The Weight of Magic, page 34
part #1 of Restriction Series
“Hold loose,” he said.
Loose. None of that really made a lot of sense to him, but if it was what Visthor wanted from him, Torian was going to do it, as he believed that Visthor knew what he was talking about.
He shifted his feet, holding loosely to the Blade of Wind, and followed the movement that Visthor made. There was the start of a whistle. It wasn’t an actual whistle, and certainly nothing so loud as to scare any of the Rusavian soldiers, but it was much more than he had managed to accomplish when not facing certain death.
“Better. Now try this.” Visthor demonstrated another form, twisting his feet ever so slightly and bringing his hands down. It was the twist and slice that seemed to be significant.
Torian closed his eyes, and he thought about how he had learned some of the primary patterns. It had been so long ago that he didn’t even consider all of those lessons the way that he once had, as the primary patterns were simply a part of everything that he knew. But in this case, it was no different than when he had first started learning. He was going back to the basics. Master the primary patterns, and he could hopefully learn some of the more complicated Blade patterns.
“Are there complex forms?”
“Many,” Visthor said.
“So how many of these basic forms do I need to learn?”
Visthor leaned on his Blade, resting on the ground, seemingly unmindful of the fact that the point was poking into the dirt. He didn’t really worry much at all about keeping the Blade unscathed, so Torian had taken to feeling much the same way, as he suspected that the Blade was much more resilient than it looked.
“Maybe dozen, but I do not know all.”
“How did you learn these?”
“You no want story.”
“Oh, don’t listen to him,” Charlek said. He stepped out of the shadows near one of the wagons and cast Visthor an amused smile. “He has one of the best stories.”
“Not your story to tell,” Visthor said.
“No,” Charlek agreed, “it’s yours. And I would never say otherwise, but I think it’s reasonable for him to ask. You have shown him something of yourself, and I suspect our young friend simply wants to understand what it is and how you have this talent that you do.”
“Caught in war,” he said.
“What do you mean you were caught?” Torian asked.
“I was boy. My village destroyed. Claimed. Taken to fighting camp. Trained.” Visthor’s voice grew softer as he spoke. “I show skill, and they want to bring me into army. Gave me a Blade.”
Torian hadn’t realized that the people that Rusav captured would eventually be brought into the army, but it made a certain sort of sense, however terrible it might be.
“What did they have you do?”
“Fight. You have seen.”
“And then you just stopped?”
“No need to fight. Choose fight.”
It seemed to Torian as if the distinction was significant for Visthor in some way, though he didn’t know what that distinction was, nor did he know how that mattered to him.
“If you ever decide to tell more, let me know,” Charlek said, looking over to the larger man. “I gain new insights each time he tells it, though it has been a long time since he has chosen to share anything of significance.”
“You only gossip,” Visthor said.
“We both know it’s not gossip,” Charlek said, patting him on the shoulder before striding back into the shadows and slipping toward the wagons.
“I’m sorry,” Torian said.
“Not your fault. Rusav. They claim me and think that turned me into fighter. They do, but not for them.” He pounded a fist against his chest and smiled tightly. “Now. We return to forms. You learn.”
“I have another question, but it’s not about the forms.”
“What?”
“I haven’t seen the wolf for a while. Should I… well, should I be worried?”
“Wolf not blind. No worry.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means wolf not blind. No worry. No. We keep work.”
Torian returned to working with Visthor, training on the different forms that he wanted him to know. As Visthor claimed, there were a dozen or so different Blade forms, and as he began to think about the forms in terms of patterns, and trying to find the precision within them, it seemed to work better. Not perfectly, as there was still something Torian wasn’t doing quite right that he couldn’t determine, but it did work better than it had been. He didn’t think Visthor taught him any of the more complicated forms, though he didn’t blame the man, either. Torian had not earned that right and had not proven himself capable yet.
Increasingly, Torian was determined to master those forms, if only so that he would not have to fear losing control over his power. Having drained as much as he had facing the shurrel, he wanted to be ready for the possibility that there might be something else that could come at them to force his hand.
When Visthor was done with him, Torian had started back to his wagon when Aldrich caught him.
“You and I must speak,” Aldrich said.
Torian was tired. Working with Visthor was draining. There was a physical aspect of it that he didn’t get with the other patterns, though he also enjoyed it in ways that he had not expected.
“About what?”
“About your preparation.”
“What about it?” He glanced down at the Blade that he held gripped in hand, the length of the blade extended. He had not fully retracted it yet and knew that was probably a mistake, as he did not need to keep the blade extended the way that he did.
“You have been learning from Sylvia and have been challenged by something unexpected. For you to make it out of these lands safely and avoid additional inconveniences,” he said, pressing his lips together in a tight frown, “perhaps I need to take a greater role in ensuring your safety.”
