Varna Ch. 05

VARNA Chapter 5

- "More." said Rhigen. "Add another layer. Shape it! And another layer - make it thicker. Stronger."

Glasha had told me about her father training her in magic. She'd told me what he'd done, and what he'd helped her do, but she wasn't able to explain how he'd done it.

- "I can picture it. I can see it." she said. "I just can't put it into words."

But Rhigen could. He taught me completely differently than he had his daughter.

- "Treat the aether you've gathered as if it was a blanket. Fold it over - that should double its thickness. Now do it again."

He taught me how to feel the aether, how to truly manipulate it. Before this, the essence of magic had been like a formless mist for me, like unscented wood smoke. I was only using it to enhance my mental faculties, so it had hardly mattered.

Rhigen showed me that the aether could have weight, and solidity, but also flexibility.

- "You're building a wall." he said. "It can't be strong everywhere." To illustrate his point, Glasha's father tossed a pine cone at me. With my hands occupied, I reacted too slowly: it bounced off my chest.

"Try again. But not that way. If an enemy comes from the rear, then a wall in front of you is of no use - no matter how thick it is. Think of a shield: strong, but under your control."

With that image in my head, it was so much easier. I wasn't spreading the aether all over, but concentrating it into a shape and thickness that I could easily picture. Rhigen casually lobbed another pine cone.

It hit me in the chest. But...

- "Did you see that?" he shouted. "Did you see it?"

I had. The moment the pine cone contacted the edge of my aether shield, it actually slowed down. It should have hit me in the face, but the pine cone lost momentum and began to fall. Rhigen was even more excited than I was.

"I thought that I would have to bounce a dozen pine cones off your noggin before you could do that! Well done."

I was eager to continue, but Rhigen insisted that we take a break. In fact, he suggested that I lie down and close my eyes.

- "I can keep going." I said.

- "Just a short nap." he said. "We'll wake you." Glasha agreed with him, and gently steered me beneath the trees.

Just to humour them, I lay down, and re-visualized the pine cone slowing down when it struck my shield. I may have closed my eyes so that I could imagine it better.

When I awoke, dusk was falling.

Glasha was sitting on the ground beside me, gently stroking my hair.

- "We should go in before it gets dark."

- "What happened?" I asked. I was groggy, and slightly disoriented.

- "It's a drain on your energy." she said. "You don't notice it, and you may not feel it until later. But it can be dangerous to over-exert yourself."

- "Are you speaking from firsthand experience?"

Glasha blushed.

That put my great achievement into perspective. I had managed to slow down a softly tossed pine cone, and hours later I still felt weak as a kitten.

- "Rhigen was very pleased with your progress." she said. "You should be, too."

- "Where is he?"

- "With the other musicians. They're preparing to play for your father."

- "We should probably put in an appearance." I said.

- "I might. You probably won't."

Glasha had to help me to my feet.

- "This is embarrassing." I said.

- "It gets easier. The more you practice, the stronger you get."

- "I've been doing Durgulel's exercises for years, but I've never felt this... tired."

- "Rhigen explained it to me." said Glasha. "The practitioner's training is about mental discipline. What he asked you to do required mental exertion. Physical, too. Did he not give you the talk about 'healthy mind, healthy body'?"

- "He did - when we first met."

- "There you go, then."

Glasha helped me back to our quarters. She overruled my weak objections, and tucked me into our bed. I don't remember putting up much of a fight.              

***

I was ravenously hungry the next morning, and surprisingly sore. The fatigue seemed to have migrated to my muscles and joints. My mind, though, was clear.

Glasha had known in advance how I would feel; she'd asked Seyamka to bring enough food for four breakfasts to our room. Then she let me eat almost all of it.

- "You've been through this." I said.

- "Don't speak with your mouth full. But yes."

- "And you got stronger?"

- "Yes."

We went to meet her father again, down by the river.

- "I'm sorry that I missed your performance last night." I said.

- "I didn't expect you to be there. Not after yesterday. How do you feel?"

I flexed my muscles, and swung my arms. "Better. Much better."

Just to be on the safe side, though, Rhigen did not ask me to practice any magic that day. Instead, we sat and talked: about magic, about Glasha, and about the whole Duchy. It turned out that I was not the only one who was worried about my father's conservative friends, and people of their ilk.

