Magician In Training (Power of Poses Book 1)

by Guy Antibes

  “Come at me, boy.” Dalistro said through clenched teeth.

  There was no reason for them to stare at each other, thought Trak, so he feinted and stepped back. Dalistro ground his teeth and advanced, but his movement was too fluid for a feint. He jerked his sword and then moved it forward again. The move didn’t fool Trak, but he had never seen it before from Dalistro or from Gio or his students.

  He smiled. This was the kind of a match where he would have to use all he knew. Trak realized that he was okay with that. He twisted away from Dalistro’s slash and assumed a different defensive pose where his blade pointed straight at Dalistro. He’d never used it before.

  That brought a grin to his tutor. “Finally, you shed your conservative moves. Your timing couldn’t be better.” Dalistro grit his teeth for another slash, but this time, rather than evade the blow, Trak moved into it and ducked beneath his own blade that parried Dalistro’s blade and thrust, nearly reaching Dalistro’s stomach.

  His tutor thrust his backside back, evading Trak’s thrust and took a few steps back. “You nearly had me.”

  Trak didn’t tell Dalistro that he had pulled his thrust, but he stepped back himself. If he had tried those moves on the ship when they first came to Santasia, Trak would have been sliced in two. Only through Gio’s conditioning regime did Trak have a chance against his tutor. He still sensed that Dalistro held back as well.

  “Now we have taken measure, eh?” Dalistro said in Santasian.

  “I’m not sure we have,” Trak said, breathing though his mouth, responding in the same language.

  His tutor laughed. “Good for you.” He attacked with a flurry of slashes and thrusts that forced Trak back until he could turn Dalistro’s blade just enough to jump away from him. His tutor’s full speed astounded him.

  Both of them paused for a moment, catching their breaths. “In a duel, there would be no respite. You know that?”

  Trak nodded. Gio had them fight through their fatigue more than a few times. Trak threw out an overhead slash similar to the first one Dalistro had tried, but kept at it until Dalistro swept his blade towards Trak’s chest. It was the move Trak waited for when he put out his hand and held Dalistro’s wrist while he nicked Dalistro’s shoulder and moved into his guard.

  “I believe that is first blood.”

  Trak finally felt Dalistro relax. “It is.” He dropped his sword and bowed to Trak. “I can see what I did. I’ll have to remember that.”

  Trak had no doubt that Dalistro would never use that particular move against him again, but he said nothing. “A fair fight?”

  Dalistro smiled and narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps Gio taught you too well.”

  “Perhaps he did. I am thankful to you for the opportunity. Without the training, I would have been defeated in seconds.”

  His tutor nodded. “You would and you were, as I recall. Did you pull that thrust to my abdomen?”

  Trak saw no reason to dissemble. “I did. It was too dangerous to do anything else. You might have been too injured to leave on your trip.”

  Dalistro put his hand to his torn shirt and pulled back his hand, seeing a bit of blood. “You did a good enough job on my shoulder. That will be just enough to require a few stitches as a reminder of our match.”

  Trak wondered how many reminders Dalistro carried on his body. He expected that if he had many duels, that he too would not escape an injury. “Did I pass?”

  “Was this a test?” Dalistro said.

  “It was.”

  Dalistro laughed. “It was indeed. Remember me while I am gone with fond memories. You have exhausted me, so I will not be testing you with a staff. I shall return!” He saluted Trak with his bloody hand and left Trak to clean up the floor.

  ~

  “So, he just left?”

  Trak nodded to Honor. She had invited him to eat dinner in her house while he was gone. “I’m pretty sure he is on his way to Pestledown.”

  “That just gives us more time, then.”

  “Not quite,” Trak said. “He left a list of assignments and three tutors. We will have a bit more time, but my education persists.”

  “But you need to practice all of the poses,” Honor said.

  Trak shook his head while he was chewing some food and Sereni Barrazi had drilled into him that it was forbidden to speak with a full mouth. “I already know them by heart. I just need to learn the words.”