“You want to teach me?” When Aldrich didn’t say anything, he knew that he had to clarify. “I would love to learn from you.”
“I suppose that is for the best,” he said. “To begin with, I need to explore the limitations that you have. The restriction, as it is.”
Torian focused on that weight inside of him. It was heavy and seemed to press down upon his ability to access more power, though it still remained cracked open so that he could reach for some of the power. He had taken a seat next to Aldrich and focused on one of the primary patterns, letting out a little bit of light to mirror the way that Aldrich held on to his. He did not do so with the same strength that he suspected Aldrich possessed, nor did he have any means of controlling it that would rival the other man, but it wasn’t a matter of him trying to control so much as it was a matter of him trying to understand.
“I don’t know. It’s always been there.”
“I am not surprised. Can you describe it to me?”
“I’ve been through this before, Aldrich.”
Aldrich nodded. “I’m sure you have. And I’m sure you have been frustrated by your inability to access what you believe to be your birthright.”
Torian was glad for the darkness that hid his slight flush.
“I see. You don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m happy to talk about it,” he began. “It’s just that I’ve tried sharing with other instructors what I can do and, more importantly, what I cannot. I feel like I’m working against a weight inside of me. It’s like there’s some stone that is there that pushes down and creates a pressure against the power that I know exists, but I can’t reach on my own.”
“I’m sure that’s frustrating,” Aldrich said.
He had slid closer and was glowing more brightly than he had before.
“It wasn’t until I was traveling with these others that I started to feel it differently,” he admitted. “It’s almost like I shifted some part of that power. Sometimes it even stays open, giving me access to power that I didn’t have before.”
“Describe what you mean by having it shifted.”
“Well, it feels like there is a boulder or something that I have rolled off to the side, which has remained cracked so that I can draw upon more energy. Does that make any sort of sense?”
“Not exactly,” Aldrich said.
Disappointment swelled inside of Torian. He had started to hope that maybe Aldrich would be able to explain the weight inside of him, and more than that, had started to hope that maybe Aldrich would have some means of helping him push past it, but that didn’t seem to be the case.
“I am interested in it, though, so with your permission, I would like to study it.”
“You mean study me?”
“Well, you are a part of it, are you not?”
“I suppose,” he said.
Aldrich smiled. “Good. We will start tonight.”
Chapter 39
THE WEIGHT OF MAGIC
Aldrich’s studying of Torian consisted of him using a series of patterns, none of which Torian had ever seen or felt before, to sweep through Torian. The first time it had happened, Torian had reacted, as he had felt as if some part of him were under attack.
Without meaning to, he had exploded stone in front of Aldrich.
It was forceful, but Aldrich had deflected it before there was any danger to him.
The second time Aldrich swept power through him, it was little more than a light brush of a breeze that whispered through Torian’s mind. There wasn’t the same pressure, which kept Torian from reacting the same way he had before.
Each subsequent attempt was more like that. Aldrich no longer tried to test him with any real strength, as Torian reacted too strongly any time that he did, without meaning to. At the end of that session, Aldrich had promised that he would keep working with him, as he thought that he understood the challenge, but had not explained anything more to Torian about it before taking his leave and setting off back to the wagons. When Torian finally returned, Aldrich was gone, having slipped away into the forest.
“Why is Tamish here?”
“An excellent question. Have you given much thought to why your town was targeted?” Aldrich asked.
“I assume that it was just tied to Rusav and what they want to do is claim our lands.”
“Perhaps that is all it was, but I suspect there is more to it,” Aldrich said, motioning for Torian to take a seat. He did so, crossing his legs as he sat across from the other man watching him. Aldrich pressed his fingertips together, though Torian didn’t recognize the pattern. “Rusav has long believed a danger infests Navarin, lands they believe are theirs. And they blame the valsahir for that infestation, as they are the threat Rusav cannot overpower.”
“I don’t understand that.”
“It is an old grudge and complicated. All of these lands were once a part of the Siansaal Empire. Within the empire, the valsahir were the most powerful and considered closest to the Saith.”
“Priests?”
That surprised him, though maybe it shouldn’t. Most sahir believed they drew their power from the Saith, after all.
“Something along those lines, but even that is probably not quite right. A connection to the divine. Something happened, and what is now Rusav split from Navarin.”
“But the valsahir were in Navarin.”
“They were. And Rusav would claim they were corrupt.”
“Which is why they must cleanse that corruption?”
Aldrich nodded. “Over time, that desire changed. Now they claim they must cleanse these lands before they can be reclaimed. As you have seen, many have been lost.”
“Why now?”
“I don’t know,” Aldrich said. “The sahir have kept Rusav at bay for many years. Something must have changed. And for Tamish himself to be involved… Tamish came to your town for a reason. And it is possible that it is different than that of Rusav.”
