Holtsclaw, page 4
part #3 of The Master Mage Chronicles Series
CHAPTER
TWO
M aster Aaronson convened the first-turns after the usual warm-up of three laps around the Abbey and a period of calisthenics. He then led them to a combat training area with multiple small arenas, casting lanes, and ranged-weapon target fields. There were both open- and closed-wall pavilions with perimeter tables and chairs. There was one large, permanent building with ‘ARMORY’ in bold letters above its door. He had the interns stand in a large semi-circle, himself at the center. Behind him was a sizeable table stacked with wooden long-blades.
“By the time you graduate, assuming you all graduate, you will each be adept at protecting yourself with blade and bow. And time permitting,” he nodded at Marcus, “you will be introduced to the bo. It is an uncommon weapon here on the mainland, but it is used effectively elsewhere.” He invited Marcus to step forward.
“You have all met Marcus, who comes to us from the island kingdom of Iber. He has been training with long-blades for a number of turns, under the guidance of an able blade-master. For the last turn, before coming here, he was a blade instructor. As such he has agreed to assist me in your training. Now, I would like you to separate into three groups. To my right, all of you with little or no experience with the long-blade. In the center, those who have had some training. And to my left, anyone trained so well they would like to challenge Marcus to a demonstration duel.” The last he said with humor.
The interns scrambled for position. Of the three-hands and five, two-hands went to the right, one-hand and four to the center, and one to the left. Moriah. Her pale blue-gray eyes took on a steely appearance, both in color and defiant intensity.
Master Isaacson invited her to come forward. “You are trained in long-blade, Princess Moriah?”
“From childhood. As with Marcus, I have trained under master-blades.”
“Well, then, chose your weapons.” He waved them to the table to his rear.
Marcus hefted a number of blades, seeking one that was properly balanced and comfortable in his hand. He saw Moriah doing the same. Eventually, they found acceptable blades and returned to face Master Isaacson. The class was waiting, staring intently with curiosity and anticipation.
“Well, what more can I say? Begin.”
They began tentatively, touching blades,, then probing defenses. Slowly, the intensity increased. Marcus paid very close attention to her movements, form and balance. They were nigh perfect, certainly at the level of an experienced blades-man. Perhaps at the level of a master. He was reluctant to use mind-touch, given her ability to sense him the last time he tried.
Suddenly, she went on offense. He deflected her blows, taking several steps back to secure better balance. She relentlessly pursued, pressing the attack with repeated heavy, well-aimed strokes. Without intending to, he invoked mind-touch. She seemed not to notice, much to Marcus’ relief. Thereafter, the advantage swung his way. The speed of their combat kept increasing, the blades a blur as they clashed and clattered. Unable to penetrate his defenses, Moriah became frustrated, losing her poise and position as her patience waned. He finally stepped through one of her less disciplined strokes and tapped her against the neck. She stepped back and lowered her blade in defeat, her eyes aflame. The class, entranced during the protracted fight, began to cheer.
“Well, class, perhaps we have another instructor.” He turned to Moriah. “That is, if you are willing.”
Her eyes, still blazing at Marcus, nodded in assent. “Happy to do so.” It was spoken more in a growl than agreement.
Master Isaacson took the center group, wanting to assess where each student was in his or her development. He motioned Marcus and Moriah to the first group with the simple instruction to ‘divide them up as you will, and get them started on fundamentals’.
Marcus and Moriah walked toward their group of trainees. “You cheat. I don’t know how, but I know you cheat.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because no one, and I mean no one, can do what you did to me. It’s not physically possible.”
“Well, it happened, so it must be possible. You fight very well. Your form is perfect.”
She ignored his compliments, her anger dissipating. “Yes, but I know you were cheating. Somehow.”
They divided the class into two groups and began with the basics: form, position, movement and focus.
“And which of these is the most important?” asked Marcus.
Moriah, overhearing the question, turned to her group. “You all heard him? Which is most important. Form, position, movement or focus?”
The interns, still intimidated by the earlier display of combat, were reluctant to answer. Finally Wilhelm, in Marcus’ group of course, raised a hand. “I would like to say focus, or maybe form. But after watching you two, I think it would be movement.”
Marcus looked at Moriah. She nodded, he smiled. “That is a very good answer, Wilhelm, and the right one. Congratulations. Few beginners answer correctly.”
Moriah picked up the conversation. “So the next question is, why is that the correct answer?” When no one was prompt in answering, she continued. “Movement creates balance. Without balance, you cannot achieve correct form or position. And without those, you will certainly lose focus. So today, we will practice on movement, combined with a few things about form.”
Rather than teach in two groups, as planned, they taught as one, With Marcus and Moriah demonstrating, the class followed under their close supervision. By mid-day break, progress had been made. A major problem was the lack of arm, hand and shoulder strength. But those would improve with training.
Marcus provided parting words of instruction. “I will tell you what my blade-master told me many, many times. ‘Practice does not make perfect. Practice makes permanent. If you practice imperfectly, it will become more and more difficult to break the bad habits you develop’. So, I do not want you to begin practicing on your own for at least a couple of seven-days. When your movements and forms are perfect, then your practice will make you perfect.”
