“Your father’s cooperation need not actually be obtained. Only speak of your willingness to assist in the matter, as Sloane did. Alexander will need a place to start if he is to have any hope in swaying Hathorn to a stance from which negotiations can begin. You can be that place.”
That made sense, Sacha supposed. Being the daughter of the King of Pelos would lend weight to her words in the eyes of the Basinians. She would use that, but she needed more. “All right. I see the merit in your suggestion.”
A smile spread across the chancellor’s face.
“But I need more,” Sacha continued. “One topic will not make me Sloane in Alexander’s eyes.” Unbidden, the image of Sloane’s broken body floated past her mind’s eye. She shook the picture away, cursing the monster. You will answer for this, Vinnicus, and the cost will be dear.
“Exactly,” Kesh agreed. “You need something new, something that is actually yours. A common foe or crusade.”
“If only Alexander knew of Vinnicus,” Sacha murmured.
“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Kesh replied.
Sacha snapped out of her despondency and waved a negligent hand. “Just thinking out loud. Carry on.”
Kesh frowned but continued. “Is there anything you care about that could create common interest with the prince?”
Sacha looked out the window again. The falls were disappearing behind a wall of flora, but the pervasive thunder of the flowing water permeated the area. Everything she cared about, except for Sloane, had nothing to do with the prince. Rylan could never be mentioned for obvious reasons. Her former lover, Renee, fit in that category as well. The Shamonrae was something Sloane had had no experience with, nor would she have had in the future. “I have nothing to share with the man.”
“Well, we must find something,” Kesh persisted. “Perhaps a goal of some sort.”
Sacha fought back the pressure building behind her eyes. She had foolishly hoped the chancellor could provide an answer that would instantly solve her problems. I know better. For a few minutes, she cast about in her mind but came up with no further inspiration. Frustrated, she pushed the thoughts away. “I don’t know. Nothing is coming to mind. I think that for the moment, I must focus on my training with Teacher.”
The chancellor muttered incoherently before he spoke. “As you say, Princess.” Then they both fell into silence, each alone in their thoughts.
The carriage continued east, zigzagging up the steep slope on the south side of the Tanglevine. As they crested the plateau, Kesh spoke. “Ah, there it is. Our destination.”
Many modest homes and huts had been tucked into the jungles of the Winewood or clung to stony outcroppings along their ascent from the city. The villa that awaited them had as little in common with the thatch-covered structures as a king with a pauper.
A multitude of rounded and squared towers thrust upward from a rambling structure behind a tall riverstone wall. The compound sprawled along the uneven, terraced ground near the riverbank just on the edge of the falls. The same kind of riverstone walls that held back the jungle also made the buildings of the compound, holding up the conical roofs of the towers and high crowns of the gables. Winewood shingles glinted in the bright sun. Covered porches protruded from the upper floors, and a grand veranda surrounded the entire structure. Mature, well-tended trees of varying types shaded the enclosure, swaying gently in the morning breeze.
“Amazing,” Sacha breathed in awe.
“Yes,” Kesh said with a touch of satisfaction in his voice. “It is, isn’t it?”
The entourage rode up to the stone walls and pulled to a halt. One of the guards at the head of the caravan called out to the closed gates, demanding entry. Within moments, the heavy winewood doors were opened, and the procession continued into the courtyard. A dozen servants clothed in loose-hanging linen robes accompanied another regiment of armor-clad soldiers as they approached the carriage.
The soldiers formed two rigid lines, creating a path directly from the royal coach to the main entrance of the villa. A man with rich brown skin stepped to the center of the entrance and then formally approached the carriage through the center of the framed pathway. His robes were made of the same linen as those of the other servants but were much more elaborate. Layers of subtle colors added depth to the look, while braided cords added definition and prestige to his outfit, making it more a of a uniform than a general workaday outfit.
“My princess, it is an honor to receive you,” the dark man said as he bowed his head and opened the door. He then stepped back and flourished his hands wide. “Welcome to Riverside. My name is Kahl, and I will serve your every need while you are with us.”
“Thank you, Kahl,” Sacha replied, genuinely pleased.
Kahl’s white teeth gleamed in his dark face as he offered a hand to help her from the coach.
Sacha reached for his offered hand, but the chancellor’s soft, delicate fingers darted out to take hold of hers.
“Might I have that pleasure, Princess Sloane?” Kesh purred as he backed out of the coach, smoothly forcing Kahl to step away from her.
Sacha almost pulled her hand back but thought better of it. Making a scene here would only draw attention to her relationship with Kesh, and that was not in her best interest. There would already be monumental amounts of scrutiny just considering her position. She did not need people talking about her any more than they already would be. For now, she would play along with Kesh’s little games.
Kahl’s features remained as smooth and calm as they had during his greeting. He waited patiently for Sacha and Kesh to settle themselves before leading them past the stone- and wood-columned entrance of Riverside. The villa had a similar open feel on the inside as had been hinted at on the outside. Big, open rooms had been constructed with large windows that faced either the interior courtyards or breathtaking views of the Tanglevine. Kahl led them swiftly through the halls, speaking of the history of the place and pointing to details left by past patrons and owners. His voice was smooth and comforting, just like the walls around them, making him seem as much a part of the structure as any arch or niche.
