Harmonic Magic Series Boxed Set

by P. E. Padilla

  “Really? Why? I mean, why is steel rare?”

  Sitting on a rickety stool and carefully settling himself so as not to fall over, Dr. Walt answered, “I’m not sure exactly, but I believe that iron is…uh…different here. I think it’s because of the vibrational signature of this world. Whereas in Telani iron is rigid and, more importantly, easily alloyed with such things as carbon, the same is not true here. The unique energy of different types of atoms at times seems to react differently than expected here. By that, I mean different than expected on Telani. Of course, they act exactly as would be expected here because of the particular physical and chemical laws here. It would be very strange if they acted differently than normal here because that would indicate that the natural laws were somehow not working. On the other hand…” Dr. Walt trailed off when he saw Sam staring blankly at him.

  “It can all get very technical, but what I am trying to say is that here, iron is softer. Not quite so soft as gold or lead, but softer than copper. Additionally, it does not alloy easily. Whereas on Telani heating iron with a fire of coal and coke suffuses it with carbon and makes it steel, the process is much more complex here. There is only one group, the Zyngim, who know the secret to making steel, thus it is very rare and very expensive.”

  Sam could not hide his surprise. “Then, what are weapons here made from, if not steel?”

  “Ah, that is another interesting subject. For the most part, weapons are made of bronze, since that is a strong metal and can be sharpened. Of course, there are wooden weapons as well, such as cudgels. Wood acts the same here as in Telani. There is another technology here, though, that is fascinating. It’s a type of ceramic glass and it is used widely. I would say that one of every three weapons is made of this material.”

  “Ceramic glass? That sounds brittle. How can it be used as a weapon without shattering when someone blocks a strike?”

  “Ah, that’s the interesting part,” Dr. Walt said, face intense. “Through a special process, known only to the crafter’s guild, called Gawzay, they create items that are sharper and more durable than any other material. Well, any material other than good steel. Through whatever process they use, the item retains its sharpness almost indefinitely and is durable enough to withstand all but the hardest hits with steel or other ceramics, at the perfect angle. It’s really quite remarkable.”

  The doctor’s eyes glazed over as he muttered to himself, “sintering, yes…that must be it…and sharpening with diamond. Hmmm, if I could just get one to tell me…I could…” He noticed Sam and shook with surprise. “Oh, sorry. Sometimes I get caught up in my thoughts. In any case, it’s a fascinating, fascinating subject.”

  Sam thought so, too. “I would like to talk more about it sometime. For now, though, I should probably try to get these whiskers off. They’re itching fiercely.”

  “Yes, yes, quite.” The doctor seemed to zone out again momentarily. “Ah, oh. I just had an idea. Please wait here, Sam. I will be back momentarily.” With that, he hopped up and hurried toward the main building.

  Sam shrugged and looked back into his little mirror, preparing to scrape the stubble from his face. No sooner had he put the blade to his cheek—better to start with that than the throat—than Dr. Walt returned, carrying something.

  “Here you go, my boy,” he said with a smile. “This will serve you much better for shaving.” He handed Sam a knife.

  It was made of a tan-colored, smooth material, its hilt wrapped tightly in leather. Turning it in his hand, he watched as it caught the sun’s light and bounced it back, reflecting brilliantly. He tested its edge with a finger, barely touching it, and he felt a sting as he watched the skin peel away smoothly in a perfect, straight cut. “Ow!”

  “Be careful with that, Sam. It is very sharp. What’s more, if you only use it to shave, you will probably never have to get it sharpened. Ceramic knives hold an edge for decades with careful use.”

  “Wow. Dr. Walt, thank you for letting me use this. I’ll bring it back to you as soon as I’ve finished shaving.”

  “No need, no need. It’s yours. I have one already. I got it in a good trade with one of the Gawzay crafters for a few trinkets I made just for him.”

  “That is very generous. Thank you, Dr. Walt. I think this will make shaving easier. I’ll just need to get used to shaving this way without injuring myself.”

  “It is my pleasure, Sam. Well, I will let you get your shaving done now. Enjoy.”

  After the doctor left, Sam tentatively used the ceramic knife on his cheek. The hair fell away easily. Carefully continuing, he soon was clean shaven and feeling better about his appearance. The knife, being so sharp, shaved close without causing too much irritation to the skin. It was just another wonder in this new world he found himself in.

  Shaving complete, Sam turned his attention to his training. He was absorbed in learning as much Kasmali as he could. For some reason, he seemed to pick it up quickly, almost as if he knew the language on an intuitive level. Once he knew enough to put together simple sentences and to understand the gist of what someone was saying, he shifted his focus from the language to his other training. He still worked hard at all he was learning, but he tried especially hard at his physical combat training.

  Are you ok with staying here? Don’t you have family at home?, he sent to Skitter during a break from training. Besides learning Kasmali, it seems that communication with the hapaki was vastly improved. They communicated fluidly now, easily. Though his mind interpreted most of the sendings as words, occasionally he would receive them as pictures, feelings, and thoughts, without translation. He felt more and more connected to the little hapaki.