I absorbed everything he said - especially about his daughter. I knew her better, of course, but he knew her in a way that I did not.

The sun was high overhead when Rhigen returned to the subject of magic.

- "I want you to practice the shield whenever you can." he said. "And Glasha will throw pinecones at you until you can block them completely. Then she'll switch to apples. And then rocks." He turned to Glasha. "No knives or spears until I've seen you again."

- "WHAT?" squealed a high, girlish voice. That was me.

Rhigen drew forth his dagger. It was a cleverly fashioned blade of bronze.

- "You can throw this at me." he said. "I can block it."

I looked at the weapon, and back at him.

- "I believe you."

- "You'll be able to do the same, in time. You're strong, Tauma. It will take a great deal of practice - but you can do it."

I was inordinately pleased by his confidence in me.

- "Thank you."

- "Now, if you are willing, I'd like you to try something else." he said.

Rhigen picked up a pine cone, and placed it on his shoulder.

"Knock it off." he said.

Interesting. The thing was obviously possible, or he wouldn't have asked it of me. But he hadn't told me how to do it. He'd left that up to me.

I called up the aether, and formed a shield, thickening and strengthening it. He was sitting only about six feet away. I simply pushed the shield towards him, aiming it at his right shoulder.

It might have been just my imagination, but I could have sworn that the pine cone fluttered, as if a slight breeze had passed by.

- "What did you do, Tauma?"

I told him.

- "A shield is primarily for defence. You need a different weapon with which to attack. What will you use?"

I understood immediately what Rhigen was teaching me. I needed a different image, to match my intent. A hammer. A knife, or a spear. A sword.

At that point, I was overcome by a sense of my own limitations, and of this man's - this fey's wisdom and experience. He knew how to explain complex ideas to a neophyte in terms that I could immediately grasp.

I didn't have to fold the aether, to thicken and shape it; what I wanted to do was forge it, like a spearhead, to build up the pressure until I could release it as an offensive weapon. I don't know why, but I pictured a sword, on the end of a spear.

I gathered the aether, and held it back, until I had enough to create the shape I was envisioning. Then I held it back some more, remembering my experiments with a shield the day before.

When I felt ready, I thrust the aether at the pine cone sitting on Rhigen's shoulder.

It fell off.

More than that, though. Rhigen reeled back, as if I'd pushed him. He immediately turned his head, to look - not at me - but at Glasha.

- "I didn't help him." she said.

Only then did Rhigen turn back to look at me.

- "That was... amazing."

- "Really? It was... just a pine cone."

Rhigen was shaking his head. "Tauma - I've taught fey youngsters to do this. It usually takes them a week to progress from the shield to the arrow."

- "The arrow?"

His eyes narrowed. "What shape did you imagine?"

I suddenly felt stupid. I was supposed to create an arrow. Of course - simple is best. Why not use the straightest, most direct approach? I was blushing as I explained what I'd done.

"A sword - on the end of a spear?" Rhigen was stunned.

- "Is that bad?" asked Glasha.

Rhigen was still shaking his head. "Fey children wouldn't imagine a sword. We don't have swords - bronze is too soft. This is..." Then he seemed suddenly concerned for me. "Are you alright, Tauma? How do you feel?"

I was... fine. I didn't know how to answer him.

Glasha touched my arm. "It took me a week to recover, after the first time Rhigen pushed me. You were up and about the very next day. And now you've done this."

- "It was just a pine cone." I said.

- "Will you do something for me, Tauma?" said Rhigen. "Could you run to that huge oak over there - and back?"

- "Run? At full speed?"

- "Jog. Lope. At a moderate pace."

I got up, and started running. I had plenty to think about. Both Glasha and her father seemed impressed by what I'd done. To me, it was less than child's play, compared to what Glasha had done the night of my fight with Merik.

Why had Rhigen asked me to run? Was it to test my endurance, or simply so that he could talk to his daughter without me in earshot?

It was both. They were still talking when I turned around to run back.

- "Alright." said Rhigen, when I rejoined them. "You don't appear to be exhausted. But just to be safe, we won't push you any farther today."

He left us on our own. That gave me a chance to ask Glasha the question that had been on my mind since Rhigen had mentioned teaching fey children.

- "Is that what you did to Merik? When he was beating on me?"

