach, and far, far more experience.
Josilan crowded the girl, using her greater size, her eyes blank with the absent awareness of a mage as she pushed her student mercilessly. Gwynna’s serene face mirrored hers as blows landed—hard and punishing, for neither could completely check their attacks in such a blistering exchange. Sweat stained their exercise suits, and Gwynna’s breathing grew ragged.
The tempo increased, and for all its flashing smoothness, the blows and counters had a curiously rushed quality, as if each response began before the attack was launched. Josilan filled with warm approval for her student, but her only reaction was to force the pace still harder.
Gwynna tired, and Josilan pressed her advantage, driving the girl back across the mat to pin her against the boundary of the combat area. Her attack redoubled, wrapping around Gwynna’s defenses like a net.
And then Gwynna’s face went suddenly blank. She stood toe-to-toe with her teacher, and their hands flashed like swords, but the smooth, anticipatory balance vanished, and—abruptly—Gwynna charged.
For the first time, an attack took one of them completely by surprise. Josilan staggered as a sidekick slammed her knee. She had no room to roll—she could only fight for balance, and she didn’t get the fractional second she needed. Gwynna’s hands locked onto Josilan’s smock, and her feet thudded against Josilan’s kneecaps as she hurled her body backwards.
Josilan fell forward, arms spread to pin her smaller opponent, but Gwynna wasn’t beneath her. She’d released her hold, throwing her arms high to slither through her teacher’s legs. An elbow slammed Josilan’s spine, she stiffened as it numbed a critical nerve junction, and Gwynna’s hand scythed in what would have been a killing blow in true combat.
But even as Gwynna struck, Mistress Josilan glowed brilliantly. The sworded hand flashed through the corona of her body into the canvas as the teacher suddenly materialized behind Gwynna to lock her in an inescapable hold.
The same light flared silver about both of them as Gwynna fought to teleport from her teacher’s grip. But Josilan bore down with her mind as well as her arms, and as with their bodies, so with their minds; Gwynna had far more potential, but it was not yet developed. The crackling confrontation lasted perhaps five seconds before the girl conceded and went limp.
Josilan released her and they dropped to the mat, panting while the teacher massaged her aching spine and winced.
“Good, Little Sister! Very, very good! I lost you completely when you slammed your shields up. You had me dead to rights, because I was reading too closely to pull back to my physical senses in time. That was excellent—but remember that with your shields up, you can’t tell what I’m doing, either. You couldn’t tell I was gathering energy for the jump.”
“I know, but it was all I could think of when you backed me into the corner that way. Besides—” Gwynna managed an impish, panting grin “—you always say to use an enemy’s strength against him. And it almost worked.”
“It probably would have, if you hadn’t been at such a disadvantage when you tried it. I had a tiny bit longer to find a counter—and barely found it in time, as it was. An effective maneuver against a mage, Little Sister, but you won’t fight many magi outside the academies.”
“No, but the idea’s the same, isn’t it? To do the unexpected?”
“Yes, Gwynna.” Josilan squeezed her shoulder warmly. “Surprise wins—if you don’t give up too much advantage for it.”
“That’s what Poppa says. And he also says there’s really no such thing as a surprise in combat unless you make it for yourself.”
“He’s right about both of those, Love. With weapons or hands, there’s no substitute for surprise if it has teeth and a plan to follow through. But you understand that; your follow-through would’ve finished me if I hadn’t teleported.”
“But you did, and I wasn’t ready.” Gwynna sighed. “It’s so hard to read while your own mind keeps ticking away and you have to keep moving. Either I’m so busy reading I miss an opening, or else I’m so busy looking for an opening I forget to read!”
“Shocking!” Josilan said severely. “Nine whole weeks of training, and you still haven’t mastered everything. For shame!”
She hugged the girl, and Gwynna smiled as she threw her arms around her neck.
“It’s true, though,” she said. “I don’t have as much trouble working with Master Trayn, and I never had this much trouble when Momma was teaching me. And she’s as good as you are,
I think.
“She’s better, on the physical level,” Josilan said. “But she’s war maid-trained. Our styles differ, and so does the mindset required.”
“Maybe. But I can keep centered when I work with just my mind or just my body; it’s both together I can’t manage. Yet.” Her eyes were determined.