  I will stay. I will learn much to tell my community. There is no history of any Citizen ever venturing this far from home. Oh, maybe I should say “hapaki.” He chuckled at that again. It was one of his favorite inside jokes.

  Besides, there is much earth fruit, onekai, here. I will stay for a little while longer. And it is good to watch you being thrown to the ground and struck repeatedly. He bared his sharp teeth in imitation of a human smile, backing up the sending’s humorous feeling. The effect was at the same time entertaining and disturbing.

  He was right, though. Sam spent quite a bit of time getting beaten up, without learning anything. If he didn’t know better, he would say that he was just being put off.

  When Nalia trained him, she did not explain anything. She just came at him more slowly than normal combat speed and he tried to defend. Slow or not, he was never able to get anywhere. She would slip around him and strike him or throw him or do something else to control his body like a puppeteer.

  It was amazing. He had never experienced anything like it. He had dabbled in fighting at different times of his life, learning a bit of boxing, some martial arts techniques, practicing street fighting, even getting into fights when he was younger and bullies tried to pick on him. He was no slouch in defending himself, but even slowed down, his teacher was completely untouchable.

  Once, when he was having a particularly hard day, being thrown around and pummeled left and right, he complained that she was not teaching him. “Show me some techniques. Train me! How should I punch, how should I kick? What kind of throws or holds should I use?”

  Rindu stopped Nalia and stepped up to Sam, looking into his eyes. The Zouy sometimes watched his training with Nalia. He said: “When the belly is full, you must empty the bowels to make room for new food.” And then he walked away.

  Sam stood there, confusion and anger warring over his features. “Rindu!” he called. When the Zouy turned to look at him, Sam said: “That’s…well, that’s just disgusting.”

  Rindu shook his head sadly and walked away again.

  “I know what you are saying,” Sam called to him as he left. “I should not think on what I know or I will not be able to learn anything new. But you make it sound so…gross!”

  As time passed, Sam settled into his new training schedule. Dr. Walt still had no definite answer to
what they should do, but he was working on it constantly. He was teaching Sam how to read Old Kasmali, but Sam was no help in the research yet. He wished he could do something to help, but there was nothing he could do for now. Instead, he tried to focus on training with his other two teachers.

  Nalia threw him to the ground again. And again. She struck his padded armor that she made him wear so that she did not hurt him…too much. “Will you show me how to do that throw?” he asked her.

  “No. I cannot show you. You must feel it.”

  “But I want to practice some techniques, some strikes or throws or movements. I want to practice when you are not training me so I can become better at combat.”

  “No,” she said again. “That is not the way. You do not limit yourself by learning ‘techniques.’ You must learn to feel the battle. Do you know nothing?”

  Rindu put his hand up. “Nalia, please get us something to drink. I must speak with Sam.”

  Nalia stomped off toward the main building as Sam and Rindu watched her. Even in a huff, she was graceful. And even stomping, she made no sound. Amazing!

  “Sam,” said Rindu, “Nalia is not accustomed to training others, especially those with views so different from the Sapsyra way. You must understand, combat to the Sapsyra is a sacred rite, a moving form of worship. Even to the Zouyim, combat is a spiritual thing. I know it is difficult to understand our ways because you are new to this world, but please try. To start, please explain to me how combat is done on your world and then we can discuss how it is done here. It seems that the manner in which combat is done is different between the two worlds.”

  Sam explained to Rindu how warriors learn combat on Telani. First, he told the mage, the novice trains to get fit, to have a working knowledge of his body so that it will move how he wants it to move. Then, basics are taught, how to stand or strike or block. As the student progresses, he learns more complex movements and combinations of more basic movements. Forms of many movements put together are learned and practiced as a kind of choreographed mock battle against one or more opponents. When the warrior is advanced, he moves from performing the techniques from muscle memory to flowing smoothly from one movement to the next almost by instinct.

  “I see,” the Zouy said. “You therefore waste years in useless drills and training without ever touching the real essence of combat. Only at the end do you begin to grasp the true way.”

  “What?” Sam sputtered. “There are some outstanding warriors where I come from, people who have trained for years and are so skilled that they do things that seem superhuman.”

  Rindu put his hands up to show he meant no insult. “Please, do not take offense, Sam. Perhaps I spoke clumsily. What I mean is that we Zouyim, as well as the Sapsyra, know the true essence of combat. It is probably indicative of the most important difference between your world and ours. Will you empty your bowels and allow me to give you food?”

  Sam winced. “Please don’t use that analogy. Can you just ask me to empty my cup of what I have learned before so that you can pour more knowledge into it?”

  Rindu looked thoughtful. “Yes. Yes, I like the sound of that. Empty your cup. That is a more elegant way to put it.” The mage averted his eyes up and to the left as if registering the thought into his memory. “Ok, Sam, will you empty your cup and allow me to pour the sweet nectar of knowledge into it?”

  Smiling and sitting on the ground with his legs crossed, Sam agreed. “Please, Master Rindu.”

  He seated himself in front of Sam. “The universe is connected, everything with everything else. The stars, the planets, and all things that live are all connected through a type of energy, an energy that comes in many forms. The ancients called this energy rohw, from Old Kasmali for ‘spirit’ or ‘wind.’

