As the wind ripped at his face, Aleksi felt his right arm burn beneath his bandages. Then his Rune pulsed with fire and new life as crashes of lightning struck overhead. Blinding light illuminated the sky, and Aleksi’s heart was ignited with an intensity that threatened to consume him.
Casting off his bandage, he raised his Rune-laden fist into the sky. A deafening boom of thunder echoed across the ocean. Here in the Dreamscape—the collective dream of Terra—scrawled from finger to shoulder, Aleksi’s Rune was magnificent and fully formed! In defiance of the gale, he let out a wordless scream and called upon the numinous power of Terra—the power that was his holy birthright.
As he opened his hand, his Rune erupted with a brilliant light that shone through the rain and flying ice. Empowered with furious splendor, it cast long shadows in the murky, swirling darkness around him. Aleksi then thrust his fiery palm at the storm. Raging Runes swirled across his flesh and extended into the air around his arm as he pushed the tempest back. He forced his will upon the Dreamscape, challenging the Arkai itself!
Wind, water, and sleet frantically whirled around Aleksi’s body as he pressed forward through the storm. Once again, raising his blazing fist into the sky, he channeled energy into his Rune. Aleksi then opened his palm and thrust his Rune-laden hand downward. Lightning cascaded from the heavens in a burning torrent of flame and electricity. Bolt after bolt struck the ground in sharp succession and their frantic explosions cast rock, sand, and his fury high into the air.
Aleksi’s Rune burned with a ferocity that would have killed him if he had attempted to wield it in the waking world. But here in the ethereal Dreamscape, he was able to cast that untamed power at the Zenith’s dark clouds above, undaunted by Terra’s normal physical limitations. Raising his hand to the heavens, Aleksi channeled his attack through his mighty Rune, and crackling rage exploded in the sky.
As his wrathful passion illuminated the clouds, the young woman’s eyes went wide—the force pushing Aleksi back had subsided. His Rune blazing across his arm, he sprinted to her over the barren rocks. Moving with incredible speed and one-pointed concentration, Aleksi came to the invisible barrier and slammed his radiant fist against it.
When his glowing knuckles hit the wall, there was a deafening crash of lightning and thunder. Aleksi felt the barrier fracture from his blow, and large spiderwebbed cracks of light formed around the point of impact.
I will not lose her, too! I will not!
Filled with all the sadness and loss he had ever experienced, Aleksi raised his fist to the Zenith in defiance. Channeling his anger, he prepared to strike again. This time, he knew his blow would shatter the wall completely.
Suddenly, the young woman was right in front of him. She stood on the other side of the barrier with her hands pressed up against its surface. She was looking at him pleadingly, begging him to stop. Her love flowed freely and shone out through her heart and tearstained eyes.
Instantly, Aleksi’s rage left him. He dropped his hand and his Rune lost its power. As its light faded, sadness, loss, and love flooded Aleksi’s chest. His heart was filled with a deep and intense longing—a longing for her.
Profound sorrow shone in the young woman’s eyes and she pressed her palms against the wall. It was the same place where she had pulled him through only moments before.
Raising his hand to hers, Aleksi looked at her beseechingly. In response, she mouthed two silent words.
“I’m sorry . . .”
Then Aleksi awoke.
Darkness surrounded Aleksi, and his body was covered in sweat. His Rune was once again dormant and his heart was numb. He rose from his hammock slowly, putting a shaky hand through his damp hair. Mindlessly, he walked out of his room, up the stairs, and out onto the ship’s open deck. A hard breeze met him. It chilled the sweat on his body, making him tremble.
Aleksi walked past the foremast and continued onward toward the bow. The light of Terra’s two moons washed over him in the darkness as he gazed out at the endless glowing ocean beyond.
Aleksi did not feel the moons’ light, nor did he feel the wind’s cold. All Aleksi felt was alone.
CHAPTER XXIII
Aleksi awoke in his hammock and, groggily rubbing his eyes, looked out to sea. Thick clouds obscured the Zenith’s light, and the water was murky. The scene matched his mood well. As he dressed, Aleksi could not shake the clinging sorrow of the previous night. It gripped his heart with icy fingers, freezing away what little glimpse of warmth he had experienced. The young woman’s love was so real and so pure, yet she had cast him away with bitter fury.
