by S. L. Viehl
I didn’t sleep for the rest of the night, but found some cold consolation in the fact that Kol didn’t, either.
Several days passed, during which Kol again spent most of his time away from training and us. I ignored
the desire to hunt him down and act in less than a sisterly manner, and instead applied what I’d learned
from the experiment with Os and the Tingalean. With a little hunting, I found willing tutors for the rest of
the clan, though it took some effort to convince the others the idea would work.
“I know you don’t like hurting anyone,” I told Nalek as I took him to meet Alvred, a black-skinned
e’Pafostol who was half again as big, and twice his weight. “Alv says it’s inherent to your species’ nature.”
When they met, Alv bowed formally and studied Nalek. “You are small.”
Nal grimaced. “I often wish I were smaller.”
The e’Pafostol turned his back on him to address me. “This runt fears himself more than an opponent.
Why did you deceive me?”
I held up my hands. “Hey, I just thought I’d give it a shot.”
“Then you should not think.” Alv pulled his blades and nodded toward the quad. “You should dance.”
Nal tried to step between us. “There is no need for a challenge.”
An e’Pafostol hand landed in the center of my ClanBrother’s chest and shoved him back three feet. “Stay
out of this, runt.”
“I’m not fighting you over a simple misunderstanding,” I told Alv.
“You believed this coward worthy of my tutoring, did you not? And yet look at how he cringes at the
thought of spilling blood.” Alv made a rude gesture over his huge shoulder. “Come; we will dance, you
and I.”
“No,” Nalek said, tugging at my arm. “You will not do this, Jory. Let us leave.”
Alv casually clipped my ClanBrother across the jaw with his fist and sent Nal sprawling on the floor. “I
told you, runt, don’t interfere.”
“Better go, Nal.” I started for the quad.
Nalek picked himself up and went after Alv again. “Leave her alone.”
The e’Pafostol buried his fist in Nal’s stomach. “Are you deaf as well as puling-hearted?”
The big, dark green body folded in half; then something wonderful happened. With a strange animal
growl, Nal launched himself into Alv headfirst.
I smiled with pride as I watched them roll on the floor, grappling and punching each other. “Very nice.
Oh, good one, Nal. Keep it up. That’s the way. I’ll see you guys later.” I started for the trainee corridor.
“Jory?” Nal thrust Alv off him and staggered to his feet. “Are you leaving me with this madman?”
“I don’t have to watch him train you the whole time, do I?” Then I winced as Alv tackled him from
behind. “Good luck, big guy.”
There were no crystalline life-forms at the Tåna, so it was harder to figure out who would be like to like
for Renor. Finally I approached a female trainee named Phehaa, who agreed to meet with him and show
him some of her moves.
“She does not appear very dangerous,” Ren commented as he entered the session room and saw the
humanoid female waiting.
Phehaa nodded to both of us, then took off her tunic and an insulating garment similar to the one Ren
wore when training. As soon as she bared her skin, thousands of sharp, six-inch hollow spines sprang up.
“Dangerous enough for you now?” I asked him.
“Ah, that feels better.” She sighed and ran her prickly hands over her spiky derma. “I am Emsalmalin,”
she told Ren. “Physical contact of any duration with most other species is impossible for my kind. Saj
tells me you suffer the same inconvenience.”
Ren nodded.
“On my world, we are taught ghnilaatp, the forms of self-control in dominance and submission. Like so.”
She walked up to me and made as if to throw her arms around my neck. She stopped so suddenly that
her spines hovered a millimeter above the surface of my skin. “As children we learn to focus our energy
on the body disciplines, to prevent harm, and to inflict it.” She eyed Ren. “There is more that troubles you
than your outer being.”
When he glanced at me, I shook my head slightly. I hadn’t mentioned a word about his other talent.
“It is well, my friend, that you train with me.” Phehaa nodded to me. “As I told your comrade, I can give
you the discipline and focus you need for the inner and outer being. I would be interested to learn how
you remain so… untouchable… without ghnilaatp.”
Renor didn’t look happy when I left him with Phehaa, but then, he never looked happy any other time.
Sparky proved the most resistant.
“I do not need remedial training.” She walked right past the Imabjaic I’d asked to spar with her. “I will
overcome my difficulties on my own.”
I knew just how to get to her. “I see. So you can dish it out, but you can’t take it.”
Yellow hair began to rise. “What say you?”
“Hwitloc has a biofield, too. Show her, Hwit.”
