Immortal Swordslinger 1 Page 15

  “Your father is an ass.”

  Hamon glared at Rutmonlir. “You’ll regret saying that.”

  “Will I now? You going to make me? Perhaps you’ll tell your old man and he’ll come racing up the mountain. He’ll bend me over his knee and give me a good spanking. No, I doubt he’d do that. He should have done it to you, but apparently didn’t have what it takes.”

  Hamon was now visibly shaking with rage, and the Augmentation channels inside his body were alive with Vigor. Networkings of glowing red lines ran across his body, and his eyes blazed with fire.

  “Come along,” Rutmonlir said. “You’ve done enough training for today.”

  I followed the master outside of the shrine but kept my eye on Hamon in case he threw a fireball at my back. Rather than attack us, he simply stood and brooded, the visible Augmentation channels growing brighter rather than fading.

  When I stepped outside, I noticed that all the initiates had ceased the climb and were now waiting on the plateau. Kegohr and Vesma went ahead, and I hung back a little from Rutmonlir, hoping I could ask him to skip tomorrow’s training session. I doubted he would give me time off due to ‘emotional trauma’ after being attacked by a fellow initiate, but I was sure I could think of some appropriate justification.

  “I really hope you do beat the ever-living shit out of Hamon,” he said as we descended the mountain path.

  “I’ll do my best,” I said with a smile.

  “Should have him kicked out of the guild, along with the rest of the Wysaro Clan.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “It would never stick. The Wysaro hold too much power in the region. Xilarion would be all for it, but the people would protest. Jiven Wysaro has the entire region wrapped around his finger. They think him a savior. They know nothing of the truth, or of how a guild and clan should co-exist.”

  “I don’t mind him staying,” I said truthfully. “I much prefer keeping him around.”

  “Do you now?” Rutmonlir smiled. “You’re starting to grow on me, lad.”

  “Ha, you should probably get that looked at.”

  He frowned at me and then burst into laughter. We continued marching down the path as I wracked my brain for a reason why I needed to skip tomorrow’s class. Except all I could think about was Hamon. Even though he wanted me dead, he was an important part of my path to become the Immortal Swordslinger. I knew that every time I saw him, I would desire to grow stronger. He would be the living embodiment of my quest to become the greatest Augmentor.

  I almost stopped walking when I realized how my goals had completely changed in just a few, short months. I no longer even wanted to return home. This was my home now. I wanted to know more about why Tolin believed I would become an immortal. Was he just a crazy old man, or did he truly believe I could become one?

  “You’ll need to get stronger,” Rutmonlir said.

  “Sorry?” I asked as I wondered if he also had the ability to read minds.

  “To beat Hamon. If I’d let him fight you in the shrine, he would have turned you to ashes.”

  “I’ll get stronger,” I promised. “I just need a little time off from the lessons and training.”

  Rutmonlir stopped walking and tilted his head at me. “Time off?”

  I nodded. “To do some training of my own.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I returned to the guild house dining hall where lunch was being served. The meal turned out to be a soup containing soy beans, noodles, slivers of beef, and slices of vegetable. The food was inexpensive, loaded with inexpensive but nutritious ingredients, and seasoned with special herbs that helped with developing Augmentation channels. It wasn’t always fancy, but the portions were generous, and I always left refueled, particularly after a morning of fasting and exercise.

  Vesma, Kegohr, and I sat on cushions around low tables, the clatter of chopsticks and spoons against wooden bowls the only noise for a good five minutes. Then, as the initiates started to regain their energy, conversation slowly emerged.

  My two companions had joined me at meal times every day since we first met. I got the feeling it was Kegohr who had decided they should adopt me as a friend. For reasons I didn’t entirely understand, he had barged his way into my life with all the grace and subtlety of a bumper car. If Vesma had ever objected, it didn’t show. She treated me with the same cynical stare she showed everyone, regardless of whether she liked them or loathed them.

