“Good. That was well done. Your other option would be to rotate your forward leg back, while your back leg stays put.”
Talinir helped Victor adjust his stance, guiding him into position.
“Today is going to be all about stances and endurance. You’re not going to be actually fighting with these swords. We’ll switch to wooden practice swords for that. But I wanted you to be familiar with the weight and feel of the real thing.”
For the next two hours, Talinir took them through several basic stances. Some Marshal knew. Some he didn’t. Talinir made them move back and forth across the arena while staying in a low defensive stance. Through it all, he insisted they keep their swords held up. It didn’t take long before they both tired of the swords’ weight. Despite the cool temperatures, sweat soon drenched their bodies. At some point early in the first hour, Eniri left.
“Can we practice without the swords?” Victor asked.
Talinir smiled without humor. “I told you part of this was about endurance. If you were in a battle and the enemies kept coming, would you lower your sword because you got tired?”
“How many enemies?” Victor muttered.
Marshal didn’t mind at all. As long as he held the sword, his hands neither tingled nor shook. Aelia’s sword didn’t have this effect on him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had gone this long without those feelings. Maybe never.
It was curious, though. If the shaking and tingling came from the magic power of his birthright, did the sword actually block the magic? He carefully set the sword down on the sand.
“Marshal! I said to keep your sword up!” Talinir said.
Marshal ignored him and stared at his palms. A few moments went by. Talinir strode to him, irritated. In that instant, the familiar tingling spread across his hand, like thousands of tiny needles.
“Are you hearing me?” Talinir demanded.
Marshal picked the sword back up. The tingling stopped. Fascinating.
“Don’t take another rest unless I tell you to,” Talinir warned.
Was the sword completely blocking the power, though? He had only one way to be sure. He stared at the hand holding the sword and concentrated. For a long time, nothing happened. Slowly, so slowly it took him a while to notice, the power began to build up. After a few more moments, his hand began to shake.
“What are you–” Talinir’s eye bulged. “Marshal! Drop the sword! Now!”
Marshal could no longer hold the sword, anyway. It tumbled out of his hands. He grabbed at it and missed. After two hours of working leg muscles unused to being worked, he lost his balance. He stumbled and went down to one knee. His palm struck the surface of the sand.
The power exploded from his hand. Sheets of sand erupted upwards. Stinging particles struck every inch of their bodies.
“AHHHH!” Victor dropped his own sword and covered his face with both hands. Talinir stood upright, unmoving, with both eyes clenched shut.
The sand rained down around them in a coarse shower. It took at least half a minute for it to finally stop falling.
Victor and Talinir shook sand from their bodies, brushing off what didn’t fall off. Marshal remained on his knee, annoyed and embarrassed.
“Devouring fire, Marshal!” Victor ran fingers through his hair. “Watch what you’re doing!”
“He nearly channeled it through the sword,” Talinir said. “That would have been far worse.”
Victor shook his head again, raining more sand. “How could that have been worse?”
Talinir knelt in front of Marshal and reached out to place a hand on his shoulder.
“I am sorry, Marshal.”
Marshal looked up, curious. What did Talinir have to be sorry about? He wasn’t the one who had blown up the arena.
“I should have anticipated this,” the warden said. “Eldani steel, even in these basic blades, is designed to be a channel for magic. I did not consider that your powers would also find an affinity there.”
Talinir pulled Marshal’s sword out of the sand and held it as if it were a fragile thing. “Yes, I can feel it. You had already channeled a great deal of power into this.” He glanced at Victor. “Too much power, and the sword itself might have exploded. Would you call that worse?”
Victor nodded with a frown. “I’m never going to get all of this sand out of my hair.”
Talinir stood. “I think that’s enough for today,” he said. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll meet again. Aelia won’t be meeting with the High Council until the afternoon. I’ll bring out the wooden practice swords. They’ll be safer.” He smiled at Marshal. “For multiple reasons.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
WHEN SERI WOKE up the next morning, she immediately felt the change. At first, the disorientation overwhelmed her, and she almost fell out of the bed. What had happened? Everything seemed so… so… real. The bed, the walls, the blankets: they all seemed more distinct and solid than they ever had before.
And more than that: she could feel Zes Sivas. Exactly as she had felt the magic in the items during her testing, she now felt the magic of the island. But the scale went far beyond that. The magic in the items had felt like tiny vibrations in her palm. This, this felt like a massive resonance pulsing down below. She could sense it, feel it calling to her. She longed to reach out and tap into it somehow, to feel it course up through the ground into her body.
She clambered out of the bed and put her hands onto the floor. Even though she knew multiple levels of the citadel stood between here and the island itself, she still felt stronger being a little bit closer to the power. Her hands trembled when they touched the floor.
“Magnificent.”
Startled, Seri looked up to see Curasir standing in her doorway. She scrambled to her feet, grabbed the neckline of her nightgown and held it close. Had it been gaping open while she crawled on the floor? She fought embarrassment and a bit of fear.
“This… this is not proper,” she stammered.