The Imabjaic strolled over, pulled off a glove, and used a tendril sticking out of the back of his fin to tap
Danea on the arm. The two fields clashing sent a small burst of sparks into the air.
Sparky herself jumped about a foot off the floor, then rubbed her arm. “You shocked me!”
“I haven’t your natural coronaura, but yes, I can produce a fairly intense charge.” Hwit grinned, showing
piranhalike teeth as he tapped her again, sending her stumbling back. “In the reefs, it is a matter of
survival. I would enjoy sparring with you—your kind are prized trophies on my world.”
“I am not a trophy,” Sparky said, and stalked into the session room. Hwit nodded to me and followed
after her.
I felt like I’d accomplished a great deal when I headed back to our quarters to get some sleep. The
sound of blades clashing from another room made me glance inside.
Kol was sparring with a blade dancer. Not just any dancer, either—he was fighting with Uel, the Blade
Master.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Harness ambition and it will fuel the length of your journey.”
—Tarek Varena, ClanJoren
“I need a word with you,” I said to Bek when we had finished the bladework session the next day.
“I cannot provide you with more private training rooms,” he warned me as he dismissed the other
trainees.
“How about the one Uel and Kol are using?” I watched the surprise flicker in his gaze, and nodded. “I
saw them sparring last night. Since when does the Blade Master provide personal training?”
“Since Kol exceeded the skill levels of every trainer he has,” Bek said.
That made sense, but I was still suspicious. “Why not advance him to the order, then?”
“Kol, like the rest of you, must still undergo the Tåna-Shen.” Before I could say anything, he held up a
paw. “It was by his request that he has been held back all these weeks, so that when the time came, you
could fight together.”
That definitely sounded like Kol. “I see. So he’s been training exclusively with Uel all this time?”
“The Blade Master does not inform me of his daily schedule, but yes, I believe they have been sparring
together frequently of late.”
“You might have asked me, Saj.” The Blade Master stepped out from one of his tricky hidden recesses
and gestured toward the arena. “For now, however, you will assemble with the othe
rs around the quad.”
“I didn’t hear a summons,” I said. “And I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”
“Ask later.” He touched something on the wall panel, and a drone voice called third level to assemble.
“Go now.”
Bek and I followed Uel out to the arena, where Dursano was waiting inside the quad. The Blade
Master’s appearance silenced the assembled third-level trainees at once, and everyone watched as Uel
entered the quad and Dursano placed a small projection unit at his feet.
“Before now, nothing of the outside worlds you came from has been allowed to interfere with your
training. However, certain extraordinary events have occurred which must be discussed.”
Uh-oh. This doesn’t sound good.
“We have been notified by the Hsktskt Faction and the Allied League of Worlds that this region of space
has come under immediate occupation by forces from both sides.” Uel nodded to Dursano, who
activated the projection unit. A dimensional image of Reytalon and the surrounding system appeared,
wedged between two immense fleets of military vessels.
There were more than three thousand ships out there, and we were sitting right in the middle of them.
“Mother of All Houses,” Nal murmured beside me.
“League and Hsktskt forces have effectively blockaded Reytalon from all trade and supply routes,
placing the Tåna fully at the mercy of their warring armies,” Uel said. “In addition to this, leaders from
both sides have transmitted specific demands to me.”
Dursano projected a split image, one of a particularly nasty-looking Hsktskt OverLord, and another of a
League general.
“OverLord CulVar of the Hsktskt demands all Tåna trainees be transported at once to his vessels, where
they will join faction forces and combat the League forces.” Uel paused for a moment. “General Hughes
has ordered all trainees be inducted into the Allied League forces to do the same to the Hsktskt.”
“Back to the rock and a hard place,” I muttered.
The other trainees made some noise, too, until Dursano held up his hand.
“I have no intentions of surrendering any of you to either force,” Uel said. “That is not the way of the
order.”
“You haven’t got a choice, Blade Master,” I said, loud enough to be heard. “If you don’t, they’ll invade.”
“I have offered a compromise to both coalitions, to which they have agreed. All remaining second-level
trainees will be advanced, and along with you will be permitted to complete the training and join the order
before you are appropriated.” Over the sound of shocked voices, Uel added, “I have no intention of
keeping that compromise, I promise you. It is merely a tactic. I have begun making separate
arrangements to provide safe passage for everyone from Reytalon. I know all of you will recognize this
next image.”
Dursano projected a replica of the spacial anomaly that had sucked us in during the battle with the
Garnotan ship, only brightly colored gaseous clouds surrounded this one.
