Stealing Sorcery (6 page)

Traditional Valerian dueling had bored Velas as she came into her adolescence, so she hired tutors. When she had exhausted the limits of their talents, she traveled to Orlyn, trained with the Queensguard and fought in the arena. When she had been dismissed from the Queensguard, it had been almost a relief – she had learned all she could from the meager competition in Orlyn.

Herod had proven a competent sword instructor, and Orin Dyr was an excellent unarmed combat teacher. Dyr was a lieutenant colonel for the Paladins of Koranir, the God of Strength. The former Queensguard relished the opportunity to learn from his experience – and to show off what she had picked up.

“Suppose I’ll do the same, then.”

She opened with a half-hearted jump kick toward his face, which he brushed aside just as she had expected. As she landed, she ducked his follow-through punch and kicked at his left knee. As he backed away, avoiding the kick entirely, she grinned and took a step back.

He stepped back as well, quirking an eyebrow.

She charged forward, jumping again – higher this time. And she landed on top of his shoulders.

Velas hopped down before he could react, kicking backwards as she descended and hitting him square in the back. The swordsman staggered, spinning around just in time for Velas’ fist to catch him in the gut. Her knuckles stung from the impact.

Gods, it’s like punching a breastplate. Stone sorcery, maybe?

Taelien reeled back from the strike, moving his left hand to cover his stomach.

A mistake.

She had already hit that spot once.

Instead, Velas shot a fist out toward his jaw. He grabbed at her hand, but the attack had been a feint, blocking his field of vision while she kicked at his right thigh. The kick knocked him back a step, preventing him from snatching her arm out of the air.

Taelien let out a low growl, shifting into a sideways stance that she was unfamiliar with. She paused. It looked like an unarmed version of something a duelist might use to keep as little of their body exposed as possible.

Velas’ grin broadened.
That stance isn’t as suited to grappling – maybe he’ll actually try to punch me for a change.

“Not bad,” he mumbled. He extended his right fist in front of him, taking a deep breath. His eyes caught hers, his growing smirk offering a challenge.

She was more than happy to oblige.

He would be ready for a jump this time, so when she rushed forward, she ducked instead.

Surge.

A burst of kinetic energy carried her across the platform as she twisted her hips into a punch at his solar plexus. Taelien twisted to the side, causing her fist to brush against his ribs rather than connecting directly, and he slammed his forearm down against her right shoulder.

Pain surged through her as his arm impacted, but her left arm was already moving, her open palm slapping him across the back.

Push.

Essence surged through her hand, sending Taelien skidding across the platform. The swordsman dug his boots into the wood, slowing his movement until he could spin around and reset his stance.

Taelien used his off-hand to rub at his ribs. “What, precisely, was that?”

Velas folded her hands in front of her. “Trade secret. Feel like surrendering yet?”

“Oh, not by any means. Things are just getting interesting.”

She rushed forward. Taelien broke from his stance and charged to meet her, ducking her first punch and raising his right leg to block her incoming kick.

Taelien’s palm shot out toward her face and she stepped backward to avoid it. She realized too late that the hand had never been intended to connect – just as a flash of blinding flame manifested in his hand.

It was gone in an instant, but her vision swam, and his left hand slammed into her shoulder.

That wasn’t very fair.
She gritted her teeth and closed her momentarily useless eyes. Guided by sound, Velas side-stepped an open hand aimed at her ribs and grabbed his arm with both of her hands.

She heard a telltale gasp of surprise, which was sufficient information for her to pull him forward and bring a knee up toward the general location of his groin. She felt her shin connect with his, indicating that he had managed to raise his own leg to block, and then something caught her under the chin with enough force to separate the pair.

Velas staggered back, blinking her still-recovering eyes, and seeing Taelien bearing down on her again. Ignoring the pain in her jaw and shoulder, she lowered her stance and braced herself. As Taelien brought his arms around in a hugging motion, she launched a quick jab toward his ribs, which he caught with his left arm. She feigned disappointment, making a second strike that mirrored the first. As expected, he grabbed her right arm as well.

She hopped upward, kicking both legs out toward his chest.

Rather than reeling back as she had expected, he grit his teeth and pulled on her arms. She pushed back with her legs, but he somehow maintained his grip, visibly straining from the force she was exerting.

Enough.
She pulled one foot away and then brought it back down against his chest.
Push.

The sorcerous force sent the pair flying apart, Taelien hitting the wooden floor and Velas soaring momentarily skyward before hitting the dirt just outside the platform. She landed in a roll, pushing herself back into a kneeling position near-instantly.

Whereupon she saw a familiar pair of legs standing in front of her. She looked up with a sheepish grin as Landen reached down to offer her a hand.

“No helping, I’m not done,” she said breathlessly, still blinking to get the spots out of her vision.

“I think I am.” By the time her watering eyes focused on Taelien, he was sitting on the platform, fiddling with his right hand. “I hate splinters.”

There was a hint of disappointment in his tone. Had he wanted to continue the fight as much as she had?

“Splinters? Try falling on rocks,” she mumbled in complaint, patting the ground beneath her. Sighing, she grabbed at Landen’s offered hand, and he pulled her to her feet. She shook her head, disoriented, both from the state of her eyes and her use of sorcery.

“So, why are you two trying to murder each other this morning?” Landen reached a hand toward her head, which she almost ducked instinctively, but she managed to still her reflex from years of training. He plucked a leaf out of her hair and handed it to her.

“Murder is such a strong word.” She brushed the dirt off her pants. “We were only sparring.”