  “Archery this afternoon,” she said. “And principles of mindfulness.”

  Kegohr groaned. “Can’t we talk about something other than lessons?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.” He turned to me. “What do people talk about where you come from?”

  “Mostly sports,” I said. “Or television shows.”

  “What’s that?” Kegohr asked.

  I paused for a moment and tried to work out how best to explain.

  “You know theater?”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Kegohr beamed in delight. “There’s this touring company that brings shadow shows round the towns, right? They do this whole thing about an ancient swordslinger who fights a giant and a dragon, and when the shapes show against the lantern light, it looks just like a real dragon. Totally brilliant.”

  “So, you’ve seen a real dragon?” I asked as thoughts of Nydarth entered my mind.

  “No, no, no,” Kegohr said. “But if I saw one, I bet they’d look just like that.”

  Vesma snorted.

  “You don’t know!” Kegohr waved his spoon at her.

  “Neither do you,” she replied. “That’s my point.”

  “All right. You want to hear more about Effin’s tilivision, or do you just want to complain?”

  “I want to talk Augmenting.” She set her spoon down and steepled her hands over her bowl. “I want to improve Flame Shield.”

  “Always, always talking lessons.” Kegohr rolled his eyes, but then leaned forward to better hear her. “Go on, then; what have you got?”

  I wasn’t surprised. Conversations about how to Augment had become a regular part of our routine, one that I found incredibly valuable. My friends had grown up in a world of Augmenters and Vigor, had spent years preparing to get to the guild. Their experiences and attitudes, which were very different from each other, showed me new ways of approaching my power. Considering what they talked about had helped me to grow stronger.

  Kegohr’s approach was an instinctual one. To him, the power was something that constantly raged inside and that he struggled to keep under control. When he Augmented, it was a careful venting of part of that power, something he did by instinct as much as by calculation. Like me, he had to work to forge pathways within himself, and when he talked about those forgings he talked about what felt good, what let the Vigor flow.

  Vesma was far more rational about it. Coming from a small clan, she hadn’t had anyone around to teach her how to shape the channels. Instead, she had worked it out for herself using books, scrolls, and advice gleaned from visitors. Technically, she wasn’t a wild since she was entirely human, but she’d learned magic outside of a guild, so she received much of the same opposition from purists in the guild.

  She’d told me how she disassembled the process by breaking it down to first principles so that she could build it back up. When she talked about Augmenting, she did so in clear, precise terms. She could tell you exactly where in her body a channel ran, how far it went, and how much the power she channeled had grown over a week, a month, or a year.

  As different as they were, both approaches helped me. From Vesma, I learned to refine my technique, to subtly alter the channels within me to more precise and sophisticated forms. From Kegohr, I learned how to feel my way through what was happening to me, to sense whether something was going well or badly, to operate on instinct when I didn’t have time for careful calculation. It wasn’t only my fire Augmenting that was getting stronger as we developed those skills together, but my wood Augmenting t
oo. My Stinging Palm technique, with thorns that had initially been little more than an annoyance, could now knock holes through targets and be used to hunt birds.

  “…like this, you can make your Flame Shield stronger,” Vesma said as I brought my attention back to the conversation. “As long as you actually think about what you’re doing.”

  “I dunno,” Kegohr said. “I don’t get half this stuff you’re saying. Can I really make it better?”

  “You can do more than that,” growled a low voice from further down the table.

  We turned to see Rutmonlir sitting over a steaming bowl, his tangled beard wet with soup.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Rutmonlir put his spoon down and turned to look at us. “The best your class has to offer, and you still miss the piss-easy stuff,” he said. “Xilarion should be embarrassed at the state of our recruits.”

  I held back a retort. By now, I knew that this was just Rutmonlir’s way of motivating us.

  “Tell us more,” Vesma said.

  Rutmonlir peered back down at his soup, and I thought we’d failed some sort of test, that he’d decided we weren’t worth the effort. But then, he dipped his fingers into the soup, fished out a noodle, and held it up for us to see.

