Seeker (The Source Chronicles Book 1) (14 page)

Cam also relaxed, and allowed himself a slight grin.  “Thank you.  I must admit, all these drills would been beyond my patience not so long ago.  But I find they build the muscle memory, refine overall technique, and seem to be a real discipline for the mind as well as the body.”

“You are fortunate I do not have the time to instruct you as I would a proper Cadet,” she said with a hint of amusement in her voice.  “You would still be a week or two away from even the most basic sparring.”

Lyrra-Sharron put down her blade.  She reached out, and Cam handed his weapon off to her.  She picked up two dull rapiers, their tips wrapped in heavy leather.

“Speaking of sparring, care to practice a little?” asked Lyrra-Sharron, offering a blade.

Cam chuckled.  “Sure.  But try not to slaughter me so quickly this time.”

They moved to the center of the room, and picked up where they had left off.

“Are you ready, then?” asked Lyrra-Sharron.

Cam nodded his head to her.

Lyrra-Sharron raised her blade in salute, and he responded in kind, as she had taught him to. 

“Begin,” she said.

Cam and Lyrra-Sharron circled, neither attacking.  Occasionally their blades touched.    Suddenly, Lyrra-Sharron dropped to one knee.  Cam stepped back, but the princess dipped her head and somersaulted forward, landing cleanly on one knee, her blade hitting Cam in the chest with a dull thud and an “Oof!” from the startled Sorcerer.

Cam dropped his guard and rubbed his chest where Lyrra-Sharron had hit him as she stood.

“I told you.  Movement is key.  Never underestimate the physical condition of your opponent.”

Cam smirked wryly.  “Can I help it if I’m not currently capable of back flips?”

She shook her head.  “Are you planning to learn from me?”

Cam let out an exasperated breath, bobbed his head in the affirmative, then stood en guarde again.

Lyrra-Sharron saluted, and began to circle once more.

Suddenly, she threw a lunge at Cam.  He swept his blade down and actually stepped forward, knocking her blade away.  He continued to come around, making to slice at her chest.  But she swept her other hand forward, knocking Cam’s blade up and away.

They again found themselves equidistant, facing each other.

“Not bad,” she commented.  “That was a good defense.  A slower opponent would be dead now.”

Cam inclined his head, continuing to circle.  “Aye.  And if my timing were neater, your block would have been late.”

She beat at his blade.  Cam responded by beating back, hard, stepping in, and using the quillion of the blade to catch Lyrra-Sharron’s.  The princess spun out, ducking low to avoid Cam’s attempt to go for her belly with a cut.  She swung her blade up, knocking Cam’s shot wide.  But he was too close, and landed a draw cut to her right forearm.

She recognized that the cut was enough, had the blade been sharp, to prevent her from using the arm any further.  She quickly shifted her blade into her left hand, dropped and rolled backwards, springing to her feet.

But Cam had actually anticipated this, and had changed the motion of his blade and dropped forward, rolling along his left shoulder, then stood.  He lunged forward...

...but was too close.  As his blade hit Lyrra-Sharron squarely in the chest, her blade connected with his chest, as she threw a reverse lunge at that very moment.

Both made an “Oof” sound with the blow, and looked at the blades in one-another’s chests.

“Well, that was unexpected,” said Lyrra-Sharron, breathing a bit hard now.  “Much better.  First time you ever killed me.  Actually, first time anyone has killed me in a very long time.”

Cam stood, groaning.  She’d hit the same spot as before, and he could already feel the bruise spreading.  “Sure, yes, but I died in the process.”

Lyrra-Sharron let out an exasperated breath.  “You are a damned fine student, Cam Murtallan.  No one has had a good shot on me since I graduated to Master level six years ago.  In only a few weeks, you have become that skilled.”

Cam shook his head, rubbing his chest.  “Not really.  With one blade, I do fair.  Every time you make me pick up a scabbard, or dagger, or another sword, I’m the lamb being lead to slaughter.  I think I got lucky that time.”