- "Something like that. I panicked, though. There was no time to shape an arrow. I just... I just threw the aether at him."

- "And the bright light? Where did that come from?"

- "I don't know. Rhigen doesn't know either. But he did say that in desperate times, when you truly need it, the magic can take on strange shapes."

- "I'll be sad to see him go." I said.

***

Rhigen trained with us for two more days. After that, it was up to Glasha and me to discipline ourselves, and to continue practicing.

We were assiduous for three weeks. Then my father called for me.

For once, Nathal was there ahead of me. Father was simply glaring at him, while Tir Storum and a pair of guards stood by.

- "I'm sorry, Father." I said. "I was down by the river."

His eyes fixed on me, briefly.

- "There's trouble in the west." he said. "You can have twenty horsemen, and half of the orcs. They can go part of the way by river."

- "What kind of trouble?" I asked.

- "Some kind of dispute at Tanarive." said my father. "Resolve it - with as little bloodshed as possible. I'm sending you two because you have some diplomacy. The horsemen are yours, Nathal. The orcs are yours, Tauma. Don't make me regret it."

Nathal glanced at me, as I looked to him. Aludar was still in Whydah; Merik didn't have a diplomatic bone in his body. Unless Father was prepared to go himself, we were all he had.

"Dismissed."

That meant that we were to go - now.

- "I'll get the horsemen." said Nathal. "You tell the orcs."

Fortunately, I ran into Seyamka in the hall.

- "Tell Glasha to meet me at the barracks. Hurry." I wasn't about to leave her behind, at Merik's mercy.

I ran to the training square, and to the Lower barracks. I found Yazgash, and told her what had been decided.

- "Where are we going?" she growled.

- "A place called Tanarive. West of the river."

- "Why such short notice?"

That was an excellent question. There was something wrong about this. Anything to do with my father was usually a test. But why did this feel more like an ambush? The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up.

- "Bring your whole squad." I told her. "Don't delay. Don't wait until morning. Get on the boats tonight. But give me Durgat and... four or five more who can ride."

- "Trouble?" asked Yazgash.

- "Possibly." I said. "Probably."

A few moments later, Glasha arrived. Goddesses bless her, she was ready to leave at a moment's notice. Durgat took charge. We commandeered horses, and I recruited a groom named Osha. I wasn't certain that the half-orcs would know anything about looking after horses. One of them was Murzosh, who'd been on the exercise yard when I'd saved Glasha from a trampling, all those years ago.

- "Can you ride?" I asked him.

- "I can do anything the others do." he said.

- "And probably better."

- "That's right." he said, with a grin.

In a body, then, we joined Nathal's company. They seemed surprised to see us. Nathal was talking to his poet, Gedere.

- "What are you doing?" he demanded. "You're supposed to lead the orcs."

- "Half-orcs." I said. "They're going by boat. I'll ride with you."

- "There's no need for that."

- "There's every need for that." I said. "Father put both of us in charge."

Nathal rolled his eyes. "Obviously, he meant for me to lead, and you to support me."

- "I don't remember him saying anything of the kind."

- "You know what he meant." said Nathal.

- "Exactly. That's why I'm here."

My brother scowled. "You'd better not hold us up, then."

With that, he passed the word to his men, who then attempted to ride us into the ground. They set an unsustainable pace - but there were only a few hours left until dark.

I kept Durgat, Glasha, and the four other half-orcs by me, making sure that no one became separated in the gathering darkness. Osha gamely kept up; he seemed to be equally terrified and fascinated by the company he was keeping.

Glasha glanced at me several times. She didn't have to speak; I knew what she was thinking. What on earth was Nathal doing? What was he after?

We let them forge ahead; it wouldn't be that difficult to find them again, even in the dark. Or perhaps it would be better not to find them.

I gathered the aether, and concentrated my mind. This situation was so unusual, so out of the ordinary, that I didn't quite know what to make of it. But several things stuck out. Nathal had expected me to travel with the half-orcs. Even if they went by boat, and covered half of the distance on the water, Yazgash would still have a lengthy march ahead of her.

So Nathal expected to arrive well before I did. Would the whole thing have been settled before I could put in an appearance? Was that why he and his horsemen were none so keen to have us along for the ride?

We saw the fire they'd made, off in the distance. Glasha shook her head. I agreed, and we set up our own little camp. Glasha shared her blanket with me, as I shared mine with hers. We whispered long into the night.