  “Then learn them and we will make our own way back to Pestle.”

  Trak ground his teeth and then took another bite. “I’ve been trying to get you to teach them to me since we arrived. We could have left sooner.”

  “You haven’t been ready until now. Your tutoring needed to be more complete, and now it is sufficient.” She put her chin up. “Poses, first.”

  “I know my poses.”

  “Yes, that’s why I’m teaching you the words.”

  Trak smiled. They were both frustrated with each other, but after dinner, Trak would learn more words.

  Later, in their workroom, Trak made the final notations on his portfolio. “Now, I’m up to thirty. I never imagined that those poses would create magical effects like that. Closing wounds, shattering glass, tearing down trees.” He shook his head.

  “It is true that there are thirty-seven more words to learn, but you know more than enough for any situation. Practice is the key. After you’ve mastered the sixty-seven poses and words, then we will talk about combinations.”

  Trak’s jaw dropped. “There is more?”

  Honor shook her head. “Of course, there is more. Magic has been studied for centuries, although most governments find some way of restricting its use. They kill the powerful magicians or eventually burn all of the books with poses and power words. Only in Colcan, is it taught openly and freely, but not even then as fully as I teach you now and they have also been known to kill and banish exceptionally powerful magicians in the past. Most magicians are unable to make as many as ten poses work.”

  “Even if they know them all?”

  Honor nodded. “Valanna might not have the power to do more than three or four.”

  “But she did have power.” Trak wondered about what purpose she served. He had just about finished inscribing the number code on one of the last poses for the night.

  “Enough to expose me for being a magician.”

  “How many poses do you think I’ll be able to make work?”

  Getting up, Honor went to the window and turned around. “All of them. Even among my people few can get them all to work. Pestle had always been the land with the strongest magicians, but they have all been killed or in hiding somewhere in the world.”

  “And my grandfather had to spoil it all.” Trak yawned. He was just about done, but their conversation interested him.

  Honor put her hands on the sill. “Perhaps he didn’t and it was staged by the Warishians.”

  “Neel would know that.”

  “Where do you think I got that idea? The real threat to your enemy to the south would be powerful magicians. In Warish and even here in Santasia, the magicians are weak compared to you.”

  “We should be careful,” Trak said, putting another code on a pose. Only one more to do.

  Honor put her hands on her hips. “I’ve already told you that more than enough times.”

  “I’m sorry I’m tired.” He finished his last code. “Maybe we should hide our books in case something happens.”

  Honor gently slapped his head. “Silly boy, of course I hide them.”

  “But if something happens to you?”

  “Follow me,” she said taking her own book and pointing to his. She walked to the front door and lifted the entry rug. “See this stone? Use this pose and a whispered word.” Trak recognized it as the pose for telekinesis. Her pointed finger raised a large stone up. It stayed there until they sequestered their books. Trak cleared his mind and burned the word into his memory.

  “How do you lower the stone?”

  “It’
s something not in the poses but a word of power that will pull the power out of most any spell. ‘Worry’. No pose is necessary, try it.”

  Trak pointed to the stone. “Worry!” he said while he pointed at the stone. It slowly lowered. Trak thought it was like an exhale. “Worry,” he said to himself. “That works on any spell?”

  “Most,” Honor said shrugging her shoulders.

  “Do magicians use it to defuse spells when they duel?”

  She pinched his ear. “You’ve got duels on the mind, but yes, it would work. Remember, it doesn’t reverse the spell, it weakens the effect, that’s quite a different thing. Nothing that I know of reverses a spell, but now you know there are spells that have opposite effects. Tomorrow, you will learn how to properly invoke the shield poses.”

  “Good,” he said. He shook his head. “I am tired.”

  “Then, good night.” Honor replaced the rug and opened the door.

