Awakenings

by C. D. Espeseth

  They had a much more immediate need of the prince’s skillset, one that required him to continue to work within the shadows.

  She focused on the hum within her mind, focused on the vision of seeing empty space, on clear air and on mundane emotions. Knife-like mental focus was the secret to the Vinda magics, and Esmerak’s focus was unmatched within the Sisterhood.

  She projected her memory charm and began following the cousins from a safe distance, concentrating on making those around her forget they ever saw her.

  4 - Singing

  The loss of faith is possibly one of the greatest failings of what was once my culture. I understand why it happened. Adherence to dogma is not a practice which was sustainable in my old world, and the acts committed in the name of faith lost more worshippers than it protected.

  We said we had disproved the presence of a God, that the notion of the conscious entity described in the old texts was absurd, but, to quote an old saying, did we also throw the baby out with the bathwater?

  Our loss of fait led to the gradual erosion of any sort of reverence for the natural world around us. The loss of the sense of ‘holiness’ in the world seems to allow people to feel justified in destroying that world.

  I believe the reintroduction of faith may have something to do with humanity finally re-joining the Tiden Raika. A reconnection to the idea of something greater than ‘self’ is needed.

  How that might manifest without repeating the mistakes of the past however is something I do not have the answer to, for I was made in a world where Science was God, and while I can recognise the rot within myself, I do not hold the cure.

  I can only hope those who inherit the world can find what we lost.

  - Journal of Robert Mannford, Day 227, Year 023

  Echinni

  The Red Tower, New Toeron, Bauffin

  A pure, crisp note filled the room with sound; it resonated through her entire body and filled her with energy and joy. It felt as if everything were right in the world, and in that same moment, the tuning fork across the room began to vibrate in harmony with her voice.

  Echinni couldn’t help but smile as she tried to hold the note, letting the last of the air in her diaphragm push forth until there was nothing left. She pulled in a long and satisfying breath before smiling. She had been trying to get that fork to resonate for months now. It was a note higher than anything she had held before, and it meant her range had finally grown to that next level.

  After the strangeness of the initiation ceremony last night, she needed something which felt normal and part of the routine she had kept for the last dozen years. There had been a power present during the fight between the two brothers. It had flowed through her, around her, as if she had suddenly opened her eyes and seen an entirely different world hiding behind the normal one, yet she knew it had always been there. There had been a song within that power, or a power within that song, she wasn’t quite sure which.

  The brothers had been taken into custody overnight, but the more Echinni thought on it, the more she was convinced they were not solely to blame for what happened. Yuna had later told her about the waves of energy slamming into the crowd as the brothers fought, yet Echinni could only vaguely remember the feeling of power flowing through her, the feeling of suddenly being connected to something vast. Kai had said he had felt the same as her.

  That made her smile for a different reason.

  “Very good Echinni.” Maestra Lascotti’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Your range is almost as impressive as the hierophant’s. You should be pleased with yourself, child.”

  The Maestra, Echinni’s voice coach and mentor for six years now, sat with her hands crossed on her lap and wore a smile of encouragement.

  “I am pleased with my progress, Maestra Lascotti, that note has taken me quite a while to reach.” Echinni widened her own smile to satisfy the women sitting across from her, making sure to show her teeth. Maestra Lascotti never seemed to believe Echinni was happy until she saw her teeth.

  “That’s better child. Now hit the same note again, feel the frequency of it, and increase the power behind it. Then–” Maestra Lascotti had explained how to increase the resonance of a note hundreds of times to Echinni, but the Maestra repeated her instructions again anyway.

  Grudgingly, Echinni did have to admit there was a certain calming and focusing influence about the Maestra’s repetitions, and these lessons felt etched into Echinni’s brain. Up, up, up from the diaphragm, that’s where the power is. Stand up straight, let the lungs have all the air they can, but push it into your stomach. Scales, scales, scales, keep the voice from becoming frail, frail, frail. Vowel sounds, not enunciation. Vowel sounds, not enunciation. Know the song, know when to breathe. Riffs, runs, control. Riffs, runs, control! The dozens of repeated sayings sped through Echinni’s mind unbidden. They may be annoying, but the Maestra’s methods did help her remember.

