by S. G. Basu
“Your aggression.”
“What about it?” Maia wheezed.
“You do not have any.” He pointed at their position. “Look at where we ended. That is because you kept retreating. Ideally we should have been near the center of the ring.”
“You’re so fast, I couldn’t even see,” Maia tried to explain.
“You cannot use just your eyes to see. Try to concentrate and feel your opponent’s energy. Then you will see better,” Miir said before turning away. “Next person.”
Kusha went next, and for a few moments it seemed that this would be a battle of equals. But a while later, Kusha lay flat against the wall, the tip of Miir’s sword rested at the base of his throat.
“You have excellent footwork, Kusha, but you need to improve your defense.”
Dani was pronounced to have a weak stance at the beginning of her trials, but after she started, it was a long fight until her weapon was knocked out of her hand. Ren put up a spirited but short battle before he slipped and very nearly wounded himself with his own sword.
“Ren, your footwork needs to be faster,” Miir said as he pulled the shaken boy up from the floor. “And keep it simple and solid, no trick moves, please.”
Nafi was the last to go. She opened the red box with reverence and took out a pair of long silver daggers. Their saw-toothed blades were etched with a fine pattern, their dark grips were ridged, and a single white pearl rested on the top of the hilt.
“They are too short to defend against that sword, aren’t they?” Maia whispered to Dani as they sat side by side, watching.
“What do you mean?” Dani turned to look at Maia.
Maia hesitated as she put her thoughts into words. Something about Miir’s swordplay had stunned her. It was undoubtedly fast, but it was more than just swiftness that had made her feel virtually sightless against him. It was as if the sword had come to life.
“Really?” Dani frowned at the explanation. “That’s strange . . . I didn’t feel that way. I mean, he’s fast, but with your skills, there’s no reason that you should be overwhelmed. Maybe it was because you were upset by the way he snubbed you.”
“Must’ve been that.” Maia shrugged. It was hard to admit that even after the countless times Miir had slighted her, she had not grown more resilient. Feeling a little frustrated, she forced her attention back to the rink, where Nafi had assumed her stance. “Now let’s see this.”
“Yes, it is Nafi after all.”
Maia knew exactly what Dani meant; the youngest of their group was always full of surprises. Maybe her daggers would sprout wings and spit fire for all they knew. As soon as the silver daggers and the black sword clashed, Nafi’s skills became all too evident to the audience. She moved fast in short steps, her daggers crisscrossing the space in swift strokes. Their serrated edges caught Miir’s sword a few times and forced him to often change the pattern of his strikes. Nafi countered, steps adapting rapidly to keep a steady defense, but being two heads shorter than Miir did not work in her favor.
As Miir upped his offense, she caught his sword with the daggers in an effort to pull him off balance. But Miir seemed to have expected this; he wrenched his sword upward in a flash, knocking the weapon out of Nafi’s right hand. Nafi tried to recover, but her balance was not the same after she lost one dagger, and the duel soon came to an end.
“That was very impressive, young lady.” Miir had a rare smile on his face and an even more unexpected tone of admiration in his voice.
Nafi beamed.
“But why do I get the feeling that you do not train much?” he asked as the team stared in disbelief at his playful tone.
“Because . . . I don’t,” Nafi replied while busily studying her left foot.
“You have plenty of talent, what you need is practice,” Miir said. “What do you think, Nafi?”
“I think you’re right,” Nafi replied with an uncharacteristic shy smile.
“Good. Let us pack up then. We have to talk about the Onclioraptor assignments.”
Within a short while, all five were gathered eagerly around their mentor.
“What we need for this challenge is to have a basic operational knowledge of the craft. So pick a section, each of you. The key areas are communications, navigation, a cartographical section, and a co-pilot to assist me in flying the Raptor.”
“Assist you?” exclaimed Kusha. “You will be flying it? Not us?”
“Is that a bad thing, Kusha?” Miir asked.
Kusha burst out laughing. “You flying . . . could that ever be a bad thing?”
“This will also be my evaluation as a coordinator. So, practice well, all of you. We will meet again after the details are announced.”
“And the other thing.” He turned toward Dani. “I have not heard anything to either prove or disprove what you told me the other day. But I was promised that if a threat was likely, warnings will most definitely be issued as soon as possible, and all steps will be taken to ensure the safety of the colonies.”
“Thank you.” Dani forced a smile. “I hope it turns out to be just a hoax.”
“Yes, I hope the same. All of you can leave now, except you.” He tilted his head toward Maia.
Maia blinked. She had apologized, and she had barely spoken in the last hour.
What could have gone wrong this time?
“Did you mean me?” she inquired, hoping he would say no.
“Yes.”
Maia looked back at her team in panic, seeking some support. Nafi shrugged and made a weird face while the others simply stared back. She shifted on her feet uneasily, turning to face Miir, who did not speak or even look at her until the rest of the team had filed out of the Snoso and the door clicked shut. It was intimidating to be alone in the room with Miir. He was not an easy person to converse with, especially when he chose to talk in riddles or remain silent.
“Now we are going to have a duel of an entirely different form.”
Maia blinked, forgetting to take a breath.