  Trak made his way back home, blinking and yawning the entire distance. The night was cool, but without a wind to drive in the cold, he thought it did a good job of keeping him awake. He fell on his bed, fully clothed and instantly fell asleep.

  ~

  Two days later, Trak stood in his rooms, getting ready to practice the water shield spell among others, since the spring rains had started in Espozia. They both had decided that his portfolio should stay at Honor’s house. He heard yelling and furniture being thrown. He ran out of his rooms and found himself surrounded by men and women dressed in the yellow robes of the Magicians Guild.

  Dalistro had gone and Trak should have locked his door. That might not have done any good, looking at the furniture in disarray. These magicians at least knew how to throw things. His heart sunk and he hoped that Honor would have the sense to get away. His tutor had hoped that Trak’s capabilities would never be discovered, but now that was a false hope.

  “Trak Bluntwithe of Pestle?”

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “By decree of the Council of Magicians, I lay my hands upon you as a rogue magician and impress you into our most eminent Magicians Guild.”

  Trak wondered how many times these people had said the same words when they abducted magicians. Trak looked for an opening to run through, but then two of them struck poses and, before Trak could assume the recently learned spell shield pose, they froze him so he couldn’t move.

  “Let me go!” he said mumbling through lips that refused to move. His body was stiff as they lifted him up and carried him to a wagon and carted him away. They passed Honor’s house, but he didn’t see any sign of the yellow robes there.