“Believe what you will, Cam Murtallan.  But trust me when I tell you that you have the potential to become an impressive fencer.”

Cam shrugged, completely at a loss for how to handle a compliment.

“Again?” she asked, possibly noting his discomfort.

Cam touched the flat of his blade to his forehead, returning to the en guarde.

After ten more minutes, Cam was thoroughly bruised.  In that time, he’d managed to cut a leg and an arm on Lyrra-Sharron, but never won another bout.  He was tired and achy as he sat down, taking a drink as Lyrra-Sharron put away the swords.

“You have improved tremendously, you know,” Lyrra-Sharron was saying.  “For a man who had never held a sword before two weeks ago, your competence with the rapier is astounding.”

Cam was taking off his black, studded leather vest, doing his best to ignore her compliments, uncertain how to react to such.  His grey tunic was damp with sweat.  His chest was spotted with yellowish bruises, and sore to the touch. 

He looked to her, having formulated his response.  “Perhaps so.  I can still barely get at you, though.”

Lyrra-Sharron blew out her lips.  “Of course not.  You have held the blade for two weeks, and I have studied the arte of defense for over fourteen years now.  The fact you actually killed me once is amazing.  It takes time, dedication, and study to get really good with the rapier.  I spent my first year of study doing nothing but balance exercises.  You should be proud of yourself, Cam Murtallan.”

He peeled off his tunic, totally uncertain how to react to that for a moment.  “If you say so.  I have to admit, I never thought I could do well with a sword.  Though I don’t think I could devote the kind of time to properly study this, as you have.”

She nodded, and was now looking at the bruises she had caused.  “Sorry about that.  That must be rather painful.”

Cam acknowledged her with a nod, then closed his eyes, concentrating.

Lyrra-Sharron looked on, silent, waiting.

He used to do this quickly, with as much thought as the swatting of a fly.  He examined the power within himself, seeing how it reacted as he cast this simple spell.  Slowly, he spoke the words in the language of sorcery that would release his power.  When he said them this carefully, he thought he could really understand their meaning. 

As he completed the spell, he said clearly, “Heal.”

Half concentrating on his own body, half on the power within, he watched as the glowing orb that was his power grew bright, the webbing pulling away from the opening that was already there.  The energy moved through him, to his hand, and into the bruising of his body.  He shivered as a tingling ran through his bruises.

It was over now.  He opened his eyes.  His breathing was easier, and the contusions on his chest were almost completely invisible.

“It truly is an amazing thing to watch,” commented Lyrra-Sharron.

Cam took a breath.  “How so?”

She sat, tentatively touching the place on his chest that had been bruised a moment before, curiously.  “One minute, there is a purple bruise.  Then a small glow, which runs through the body.  Then it just fades away.”  She looked at his face.  “How much could you do when you had all your power?”

“It’s almost more a question of what couldn’t I do.  I stopped an entire company of your father’s charging soldiers.  I rolled the earth.”

Cam paused awkwardly, not expecting the memory to feel so suddenly upsetting, and he let out a despondent breath. 

“Does it hurt to think of your...your...”

“Loss?” Cam asked softly.  “Yes, it still does.  You can’t understand what it feels like to command that kind of power.  When it channels, you can do so much.  No limits.  It’s like taking the sun, and making it do whatever you want.  It’s like knowing anything is possible.”

“I have read a lot of books about sorcery,” Lyrra-Sharron commented.  “Probably more than you, from our conversations.  My father seems to possess quite a few, many of which may be the only copies in existence.  So much history.  Yet almost none talk of the power you possess, how it works, or what it is.”

“The knowledge was lost during The Falling,” Cam agreed.

Lyrra-Sharron recalled her history.  “The Falling of the Skies.  A comet was descending towards t’Thera, and would have destroyed all of mankind.  The strongest, most powerful sorcerers and wizards came together, and working as one they demolished the comet.  Much land was lost, many places were burned, though countless lives were spared…but they destroyed themselves in the process.  And with them died the real understanding of your power, and how it works.”