32: A Curious Exercise
“You look scared.” An amused smirk had formed on his lips.
Maia half shook, half tilted her head in a manner that did not mean anything conclusive.
“If it helps you any, I am not here to entertain myself by frightening you,” Miir said. “I am here because of a request from Principal Pomewege to introduce you to some basic TEK waves and teach you to defend yourself.”
Maia let out the breath she had been holding, along with the fear. She felt light, as if a massive boulder had been lifted from her shoulders. It was good to know that this was not a punishment for anything she had said or done.
“Why do you think I was asked to help you with this?” Miir asked, stepping forward.
Maia shook her head. She had a vague feeling that this had something to do with her being a Shimugien, but she was not going to tell that to Miir, of all people.
“I don’t know,” she replied.
A flicker of disappointment shone briefly in his eyes. But it passed as quickly as it had come, and his face turned back into a mask of disinterest.
“Tell me what you know about telekinesis,” he said.
“It’s the ability to manipulate objects with the mind.”
Miir nodded. “Correct. These objects could be anything—objects like you have seen at the TEK Club tryouts. Or it could be something invisible, like the medium that surrounds us. Its strongest manifestation is in the Tierremorphes, and it gives them a psychic control over the terrain.”
“You mean Tierremorphes are simply TEKists, but super powerful ones?” Maia asked.
Miir nodded and went on to explain more. “A TEK wave can assume a multitude of forms, ranging from planar waves to complicated multi-plane formations.”
“Planar?”
“Yes, planar as in a single plane—either horizontal or vertical. A TEK wave can be of any shape, size, or form, limited only by your imagination and your skills. If you have the ability to sense a wa
ve, you may be able to feel its heat, see flashes of light, or hear its sound.”
Miir paused and directed her toward the rim. “Get back to that end and try hard to focus on the space between us.”
Maia tried to concentrate, but it was difficult. Her mind was swamped with questions. Across from her, Miir stretched his arm and flicked the air in front of him with his fingers.
Nothing happened. There was no rush of heat, no flash of light, no sound in her mind—nothing. Maia was just about to say something when it hit like a fleck of sand on her forehead, clear and precise. It was a jolting sensation, the rush of invisible ripples passing through her and spreading all around.
Miir looked curious, nearly smiling when he broke the silence. “That was a very tiny ripple. Were you able to see it or feel it before it hit you?”
“No.” Maia shook her head.
“Let us try some larger ones now. Again, focus and be ready to dodge as necessary.”
This time, Maia felt the softest rush through the air when Miir pushed his palm out in her direction. There was an indistinct bend in the space in front of her as the particles folded like a whip and lashed out. She had barely lifted one foot to dodge the tip of the whip when it hit her squarely in the gut. She felt her feet leave the ground and gasped as her back slammed against the wall of the ring. Then the wave died abruptly, leaving her breathless from the impact.
Miir quickly strode up to her, a faint shadow of worry darkening his face. “Is that the fastest you can move?” His observation was cynical as usual.
“I’m all right,” Maia croaked as she scrambled to her feet, ready for more. She was determined not to waste a single moment of this rare opportunity.
Over the next hour or so, Miir displayed a series of waves—formations with arrows, whips, bullets, waves, twisters, hail. Miir talked about strategies for attacks and counter-attacks using the various forms, and he showed evasion tactics that Maia practiced with reasonable success. After all that, even as she felt spent, she yearned to see more.
“Can you control a wave once it’s already in motion?”
“Yes. That is quite advanced telekinetics,” his reply came at a sluggish pace. Maia noticed how tired he looked—his face gaunt and paler than usual, his shoulders a little slumped.
“Can you show me?” Maia asked, ignoring the fledgling thought of concern for him.
Even before she had finished her question, a vertical wave came sweeping at her. Maia could see the forms much clearer now. She waited until it was close and moved swiftly to the left. An explosion of light and heat engulfed her, sending her teetering to the ground. Miir had waited for her to move away, and then nudged the wave to follow her.
They continued a little longer as he displayed a few more patterns that were suitable for widespread offense. Maia was particularly awestruck by a vicious “avalanche” formation where an endless series of gigantic waves crested and toppled in a massive, manic rush. Thankfully, she was not asked to evade these, but just observe.
“That was amazing! It must take a lot of practice to learn these,” she said after the avalanche had died down.
Miir did not reply. He stood quietly at the opposite end of the ring, his hand on the neurogenic interface over his eye.
“Are you okay?” Maia asked, troubled by his posture as she stepped forward to take a closer look at his face.
“I am fine,” he replied gruffly. “It must be the virus I caught last week.”
“You were not well, I knew it.” Maia grinned.
Miir raised an eyebrow when he saw her wide smile.
“Well, you see, I thought you canceled the mentor meet last week due to the argument we had. So I was feeling bad because everyone else was missing out on training because of me. But you were just unwell, and I don’t need to feel so bad,” Maia explained, still smiling. Then she hurried to add an apology. “But . . . but I’m still sorry about what I said the other night. And sorry that you were sick.”
Miir looked confused as he shook his head, clearly failing to appreciate her relief. “It is very late. We need to leave now,” he said and picked up his weapons case.