With those final remarks, the class dissembled in the direction of the Abbey and, presumably, its dining hall. Marcus found himself walking with Moriah. Corinne and Wilhelm followed a short distance behind.
“You had good instruction, Marcus.”
“As did you. So, Master Aaronson called you Princess Moriah. How is it that a princess has become a blade-master?”
“And I might ask how you cheated.”
“Okay, you answer my question, I answer yours.”
“I emerged as a battle-mage. Your turn.”
“Ah, how to explain. I read your mind and anticipated your moves.”
“Not possible. Tell me the truth. How did you cheat?”
Marcus sighed. “Well, I didn’t think you would believe me. But there it is. It’s how I cheated.”
“Only a mind-mage could do such a thing. And there hasn’t been a mind-mage like that in many, many turns. Or so we are taught.”
“Is that why they didn’t mention it in Mage’s class last seven-day?”
“It wasn’t mentioned because there was no need. And it frightens everyone, mages included, to discuss it.”
“Yet you know about them? About mind-mages?”
“Benefit of a better education. And you seem to know of them as well.”
“Yes, all too well. Another story for another time.” He was having trouble understanding how uncomfortably drawn he was to her, as if they were old friends. And he was left wondering if she felt the same toward him.
----- o0o -----
Mage Charlotte was in a rage. “I assign you reading. And I swear by the fata you do not read.”
Marcus winced at her language. First virtue: Respect the fata and swear not in their name. He chose to remain silent, this time.
“I weary of your blank stares when I ask questions, your silence instead of response. So I am going to go around the room. Each of you will get a question. Answer incorrectly, and you will be remaining here for more instruction. Is this clear? I will begin with the back row. Marcus, who was the Prince of Tumano, a healer-mage, who turned back a plague a fist and five turns ago?”
Marcus stood. “Prince Karlin, ma’am.”
Mage Charlotte gave him a disappointed look. “Congratulations. That is correct.”
Marcus returned to his seat, glad he had read the assigned pages the night before.
“Wilhelm.”
Wilhelm answered his question correctly, but few others were able to do so. Mage Charlotte finally reached the front row. “Corinne, Who was Mage Willis and what was his endowment?”
Corinne stood and answered correctly, not surprising, as Marcus had discerned her to be a scholar-mage. “Mage Willis was a battle-mage. He is famous for clearing many of our trade routes from roving gangs of thieves.”
“Correct! You may sit. Moriah, from which kingdom did Mage Willis arise?”
Moriah stood. Obviously she did not know the answer. Blushing, she began to stammer. Tumano was impressed onto her mind. “Tumano. He was from Tumano.” But he worked in all the mainland kingdoms. “But he worked in all the mainland kingdoms.”
Mage Charlotte gave her a suspicious look. “That, of course...is also correct.”
----- o0o -----
Moriah sidled up Marcus as they left class. “I don’t know whether to be really angry, or relieved. A little of both, I suppose. Here is something you should know. When you speak to me like that, you have an Iberian accent.”
“So why do you not believe me when I said I read your mind and anticipated your blade moves?”
She shuddered. “And that is supposed to make me feel good?”
Only seven of the three-hands six interns had answered correctly and were released for last-meal. They sat as a group. Corinne, as usual, was in an animated conversation with Wilhelm. Interesting, a merchant-mage and a scholar-mage. I wonder what they have in common. Marcus’ attention was drawn to Moriah.
“Have you ever known other battle-mages?” she asked.
“Well, yes, my best friend in Iber. She emerged during training as one of my students.”
“She?”
Was there a hint of jealousy there? “Yes, and like you, a princess. Her grandfather is the King of Iber. She is heir to her father, the crown prince.”
“Was she good? I mean, was she as adept with blade as I am?”
“Of course not! She was just beginning with her blade training. But she had, excuse me, has great promise. I particularly liked dancing blades with her.”
“Blade dancing? What is that?”
Marcus was surprised at her ignorance of something so cherished among the blades-men of Iber. “My morning exercise, before classes begin, is called tai kai. All of the fundamental blade-forms are slowly enacted, with great precision. There are four hands two in total. When two blades-men do it at high speed, facing each other, and touching blades during certain moves, we call it blade dancing. It can be quite dangerous with real blades. The partners must be very practiced and completely focused to avoid injury. It is mesmerizing to watch, when done well.”
“So you practiced often with her?”
Again, was that jealousy? “Well, yes. I began all my classes with tai kai. She learned quickly. Especially after she emerged.”
“And she was a special friend? Your best friend.”
Marcus couldn’t pass up the opportunity. “Oh, yes, my very, very, very best friend.”
She seemed to deflate a little. “Perhaps we should start our classes with tai kai.”
Marcus felt small for what he had said. “Oh, I agree. Shall we start tomorrow?”
----- o0o -----
To his surprise, Moriah and Corinne joined him and Wilhelm in their early first-meal the next day.
“If we are going to teach this tai kai of yours, it might be a good idea to learn it myself… seeing I’m supposed to be an instructor and all.”