Why would she deny her heart’s own longing? Aleksi thought as he dressed. What could be so important that she would forsake love? The Zenith? The Arkai? What? Angrily, Aleksi thrust his sword into his belt and opened the door. Raw loss clawed at his chest as he strode down the hallway to the ladder. Even worse was her message and the captain’s dinner with Luka. What does she expect me to do? Kill Luka? The thought caused a cold shiver to rise up Aleksi’s spine. If he is a Master, then he is much more powerful than I. I need to think—I need a plan! Rudra, why did you send me here? What am I supposed to do?
Coming above deck, Aleksi saw that the overcast sky was even more oppressive than he had previously seen. The salty smell of the ocean was thick in the wind that blew across the ship. Without looking around, Aleksi walked aft past the quarterdeck. The youth knew there was only one way to dull the haunting ache in his heart—losing himself in the emptiness of his training.
With harsh determination, Aleksi ascended the ladder and knelt on the stern deck. He let his thoughts settle. As his mind became still, however, the pain in his heart only grew. It was now colored with dark anger. Anger at the young woman, the Arkai, Luka, Rudra—everything. Aleksi’s hands then flew to his hilt and his blade exploded out of his sheath. In a rush of fury and passion, he swung his sword over and over again. As he practiced, his pain faded but only because his heart grew numb. Deep within him, a cold wrath steadily built.
Aleksi continued to train in isolation until he saw Brayden approach the stern deck. The boy wore a wooden training sword tucked into his belt as if it were a sheathed blade. Brayden timidly climbed the ladder and stood several paces away.
Aleksi let out a sigh as he sheathed his sword. Kneeling on the deck, he laid his palms flat against his thighs and nodded to the boy. Brayden came closer and copied his posture. Aleksi’s hands floated to his sword and he moved slowly so the boy could follow.
Aleksi practiced the most fundamental technique, the drawing strike. He lightly gripped his sword’s sheath in one hand and the hilt in the other. Slowly, he drew the blade as he leaned up onto his knees. In a sudden flash, Aleksi took a sliding step forward and, pulling back on the sheath, fully drew his blade in a cutting strike. With a vibrant swoosh, the edge cut through the air in a horizontal arc. Brayden watched with keen determination as Aleksi sheathed his sword and slowly sat back down on his knees.
Aleksi performed the technique again, this time even slower. After a couple of repetitions, Brayden followed along. The boy mimicked the motion of Aleksi’s hands as he gently drew the training sword from his belt. Much like he had seen, Brayden then tried to step forward in a sudden surge and strike horizontally. The wooden sword, however, only clumsily moved through the air. Brayden’s movements were forced and unrefined, for his efforts possessed all the vigor of youth but none of the sophistication of skill.
The sight of it reminded Aleksi of his many long years of training as a boy. He had been much younger than Brayden when he first learned this technique with Rudra. The memory was tinged with sadness and only strengthened Aleksi’s buried emotions.
Pushing away his feelings, Aleksi nodded to the boy and they both continued to practice.
They trained in silence until Aleksi heard a voice come up from the navigation room below.
“Captain, the crew has already heard about Luka’s offer.” The voice belonged to Kefta and he sounded displeased.
“Yes,” Domadred answered, “it seems that several of the officers have been swayed by the nobleman’s words and wish to gain favor with the men. Personally, I have yet to decide.”
Aleksi looked over at Brayden. The boy was concentrating on his sword work and didn’t seem to hear the conversation below.
“You cannot seriously be thinking of accepting a pact with Asura?” Kefta said.
“Luka’s is an offer not to be hastily dismissed. What weighs on my mind first and foremost is the safety of this ship. Next is my duty to both the Thalassocracy and the Resistance. If Luka can make good on his promises, this pact could very well ensure the protection of all three. Although it might not be a long-term solution, it would give us a few years of respite as we gather strength.”
“But would the Resistance leaders ever agree to a treaty with Asura?”
“All but the most radical will agree to his terms after a good deal of negotiation—no one is as tired of an insurgency as the actual insurgents themselves. Asura undoubtedly knows this. An alliance with the North will not only bring peace to Vai’kel and vindicate us, but when combined with Saiya’s help, will unite the Western admirals, too. In the end, we all come out the better for it.”