“So, all I can do is evading? Or will I be able to move things around too?” Maia asked as they walked to the elevator. This was getting very interesting; suddenly, the world was full of possibilities.
“It is very unusual for one of your kind to even perceive a telekinetic wave. I would not expect too much.” Miir’s directness dashed her upbeat thoughts to the ground.
The elevator came to a stop, and they walked toward the Hall of Spires.
“Will you teach me more?” Maia asked, trying to cling on to the last shred of hope.
“Absolutely not,” he said with such cold vehemence that Maia shrunk back. “By Xifarian law, I am not allowed to demonstrate telekinetic powers to persons of non-Xifarian origin except in self-defense. I showed you this only because I was personally requested by the principal.”
He left her facing the shadowy Hall of Spires. Maia stared blankly at the dark stretch ahead. A cavernous emptiness enveloped her insides like a swift-moving flood.
33: Plots and Plans
The Hall of Spires always made Maia uneasy in an odd sort of way. Even during the day, when the place was lit, albeit dimly—with the light filtering in from the ventilators on the roof—she felt ill at ease. There was something about this place, some ancient secret that drained her spirit. And now in the middle of the night, bathed in the eerie green light streaming down from the distant ceiling, she stood alone on its brink, waiting to muster enough courage to step forward.
Maia considered her options. She could always run after Miir; surely he would not ignore a desperate plea for help. Then again, he could very well say no. In that case, she would not only have to cross the hall alone, but this would become yet another subject of ridicule. That was definitely not acceptable, she decided. With no other way in sight, she took her first step into the intimidating darkness.
Maia knew a staggering 102 spires separated her from the door leading out to the WT4. She strode ahead, grazing along the columns, skirting their cold smooth bulk, stepping gingerly past their thick shadows, counting them as she passed. She was up to fifty when she realized how hopelessly lost she was. Following Ren blindly through the hall without paying the least bit of attention had finally caught up with her. She stood still for a while, trying to understand her location among the towering columns, feeling small and bewildered. After standing there for what felt like an eternity, she had an idea—she could just follow the walls until she reached her exit.
She walked toward her left, hoping to reach the wall soon. She had barely taken a few steps when she heard the low rustle of cloth on stone and the sound of light footsteps heading her way. Maia froze in her tracks as fear gripped her heart.
Who would be out here so late at night?
She scanned the shadows intently, looking for the source of the noise until she noticed a pair of dark wraith-like figures. They walked fast along the dimness and in the direction Maia was headed.
It’s silly to even think there could be ghosts.
Maia wondered if someone was playing a trick on her, or if some students of the XDA were having a masquerade party and these two chose to don dark hooded cloaks. Whatever it was, she intended to avoid them; she had had more than enough excitement in the past few days. She decided to wait and let them pass. When the footfalls faded, she took off her shoes, tucked them under her belt, and tiptoed forward.
Maia had not taken another fifty steps when she came across them again. The duo had paused at the threshold of an open door, and one of them turned around to check behind him before stepping inside. Maia just about screamed when she caught a glimpse of what lay under the hood. Shining through the darkness was a chalk-white face on which a pair of oversized lips twisted into a grotesque smile. She stood there, her back to the column, hands clamped on her mouth lest she should shout. Then she realized they were wearing masks.
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She forced herself to breathe in a lungful of cold air, letting it out slowly. And again. And again. It helped. Her heart beat a little slower, her fingers felt a bit less cold. She spent a few more moments recovering, and then stepped forward. The door was ajar. The flickering light of a fire that burned inside caught Maia’s eye as she quickly stepped past the opening, avoiding looking in. Once beyond the door, she placed herself flat against the wall and let out a small sigh of relief. She had readied herself for a sprint when a high-pitched distorted voice reached her ears.
“The key . . . we finally have it. We are one step closer to our goal. The wiggling snakes have been scheming, but now we shall teach them a lesson they will never forget.”
Maia turned toward the open door, suddenly alert at the mention of the “key.” She wondered if this had anything to do with the lost Chrysocolla key. For the briefest moment she hesitated, then crept closer to the partly open door.
“And is there any news from Tansi, Sir Uuye?” asked another man.
“None too promising,” screeched the first voice.
Another voice rose, a woman’s, speaking in an agitated rush. “We have been tied to this system for too long. If we do not put the Capsule back together soon, we will be found and—”
A man, his tone soft but decisive, cut her off mid-sentence. “I expected a little more patience, more so from you given the history of your family.
“This is a difficult quest—the Afterlight is benign and hard to trace, such is their nature. By now, they have all but fused with the spirits of their keepers. But we cannot give up, we shall not give up. Now that we have the key and an illustrious new commander to lead us in this hunt, there is much to hope for. Please have some faith.”
“You misunderstand me,” the woman rushed to defend, the hint of a tremble rippling through her once-stoic voice. “I have never doubted the strength of our Order. I realize the difficulty, but it pains me to see the children of our enemies swarming all over this academy. Can you remember how it all started? It was because we had invited them into our world twenty years ago. It was because we had opened our gates and let the filth in. Look where it got us—we are broken and stuck, our future hopeless.”