Curasir’s expression did not change. “Oh, have I violated a human social custom? I apologize.” He sounded so cold, like his apology didn’t mean anything. “I only wanted to tell you that I wished to speak with you again, regarding the Otherworld. But…” He smiled. “I am pleased to discover that you have found your connection to the island’s power.”
“Yes.” Seri didn’t know what else to say. How tightly did the nightgown cling to her body? Conscious of her bare feet, she thanked Theon that at least the gown reached to her ankles and didn’t show more. At the same time, her senses felt the power of Zes Sivas pulsing below, calling to her.
“I will look forward to seeing how you adapt to this,” Curasir said. His non-starry eye seemed to be examining every inch of her. “I expect great things from you.” He turned away and disappeared.
Seri breathed a sigh of relief. She hurried to the door and shut it. Only then did she let go of her neckline and relax. Her whole body trembled. Had she been shaking the entire time?
What was it about the Eldani that had unnerved her so? It wasn’t just his presence in her bedroom and her state of undress. Embarrassment made sense, but not fear. She would not be frightened like this if a human had been at her door, like Dravid, for instance. For a moment, she lost her train of thought as she imagined the previous scene with Dravid standing there… How would she feel if…
She closed her eyes and shook her head. Focus. Curasir admitted unfamiliarity with human societal conventions. Or so he said. If true, his presence should not be taken in the same way as any other man’s. But it wasn’t just that. Nor was it the bizarre effect he had on everyone’s vision, unable to focus on his true form.
There was something more, something that had made her shake with… was it fear? Anxiety? Maybe the magic of Zes Sivas reacted to the different magic of the Eldanim and confused her. Maybe.
She got to her feet again. Before anything else, she needed to speak with Master Hain. Actually, before anything else, she needed to get dressed.
•••••
“You have taken your first big step into understanding the magic of this world,” Master Hain said.
“It’s almost overwhelming!” Seri said. She had hurried to his office as soon as possible. “Is it always like this?”
“The feeling will fade somewhat, but now that your senses have awakened, you will always be able to feel the power of Zes Sivas below you.” He held up a finger. “Be warned, however. When the Lords start arriving for the Passing in a few weeks, the power that is present will increase exponentially. By then, you should be used to the normal levels of power and able to handle the changes.”
Seri frowned. “And if I ever leave the island?”
“Your connection to Zes Sivas will grow weaker the further you travel from it. This is why most of our order are rarely able to do any kind of magic away from the island,” Master Hain explained. “Within the six lands, we are valued, not as much for our magical prowess, but for the wisdom and knowledge that we attain during our studies.”
While he spoke, Seri realized she could feel the magic in Master Hain himself. It was much like the magic she felt below, but smaller and contained. As he walked about the room, she could sense the vibrations of his presence, like tiny pulses against her skin.
A thought occurred to Seri. “You said I’ll be able to feel the Lords’ power when they arrive. Would I be able to feel it off the island?”
Master Hain nodded in approval. “Yes, once one is attuned, it is easy to sense those who have power. This is why wild magic practitioners try to avoid all members of the Conclave of Mages. We can recognize them wherever we meet.”
“So… why is it that no one has been able to find the King? Wouldn’t he be the easiest of all to detect, with all of his power?”
“You are making very logical connections. That is good. The problem of the high King is indeed perplexing. As was said in the council yesterday, everyone has been looking for him for hundreds of years.” He paused and cocked his head. “I say ‘him,’ but in reality what we are searching for is the King’s family. Whoever now carries the power of the high King has never actually been King, of course. We are at least two to four generations removed from the last true King who sat here at Zes Sivas.”
“Could it be a woman?”
“That is… plausible, but unlikely. As has been established for hundreds of years, the powers given to the Lords and King pass down to their eldest male child.”
“But what if they didn’t have one?” Seri pressed.
“Yes, as I said, it is plausible. But throughout the generations, Lords and Kings have made every effort to be sure they sired a son and heir, taking multiple wives when necessary, regardless of societal conventions.”
“Lord Enuru has no son,” Seri said. “And he is not a young man.”
Master Hain nodded gravely. “The situation is considered the gravest among all the Lords,” he said. “However, Lord Enuru seems dedicated to Lady Lilitu, despite efforts to persuade him to take another wife or mistress.”
“Because he actually loves her.” Seri had only met Lady Lilitu the one time, just prior to her journey to Zes Sivas, but she had been immensely impressed by the great lady.
“From what I have observed, that is probably true,” Hain acknowledged. “But he still bears the responsibility to pass on his power at his death.”
“They don’t even have a daughter. What would happen to his power if he were to die?”
“No one knows for sure.” Master Hain paused. “I presume that it would pass on to Lady Lilitu, as his closest family member, but that is questionable. It is not a blood relation, after all.”
“And if they were to both die without an heir?”
“It has never happened. We simply don’t know. Would the power itself seek out a new Lord? Would it simply return to the ground of Antises, as it was before? This was not foreseen by our ancestors.”
“Could that have happened to the King? Could he have died without an heir? And his power went back to the land?” Seri’s head swam with the speculation. But even as she said it, she knew. The earthquakes would not be happening if the King’s power had returned to the land.