“Yes, united under you. Captain, I feel you are being clouded by what you will gain in the deal. Remember, Luka said Saiya is to be taken to Erithlen. There must be more to Asura’s plan.”
“Undoubtedly there is, but Asura and Luka still do not know that she . . .” Domadred lowered his voice and Aleksi did not hear the rest.
Saiya . . . That name again; who is she?
“Besides,” Domadred continued, “it does truly seem that the men like his terms—or the outcome, rather. They remember well what it was like when I was an admiral and would undoubtedly like to live that life again.”
“Domadred, my brother would never have gone along with this. Asura is not to be trusted. Somewhere in this there is a trap; you must know that.”
“If the crew agree to it unanimously, I would have to—” Domadred stopped himself. “I have yet to make up my mind. You’d best speak to each man individually and sway his opinion if you truly feel Luka’s offer is to be denied. But before you go off politicking, I do believe you have your own personal business to attend to first. And a word of advice on that—be careful. I made that bet back in Mindra’s Haven for a reason; Aleksi is much more dangerous than he looks. If it makes you feel better, I’m happy to void our wager—”
Suddenly, the doors of the navigation room opened and Kefta strode out onto the quarterdeck. The young man held two wooden staffs. They were slightly thicker than Kefta’s thumb and stood nearly as tall as his shoulders.
“Don’t fatigue yourself,” Kefta said, turning his gaze up to Aleksi on the stern deck. “We still have our duel. Or are you too busy playing with Brayden?”
Aleksi sheathed his blade and, nodding to Brayden, descended to the quarterdeck in silence.
“It’s obvious you are good with a sword,” Kefta continued, tossing one of the staffs to Aleksi. “But let’s see how you fair with this.”
Deftly catching the pole, Aleksi ran his hands along its smooth surface. “At least it’s well balanced,” Aleksi answered coldly.
“Glad to see you can appreciate fine craftsmanship,” Kefta laughed, walking down the steps to the main deck. “I made them myself.”
A crowd gathered as they made their way to the center of the deck. Brayden followed behind, and Aleksi turned and motioned for the boy to come closer.
“Brayden, please hold on to this for me.” Aleksi then removed his sheathed blade from his belt, and Brayden’s eyes went wide as Aleksi handed him the sword. “I’m trusting you to keep it safe for a moment. This shouldn’t take long.”
Taking the blade, Brayden nodded. The boy then clutched the sword close to his chest as he retreated back to the crowd of onlookers. Turning, Aleksi scanned the crowd. It seemed that most of the crew had come out to see the duel and all looked on expectantly, eagerly awaiting the fight to commence.
“Not having second thoughts, are you?” Kefta asked with a wide grin.
“Hardly . . .”
“Back in Mindra’s Haven,” Kefta said to the crowd of sailors, “I was going to win a good bit of pearls from the captain at the arena. Luckily, Domadred has been gracious enough to let our bet carry over to this match. And while I know you all are pondering an offer of another sort, does anyone wish to get in on this pot and make a wager on how fast Aleksi will fall? The captain has a large stack of black pearls at one-to-ten odds saying Aleksi will win. Well, I’m putting down an additional stack with Domadred that says this boy falls in the first thirty seconds. Who’s with me?”
None raised a hand.
“No takers? The first minute, then!” Again there was silence. “Surely someone will bet on me winning the first blow, at least?”
“Enough with your talk, Kefta,” a sailor called out from the crowd. “Get on with it!”
“Fine!” Kefta flashed Aleksi a look of dark resentment. Returning his attention to the crowd, the young man then called out in an officious tone. “All who are so interested may hold witness to this duel of honor between Aleksi, guest of the Illusive Diamond, and me, Kefta Vanarus, quartermaster of the same ship. Under the ardent eye of High Arkai Aruna, I hereby decree that after this duel is settled, all ire and resentment shall be absolved, with the victor receiving full honors over the fallen. The combatants may use staff, fist, and foot, and the first man to yield loses. Aleksi, do you so accept the terms placed before you?”
“I do.” Aleksi’s eyes shone with a cold green blaze.
“Then begin!”
