Awakenings

by C. D. Espeseth

  “All right, very good. Now try a combination you are comfortable with, but this time Lady Buika and her Hafaza will be enhancing your abilities. Feel the difference, try not to panic.”

  One of the Hafaza took a position behind Wayran, and he nodded to her in respect.

  “Whenever you are ready. The Hafaza will be able to feel when you begin and will slowly increase the power of your siphoning. Start with a heat or flame strike. Your control should be the same as before, yet to minimise damage to the siphoner, the goal is for the Hafaza to enhance the strike just before contact. Do not hold the energy! For Halom’s sake, do not hold the energy too long, err on the safe side and disperse your energy early rather than too late. You will begin to burn otherwise. Remember, it takes hours and hours of practice to develop a useful partnership between Syklan and Hafaza, but the power you can wield as a synchronous pair is devastating. Understood?” Lady Buika asked as she took up her own place beside Adel.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the initiates intoned as one.

  “Begin,” Lady Buika commanded.

  Wayran began to siphon in energy slowly, letting it flow through his body into the santsi atop his glove until enough energy had built inside the glowing orb.

  “Good. Now start to push that energy into your weapon.”

  He felt the energy flow through his hand from the santsi globe, the energy hummed within him as the stored energy within the orb tingled from the back of his hand into the metal contact point on his palm. The mace began to shimmer, and he felt the heat of the weapon radiate up to touch his cheek.

  Then as a unit, the Hafaza began to sing, notes of such purity Wayran couldn’t help but feel a joy rise inside of himself as the voices reached into him and touched the the flow of energy he was controlling. Every sensation he had expanded and suddenly the energy flowing through him felt like a river, one which he was meant to guide. He let the sensation grow inside of him, pain began to blend with pleasure, and his hands began to shake.

  The Hafaza’s eyes grew wider beside him, and she made a swiping motion with her hand.

  “Oh!” Wayran said, suddenly remembering what he was meant to do, and smashed the mace into the training dummy. The canvas sack erupted into flames, and the glorious river of energy disappeared as quickly as it had come.

  “You held it too long,” the Hafaza said, shaking her helmeted head.

  Wayran was about to ask a question when pain dropped him to his knees, and he ripped the leather santsi glove off his hand. “Ahhh!” he screamed and looked at his palm where a giant red blister had already formed at the point his skin had been touching the metal contact in the glove. His whole arm tingled with the remembered heat and the muscles in his arm were so tight he thought they might burst.

  Screams of pain around the square echoed his own as the pain began to throb dully and awareness of the world around his burnt hand came back to him. Wayran had not been the only casualty. It looked to him that about a third of the initiates were also gripping their hands or rolling on the sand in agony.

  “Many of you will not forget that lesson. Holding the enhanced resonant pulses of your siphoned energy is very damaging to the body, there is a backlash as the energy attempts to flow back through the contact points. A siphoner must release the energy through a strike or concentrate on holding the energy within the conduit tenfold once a Hafaza uses their Presence. This is another reason as to why we start with just a glove, think of the damage which could have been done if you were wearing a full trisk suit and conductive plate armour.” Lady Buika studied the injured initiates making sure her words hit home.

  They did. Wayran understood instantly. He would have been cooked alive if he had done that with a suit.

  “Hafaza, apply the aloe salves to the injured, wrap their wounds, and we will try again with those remaining.” Lady Buika waved her hand to her Hafaza, and they set to their task.

  Fellow Callahan stepped forward to inspect an initiate’s hand which looked particularly bad. Wayran could see the wound was red, raw and bleeding. The initiate’s hand was shaking when Fellow Callahan took it, though the young man was standing at attention. Wayran doubted he could have kept his mouth shut with such a horrific wound.

  Fellow Callahan reached into his leather hip satchel and pulled out some dry herbs then a small earthen pestle and mortar in which he crushed the herbs. He took a few fingers full of a paste from a small jar and mixed the remedy together with the pestle. He then grabbed a length of mullen out of the satchel, applied the paste and bound the young man’s hand. Yet, Wayran noticed the way Fellow Callahan was also gripping the young man’s wrist in a very particular way. He saw a small santsi atop Fellow Callahan’s ring flash briefly as he pressed the balm onto the wound and the young man’s face filled with immediate relief.