Nathal's men set out at first light. It was easy enough, in the early dawn, to keep them in sight. When we drew nearer, they increased their speed, and pulled away. Their tracks were easy to follow, though.

I don't believe that Nathal was very happy to see us, that evening. Once again, we set up camp a short distance away. Again, my brother didn't bother to invite us to join them. But that night, in the dark, Durgat and his friends caught a pair of Nathal's riders attempting to cut our horses loose, and laid them out.

The next morning, my brother was furious.

- "Your orcs assaulted my men!"

- "They shouldn't have been trying to scatter our horses." I said.

- "What? Why would you say that?"

- "Because that's what they were doing. I hope that you're not playing me false, Nathal. I wouldn't like that."

- "What are you talking about?" Nathal pretended to be offended. But his friend Gedere merely looked sad.

With two of their horses bearing unconscious men, Nathal's party could hardly try to outrun us again. We were happy to follow along, parallel to their line of march, so that we weren't eating their dust.

- "Why so much hurry?" Durgat asked me.

- "They want to arrive at our destination before Yazgash and her troop do." I said. "That's the only explanation that makes any sense."

- "But why?"

- "That's the part I don't know."

I decided that my brother's plans, whatever they might be, deserved to be frustrated. I explained to Durgat what I wanted him to do. He grinned. What I proposed was bloodless mayhem - but it was mayhem nonetheless, and he approved.

The next morning, just before dawn, my brother's camp was disturbed. The alarm was given. Somehow, in the darkness, predators had come along and frightened their mounts. Fully half of their horses had come un-tethered. In the early light, the remaining mounted men tried to recapture their comrades' horses.

My companions and I rode over to offer our assistance. Nathal was none too pleased.

- "This was your doing, wasn't it?" he said.

- "Me? You think that I could have...? And why would I do such a thing?"

- "To slow me down."

- "Don't you mean 'to slow us down'? Why the great hurry, Nathal?" I asked my brother.

- "You heard Father - prevent any more bloodshed. The sooner we arrive, the better."

- "Good point." I said. "Let's go now. Just you and I and a small honour guard."

- "As soon as my men have recovered their mounts." he snapped.

My men. And he was plainly irked by the delay. I was re-evaluating this mission every few hours.

It took half a day for Nathal's riders to re-capture their horses.

The horsemen tried to outrun us again, that afternoon. Nathal simply didn't seem to realize that I wasn't going to let him do that. It was over-confidence, and under-estimation of your opponent - lessons I'd learned from playing games with my oldest brother.

We caught up to them, camped apart, and then shifted our camp, so that they couldn't find us in the dark. We knew, though, where they were. Durgat and his companions went in later, and scattered Nathal's horses again.

The next morning, we played more of the same pretend games: Nathal had only 8 horses for his 22 men. He was in no mood to listen to suggestions from me, no matter how helpful.

Nathal chose to simply persevere, and to press on. That night, his men camped in a circle around their horses.

The next day, I sent Osha off by himself, with a letter. He was to find Yazgash and her troop, and to urge them to make all haste towards Tanarive. I had a definite feeling that we would need them.

My delaying tactics, underhanded as some of them might have been, ended up being quite important. For one thing, it made a slight, but significant difference in the situation at Tanarive before we arrived. For another, it helped me to understand (at least in part) what my brother was up to.

There were two armed forces at Tanarive, on either side of a shallow stream. Tanarive, it turned out, was not a village, or even a hamlet. It was a stream, spanned by a short wooden bridge. It was also the border between human lands and territory recognized as belonging to the elves.

Nathal rode straight to the encampment of the humans. There were over a hundred armed men there - though it was immediately apparent that only half of them were trained or semi-trained men-at-arms. The others carried spears, or bows.

The leaders were noblemen, though. I simply followed Nathal, dismounted, and had Durgat clear a space for me to move forward. He didn't have to push or shove; men simply moved aside.

There was no doubt about who was in charge. It was Tir Albo. I hadn't met the Tir before; I have to admit that I wasn't all that impressed. He was a tall, heavy man, with a receding hairline and brushed-back hair, revealing a massive forehead.

I knew who he was; not many Tirs had taken a half-elven wife. Yet here he was, causing a crisis on the edge of elven territory.