  Echinni straightened, making sure her diaphragm was free to move. She drew a deep, controlled breath and began making her way up through her octaves to the high note of the tuning fork. Though every note was important, she was saving her power for this top note, and when she found it again, she began to push everything she had into it.

  Echinni saw the twin tines vibrate slightly and she closed her eyes to concentrate. Her senses expanded as she searched for the frequency of the tines, for the energy they were releasing. People said there were similarities between siphoning and true singing, but Echinni didn’t put much stock in that since she was one of the few who could do both. To her, siphoning felt like drawing things into yourself, whereas singing felt like stretching yourself outwards. When you sang, each note felt like sending out thousands of tiny ghostlike fingers to touch the world around you; gently probing into surfaces and tickling objects which enjoyed the note. They called it a Singer’s ‘Presence’.

  Echinni forced herself to concentrate. Her stomach muscles clenched straining to hold the exact position as she pushed into the sound. Echinni forced her mind to focus on the protruding tines and suddenly felt the ghostlike fingers of her Presence grasp the vibrating fork.

  “Good, Echinni. You have it. Try to hold it.” Maestra Lascotti’s voice chimed at her as if from a great distance.

  Her body began to shake with the effort of holding the note; her breath had all but left her lungs, but the resonating energy in the forks felt different this time. Echinni pushed the note into tuning fork with all her strength.

  Suddenly the ghostlike fingers of her Presence lost hold of the tuning fork.

  Maestra Lascotti squeaked, and Echinni felt a sharp lance of pain on her forearm. She lost the note and gasped for air.

  Echinni opened her eyes she was shocked to see the room looking like a tornado had hit it a split second before the door beside Maestra Lascotti burst open as if hit by a battering ram, eliciting another yelp from the poor Maestra who dived for cover beside a table.

  Yuna’s massive, muscular body filled the doorway. A savage look dominated the tattooed face, and Hunsa, her huge gold-burnished greatsword was already drawn and humming with energy. The blue runes along its length were dancing with fire.

  “Yuna, it’s fine. It’s ok.” Something about the scene in this room felt familiar. Images of people lying on the ground at the initiation ceremony came back to her. The brothers smacking their staves together… there had been a note to those blows, a rhythm underlying everything which had happened last night. She had used her Presence somehow at the ceremony. Yet, there was more to it than that. Kai had heard it too.

  It wasn’t the brothers who were to blame for the incident.

  At least not entirely. She and Kai had been part of it somehow.

  “You’re bleeding. Things are not fine.” Yuna glared down at Maestra Lascotti who was trying to regain her feet. Yuna grabbed hold of the Maestra’s robe and lifted the rather plump woman straight off her feet. “What did you do to her?” Yuna growled, her eyes promised death.

  Ech
inni looked at her arm and saw the red droplets spilling out of her dark skin. She was bleeding.

  The Maestra went white as a sheet. “I-I ...”

  “Unhand her, Yuna!” Echinni yelled. “I did this!” Shards of the shiny metal tuning fork were scattered across the table and around the room. Echinni looked down to the floor at the piece which had cut her. “See! There.” Echinni pointed to the shards. “I made the tuning fork explode somehow, and the shards cut me.”

  Yuna let the Maestra down to her feet and looked at the shards of tuning fork as if they might still be a threat somehow.

  Suddenly Echinni began to feel dizzy and pain sliced into her head. Her hands clamped down to try and push against the pressure pounding through her skull. Echinni fell to her knees, crying out in pain.

  She felt Yuna’s giant hands wrap around her.

  “What is happening!” Yuna barked at the Maestra.

  “It was her Presence!” Maestra Lascotti yelled back at Yuna. “She extended it more forcefully than I thought possible. The headache is normal. It quite often follows after a significant use of the Presence. We weren’t expecting this for years yet.” The Maestra had recovered from her rough handling and had regained a measure of dignity.