  “Flowing along pathways, this energy stream circles endlessly, a perfect gyration that never ceases, never disappears, and can never be created, no more than it can be destroyed. It has always been here and it will always be here, until the end of time. In the known world, in Gythe, the energy channels make up a kind of matrix of criss-crossing pathways. These pathways are the ley lines of energy and they are evident to those who have developed a sensitivity to the energy.”

  Rindu watched Sam’s face for any reaction to what he was saying. “As people of the world, of the universe, man is capable of sensing, collecting, and using this energy. Though several forms of rohw can be used, the most basic, and perhaps the most powerful, is vibration. All things in the world tremble or vibrate, though to the untrained things seemed solid and steady. This vibrational energy is the basis for the Zouyim’s power, a power which I will explain later.

  “The important point on the subject of combat is that since all things are infused with rohw, vibration is the key to the struggle of man against man. Combat has its own vibratory signature, its own movement and energy. In short, it has its own rhythm, much like music. Does this all make sense to you?” Rindu asked.

  “Yes,” Sam answered. “I think I have it so far.”

  “Sound is simply vibration in air, shock waves that travel and then are caught by the ear and translated into what the person recognizes. Each battle, each struggle, each conflict has its own ‘sound,’ its own set of unique vibrations. A true warrior can tap into and recognize that song and add his vibrations to it. When a warrior acts and moves in harmony with a battle’s song, he transcends mere physical action and becomes part of the song. He becomes invincible.”

  Looking at Sam again for confirmation he understood, Rindu finished, “So, then, a fight between two people may be a short song with one voice. Larger engagements may be more complex songs, harmonies, or they may be like symphonies, with many parts, all blending together to make a grand sonic display. Until you can act in harmony with the song, you will never truly be a warrior. You will always be as a child beating on a hollow log with a stick and smiling at his own musical brilliance.”

  Sam thought for a moment, opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and thought again. “So, you’re saying that everything warriors have based their fighting styles on in my world for thousands of years is wrong? How is that possible?”

  Rindu put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It is not as difficult as it seems. Perhaps, in the distant past, one man was stronger, faster, and better at fighting than all others because of natural talent. Emulating him and his training methods, everyone started to train physically through repetition and choreographed movements. It just grew from there, but the path had been set. Perhaps there were people who learned the true song of combat, but because it was different than what everyone knew, it was too late to change. It is a simple thing. ‘When an ahu bird is grown, it is too late to teach it not to bash nuts with its head to open them.’”

  “Um, ok. Is that like ‘you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?’”

  Thoughtful, Rindu nodded. “I suppose you could put it that way, but I like mine better. The point is, you must forget about training for combat by learning groups of preset movements. True, fitness and strength are important, but your time would be better spent learning to sing, to recognize and use the special vibration, the song, of combat. Will you, ahem, ‘empty your cup’ and try?”

  “I will, Master Rindu. How do we start?”

  “The first and most important thing is that you must stop thinking and start feeling. On that path lies proficiency.”

  Nalia was fuming. She was wasting her time. Not only that, but she still didn’t believe that Sam was an innocent traveler. One side of her warred with the other. She was determined not to give an assassin any tools with which to attack her or her friends, but she was also bound by her honor to train the man.

  She knew that she seemed moody and inconsistent, but that was because of her two disparate sides doing battle with each other, pushing and pulling her until she felt like she would scream. She had meditated on this, dissecting the issue and inspecting each piece, but still she was not sure what to do. Oh, Mother, what would you do? Father seems so
sure of things. There was no doubt in the man, it seemed.

  She grabbed an empty bucket and ladle and walked to the central cistern. What could she do? She trusted her father implicitly, but she knew he was wrong. This man was trouble. How could she, in good conscience and with honor intact, train him in things he could use against them? She felt like hitting something.

  She chuckled to herself. She had to hand it to the man, he could take a beating. She had seen hardened warriors quit after suffering some of the things she had inflicted upon him. He was bruised, battered, and sore, but he kept coming back for more. She smiled briefly. It did feel good to hit him with a solid strike. But that was a bad attitude, and unworthy of a Sapsyr. Did her mother ever have doubts or have to rein in every feeling and impulse or was Nalia just a bad person? She let the smile slip off her face and hefted the full bucket to bring back to the men.

  While walking across the compound, she decided that she would try to do as her father requested. For now, she would teach Sam some skills, some minor ones. For now, she would suspend her irritation and dislike of the man and try to be a dutiful daughter, an honorable Sapsyr. Perhaps it would bring her a measure of peace. She must develop the proper attitude if the way of the Sapsyra Shin Elah was to survive. Her petty irritation and doubts could not be placed above that.

  The men were sitting on the ground with their legs crossed, facing each other. Her father seemed to be explaining the rohw and the song of combat. She listened as he finished and as Sam declared that he would try to learn this way that was foreign to him.

  He was unskilled and ignorant, but she appreciated how he showed humility in accepting instruction. Even the “instruction” she had been giving him. Maybe he was simply a stranded traveler. It would be revealed. She would watch carefully for any deception.

  Reverently handing a ladle of water to Rindu, she set the bucket down.