Amidst The Rising Shadows (Book 3) (21 page)

“Go!” Aaron said.

The two men charged, and Wesley scrambled out of the way quick as a cat. The men kept going doing their utmost to grab the white cloth that trailed in Wesley’s wake. After a few minutes, Aaron called for a halt.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked Wesley, who nodded. “Two on one isn’t bad, but I would have thought they would have gotten the cloth by now. I want two more volunteers. Who thinks they can bring me the cloth from young Wesley’s backside?”

Two more soldiers stepped forward, and the current men in the center made is if to line up, but Aaron stopped them. “You’re not dismissed yet. I want that cloth.”

Verona watched as Sarah almost took a step forward, but stopped herself. He himself wondered what Aaron hoped to prove with this exercise.

“Ready? Go!”

Wesley tried to dodge between the four men who surrounded him.

“I want that cloth. That cloth represents life and death. It will mean your death if you don’t get it. Hold nothing back,” Aaron called.

The men stepped up their effort, and Wesley darted through the circle. The young soldier’s shirt was torn as the men grabbed for the cloth.

“Don’t let them get it, Wesley; if they do it means you’re dead,” Aaron said.

The chase went on for a few seconds more until they men were clustered around Aaron, who still stood near the center. In a blurring movement, Wesley cried out as his feet were swept out from under him and the strip of white cloth was held loosely in Aaron’s hand. Wesley scooted back away from Aaron’s menacing gaze.

“Enough!” Sarah said stepping into the circle. “Five to one is too much to ask anyone, unless you’d like to dance with me, my Lord.”

Aaron’s head came up as he regarded Sarah for a moment, his face smooth and emotionless. “You of all people should know that there is no such thing as fair when facing an Elitesman.”

Sarah helped Wesley to his feet and quietly asked after him. He still looked shaky as he went to the side and sat upon the ground.

Sarah turned her venomous gaze upon Aaron, “I know that the only thing you proved by this display is that of your own prowess, but it lacks any of its former integrity,” Sarah said.

The two glared at each other for a moment, and the rest of them looked on in silence. Verona glanced around and noticed Jopher frowning, along with the impassive expression of the King of Zsensibar, who looked on silently. He had been so preoccupied with what was happening in the circle that he hadn’t realized that the Zsensibarian envoy had made it to their part of the training yard.
 

Aaron leveled his gaze at her, “If they don’t learn it here, then they are just fodder for the Elitesmen.”

“The man I knew would never have taught such a lesson,” Sarah said.

“Then maybe you need to accept that the man you knew is gone.”

Sarah and Aaron faced off. Though they simply stood facing each other, Verona sensed that violence could break out at any moment. Part of him couldn’t move, while the rest of himself urged him to say something.

Verona stepped into the circle, “Why don’t we take a break? Clearly we have a difference in teaching methods here.”

Verona’s voice seemed to dispel the silent standoff, and each backed away.

“My Lady,” Aaron called.

Sarah faced him.

“Do you know the whereabouts of my staff?” Aaron asked.

“It’s precisely where you left it,” Sarah answered.

“That’s the thing. It’s not there anymore,” Aaron said.

“Then perhaps you should keep a better eye on your things,” Sarah said.

There were muffled gasps from the crowd of noblemen. The two De’anjard guards started to move, but Braden held up his hand for them to stop.

“My Lord,” Braden said. “I’m investigating the whereabouts of the staff. Sarah has been here all morning and couldn’t have taken it.”

Aaron nodded to Braden, “Thank you. I just asked if she knew where it was. I trust that you will keep me apprised of your investigation.”

Verona drew in the energy from the earth, and immediately his perceptions sharpened. He heard Zsensibar’s king lean in to Jopher and say, “This is the man whom you chose to follow? He’s no different than the High King.” Jopher began to respond, but Verona focused his attention elsewhere.

Aaron had walked back to the group of people he had with him. Verona extended his senses, trying to read into those of his friend, but he wasn’t very good at this sort of thing and couldn’t detect anything. He let go of his connection and noticed Sarah watching him. His mind raced. One moment Aaron was the friend he knew, and in the next he was a complete stranger. He couldn’t make any sense of it.

They had decided to take a break for a few minutes, and they broke off into groups. Braden went to Sarah, and the two began quietly speaking. Off to the side, Verona noticed that Wesley stood alone. He had stopped gasping for breath and rose to his feet. Some of the other men came to check on him and then left him, heading to the watering table.

“He’s different,” Jopher said, coming to Verona’s side.

Verona almost asked to whom Jopher was referring, but he knew better. “He was a prisoner for months. Enough time to change any of us, including Aaron.”

“I know...I’m just not used to seeing him like this,” Jopher said.

“But what is it exactly?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Sometimes Aaron is like he has always been. Patient, especially when teaching. Hard, when the situation calls for it. When Sarah was prisoner to the Drake, he was focused, perhaps a bit rash, but definitely focused. And now...I’m not quite sure what to think,” Verona admitted.

Jopher didn’t say anything right away. “My father is meeting with Prince Cyrus, and I told them I would catch up.”

“Go on then, Jopher, and thank you.”

“For what?” Jopher asked.

“For having the courage to say out loud what most of us are only thinking about,” Verona said.

A smile lit up Jopher’s face at the praise. He nodded and walked away.

Verona found that his mouth was dry, and he went to get some of what passed for refreshment upon the training grounds. He had to settle for water. Heading back, he saw Wesley practicing the slow forms. His wiry body still getting used to the movement he had only just learned this morning. A hunched man watched from behind. One shoulder was lower than the other, and his gnarled hands attempted to mimic Wesley’s movements. His misshapen feet lurched over the ground, and his mouth moved as if he were muttering to himself. Verona couldn’t hear him, but he knew he was saying something. The man’s eyes followed Wesley’s movements, but when the young soldier faltered, trying to remember the movement, he continued on, and Verona noted that the crippled man knew the slow forms somehow.
 

