Jean Lorrah - Wulfston's odyssey

Laughter erupted from some of the crewmen as the gladiator crashed to the deck. Wulfston saw Astra blink hard.

“That was what you had in mind, gladiator?” Telek smirked.

Zanos rose deliberately, smiling. Telek took two steps and tried to grasp Zanos’ arm. In a blur of speed, the gladiator grabbed the sailor’s wrist, spun around, and threw Telek over his shoulder. Several crewmen jumped out of the way as their comrade landed so hard the ship rocked.

” That’s what I had in mind,” Zanos said calmly. Wulfston followed his gaze to Captain Laren, who was feigning disinterest in the demonstration. The Lord Adept sensed that the captain disapproved, but would allow them to continue… within limits.

Telek bounced to his feet, no longer smug. He approached Zanos a little more cautiously-but soon found himself flat on the deck again. This time a cheer went up for Zanos.

Telek scrambled to his feet, glaring. Zanos’ smile became nasty as he backed away, beckoning to his opponent. Telek charged, bellowing. Zanos evaded his grasp, gripped the seaman’s forearms, planted his foot on Telek’s chest, and fell backward, tossing the man over his head.

The ship had stopped rocking before Telek regained his feet this time. Zanos stood waiting. Silence fell on the Night Queen as the two men stared at one another.

Suddenly Telek let out a long, hearty laugh, breaking the tension. Zanos grinned as the sailor threw him a careless salute and walked away, retrieving his shirt as he went.

Someone tossed Zanos a towel as the circle of spectators dispersed. Wiping the sheen of sweat from his torso, he said, “You see, my lord? I used his own weight against him, so I didn’t wear myself out. If that principle could be used in Adept combat, a man could fight much more efficiently, without risking exhaustion.”

“But both of you were using Adept powers, weren’t you?” Wulfston guessed. “Just before that last toss, Telek braced his powers, and you countered with yours.” Wulfston could not have explained how he knew that, except from years of experience with Adepts of all levels of ability.

“Zanos, what was the real point of that demonstration-to find out which of you was the better fighter?”

To Wulfston it appeared that this skilled gladiator had lowered himself to brawl with a common thug.

Zanos shrugged. “It seemed the perfect opportunity to get that question answered.”

“But was it important to do so?” Wulfston asked.

“Yes,” was Zanos’ only response. “Let’s go back to where we started, my lord. With the same basic techniques, you could take on someone even larger than me without using Adept power.”

Wulfston was still skeptical, but willing to take Zanos’ instruction. However, he had to ask, “How do we keep each other honest about not using our powers?”

“I will referee,” said Astra. “The moment either one of you braces his powers, he becomes unReadable-and I call foul.”

Zanos limited the lesson to using an opponent’s weight against him. Wulfston learned how to throw a man over his shoulder. But first, denied the use of his powers, he discovered how it felt to be the one thrown.

Twice he lunged at Zanos, trying to get a grip on the gladiator-and twice he was flipped so easily that he could not believe Zanos used no more than physical skill.

“When you lose the advantage,” Zanos explained as Wulfston discovered the sting of bruises where he hadn’t known he had places to bruise, “you roll away from the blow, or from the throw. Don’t let the momentum go into impact. Keep rolling and it won’t hurt so much. It also gives you time to gather your wits and find a new advantage.”

“I’ll remember that,” said Wulfston as he struggled to his feet for the third time, feinted a stagger-and threw his shoulder into Zanos’ knees, toppling the bigger man full length on the deck.

Zanos rolled to his feet, laughing. “You’re an apt pupil, my lord! I’ll make the lesson a little harder tomorrow.”

The next morning Wulfston awoke to a new awareness of his body. It was not just the minor aches and bruises that persisted despite his use of healing power. Somehow he also felt refreshed and relaxed. The morning’s language lesson went well, and he found himself looking forward to another session of training with Zanos in the afternoon.

But that was forgotten when Astra announced, “My lord! I can Read the shoreline of Africa!”

“What do you see?” Wulfston asked. “Can you find Sukuru’s ship?”

“Perhaps,” she replied, “but it would speed my search to know where the ship might be anchored.”

Captain Laren unfurled his maps, Chulaika at his side. She pointed out a small port called Bosa. “Our journey to your land began from there, most excellent lord. But I doubt that the ship will still be anchored there, if Sukuru and the others have gone ashore.”

“And why is that?”

“Her captain fears your wrath, and will flee as soon as Sukuru releases him.”

Zanos let out an exasperated snort. “And Sukuru will certainly move Lenardo inland, no matter where they landed. So how do we decide where to start our search?”

“Let me go out of body,” said Astra. “Perhaps I can locate Lord Lenardo.”

“But the ship is moving,” said Wulfston. “Will you be able to find your way back to your body?”

Zanos said, “I’ll be her anchor. We have a strong mental rapport. Because of that, even my limited powers are enough to guide Astra back, no matter how far she roams.”

As husband and wife shared a look of confirmation, Wulfston glimpsed in their eyes a special joy such as had never been a part of his life. For one brief moment a pang of jealousy touched him, but he dismissed it, bracing his Adept powers to guard Astra’s body should her Reading be discovered by somebody ashore.

*

Astra’s spirit was gone from her body for almost an hour. When she opened her eyes, she reported that Sukuru and his people had indeed been put ashore at Bosa. And the ship was gone.

“Lord Lenardo was unconscious when they took him off the ship,” Astra reported. “From what I could Read of the local residents, Sukuru must have told them we’re in pursuit of him-and very angry. They’re deserting the area in terror.”

“It is as Sukuru planned it,” Chulaika stated. “You will find no one to help you in your search for Lord Lenardo.”

“Then we’ll do without the help of others,” Wulfston replied. “One way or another, our search will soon be over.”

A short time later, the African coastline came into view. Wulfston found Astra alone at the port rail, staring at the land. He approached hesitantly, drawn by a feeling of concern.

“May I ask what you are thinking, Astra?”

“I… I know this may sound strange,” the Reader responded, “but this view of the coastline reminds me of my first view of Madura. The two don’t look anything alike.” She glanced up at some black birds soaring overhead. “Even the birds are different. But all the memories of what happened there suddenly came flooding back to me.”

“That doesn’t sound strange at all,” Wulfston assured her. “From what little I’ve heard of that journey, you faced hostile forces at every turn. We may have to face even worse dangers here, Astra. But… would it be prying to ask what happened in Madura? What Zanos found in his homeland?”

She considered. “Zanos doesn’t like to talk about Madura because the journey became such a disappointment. After more than twenty years of struggle and heartache, he finally found his brother Bryen. The only member of Zanos’ family left alive, and within days he, too, was dead.”

She turned to look into Wulfston’s eyes. “All the years that Zanos was trapped in the Aventine Empire, he was sustained by his dream of returning home, taking with him all the Aventine slaves who wanted to live as free men in Madura. But Vortius the Gambler destroyed his plans to help the slaves escape, and when Zanos finally reached his homeland he found that the sorcerer Maldek had turned Madura into a place of ugliness and sterility. A land of death.