Aleksi began swirling his staff. Switching it from hand to hand, he spun it in circles around his body. Kefta tried to follow it with his eyes but was unable. Aleksi’s staff steadily picked up momentum until it blurred in a soft hum of movement and sound.
Frowning, Kefta rushed in to strike. Aleksi easily parried the attack and deftly kicked Kefta in the ribs. The young man staggered back with a grunt. A few of the men chuckled from the crowd.
“Ha! Looks like Aleksi has won the first blow,” a sailor said with a rough laugh. “Glad I didn’t take that bet. He didn’t even hit you with his staff. Perhaps we should have sided with the captain and taken bets against you, Kefta!”
Scowling, Kefta swung his weapon high and rushed back at Aleksi. The hard crack of wood on wood reverberated across the ship. With increasing speed, the two fighters moved back and forth, their staffs connecting impossibly quickly. Strike, parry, counter, block—they danced across the deck locked in a deadly flow of whirling movement and harsh sound. As their tempo intensified, the peals of tempered wood rang out even louder, causing many of the onlookers to step back in fear of being struck.
As they continued to fight, Aleksi felt buried anger well up within him. It ripped at his chest with sharp resentment. Was it anger at Kefta, the young woman, or Luka? Or, really, was it all just anger at Rudra? In the end, Aleksi didn’t know and it didn’t matter. To his heart, it all felt the same.
Enough games; time to end this.
On Kefta’s next strike, Aleksi raised his staff and deflected the blow. Stepping to the side and dodging Kefta’s follow-up attack, he then struck out with his own counter. This time, Aleksi unleashed his rage.
He felt bottled anger surge through his body as he swung his weapon. His hands tightened around the smooth wood as it whistled through the air with blinding speed and connected with Kefta’s upper thigh with a hollow thwack. Kefta let out a cry of agony as his leg went limp and he fell to one knee.
Aleksi rushed in and deftly slid to Kefta’s side as the young man frantically tried to jab. Aleksi dropped his own weapon and grabbed Kefta’s hand and staff. Forcefully, Aleksi twisted Kefta’s wrist backward and bent the sailor’s arm up and around in a wide arc. Pushing forward with his other hand on Kefta’s weapon, the youth continued to rotate the sailor’s wrist. Keft
a let out a cry of pain as his body was forced around into a powerful joint lock. Holding Kefta’s arm close to his body, Aleksi twisted Kefta’s elbow and shoulder until they threatened to snap.
“Yield,” Aleksi whispered into Kefta’s ear as he slowly tightened his grip. Aleksi’s heart stung with loss and abandonment, but across his face a small smile was growing. Hunched over and struggling against Aleksi’s armlock, Kefta, however, remained silent.
Aleksi felt dark energy rise up within his Rune as he continued to constrict Kefta’s trembling joints. The growing power drowned out the lonely longing within his heart. “Yield or I will break you,” Aleksi growled so all could hear. “This is your final warning!” The dark power made Aleksi’s body quiver as he twisted Kefta’s arm even tighter. Energy pulsed through Aleksi’s veins. It felt good.
Kefta let out a groan of pain and tried to strike Aleksi in the gut with his free hand. Aleksi felt the blow glance off his ribs, causing his dark rage and Runic power to erratically swell up within him. It blurred Aleksi’s vision and threatened to take him over. As Aleksi tried to regain control of his body, however, his grip on Kefta’s arm loosened.
Seizing the opportunity, Kefta attempted to push away and stand. Filled with fury, Aleksi allowed Kefta to seemingly regain his balance—but just as the young man got up, Aleksi forcibly stepped into him. Knocking Kefta off balance, Aleksi then swept his thigh behind the sailor’s knees. As Kefta fell, Aleksi pivoted powerfully, swinging his upper body and elbowing Kefta in the face.
Aleksi heard Kefta’s nose break, and the young man’s head violently lurched back. Aleksi crouched and followed through with the blow, throwing Kefta over his knee with his outstretched arm. As Kefta toppled over Aleksi’s leg, the youth then crashed the edge of his hand down on Kefta’s ribs and slammed him to the deck with a loud thud. The breath went out of Kefta’s lungs in a violent rush.
Rune of the Apprentice (The Rune Chronicles) Page 32