Taelien approached the pair, cradling his stomach with his left hand. “Velas, as usual, is amending the definition of sparring to her tastes. But it was fun.”

“Herod would have murdered you if he saw you throwing sorcery around in a practice match like that,” Landen pointed out.

“We were careful,” Taelien insisted, drawing a bit of surprise from Velas. She hadn’t expected him to defend the potentially dangerous fighting, given how hesitant he seemed to be to engage in it in the first place.

Then again, he had very deliberately removed both of their swords from the fight immediately. Perhaps the weaponry had been his only real concern.

“Now that we’re done, you mind letting me in on how you were throwing me around like a five year old?” Taelien asked.

“A girl has to have her secrets,” Velas said, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“It’s motion sorcery,” Landen said, deadpan. “I didn’t see most of your ‘sparring’, but I saw the end of it. That was definitely motion sorcery.”

She elbowed Landen lightly in the ribs. “Why’d you have to ruin all my fun? I could have kept him guessing for weeks.”

“That was my first guess anyway,” Taelien said. “I’ve seen someone use it before. Why’d you use it today? I’ve never seen you use sorcery before, although you clearly have practice.”

You haven’t seen it because I’m usually subtler about it.
“You don’t normally use your metal sorcery, so I assumed it wouldn’t be fair. But since you decided to show off that trick, I had to even the field.”

“Always have another secret to reveal,”
she remembered her mentor saying.
“Every layer can be used to obfuscate the next.”

“Well, if you’re both done ruining my secrets, can we get back to the fun part?” She pointed at the two swords that were lying near the other side of the platform, still intertwined by Taelien’s metal sorcery.

“Dawnfire is up,” Taelien said. “Armory should be open. We can go get practice gear.”

“I was enjoying this more.” Velas stretched her arms. “How about you, Landen? Up for something a little more...exciting, than what we’ve been doing lately?”

He leaned his face into his fist. “Your idea of exciting is, unfortunately, somewhat different from mine. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy putting you in the dirt as much as the next guy, but—”

“Oh, if you want to talk like that, I’ll—”

“Actually,” Taelien cut in. “I think I have a better idea for all of us for the day. Something even you might appreciate, Velas.”

“Oh?” She turned away from Landen, quirking a brow at Taelien.

“You wanted to gather information earlier – we can do that right now. Just not the kind of information you were talking about.”

“Go on.”

***

“I’m not sure how looking at paperwork would be considered exciting, Taelien.”

The swordsman retracted his hand, pulling the stack of papers to his chest and giving her a hurt look.

The three of them were sitting in the commissary, and they were not the first to arrive. She saw a few other recruits with bags under their eyes – including that pompous blade sorcerer, Keldyn Andys. As big as he talked, he must have been just as nervous as they were. That soothed her ego a bit, which simultaneously made her feel a little bit like a horrible person for reviling in someone else sharing her misery.

Emotions were such nuisances sometimes.

“You could at least look at them.” Taelien frowned.

Velas sighed. “You’re such a baby sometimes.”

She stuck her spoon into the nondescript gruel that served as “breakfast” in here.
This paste is so thick I’ll probably develop my arm muscles just by stirring it.

Taelien handed the papers to Landen.

The brown haired former Queensguard scanned over the first page, then raised an eyebrow. “Where’d you get these?”

“I have friends in high places.” Taelien smirked.

“Okay, so what did Lydia give you that’s so impressive?” Velas continued stirring her food, although she glanced toward the doorway and noticed a trio of unfamiliar figures wandering into the room.

The first was an androgynous looking brunette with a long scar that curved from beneath her right ear to the center of her chin. While she had no visible weapons, Velas noted that the newcomer moved with the kind of confidence that came with being prepared for instant violence. She wore an immaculate red tunic embroidered with the symbol of a rose with a dagger blade in the place of a stem.

The second was a clean-shaven man in glistening plate armor, the same symbol on his breastplate. Velas rarely saw anyone wearing armor in the commissary, but it wasn’t strictly unheard of. The matching heraldry was more interesting – it wasn’t uncommon for multiple members of the same family or organization to try to enter the paladin examinations together, but she hadn’t seen other groups like that yet.

Finally, a towering figure ducked through the doorway, nearly his entire form concealed within a voluminous red cloak. As he walked, she saw a glint of matching armor beneath, and a pair of weapon hilts on his hips. His face was concealed by a veil of similar material to the cloak and his eyes were a darker red than his garb. He had no sclera in his eyes.

Wearing a cloak and veil into the mess hall? That’s a little bit pretentious. I suppose he wants to cultivate a “mysterious” image, but he’s trying far too hard.

It was none of those three that truly intrigued Velas, however. A lone man entered several minutes later, quickly taking a seat in a far side of the mess hall, his back to the wall. He was tall, with an athletic build, and cleanly cut short blonde hair. His form-fitting black shirt helped emphasize the musculature in his arms, while a cerulean vest and a darker blue hat displayed a hint of style that she rarely found amongst the other paladin recruits. A bronze-hilted rapier sat on his left hip. The complete image struck her as the ideal of a traditional Valerian duelist, but the way his eyes scanned the room instantly upon his entry indicated a degree of caution that usually came from more covert work.

For an instant, his eyes locked on hers, and his expression twisted into a grin. He tilted his hat down toward her in a form of acknowledgement, and she nodded her head and pressed two fingers from her left hand against her forehead. If he recognized the gesture, he made no sign.

“Think those three are here for the trials?” Velas waved a hand to indicate the newcomers.

“Yeah,” Landen said, “Because they’re described right here.”

That got her attention.

“What?”