Kahl drew up before a pair of large, polished doors. “Here we are, my lady. Your friend awaits within. If you need anything, you have only to ring the bell.” He pointed one long finger at a red, silken cord that dangled just inside the door frame. The red silk was shot through with threads of gold, and it disappeared through a brass ring set into the ceiling. “We will hear it, and your attendant will serve however you desire.”
Kahl waited for her nod of understanding before pushing open the doors and stepping back to allow her and Kesh in.
In the central room a large, iron-worked chandelier hung from the squared rafters high above. Lit candles banished the dark in the upper reaches of the ceiling, and the many open shutters allowed the sun to do the same for the spacious room below. Furniture woven from reeds was matched to carpets and end tables that filled the living area. In the center of the room, facing toward the group, sat Teacher on a long sofa. A warm smile touched his face as his gaze met Sacha’s.
Tears filled Sacha’s eyes at seeing him. The old him—the strong mentor she knew. Not the Teacher who had stood by helplessly while her sister was murdered. Forgetting everything, she rushed across the room and took his hands in hers as he rose to meet her.
“You look well, pupil,” Teacher said with a laugh. “Are you so ready to start your studies anew that you weep for joy?”
For a few moments, Sacha couldn’t speak. His voice was just as she remembered, the soulless quality vanished. She squeezed his hands tightly to help swallow back the tears. Once she felt it was safe to speak without losing control of her emotions, Sacha wet her dry mouth and spoke. “It’s so good to see you. I can hardly say how good.” She wanted to hug the man but was afraid she might not let go of him.
“Ah, but you have, Princess,” the chancellor said as he strode up next to them. “A pleasure, Teacher.” Kesh offered his hand to the
mage.
Teacher, still smiling, pried a hand free of Sacha’s grasp and took the chancellor’s. “Good of you to bring her, Chancellor.” He looked back at Sacha. “I have made preparations for your training. Come, the Shamonrae awaits.”
Sweat poured from Sacha’s brow and soaked through the plain white linen smock that Teacher had indicated she should put on. The strain was beyond anything she had endured during her training at the Monastery. Apparently, Teacher considered her worthy of a “challenge.” They stood facing each other in a contest of wills, she holding a shield of air and he attempting to break it down.
The building that surrounded them was a large storehouse that had been converted into a training area. Large doors stood closed at either end of the cleared, rectangular floor. There were no windows on the first level, but light slanted in from the many arched portals on the second. The second floor was a loft that surrounded the sides of the building while leaving the center open to the high roof. The loft was supported by a row of thick, wooden columns and was accessible either by a wooden ladder at one end of the building or by block and tackle that hung from a beam on the opposite end.
When Teacher had shown them where she would train, Chancellor Kesh had requested permission to stay for the session. He had pointed to the balcony and stated that he would be “out of the way” up there. Teacher’s only response had been shutting the heavy doors firmly in the surprised man’s face.
“The Shamonrae is of the world but not defined by the rules most come to understand. The arcane force can change those rules. You must bend it to your will.” Teacher’s voice was measured as if the assault he brought to bear on her shield was of no more strain than a walk along a paved path. Pressure mounted on her shield as his words rolled along.
Sacha gritted her teeth and focused on pushing her bubble outward.
“If not,” Teacher continued casually, “you will be broken.”
At his last word, her shield sundered into sparkling shards of blue power. The pieces flew like glass into the air, though they had no substance and fully disappeared in a heartbeat. Sacha was flung into the air and landed on the hard-packed earth several feet away. The pain began to blossom as soon as she stopped sliding across the floor.
She grimaced in frustration and thumped a fist into the dirt. “Dammit!”
Teacher’s footsteps echoed softly as he walked across the room. “Anger has its place, but not here, in this moment.” He offered his hand to her. “Defense is reaction, a product of survival and fear.” He considered her face as she scowled at his proffered assistance. “Anger can be an asset, but only once you have learned to harness it. Until then, it is destructive, as I wager you have already come to understand.”
Sacha took Teacher’s hand and was hauled off the floor. She rubbed her sore back with a groan. That’s going to bruise, she thought ruefully.
Teacher smiled as Sacha frowned. His voice was filled with curiosity when he commented, “You’re much stronger now than the last time we sparred. You’ve had a breakthrough.”
Sacha swatted at the dirt on the linen pants as her thoughts drifted to the trials she had endured since she had left him at the Monastery. Yes, she had had a breakthrough, and in more than just the Shamonrae. Her perception of the world and her role within it had shifted.
Sacha considered the implied question. She had channeled more power than she thought possible in a desperate attempt to slay Vinnicus, but she had no idea how Teacher might respond to any mention of the sinister creature. Teacher’s vacant expression at the Cliffs of Judgment while Sacha screamed and Sloane died flashed through her memory, and she discarded any thoughts of allying Teacher to her cause against Vinnicus.