“You will, Little Sister. But you know why you have trouble combining your talents, really. With Master Trayn, it’s a whole new talent, so new there’s nothing to distract you, no previous habits to lead you astray. When your mother trained you, you used only your physical senses. She taught you ways to use something you were familiar with, until you were as familiar with the skills she taught you as you were with breathing. Until you could use them well enough to toss me right out of the practice ring.”
Josilan smiled and touched the tip of Gwynna’s nose.
“But when you combine them to work together, it’s hard to ignore the old physical rules—and just as hard to break the new concentration to use your old skills. You’re caught between, and it’s awkward to keep switching. But it’ll come, Gwynna. In fact, it’s coming faster for you than for any other student I’ve known.”
“People keep telling me that,” Gwynna sighed, “but things are about to happen, and I’m not ready for them.”
“Little Sister,” Josilan said much more sternly, the accent of her native Kosphar stronger than usual in her Axeman, “we all know that what you face is hard. We don’t know what it is, but we all know your special talents will be tested in special ways. Just don’t drive yourself too hard, Love. I accept that you need this training, but you have to accept my judgment, too. Trust me to push you as far and as fast as I safely can. Believe that I’m willing to push you almost as hard as you push yourself, because you have potentials no one but you can develop, and I have to teach you what I know quickly so you can move on to things I’ll never be able to do. I promise I’ll work you till you drop, but only if you’ll promise to let me judge when to stop driving you, because you won’t achieve anything if you destroy yourself. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, Mistress Josilan,” Gwynna said in a small voice. “I understand. And I’ll try. Really I will.”
* * *
“All right, Gwynna, let’s try some distance reading.”
Trayn touched the candlewick. It sputtered into flame, and he grinned in amusement at his own actions. Had he done that to bolster his ego? He was no fire-raiser, and Gwynna was. Why hadn’t he asked her to light it?
He banished the distracting thought with a simple mnemonic and turned back to his student.
“Do you understand what we’re going to do Gwynna?”
“Well…”
She squirmed, and he grinned again.
“It’s only a different form of clairvoyance, Gwynna, no more difficult than other things we’ve done. The tests say you can do it. In fact, it should come fairly easily.”
“But how does it work? I read the notes you gave me, but I can’t see how to get started. I mean, the words are all there, and I understand them, but they don’t mean anything.”
“Which is why you have a mentor, Little Sister.”
He sat opposite her and looked around her plain little room, pursing his lips.
“You move your viewpoint around—like going to look for something in another room, except that all you send is your mind. Remember the perception exercises?” Gwynna nodded, and he smiled encouragingly. “Well, this is like that. You use the same part of your mind your eyes use, but you use another sector to send the part you want to see with to another place. Got it?”
“Sort of.” Her tone was doubtful, but it was the sort of doubt that preceded understanding. “That’s why you can only distance read someplace you’ve already seen?”
“Exactly. With clairvoyance, you can see through things, but only to the visual horizon. It’s a case of the conscious limiting the subconscious. You ‘know’ you can only see so far, so that’s as far as your clairvoyance reaches. But if you’re familiar with another place—and have the talent—you can project a viewpoint there. You fool yourself, in a way. You know you can’t really see it, but you can build a memory picture and see that. When you do, your subconscious is freed and you really do see it.”
“That makes more sense than the books.” Gwynna nodded. “But if another mage knows the place, and you’re in rapport, can you distance read it because he’s seen it?”
“If it isn’t too far away. There’s an absolute limit to any distance reading talent, though it’s much greater than the clairvoyance limits. The longest distance reading I’ve ever personally seen was from here to Marfang Island. Old Master Sholt could distance read as far as Bortalik Bay, but that was right at his limit, and all he got were dim images. And he could only read parts of the area he’d actually visited.”
“So it’s not like Wencit and his gramerhain,” Gwynna said slowly.
“No, I can’t scry, of course, but as I understand it, wizards send their minds after specific individuals or sets of circumstances. Distance reading is more…well, more passive. Like lying in wait for someone to wander into the place you can ‘see.’ Understand?”
“I think so.” Gwynna nodded. “Can we try now?”
“Certainly. But remember, you probably won’t be able to range too far on this first try. Don’t strain, and don’t be disappointed if you can’t.”