Corinne added “And since I’m in your class, I thought I would tag along and get a head start.” Was that a flirty glance she gave Wilhelm?
Master Isaacson released them for training after the usual regimen of running and calisthenics. Marcus lined up their interns and explained the principles of tai kai. “I want you to follow me, best you can, while I explain how each move is used in blade-fighting.” His most focused student was Moriah. He took them through three full cycles. “Hopefully, you recognized the form we were teaching last seven-day. It was the fifth movement we made. Shall we do the first five again? Pay attention how one move flows from the one that precedes it.”
By now, their exercises had drawn the attention of Master Aaronson and his interns. “Do any of you have an interest in learning what these are being taught?”
Some of the young men snickered, whispering rude comments among themselves. Others, though, perhaps half the class, said they would. Especially if it would help them improve.
“Well then, since the majority of you seem interested, we will all go through the tai kai moves after calisthenics. Marcus will lead.”
The afternoon classroom was subdued. Mage Charlotte asked, by the raising of hands, how many had read the assignment for the day. Every hand went up. Missing last-meal was not something any of them wished to repeat. She laughed. “I swear, by the fata, you all confound me at times. At least you have all read the lesson this time.”
Marcus was shocked by her language. “Ahem!”
“Who said that!”
Marcus stood. “Mage Charlotte, I did. The first virtue. Respect the fata and swear not in their name. I object to you doing so.”
Mage Charlotte assumed an incredulous look on her face. “You WHAT? Object to my swearing in the name of the fata? What kind of romantic fool are you?” She did not give anyone an opportunity to reply. “Oh yes, of course. You are from Iber. Backward, ignorant, Iber. Well, young man, the fata are not real. Just the wild imaginings of the superstitious. Oh, and ramblings of drunken priest-mages. Unless you have something else to say, sit and be quiet!”
“And the gift of fore-sight? You deny this as well?”
Mage Charlotte turned red in the face and flew into a rage. “It is impossible to see what hasn’t yet happened! Now, sit! Or I will have you thrown from the class.” She turned to look down at a manuscript on her desk. “Fata. Priest-mages. Fore-sight. Such foolishness!”
----- o0o -----
The next two seven-days were interesting, though routine. Marcus had discussed with the class the mental discipline of tai kai, not just the moves. Little by little, his early-morning session increased in numbers.
The routine had been observed by all of the interns of course, though its purpose was largely unknown. To Marcus’ surprise, as word spread, a sprinkling of second, third and even fourth turn interns began attending the early morning class. Even the kitchen staff noticed. They were pleased to serve more early-morning meals, as it reduced the last-moment chaos of interns rushing to eat and make class.
----- o0o -----
The days had turned colder with the approach of the first turning and a new turn. Blade training had moved indoors to one of the enclosed pavilions. It was during a mid-morning resting period that Moriah approached Marcus with a request.
“Would you try blade-dancing with me? I know I won’t be as good as your friend back in Iber,” she raised her eyebrows at her mention of friend. “But I would like to give it a try.”
They faced each other and went through the four-hand two individual moves, slowly, with a single blade. Marcus was surprised to see how well she remembered each, and her exacting adherence to pattern and form. They crossed blades at the times he indicated. The class gathered around to watch. “Okay, now again, a bit faster, and this time more flowing from form to form. Think of it as a dance, which is what it is. And when you have this mastered, we will move to the same, with two blades.”
CHAPTER
THREE
I t had been a full turning of classes in gift history. The interns had finally finished reading and discussing the book. They had returned them to Mage Charlotte the previous sixth-day.
“Although we will be returning to history from time to time, and that means all four turns you will be here, we now move to the practical side of your endowments. We will begin with assessing your ability to exercise gift in its most simple form, casting flame. Every mage should be able, with training, to do this without thought. Let us begin. Before me is a brazier with three-hand six coals, unlit. They are numbered. Beginning with the front row, going left to right, I want you to count off. When we have finished, but not until I instruct further, you will each cast flame to ignite your respective coal.”
The counting proceeded quickly. Marcus, in the corner of the back row, was last.
“As we discussed previously, and hopefully you already know, casting gift of any sort requires invoking a word of ancient power. The word for casting fire is f-o-s-h-i-a. It is pronounced FOSH-ia. You must pronounce it clearly and cast a mental image of flame with your hand, or hands. Come up in groups of six and demonstrate your ability to do so.”
FOSH-ia. Not fo-see-AH as he had been trained. This should prove quite interesting, thought Marcus.
The initial six interns succeeded in casting feeble flame, as did each of the subsequent four groups. This was not surprising to Marcus, as casting flame was fundamental to gift testing. And everyone at the Academy was confirmed to possess some measure of it. Finally, it was the back-row’s turn. Mage Charlotte instructed them to begin. Marcus looked at his assigned lump of charcoal and casually invoked flame with a mental instruction, rather than vocal. The coal was instantly consumed in a flash of heat and smoke. The other five interns jumped back in surprise. After a moment of chaos, the room fell silent.
“Marcus! You did not follow my instructions. You did not cast properly.”