“This is the Schaller Rift, through which all of you were brought to Reytalon. The location and nature of
the phenomenon is unknown to anyone outside the order; while ships may enter and exit our solar system
through conventional routes, the rift lies camouflaged within the remains of the Tnekar Nebula. The rift
itself allows undetected passage in and out of our system. It is the reason the order chose to build the
Tåna on this world.
“The rift is the escape route we will use. Members of the order will soon arrive with ships to take all of us
out of the war zone. Until they reach Reytalon”—Uel gestured toward the quad floor—“we will continue
as if we mean to keep the compromise with the Hsktskt and League. Those of you who wish to stay
behind and join either force will not be compelled to leave with the order.”
“How are we to be certain you will keep your word?” I heard Renor call out.
“I can swear before any deity you choose, but nothing is certain beyond death, Ren.” Uel seemed
amused. “However, if you wish to verify my actions, I will provide access to the Tåna database to a
representative for the trainees.”
“Silvers do not need verification.” Fayne moved to stand beside the quad. “The word of the Master is
enough for us.”
A Cordobel emerged from the crowd. “Browns trust in the word of the Master.”
Everyone looked at us.
I was tempted to say the whites wanted everything etched on crystal, but Kol stepped forward. “White
neutral accepts the Blade Master’s word.”
“Then it is decided. Training will continue as scheduled, and all trainees are advanced to purple. The
Tåna-Shen will be held in two weeks. Prepare yourselves for the final challenge.”
Being in immediate danger changed everything at the Tåna, and not for the better. Uel’s offer to get
everyone off Reytalon before the Hsktskt or League could invade should have acted as a buffer between
the silvers and the browns, but in a strange way it only made things worse. Being denied the opportunity
to immediately join the occupying forces infuriated some, while others crowed over which side would
prevail in the war. Soon the quad never remained empty for long. Silvers and browns constantly
challenged each other to bouts, and sometimes fought to the death.
In the center of the growing unrest, the white neutrals were fair game for either side.
Then there were all the remaining second-level trainees who were advanced to third so they could
participate in the Tåna-Shen. They were like walking target forms, and Fayne decided to vent her spleen
on them by directing her silvers to drag the ones who would not join them into the quad at any
opportunity. Four died during one session alone, until Kol brought most of them under the protection of
the whites.
“If you wish to survive to escape, you must pair off with the more experienced,” he said during an
impromptu gathering in the arena. “Each of you will be expected to do the same as any white—do not
challenge, and do not accept challenges. Protect your partner at all times. And remain neutral in any
discussion on the war.”
Despite absorbing the second-level trainees, white neutral remained outnumbered by both silver and
brown, three to one. Pairing off didn’t always help, either, as evidenced by a challenge accepted by two
whites, who were subsequently slaughtered in the quad by Cirilo and Cheev.
“At this rate, Uel won’t need escape vessels,” I muttered to Ren as I watched the bodies being dragged
from the quad. “We’ll kill each other long before they or the bad guys get here.”
“What would you suggest I do, Sajora?”
I turned to look down at the shrouded face of the Blade Master. “Deactivate the implants. Better yet,
have them removed.”
“The implants control the transmutation point of the tåns. If they are removed, your blades will remain
solid.”
How convenient. “Then get rid of the poison trigger.”
“That would require removal of the implant.”
“You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you, Blade Master?” I nodded toward the two dead trainees.
“Except they can’t hear you anymore.”
“Do you wish to be a dancer, or a philanthropist? For I assure you, Sajora, you cannot be both.” Uel
strode off.
“Firs
t person I challenge when I get the black,” I said to Ren, “is him.”
“Considering the amount of time the Blade Master spends watching you, I would advise against such a
course of action.” A halo of light glittered around his face as he turned to scan the arena. “I have not seen
Danea. Does she practice with the Imabjaic this morning?”
“No.” I looked around, too. “They were only sparring after training, I thought.” A minor commotion was
in progress on the other side of the arena—more silvers and browns posturing for challenges—and then I
saw a familiar glow, and someone fly backward. “Shit.”
Ren and I went over to find Sparky and Hwitloc back-to-back in the middle of a widening circle, their
garments torn, their blades unsheathed. Someone had cut Danea’s arm, and Hwit’s face was bleeding
from two shallow wounds.
Someone being Cirilo, judging by the blood on his hands and blades.
“You’re having a party and didn’t invite us?” I said as Ren and the whites fanned out behind the silvers.