“You think it’s him directing things rather than Rusav itself?”
“Undoubtedly,” he said. “As we have seen evidence of that and recognize that he has been leading his own private troops.” Aldrich leaned forward, and he began to glow again. “Rusav has not been so brazen as to attack this deep into Navarin. You are too far inland from the border, which means that there was a direction here, and that something has motivated his attack. He’s searching for something. For many years, the valsahir have prevented others from probing too deep into Navarin. Unfortunately, the sahir are not as capable of repelling their influence.”
“So he’s after something?”
“Power,” Aldrich said. “Perhaps little more than a myth, or perhaps there is something to it. There are stories that the ancient valsahir used a deep and powerful magic that some would even call a god. Stories claimed that is how the valsahir stopped Rusav in the past. And it is why Rusav has done everything in their power to destroy any with valsahir potential. So if Tamish has moved, he must have found something.”
“We could find it before him,” he said.
“I have searched, and I have failed.”
“So you are searching for others with potential, as well.” He looked to the fire, though he couldn’t see Astrid or Johan. “Do they have potential?”
“The wolves talk. And that is all I know,” Aldrich said.
Torian snorted. “But Sylvia thought I could be valsahir.”
“Not Sylvia. I did. When you broke free of the restraints, I sensed power. Now whether you can reach that power consistently and effectively is something else. For now, we try to break that free.”
“How many have valsahir potential?”
Aldrich didn’t answer, and in the silence, Torian thought about the others from the school in Sarot. Could Liana have been valsahir? Jensen? He was the most likely, but there were others of power. What about Leven? Would he have had that potential had he the opportunity?
“Few enough that we have to find any we can.”
Torian tried to get him to elaborate on that more, but he didn’t. After a while, he got up and returned to the rest of the campsite, taking a seat near Sylvia, who had been watching off in the distance.
“You are lucky to have him as an instructor,” Sylvia said.
“Because he’s a valsahir?”
“He is one of the last true valsahir. Not that he would say that.”
“Then why did he bring me to you?” He looked over to Sylvia. “You said that you were not valsahir.”
“Because he does not teach. He had a failure once and refuses to teach. I am… surprised… that he’s taken an interest in you. Perhaps it is for the best that he has. Most of the time, he simply brings those with potential away, not as he once did.” Sylvia brought her mug to her mouth, taking a deep breath and then sipping at it. “It was a long time ago. There are very few true valsahir in your land. When he finds them, he brings them to us.”
“To keep them from helping Navarin?”
She glowered at him for a moment. “Do you really believe that? How many valsahir do you know of from Navarin?”
“I suppose none.”
“And why not?”
He frowned, not coming up with a good answer.
“Because it is not safe for them. Any with potential are targeted. Destroyed. We try to save them.”
Torian looked at the wagons. “Is that what you’re doing?”
“For us to travel openly as we do, we must appear nonthreatening. Like entertainers.” She waved toward the wagons. “And because of that, we are granted free passage, which allows us to stay clear of Rusav as we try to bring those with potential beyond.”
“Beyond to where?”
“To a place where you can learn even more.”
“How many has Aldrich brought you to get to safety like this?”
“Are you trying to find how unusual you are?”
“I suppose,” he admitted.
“There have not been many lately.”
“Because of…”
“Because,” she said, not answering anything more, which was a disappointment to him. He had hoped that she might elaborate and fill him in on more of what it was that they had done and more about what Aldrich had been doing. “When he claimed you had the most potential he had seen in years, I did not believe. I should have known better. Aldrich does not speak in hyperbole. And still, you doubt yourself. You are not alone, especially not in this land where so few have known that real power. I myself was like that once.”
He had a hard time seeing this confident woman ever doubting herself, as it just didn’t fit with his experience with her, but maybe she had. “And are you a valsahir?”
She smiled at him, and then shook her head. “Unfortunately, I am not. I have some talent and having trained with Aldrich, I do think that in time, I learn to use my abilities as well as any sahir, but I am not what you would call a valsahir.”
If she were, maybe she could teach him even more.
“You have a limitation. That is what holds you back. When I sent word to Aldrich that I could not remove the limitation, he came back.”
“You sent word to him?”
“He was overly optimistic about my capability. He may not speak in hyperbole, but he does tend to be more optimistic than someone of his capability has any right to be. Given what he has seen, you would expect him to view the world differently.” She shook her head. “Perhaps even view it the way that we do,” she added, her voice falling quiet.
“Why teach me?”
Torian felt as if he needed that answer, but he also felt as if there was no possibility for him to get a clean one from Aldrich, though he did wonder if perhaps Sylvia would share more.
She regarded him, leaning forward and setting her mug down on the ground. “If you have the potential that he believes, then you must be taught. Not only for your benefit but for ours. There is so much that can be gained by letting you be what you can be.”