  “Go have a seat near the edge where you can still see, your legs might feel a bit wobbly after that,” Fellow Callahan’s quiet voice instructed.

  The whole process had taken their teacher only a few heartbeats. He repeated the process on several of the other students and Wayran watched the subtle use of siphoning seem to aid the healing process.

  Fellow Callahan walked to the centre of the square so all could see. “Your wounds will heal quickly, though you will need to check in at the infirmary after the mid-day meal and again before lights out. Further weapons training will have to be done with your off hand until your wounds are healed.”

  “Now, those remaining, get back in line and do the same as before. Our goal is not to injure everyone here, but rather to allow you to get comfortable with a Hafaza’s Presence enhancing your siphoning.” Lady Buika checked all were prepared. “Begin.”

  Wayran watched from the sidelines with the other injured as the rest of the initiates performed a second strike with enhanced energy. Only two more were injured, and then on the third try not a one.

  Again and again, they struck, and several dummies needed to be replaced as the old ones disintegrated under the assault. Many had to join them on the sidelines after a while but from exhaustion rather than injury.

  “All right, good. Time to stop, I can feel most of you beginning to waver,” Lady Buika called after the last strike. “Heat and flame strikes are where we start this process as the flow of energy is directed outwards and at a more measured pace. Shocking strikes are similar yet require much more control due to the speed at which energy is pushed into the conduit, and we will save cold, trapping, and paralysing energy techniques for much later as the flow of energy is directed inwards and is therefore much more dangerous when enhanced.”

  Lady Buika then shared a look with Fellow Callahan who nodded agreement. “Any potentials my Hafaza?” she asked.

  There were several nods in agreement, and unsurprisingly Adel was pointed at, along with the giant Bastion, a young woman Wayran didn’t know, and the last selection elicited a few gasps from the group – Matoh.

  “Names?” Lady Buika asked the four as they lined up.

  “Adel Corbin.”

  “Bastion Thurson.”

  “Jodie Hindgarten”

  “Matoh Spierling”

  They answered in turn.

  Lady Buika nodded. “You four show high potential. We would like to push you that bit further if you are up for it?”

  Adel and Matoh saluted right away. Bastion grinned and then knuckled his forehead in salute. Jodie Hindgarten hesitated and looked ashamed.

  “Just the three then.” Lady Buika’s mouth turned down at the edges ever so slightly as she sent Jodie running back to the sidelines with the rest of the class.

  She motioned to the Academy equipment attendants waiting at the edges. They ran to the sidelines and carted back full sets of leather training armour inlaid with metal plates. Wayran again recognised his father’s symbol inlaid on most of the armour, and it made him realise just how prosperous his family had become because of his father’s ingenuity.

  “Change into the training armour. The attendants will help yo
u with the straps and ensure you have a good fit. Hopefully, we have a set large enough for that one.” Fellow Callahan smiled at Bastion who huffed a laugh at the observation.

  “The name of the game is Burning Shield,” Lady Buika said as she turned to address the class. “These three have shown exceptional skill at controlling the enhanced energy, so we will see how well they can use it during combat. Heat strikes only, and there will be no weapon strikes to the back or to the head. We are not here to maim classmates. Kicks and punches are allowed. You will be using wooden shields, the goal is to burn away the other contestants’ shields while making sure yours is still intact. The last team with a useable wooden shield between the pair is the winner. You are allowed to hit and slam your opponents with your shields but within reason. Again, we are not trying to kill each other. Fellow Callahan, Captain Miller and I will referee the mêlée to ensure it does not go too far. Each of the three combatants will also have a Hafaza paired with them who will be enhancing their attacks and fighting alongside them. Understood?”

  The three nodded alongside the class as the attendants cinched tight leather straps in fast, precise movements.