  Maestra Lascotti shuffled towards a cabinet. The glass doors of which now lay in bits at its base. The Maestra shook her head, “That cabinet was over two hundred years old. We should have been practising somewhere else.”

  Echinni’s head still pounded, but she could feel the pressure softening a bit. Yuna held her as easily as though she were a small child, but at the moment, she didn’t mind. Echinni doubted if she could have stood on her own.

  Maestra Lascotti had retrieved a vial of yellow ochre-coloured liquid, and a linen wrap “Open your mouth, this will help for the pain, and then we’ll wrap up that gash.”

  “What is it?” Yuna snapped.

  “I’ve had enough of your aggression, young woman.” The Maestra’s tone hardened as she stared up at Yuna. “It’s white willow bark extract if you must know. Numbs the pain and headaches.”

  “You drink some first,” Yuna growled. The tip of Hunsa rose from the ground.

  “Oh, for Halom’s sake!” Maestra Lascotti downed half a vial of the yellow liquid. “If you think for one minute that I would wish this girl any harm, then you are utterly demented.”

  “All right,” Yuna said, lowering the greatsword, “and yes … demented is an accurate assessment. One which you should remember.” Yuna stared at the Maestra until she lowered her eyes.

  “Yes, thank you. My head is pounding.” Echinni tried to smile her thanks, though she was sure the Maestra had never been manhandled or spoken to like that before in her life.

  “There is a reason we teach you to be gentle when trying to increase resonance with your Presence.” The Maestra straightened herself yet again and handed another vial of the yellow liquid to Echinni with a pointed glance at Yuna. “As you know, every material in the world has a natural frequency or its own song. However, when that material is pushed too hard, you will break it, throwing it into disharmony and undoing the natural song which holds all things together.” The Maestra’s hands were gentle as she bound Echinni’s wound after first inspecting it to make sure no metal slivers were embedded beneath the skin.

  Echinni could already feel the willow extract making her mind feel a bit cloudy, and everything started to feel somewhat fuzzy.

  “I’m sorry, Maestra; I was just running out of breath and wanted to hit that note again. I’ll be more careful next time.” Echinni grimaced. She knew better than to push things too quickly. Many Singers had lost their voices completely by being too hasty and pushing the boundaries too far. Escaping with only a small cut was lucky.

  “I should hope so. No need to be overzealous my dear, you’re already a child prodigy, but I suppose one gets used to the expectations being so high. I should have anticipated your urge to push faster than my other students.” The motherly woman looked up from where she knelt by Echinni’s side with a knowing smile as she finished tying off the bandage.

  “I love singing, Maestra,” Echinni tried to explain. “There is no other feeling like it in the world.”

  The Maestra smiled at that. “You are preaching to the choir, my dear. I know as well as you the loving feel of Halom’s touch when you reach out and touch the true song. When you are caught up in the emotion and feel of it all.” She patted Echinni’s hand then. “You are so strong with it. You must exercise caution and allow yourself to gain wisdom and experience.”

  The Maestra stood and walked to the tuning fork to examine it. “But I suppose someone with your ability would have found out about this sooner or later. Most are fully fledged Singers when they discover their Presence. Halom preserves us, His Will has led us here for a reason.”

  Echinni took a moment to look at the damage she had done. It would be a long time before she could convince Yuna classrooms were safe again.

  Maestra Lascotti settled herself back into her seat. Echinni knew that look. She was in for a lecture, and she doubted the fuzziness of her mind would help do anything but increase the numbness of another lecture.

  “The headache comes from interrupting and ultimately altering the natural frequency of the tuning fork. Increasing resonance past the limits of an object has its drawbacks. The more built-up energy caused by inducing resonance, the harsher the backlash headache received if the object breaks. It takes a great deal of practice to dance the edge between interrupting the natural rhythm of an object and directly enhancing the resonance.” The older women fixed Echinni with a stern look. “It is not something to be tampered with lightly.”