  “The way you talk about your channels; it’s all subtle refinement.” He tugged on the bottom end of the noodle and pulled it taught. Its little kinks and bends disappeared before it turned into something straight as an arrow. “It’s like you’ve smoothed the sides of the path, but it’s still the same path, and it’ll still only go to the same place. So, how can you make it do something different?”

  “Different cores,” Kegohr said. “But we already know that.”

  “Would I waste my time telling you something you already know? Think again, you ugly bastards.”

  I looked down into my bowl, searching for inspiration among my own noodles. A thought crossed my mind, but I couldn’t tell if it was innovative or just stupid. Was I thinking outside the box or outside what was possible in this world?

  Only one way to find out. I fished a noodle out of the bowl and held it up as Rutmonlir had.

  “We don’t make a better version of the current shape.” I took hold of the bottom of the noodle, but instead of pulling it tight, I brought it up and formed a loop. “We make a different shape.”

  “Bra-bloody-vo.” Rutmonlir clapped slowly.

  “But the channels need their shapes to work,” Vesma said.

  “They need to start in set places,” Rutmonlir clarified. “End in others. Go through certain points along the way so that your body can direct the power. But the route they take, that’s something you can change. If you’ve actually got any brains, that is.”

  He pushed his soup away and stood up. “Course, I wouldn’t bet on that,” he said as he walked away. “But if any bastards in this class can do it, it’s you three.”

  “I say we give it a try,” I said after Rutmonlir had left. “Follow me.”

  I took my friends to the practice yard. It was empty save for Veltai and Ho Yin. The rest of the initiates had likely retired for the day after a lengthy journey up the mountainside.

  Kegohr immediately turned around and started walking back toward the guild house.

  I grabbed him before he could leave. “Where are you going?”

  “Uh, uh, uh.” He licked his lips, and his gray tongue flashed across his fang-like teeth.

  “It’s Veltai.” Vesma palmed her face and shook her head.

  I turned to Kegohr. “You don’t like her?”

  Kegohr shrugged, and his face reddened a little.

  Veltai screamed as she attacked a practice dummy with her nunchucks. Her victim exploded into a shower of straw, and she danced around the next one before clobbering it apart. The sleeves of her robes had been cut, and the muscles in her arms tensed and loosed with each strike. I was no slouch, but her biceps were easily twice the size of mine. Every time she struck home, her face morphed into a vicious snarl far uglier than her resting expression. I would have thought it impossible for Veltai to look any less attractive if I wasn’t witnessing her right now. I appreciated strength and skill, but she fought with a brutality that made my stomach lurch.

  “Wow, wow, wow,” Kegohr whispered under his breath. “She’s beautiful.”

  I shot my friend a look of disbelief. “Yeah, she’s really something.”

  “Take a look at Yo Hin,” Vesma said with a snicker. “What in the seventh realm is he doing?”

  Yo Hin seemed almost dwarved by his practice dummy, and rather than attack it, he kept trying to jump over it. Every leap was unsuccessful, and I started feeling sorry for the guy. On his final attempt, his body rippled as though it was becoming incredibly hot, and his jump carried him over the dummy. Rather than land gracefully, though, he pinwheeled through the air and landed on his back with a hard thump.

  Veltai ceased her relentless onslaught against the dummy and went over to Yo Hin. She extended a hand and helped him up.

  “Thanks,” Yo Hin said. “I can’t seem to get that technique right.”

  “Because your brain is too big.” She prodded his head with a finger that was almost a match for one of Kegohr’s. “It’s weighing down the rest of your body.”

  Yo Hin laughed in an unsure way, and Veltai smiled beneath her locks of red hair. Her smile broadened when she caught sight of me and the others standing at the edge of the practice yard.

  “Hey, handsome,” Veltai said to Kegohr as she approached. “Fancy a bit of sparring?”