  Bastion leaned over on his stool towards Adel, but the whole class heard him say, “Luck will not save you this time, little girl. Armour, shield and mace? Fancy flips like a ballerina will do you no good here.”

  “That’s ten laps after class, Thurson!” Captain Miller barked, but Bastion just chuckled to himself.

  Matoh looked like he wanted to jump off his seat and punch the big Asgurdian, but restrained himself. Wayran wouldn’t have minded joining him either.

  Adel had ignored the attempted barb and sat calmly as her attendant gave her armour one final inspection.

  Soon the three were ready and were each joined by a Hafaza who each had a wooden shield and a wooden cudgel rather than their deadly double-bladed glaives.

  The teams each had their shields painted different colours; Adel had green, Matoh red, and Bastion yellow. They spread themselves onto the points of a rough triangle with the rest of the class on the edges of the square looking in. Lady Buika had cleverly turned her dress into a set of voluminous trousers, the First of the Presence, no doubt had her clothes modified for just such an occasion. She stood in the centre of the triangle with Fellow Callahan and Captain Miller.

  “Again …” Captain Miller held up his hand, “if you hear me say ‘stop’, you damn well better stop. Got it?” The captain was pointedly looking at Matoh, who, even under his helmet, could be seen to be turning a slightly dark shade of pink causing a few of their classmates to chuckle.

  Matoh nodded.

  Wayran wondered at the logic of this contest. It seemed quite a jump from simple enhanced flame strikes to a combat situation. That was the military for you, though. Always champing at the bit for competition, though Fellow Callahan didn’t seem to fit that mould. Could there be some other reason for this bout?

  “Begin!” Lady Buika dropped her hand, and the three pairs began to circle.

  Matoh went straight for Bastion, charging with his Hafaza trailing a step behind. A note of pure brilliance rose, and the head of Matoh’s mace almost seemed to glow. Bastion raised his shield, but at the last moment spun on his heel, whipping the wooden shield away and spinning in a mass of bulk and power into a hammer strike.

  Matoh was going to get killed.

  Wayran stood in panic.

  But the Hafaza was there. “SUUM!” she screamed her power word at Bastion. The air within the training square shook and slammed into the big man.

  Wayran felt his chest compress with the power of it.

  Bastion’s Hafaza partner was taken off his feet and toppled over backwards, but rolled into a crouch. Bastion, while slightly dazed, somehow kept his feet, looking more like he had just been hit with a particularly annoying gust of wind.

  Matoh slammed his glowing mace head into the sand with a loud hiss, he rolled to the side as Bastion aimed a massive kick at his ribs.

  And then Adel was among them.

  Her mace smashed into the red shield of Matoh’s partner. The wooden barrier exploded into fire immediately. The Hafaza threw the blazing shield to the ground, and only had a brief second to look up to see the end of Adel’s spinning hook kick and the heel of Adel’s boot smashing into the side of her helmet. The Hafaza went down like a rag doll.

  The santsi on Adel’s shoulders were glowing once more and her partner Hafaza was singing a piercing note as she slashed forward like a viper. She turned for a second strike aimed at the yellow shield of Bastion’s partner.

  A wall of sand flew up as Bastion’s hand seemed to scoop up half the floor of the training square and fling it in her direction.

  Blinded, Adel swung through the sand but only connected with the top of Bastion’s shield as it came thrusting through the sand wall.

  The giant man roared and swung his shield up like he was throwing an uppercut. The force of the blow sent Adel skyward, and the sickening sound made Wayran want to retch. A collective “Ooooh!” went up from the crowd of initiates.

  Matoh was back on his feet, and he launched into a flurry of attacks, each one hissing with heat. His mace slammed into Bastion’s shield again and again. Yet, Matoh’s partner had been eliminated, so all the energy he was using was not enhanced by a Hafaza. Each strike slammed home atop the wooden shield with small puffs of flame.

  Bastion growled but could do nothing except block the onslaught as Matoh, while not nearly as large as Bastion, was still very broad and strong compared to the average man.

  Bastion growled in frustration. Adel was vulnerable, lying upon the sand, dazed, and trying to regain her feet. Her Hafaza partner had reached her and was covering her, waiting for her to get up.