  “Yes, Maestra.” Echinni bowed her head in acquiescence. Questions sprang forth like budding flowers despite the effects of the willow bark mixture. “The Hafaza; this is what they do, isn’t it? I always wondered why there was a military branch of the Singers.”

  Maestra Lascotti gave a resigned sigh. “We do not tell initiates these things because this power can be dangerous. Halom gives only a select few of us the ability to feel with the Presence, and even fewer the strength great enough to interrupt the natural harmony of objects around them. The Hafaza have always been few in number, but the demand for them has increased due to their ability to enhance a siphoner’s power. As you know, your father discovered this and used it to devastating effect. A Hafaza can enhance the energy being used by as many as ten siphoners using multiple conduits.” Maestra Lascotti smoothed the folds of her yellow and green robes, looking somewhat uncomfortable. Her nose raised slightly as if smelling something distasteful. “Though I would hope your studies do not steer you towards the more violent uses of this gift.”

  “My father and hierophant used these techniques to win the war and bring peace,” Echinni said, “yet you do not condone their actions?”

  “I see you are getting better at putting words in people’s mouths.” Maestra Lascotti raised an eyebrow. “I have no authority to condone their actions or not. I simply think there is something regrettable about using Halom’s gifts in this way.”

  “Yes, Maestra.” Echinni chastised herself for getting flustered; people were allowed a difference of opinion. Her issues were with her father, not the Maestra. She would have words with her father about this. “Thank you for telling me this, Maestra.”

  “Halom’s Will compelled me. I felt his touch in my moment of hesitation and knew He wanted me to reveal this.” The answer was stated as fact, and Echinni had no doubt Maestra Lascotti believed every word.

  Echinni did not feel the buzz of the Will around her; it came to everyone in its own way, blowing this way and that like the wind.

  “Maestra …” Echinni hesitated, but couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Are you certain it is Halom’s Will which we listen to? Could the feeling not be something else?” Echinni’s mouth clamped shut like a trap. What did I just say?! Maestra Lascotti was the last person she should be debating theology with. The words
had just slipped out.

  The serene look vanished from Maestra Lascotti’s face. Her eyes glared sharply at Echinni. “You have been spending too much time talking to Chroniclers, I think, my child.” Scorn was etched all over the older woman’s face. “How can you doubt Halom’s touch when you can feel it? When you feel His song flow through you?” The Maestra was truly worked up now, and Yuna’s body subtly tensed at the change in tone.

  “You would let that eccentric group of dusty blasphemers cloud your mind with fanciful theories about Jendar magic. They are nothing more than trumped up rubbish collectors with their theories and stories that change from hour to hour!” Maestra Lascotti’s back had straightened, and the plump woman somehow seemed to be looking down at Echinni despite Echinni having a good three inches on the woman.

  “I haven’t been talking to those ‘trumped up rubbish collectors.’” Echinni said meekly, but the Maestra did not hear her protest.

  “And yes, I’ve heard their ridiculous arguments about how the Jendar changed the very essence of humanity in a desperate act before they fell to a world which rose up and destroyed them. And do you also believe the stories of giant monsters wiping out entire empires? Of people flying on chariots through the sky, of weapons so powerful they could break the very earth we stand on? I even heard one claim the Jendar could create new forms of life as if they were akin to Halom himself!” Maestra Lascotti made herself breathe and place a calm hand on Echinni’s shoulder. “You could ask every Chronicler in the order, and each would tell a different story. They are very good at finding old relics and spending endless days conjecturing about their uses, but when it comes to knowing Halom’s Will, we Singers are the experts.”

  The Maestra’s voice was full of pride and belief, “Our entire order was founded by the those who felt Halom’s Will. Halom guided our society out of a dark age, which the Jendar left us with after the Ciwix.” The eyes of her teacher implored Echinni to believe. “Halom and his guidance through the Will helped the North stop the conquest of the Dark Queen. He watches over us, my child, how can you doubt?”