Verona headed over, and a short, plainly dressed man with hair cropped close to his scalp came behind the crippled man and spoke to him. The crippled man waved off the smaller man and moved closer to Wesley. Some of the soldiers had returned and mocked the cripple.

“Mock if you will, gentlemen, but I’ll wager he knows the slow forms better than any of you,” Verona said.

The men immediately quieted down.

“Apologies, my Lord, he doesn’t mean any harm; it’s just he has a tendency to wander sometimes,” the short man said.

“Not a problem, master?”

The short man grinned, “I’m called Wes, my Lord, and this is Len.”

Upon hearing his name, Len’s eyes darted around, and he kept repeating his own name.

“Wesley, start again, let’s see if he follows along. The rest of you follow along as well,” Verona ordered.

The men immediately lined up. One thing Verona could say about the FNA is that discipline and following orders were a part of their core. Wesley stayed on point. He slowly opened his stance, bringing his arms up. As the soldiers followed in unison, Len stopped muttering to himself, and his eyes seemed to focus on the movement. The men moved through the procession of movement, and Verona was amazed that the crippled man could follow along. He wasn’t physically capable of all the movements, but Verona’s trained eye could tell that the fundamentals were ingrained there.

Verona joined in. His mind transplanted him to the decks of the Raven, where Aaron had given these lessons to them. Eventually the whole crew had joined in and forged a bond between the men that lasted to this day. No matter what their station, be it soldier, captain, or prince, all were equal in the performing the slow forms.
 

Perfection of movement is paramount. From movement comes life.

Aaron’s words echoed in his ears. Verona felt his connection to the energy around them deepen, and he spread it out away from him. He sensed Sarah’s vibrant presence among them. He took in greater breath, and his movement deepened, both powerful and in control. Verona’s mind cleared, and he spread his senses to the other men, seeking the spark within them. A blazing presence flashed to the side, snapping away his concentration.

Len was flailing about, waving his arms madly and lurching from side to side like a crab. Wes tried to calm him down, but Len pushed him away. Len grabbed a spear from the nearby rack of weapons and held it awkwardly.

Sarah approached slowly with her palms low and facing outward. Len’s eyes widened, and the spear dropped from his grasp. His eyes darted all around, and he scurried away, howling as he went.

Verona caught Sarik’s eye and nodded toward the fleeing cripple with Wes trailing in his wake, “Just make sure they get out the training area without hurting themselves.”

Sarik nodded and set off after them.

Sarah came over to Verona, “I wonder what set him off. Did you see him before? He was able to follow along. If I didn’t know better I would say he knew the slow forms.”

“In this we are agreed, my Lady,” Verona said, and Sarah gave him a sideways glance. “Apologies, my Lady, my uncle believes it to be prudent that I be formal with all manner of nobility. Princesses in particular.”

A small smile graced Sarah’s face, and she called him a fool. She looked past him, her gaze narrowing. Verona saw Aaron across the training yard, heading away from them. At first Verona believed that it was Sarah that had set Len off, but now he wondered if it was Aaron instead.

“Sarah, you’re much better at this than I am. I think a couple of these men might be able to tap into the energy, but I can’t be sure.”

“With months of training you may be right, for some of them,” Sarah said.

“We need Aaron to use his swords. The bladesong helped open the way for Sarik and me,” Verona said.

“But not all of you. It took Braden a while, and he will attest that being open to the energy comes at a price. It’s not meant for the weak minded. Speaking of which, you’ve never said whether you’ve had any problems.” Sarah asked.

“I guess I don’t have an old soul, because the only voices or urges inside of my head are my own,” Verona said.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Sarah said dryly.

It took Verona a moment to realize that she was joking with him. “And here I almost thought there wasn’t an ounce of happiness left in the world. Thank you, my Lady, for proving me wrong.”

They dismissed the men, and Verona made some mental notes of whom to include on his own team of men he was building. He set off to find Aaron, hoping that the odd behavior was some sort of misunderstanding and not some nefarious purpose.

C
HAPTER
13

CATCH OUR BREATHS

General Morag Halcylon surveyed their progress. The Zekara were well on their way to setting up their base of operations. The AI had done its job well selecting this location, which was far enough away that they would know if any of the Safanarions were to come within their vicinity. The traitors living among the humans had no doubt detected the ship’s presence, but the combat suite had done its job effectively, and he was quite certain they didn’t know exactly where they were. The same also applied to the Zekara. They didn’t know where the traitor’s nest was that played home to Hythariam who saw fit to break with their own race. They had been gathering intelligence since they arrived, and getting their base of operations up and running was top on his list of priorities, along with running reconnaissance on the inhabitants of this world. He didn’t get to his position by being impatient. He would study his enemy, learn the way they did things, and then he would strike. He gave a passing thought to the human they had left behind and knew that he must be dead by now. As a leader of his people, Halcylon couldn’t fault the actions of the human’s ancestor, but the Hythariam were superior to humans in every way. Something the humans of this world would come to know.

Ronan, his chief science adviser, approached him.

“Is the package away?” Halcylon asked.

“Confirmed; the package has been delivered and has been reporting in, but it won’t last long. The process was rushed,” Ronan said.

“To be expected; how long do we have?”

“A few weeks before it breaks down completely,” said Ronan.

“That’s fine. Our timetable won’t change. Preliminary reports show various groups are already engaging in combat. That is good for us because it will keep them all occupied, giving us time to prepare.”