  “Uh. . .” He scratched his neck with a giant paw, and his gray fur bristled so that he looked almost like a frightened cat. I would have hated my uncomfortableness to be so easy to spot by other people. I’d never seen him in a state like this before.

  Veltai brushed her nunchuck along Kegohr’s sleeveless tunic, and her eyes settled on his bare arms. Her mouth pulled back into a three-toothed smile that managed to look both devious and aggressive.

  “I thought you were the biggest and strongest initiate in the guild,” she said. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of women?” She pulled her arm back, and then brought her nunchucks around, but before they could strike Kegohr, he snatched her forearm and clamped it beneath his massive hands.

  I jumped to defend him, but he shook his head at me before looking down at Veltai.

  “No, no, no. I’m not afraid of women.” He held her tight, and she winced under his grip. “Although, I will take you up on the offer. Maybe another time?”

  “Uh, Kegohr, I think you’re going to break her arm.” Yo Hin peered over Veltai as he clasped his hands together.

  Veltai smiled through gritted teeth. “Another time.”

  Kegohr released her, and she tucked her nunchucks into her belt without massaging her forearm. She smiled at him one more time before she left the practice yard. Yo Hin offered little bows to each of us as he followed her back into the guild house proper.

  “Well, that was weird,” Vesma said.

  “I’ll second that,” I added. “Kegohr, I didn’t think you--”

  “I just want to fight her when no one is watching,” he cut in.

  “Right,” Vesma drawled.

  “How about we practice?” I asked as the awkwardness started to become palpable.

  We lined up in front of the practice dummies and stood a few feet apart.

  “I want to see Untamed Torch,” Kegohr said, giddy like a child.

  “I suppose I could benefit from an example.” Vesma shrugged, as though she didn’t care whether I used the technique, but I could tell she was almost as eager as Kegohr.

  I brought my wrists together, spread my hands, and pointed my palms toward the targets. I pushed the Vigor down that channel, letting it become a flowing thing of fiery power. A ball of flame appeared between my hands, the size of a baseball. It shot through the air, straight at the target, and burnt a hole in the left side. It was much larger than the ones I’d used on Hamon, and
pride filled my chest as I realized I’d already grown in strength.

  “Now, close your eyes,” Vesma said. “Sense that channel within you, where you carved it when you absorbed the cores. Take deep breaths. Each time you breathe in, imagine the middle of that channel moving a little toward the outside of your arm. Keep doing that until its a curve, running from the inside of your shoulder out to your elbow and then, back in to your wrist.”

  I did as she said and felt the path moving within me.

  “Done,” I said. “It’s not well fixed, but it’s there.”

  “Now, try using it again.”

  I opened my eyes and summoned the flames once more. This time, when the fire shot out, it did so in a curve. The ball missed the targets and hit the wall to my right.

  “Aw,” Kegohr said. “I thought that would work.”

  “It did.” I grinned as I realized what was different. “Watch this.”

  I summoned the fire of Untamed Torch again. This time, I had more control. It shot out in a curve, around one of the dummies, and spiraled to hit the next one in the back.

  I could attack enemies around corners.

  “Another one,” Vesma said. “This time, thicken the path right at the end, making something like a funnel.”

  I did as she suggested, then summoned the power. This time, the Untamed Torch burst forth in a wide spray that hit all the targets. With its power dispersed, it only did a little damage to each one, but the effect was intimidating.

  “You’re a genius!” I said.

  Vesma shrugged and hid her face, but not before I caught a slight blush on her cheeks.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Kegohr said. “We can do this with other techniques too, right?”

  “Of course,” Vesma said. “Let’s try Flame Shield. I suggest that you-”

  “No, no, no,” Kegohr said. “I’ve got this.”

  He raised his left arm, and a fiery disk appeared on his forearm—the Flame Shield. It didn’t look very substantial, but I knew from sparring that it could block any weapon, mundane or magical, if the Augmenter knew how to fight.