  Finally, Matoh’s strikes slowed, but the class was cheering as Bastion’s yellow shield caught fire.

  Matoh’s arm came down for another strike to finish the shield off, but Bastion had recovered, pivoted into the strike and slammed his shoulder into Matoh’s arm and chest. Matoh’s weapon sailed from his hand. Bastion’s follow up push kick could have toppled a horse, and it sent Matoh flying backwards.

  Matoh’s head bounced as he hit the ground, and Wayran thanked the gods there was padding inside those leather helmets. Matoh tried to get up but dropped back to the ground, looking very woozy.

  Bastion sprang forward, his mace rising and his partner’s voice crescendoed with the upcoming blow.

  And then Wayran heard it or rather felt it all over again. Just like at the initiation ceremony, something was building, not as big as last time, but the same somehow.

  A power beyond himself began to take control, and Wayran once again saw possibilities flow in front of his eyes. Bastion’s strike against the green shield of Adel’s partner. Adel rising. A bracelet breaking, sparks shimmering across the sand as Matoh gets to his feet, Adel’s hand wrapped in fire, Bastion’s shield and arm exploding, Matoh’s anger, thunder, lightning and then everyone dashed against the walls as waves of energy burst forth.

  “STOP!” Wayran screamed at the top of his lungs. “Stop, right now!”

  And to his surprise, everyone did.

  The battle halted, Bastion’s head turned to Captain Miller, who was glaring at Wayran with outrage and confusion.

  Lady Buika turned to look at him.

  “It was happening again,” Wayran said with relief. “I don’t know what is going on, but I can feel it building again.”

  “My bracelet!” Adel was frantically searching the ground for something. “No, no, no!” Her eyes were wild, and as the stunned crowd watched, she ran over to one of the training dummies. She raised her hand, and everyone saw it. Her fist was on fire.

  She punched the dummy with the flaming fist, and it exploded in a cloud of fire and flying straw.

  “I’m here!” Fellow Callahan was beside her in an instant. “I have spares, not to worry. Calm yourself.”

  But Wayran could see Adel was anything but c
alm. Tears streamed from her eyes as she repeated, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Over and over again until Fellow Callahan slipped what looked like a black and green stone bracelet over her wrist. The stone glowed orange for an instant and Adel’s shoulders relaxed.

  “Spierling! What in the hells?!” Captain Miller strode towards Wayran with such violence several initiates took a step back.

  “I felt it too,” Jodie Hindgarten said looking bewilderedly at him.

  “Me too,” Kevin said. “What was that?”

  “He’s right,” Matoh said, finally standing and looking as if he knew where he was. “It was building, it felt like when I summoned the lightning before.”

  Wayran nodded.

  “It was like ripples in the wake of a paddle suddenly swirling into mini whirlpools. Whirlpools which began to open doorways into … I dunno.” Kevin was looking off into the heavens, transfixed in his memories.

  He then noticed that everyone was looking at him in wonder.

  “I mean, figuratively speaking of course. Did I not tell ya? I am actually a poet. I have the certificate and everything.” Kevin’s grin elicited quite a few rolled eyes among his classmates.

  “Hidden poet aside, he’s not wrong.” Jerome, who had been with another group of initiates all morning, walked over to them, lost in thought. “I felt it too. It did feel like ‘an opening’ or as if the battle was about to grow into something more. I remember the feeling, it was the same as last night, but not as strong.”

  Several other initiates voiced their agreement.

  Wayran was glad to see Captain Miller had apparently decided not to hit him. A moment earlier, he had been worried how many teeth he might be left with. He was suddenly struck with a massive sense of relief. If other people had felt it, then he wasn’t going mad.

  “Fellow Callahan, Lady Buika? Did you sense ... whatever it is they are talking about?” Now it was Captain Miller’s turn to look confused.

  “Yes,” Lady Buika said. Her head tilted slightly, like that of a curious cat, as she looked at Wayran with new eyes. “I did feel it, but not as quickly as you. Why did you call out? Why did you stop it?”