Instead, she asked a question of her own. “Can we be ‘blocked’ from the Shamonrae?” She knew it was possible; it had been done to her, twice. The “how” of the thing still eluded her.
Teacher’s brow lifted. “A good question. One that most students don’t think of readily. They find themselves with a measure of power beyond their peers and quickly think themselves invulnerable.”
Sacha smiled at the mild praise. Teacher’s approval had never been anything but sparingly granted. “Well, I am your brightest student, am I not?” she teased.
Teacher chuckled. “Yes, if not the most obstinate.”
She laughed in turn, and it felt honest. True in a way that seemed even more important in the face of her charade. Tears moistened the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t mind, and they did not fall the same way as so many had in the near past.
Teacher stepped away from her as his chuckling came to an end. “To answer your question, yes, it is possible to prevent a mage from accessing their power within the Shamonrae.”
Sacha ran a hand across her eyes. “How so?”
Her mentor came to a stop at the center of the chamber. His shadow stretched away from the beams of light leaking through the double doors. He turned and spoke. “Ability with the Shamonrae comes from a mage’s strength of mind, control over one’s emotions, and the willpower to remain focused. If that strength were to be disrupted or damaged, I could see how a ‘block’ might occur.”
“Damaged? In what way?” Sacha asked.
“There are various possibilities that come to mind,” Teacher replied. “Fatigue is not uncommon amongst new students of the art, as you well know.”
Sacha felt heat come to her cheeks. Yes, she remembered well her inability to draw on the Shamonrae as a repercussion of overexertion. “Yes, but that is the same as a soldier being unable to move after hours of fighting on the field. Beyond exhaustion, are there other means?”
Teacher pondered his thoughts before answering, “Well, simple low self-esteem is detrimental to a wielder of the Shamonrae. You must believe in yourself as well as the changes you create. You must believe that you can create change. Fatigue and lack of self-confidence are the most rudimentary possibilities, however, and generally self-inflicted. I sense you are looking for something beyond a mage’s self-imposed limitations.”
Sacha nodded.
“Something that could be done with the Shamonrae?”
“Yes.”
Teacher frowned.
Sacha held her breath, afraid he might not answer. If such a thing could be done by a practitioner, then it could be counter to the interests of the Monastery to discuss it. If there were such a stricture, Teacher discarded it and continued after some thought.
“It is possible,” he said slowly, almost to himself. “If one were to strike when a mage is weak or drained, a block could be put into place. But such a thing would take time or a tremendous amount of power, and it could also be potentially devastating to the intended victim. The mind can be quite sensitive.”
Sacha wondered how much damage had been done to Teacher. The red eyes of Vinnicus were not something she could ever forget. “Obey me.” The whispered words shuddered through her mind with almost palpable force.
Sacha pushed away the memory. What had been done to Teacher didn’t look like anything he was speculating about. She had also been subjected to the mental domination of the pale creature but bore no scars that she could discern other than nightmares.
In her case, Teacher’s speculation made some sense. She had been completely exhausted when she had attempted to confront the creature. His mental domination could have come through the opening allowed by her own fatigue, but this explained nothing about her encounter with Jagger. She had been tired and scared, true enough, but she had still been able to draw on the power while at much deeper states of both in the past. She furrowed her brow and began to ask a follow-up question, but Teacher interrupted her.
“That is an interesting diversion, but it will require more thought, and it is not what brings us together today.” He slid once more into his offensive posture.
Sacha nodded in acceptance and brought forth her shield. This time, she focused on Rylan and what her daughter’s fate might be if she failed. This time her shield would not
break.
THE wind thundered past Sacha’s ears as she leaned into the feathered shoulders of the great eagle’s broad back. The Rohdaekhann had tucked its wings once they had reached the clouds high above Waterfall Citadel. They had held in the air, suspended within the heavens for the briefest of moments before plummeting back to the earth just like an arrow in free-fall.
This is the most... Sacha began, but her thoughts fled away in a cry of surprise.
The Rohdaekhann, Bora as Rouke named him, had opened his right wing, driving it into the slipstream that rushed past. The giant bird’s action turned the straight dive into a gut-wrenching spiral. Leather creaked as Sacha’s weight was thrown against the buckles sewn into her flight suit. Her fingers vibrated with weariness from the viselike grip she maintained while her heart hammered. Around and around they went until Sacha’s head began to whirl with the motion. Just when she thought she could take no more, Bora flared both wings, killing the momentum of their descent with a swooping lift that slammed her flat against the saddle. Her body was then thrown against the restraining buckles as they dropped like a stone for several feet and landed, depositing her once more into the saddle like a dishrag.
When Sacha recovered enough to move, she peered over the shoulder of the giant wing to see where they had stopped. The great claws were sunk into the giant bole of a winewood that had fallen to lean on its neighbors. A great swath of sunshine had been opened to reveal the otherwise concealed forest floor below. Far below.
Sacha was breathless but exhilarated. Her heart crashed against her rib cage, and she leaned back as much as her restraints would allow, laughing weakly. “Still testing my limits, Bora?”
Book of Sacha: Dark Fate (The Dark Fate Chronicles 3) Page 6