Cam stood, taking up a dry, black tunic.  “All that remained was knowledge of the energy, and how to use it.  Over the centuries the meanings of the spells that released Sorcery were forgotten.  There were no more wizards, and no sorcerers ever equaled those of the pre-Falling world.  Very little knowledge remains of the history before.  At least, with regards to sorcery.”

“With the exception of The Source,” said Lyrra-Sharron.

Cam stiffened a moment, then pulled on his tunic.  “We only know
of
The Source.  No one knows where it is, or even what it is, for that matter.  There’s just the one prophecy, and that’s all.”

Lyrra-Sharron remembered, then quoted,

“
‘To set the world upon a course,

to free these lands of War and Strife,

Comes the finding of The Source,

for which The Seeker comes to life.

Wizardry and Sorcery forthwith return,

though seemingly forgotten, they hath yet endured.

Before the Falling, when the lands did burn,

long ago was The Source made thusly secured.

Order of Chaos is the rite of The Source,

Chaos of Order brings neigh but remorse.

And only the Seeker shall know it Discovered,

for only The Seeker may wield The Source.

Knowledge of Wizardry will be recovered,

returned to the world with great show of force.

The Source is Knowledge,

and Knowledge is The Source.’
”

“Yes, then there’s the modern Pallantirian version, less well known, supposedly written by Pallantir himself, sometime before his death,” Cam commented.

He quoted it word for word by memory.

“‘
And with the finding of The Source, shall the world be set free of War and Strife. Wizardry and Sorcery will return to the world, for the good of all mankind will be laid upon the shoulders of The Seeker.  And with The Source, Wizardry and Sorcery will come forth, knowing of itself, to bring prosperity to the world, as before The Falling of the Skies.  The Source is Knowledge, and knowledge comes from The Source.  And only The Seeker will know if it’s finding, and only The Seeker will be able to truly wield The Source, and restore that which has decayed.  And with The Source shall Wizardry and Sorcery re-awaken to a glorious new world
.’”

“You know,” Lyrra-Sharron remarked thoughtfully, “Imperial King Pallantir was said to have found The Source, which is why he managed to come to power as he did.  Rumor of The Source alone propelled his conquest.”

Cam tucked in the tunic now, and pulled the vest back on.  “Yes, well, the prophecy says nothing about The Seeker ruling the world.  When The Source is finally found, the world will know.  Whatever it is.”

Lyrra-Sharron looked to Cam, a question on her lips.  But as he buttoned up his vest, she remained silent. 

Cam’s mind began to mull over many different things, things he could not give thought to now, so he chose to change the subject.  “Well, Your Highness, what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day?”

She gathered the practice gear.  “We have a meeting with Nadav, Torman, and the other Raider Commanders.  You will be there too, as an advisor of mine.  With your quarterstaff training, you have won the respect of the Falcon Raiders, and they look to you as a leader.  Natural ability, I guess.”

Cam wore a wry smile.  “Who would’ve thought?  Cam Murtallan, a leader?  I’ve followed no one, led no one, always did my own thing, walked my own path.”

She eyed him, a questioning look on her face.  “You do not see it, do you?  You have a real presence, Cam Murtallan.  A command authority.  You may not believe it, but if you lead, people will follow you.”

“Never tried before,” said Cam simply.  He pulled on a soft cloak, lined with silk, to protect himself from the rain.

“I suppose,” concluded Lyrra-Sharron.  She handed the practice swords to Cam.  “Will you still be holding practice in this?”

“Of course.  You can’t always fight when it’s dry,” he replied.

They left the empty tavern, and crossed the muddy streets, passing various Falcon Raiders as they went about duties and errands.  Cam was the only one unarmed, as his quarterstaff was in the other tavern they approached, where the headquarters of this base was located.  He had not worn a knife to practice, either.