  He had no one to help him. Trak was well and truly trapped.

  ~~~

  Chapter Eighteen

  VALANNA LOOKED AT HERSELF IN THE MIRROR. The garments that she wore made her more than a little uncomfortable. These weren’t desert clothes, but likely from a brothel of some sort. Everything was filmy and she couldn’t cover up everything that needed covering, besides the evening air was too cool for such an outfit.

  “I can see the look on your face,” the maid said. “Bear in mind you go to dinner with a prince of the Warish, son of our esteemed king, Marom Ferez.”

  “These are garments better worn by a streetwalker,” she said.

  The maid shrugged and pulled a more complete undergarment of blue silk. “Then put this on underneath. Prince Nez will have them all off of you when he chooses. I just wish I were you.” She smiled wistfully. Valanna would have liked to throttle her. The older woman disgusted Valanna. What was she thinking when she agreed to meet with the Prince? Valanna frowned, because she knew she didn’t have a choice. “You may go.”

  The woman sneered at Valanna. If a maid felt confident enough to make such a face, what was her purpose? A plaything? She shuddered as she remembered Podor giving her to Timor Saddlebug for an hour or two and that had turned into a disgusting trap for Trak Bluntwithe. She had felt utterly helpless. Fear had drained her of any ability to use magic to fend off Podor or Timor until Trak had come to the rescue. Who would rescue her here, in the castle of the Warishian king? She remembered the concern in Trak’s eyes and wish that he was here to protect her now. But realistically, Trak had none of the skills to fight a prince of the Ferezanan. They were all superb swordsmen. She wished Trak had been three or four years older… She shook her head. That was a long-lost dream and what she faced tonight was a dreadful, dreadful nightmare.

  She began to weep. Perhaps she could kill herself and lifted the small knife from the plate that held the remains of her midday meal. It hovered above her wrist. The knife shook in her hand, but then she threw it across the room and collapsed in a sobbing heap.

  Life had more meaning than her dignity! How weak she was! Valanna couldn’t think of herself as more pitiable. She was no better than a slave. Why had her uncle, as disreputable as he was, died when she needed his protection the most?

  The dress came off and the undershift replaced it. Even that little bit of visual protection made her feel better. She slipped the dress back on and stood back, looking at her tearstained, swollen face in the mirror. Better. At least she would start out with the barest shred of her questionable dignity.

  “You are a beautiful girl,” a voice said from behind a curtain. She recognized the voice, Asem Ferez. He walked out and lightly touched the fabric of the dress. “I am sorry for your predicament.”

  “Sorry? You were the one who introduced me to Prince Nez and took me to Podor Feely. I suppose I returned at your orders.”

  Asem shrugged. He really did look sincerely sorry, but then, the desert people were such good actors. “The Prince’s idea, little one. He commands, I obey.”

  She looked at Asem in the mirror. What did it matter? She felt her lip move into a pout and saw it in the mirror. Valanna immediately pursed her lips. Pouting worked with her uncle, but it did not go far among the desert people. She had learned that early during her childhood in Balbaam.

  “You think and correct. I like that,” Asem said.

  Was he flirting? His face didn’t look like it. “So what can I do, now that you are sorry?”

  His face twisted in thought. “You know that I am a magician—“

  “Of sorts, you told me once,” she said.

  Asem nodded. “Of sorts, I agree. I have little power, although I keep it unknown. I only tell you because I will be using a certain spell tonight. The prince usually has me serve him. It makes him feel better if he can order around an older man—“

  “But you are the king’s cousin!”

  He laughed mirthlessly. “The king has a forty-two cousins, it is part of being Ferezanan. Nez is his father’s oldest son.”

  Valanna understood that much anyway. “What do you have in mind?”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “Nothing much, a sleeping spell, simple and administered at an appropriate time.”

  “Why do you do this for me?”

  Another laugh, filled with sorrow. “Why not? You are young, pretty and certainly deserve better, unless you like being used as a—.”

  Valanna’s mouth dropped down with horror. “Of course not!”

  “What did you think of the Bluntwithe boy?”

  “He was much nicer than the prince, but a little younger than me.”

  “Does that make a difference?”

  Valanna felt a thread of indignation. “It does when you are my age. But he saved me from Saddlebug and made Podor pay, a bit, for his actions. He is shy, but more competent than he believes himself to be.”

  “A humble hero, eh?”

  She nodded her head. He actually was quite nice and cute for a sixteen-year-old.

  “Is he honorable?”

  Valanna wondered why Asem asked her these questions. “Of course. He was very honorable, in my poor estimation. Who knows now? No one has told me what happened after he saved me.”

  “His next history tutor, Misson Dalistro from Santasia, took him away to his home country. Someone told the Pestle
authorities that he practiced magic.”

  “And Honor Fidelia?”

  “She left as well. Same ship, as much as we know.”

  Valanna sighed. “It wasn’t you who turned him in?”

  Asem shook his head. “No. I have already talked more about the boy than I should have. It is time to go.”

  She looked in the mirror and then turned around. “I appreciate any help you can give.”

  He nodded and walked to the door, holding it open for her.

  ~

  “Thank you, Asem. You are excused.”

  Valanna couldn’t help but cough. Her lifeline had been dismissed.

  Prince Nez walked over to her and patted her on the back. It was all she could do to keep from flinching at his touch. She looked in horror at Asem, but he looked back and nodded.

  “If you need me, I will be close by.”

  The prince laughed. “I won’t be needing any of your help, if you know what I mean.”

  She looked at the prince’s bloodshot eyes that ran up and down her body. That brought on another spell of coughing. The prince pounded on her back. She wanted to run from the room, but insulting Nez wasn’t something someone did.

  He took her by one hand. The back of Valanna’s other hand covered her mouth. Perhaps her coughing fit hid the tenseness that seemed to overcome her body and her mind.

  “Nez!” Two men walked in with attractive women. The men left the women standing where they were and went to a table to pour wine.

  Valanna took another look at the women and recognized them as prostitutes. The prince’s regard for her would be no different. She couldn’t help the tear that ran down her cheek. The other two women sauntered over to the table and let their escorts pour wine for them. Prince Nez looked over at her and just leered while he downed a cup of wine and poured another.

  She wished that she had enough courage to use her magic. Asem was nowhere in sight. She sighed and sat down on a cushion at the dining table, feeling miserable and cowardly. It had been arrayed with fruit and savory pastries. Perhaps she could eat herself to death.