“I’ll remember.”
“All right,” he said, rising and circling her small desk to stand behind her and rest his hands on her shoulders. “We’ll start with something simple, then, and use regular clairvoyance to look into the library, okay?”
“Sure.”
“All right,” Trayn said again, his voice dropping soothingly. “Watch the candle, just like before. Let your mind rest on the tip of the flame. That’s right…thaaat’s riiiiiightttt.…”
Gwynna’s blue eyes darkened as she dropped into the trance with his hands on her shoulders to strengthen their rapport. His watch lay on the table, its soft ticking like thunder in the quiet of their mingled breathing as she centered. By now, he knew to the second how long it would take her.
“Now, Gwynna,” he said after a moment. “Let’s distance read. Don’t push too hard. Just open like I taught you. Gently…gently! Not so hard, Love. Just watch the candle and listen to the watch. That’s good. Pretend the wall is Mistress Josilan, and now…we’ll…read…her.…”
His voice died away. It hadn’t really been necessary, for her mind had melded with his well before he stopped speaking. They were in deep rapport, but her inner core was barricaded still. Yet he hardly noticed the knot of light that forbade his entry, for he’d become accustomed to it. He merely marveled at the power and clarity of the young mind in his keeping. Her mental touch was cool, catlike, clear as a crystal stream and vibrant with life. Each mind had its own unique presence, and hers tasted of cinnamon and autumn leaves, he thought. It blew about him like a breeze whipping in fresh from the sea, and the strength within it almost overwhelmed him.
The master empath shared her delight as she slid past the wall as if its solid stone were smoke and she a breeze. The empty library was suddenly around them, and he shared her pleasure as her mind’s eye roamed the silent shelves. She trembled with delighted discovery, and he rejoiced with her.
He moved with her, offering only minimal guidance as she tasted her new ability. She reached out farther, circling the grounds like a windborne hawk. Shimmering privacy shields masked the dormitories, but Gwynna didn’t care. All she longed for was the freedom to roam, to stretch out—to test her limits. Her mind quested along the stone walls, touching and tasting grass, trees, even the moss on the stone and the insects in the moss.
She shuddered ecstatically as the world flooded her mind, and Trayn went with her, amazed by her power. Then he scolded himself. If anything could still surprise him, it shouldn’t be her strength.
He drew a deep breath and prepared to recall her roving mind for the next step. But before he could, he felt a sudden welling of concentration within her inner shields. He gasped at the sensation, and sudden alarm stabbed him.
What was she doing? She wasn’t ready for that sort of output!
He fought for her attention, but it was too late. Her astounding breadth of talent had confounded him once again, and even as he prepared to scatter her building strength, he stopped. Too much power had gathered. If he interrupted it, it might ricochet within her. It might kill her to dump it all within her shields, and without breaking those shields he couldn’t deflect it from her. All he could do was ride it out…and pray.
His flashing thoughts took only tiny fractions of a second. His decision had been made before she unleashed the power she’d gathered.
She pushed. That was the only word for it. It was as if her mind became a spring, wound tightly as possible, only to uncoil. It lashed out, carrying him upon its strength, and he had a sense of rushing wind and darkness as their joined minds whipped out across the face of the night.
They burst from the sheltered Academy, the “mage proof” barriers effective as so much straw against a hurricane. Before the barriers even registered, they’d vaulted into the night and gone streaming south at a speed that mocked the wind.
Trayn reeled. How could she be doing this? What was she doing? Blurred, darkness-bound land unreeled below, and mountains thrust brutal peaks at him. He flinched as their image threatened to impale his mind, and he and Gwynna screamed low above the summits, hurtling ever south while bitter snow devils danced on the peaks to envelop them.
Mighty walls loomed, sealing a steep-shouldered pass. A glitter of protective shields flicked Trayn like a lash, but Gwynna sliced through them like a meteor. He shuddered in anguish, but then they were past the fortress, circling back, and he gasped as huge, black wings and bone-white fangs flashed above them. The dragon bulked against the moon, vapor pluming from its jaws like steam, and Gwynna panicked. Joy vanished, exultation was quenched by the raw poison of fear—fear for someone else, Trayn knew, even then—and a harsh explosion of horror.