“No.” Master Hain shook his head firmly. “We would know. The power here at Zes Sivas would grow, not with all of the King’s power, to be sure, but enough of it that we would know. No, somewhere out there, Antises has a King. He just doesn’t know who he is, or he doesn’t want to come forward.”
“Or she,” Seri added.
Master Hain rolled his eyes. “Or she.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
WHEN MARSHAL WOKE up the next morning, all the muscles in his legs seemed to be screaming. An odd sensation since he himself had never screamed. Across the room, he heard Victor roll over and groan. His companion stood up and promptly sat back down on the bed.
“I don’t know if I can stand!” he said. “We walk for miles to get here without a bit of soreness, but a few hours of stance training does this?”
It did seem strange. Maybe the leg muscles used in the stances weren’t the same as those used in walking. Marshal tried stretching a little before getting to his feet. It helped but still hurt. His arms also felt sore from holding the sword, but they ached less than his legs.
Aelia opened their door, letting light flow in. “Time to get up, boys,” she called. “Talinir will be expecting you shortly.”
“Tell him we’ve decided to go ahead and die in bed, instead,” Victor said.
“I’ll give you five minutes, and then I’ll come drag you out,” Aelia said. She closed the door.
“Ugh. Whose idea was this, anyway?”
Marshal endured more of Victor’s complaining as they got dressed. Marshal assumed he needed to express his feelings out loud, even if no one could respond to him. What would that be like? Once dressed, they grabbed a quick breakfast and walked back to the training grounds. They knew the way now. Eniri was nowhere to be seen this morning.
Talinir greeted them when they arrived and offered them a pair of wooden practice swords. Marshal took one and examined it. The weapon was carved, expertly but not decoratively, in the shape of the sword he had held the day before. The balance felt similar, but it didn’t weigh quite as much. It also didn’t stop the tingling in his hand. He tapped the blade against his palm. There would be no cutting with these, but a solid blow with one would probably leave a serious bruise.
“As you’ve already figured out, these practice swords are not harmless,” Talinir said. He held one himself, making it look practically weightless with the way he moved it around. “You will get hurt. I advise you to get used to it now.”
“After teaching myself how to use a flail, I’m used to bruises,” Victor said.
“I can imagine.” Talinir chuckled. “But that does bring up a good point. A sword is not a flail, Victor. The two weapons are used in completely different ways. You’ll have to resist the urge to try your flail attacks.”
“Someday, I’d like to be good at both.”
“There’s no reason why you can’t, as long as you’re willing to work hard. Speaking of which, let’s get to it.”
The warden dropped into a defensive stance, sword poised in front of him. “Come at me, both of you,” he said.
Marshal and Victor looked at each other. Without further consultation, they moved in toward Talinir, both trying to keep their stances straight. Before either of them could even swing a blade, Talinir stepped in toward them. He swung a quick uppercut that smacked Victor’s sword hand hard enough to make him drop it, then cut across to knock Marshal’s sword into the ground.
Victor shook his hand and grimaced. “Okay, so what was the point of that?”
“Just establishing how large the gap is between us,” Talinir said. “After learning a few moves, I don’t want you thinking you’re ready to take on all comers. This is an art form, and there are artists in this world that are more talented than I am.” He paused. “Not many, mind you, but there are
a few.” Another pause. “I think.”
“Ha!” Victor picked up his sword and resumed his stance.
“Keep in mind that your goal is not to strike your opponent’s blade. In fact, you should try to avoid it as much as possible. It will only damage the blade. Most humans I know would prefer using a shield for that purpose. I prefer dodging, parrying only when necessary. Let’s get started.”
Talinir showed them some basic strokes and had them repeat the exercises over and over, again making them work the stances back and forth across the arena. If their legs had been hurting when they woke up, they were in agony by the time the warden finally called a halt.
Although he had difficulty keeping his grip on the wooden sword, Marshal found everything else about the exercises totally natural. When Victor struggled to get a particular stroke correct, Marshal executed it almost perfectly on the first try. Talinir appeared to be going out of his way to compliment and encourage Victor without praising Marshal’s skill too much. Marshal understood. The last thing he wanted was to give Victor another reason to resent him.
After retrieving the practice swords, Talinir sent Victor to fetch some water for all three of them. Then he turned to Marshal with a critical eye.
“Aelia taught you well,” he said. “You’re adapting to this even faster than I anticipated. Have you practiced against anyone else?”
Marshal shook his head.
Talinir nodded. “Then you may be one of the most naturally talented swordsman I’ve ever encountered. I’d want a second opinion from one of the other wardens, of course. But… given enough work and practice, you could become a master at an early age.” He grew pensive, looking away. “But what good…” He trailed off.
Marshal knew what he was thinking. What good would be a sword master who couldn’t communicate? He could never pass on his skills to anyone, never teach anyone. Unless his curse was lifted.
Victor reentered the arena, carrying the water.
“Get a drink and then head home,” Talinir said. “You should have enough time to get cleaned up and grab something to eat before it’s time for Aelia to meet the High Council.”
Until All Curses Are Lifted Page 17