James Galloway - The Tower of Sorcery

"I guess that makes sense," he said.

"You will study that in detail once you are raised to the green," she said. "Forming circles is the last stage of your instruction." She glanced at the candles, the ones that replaced the last set at lunchtime, which were very nearly burned down to nothing. "I think we can stop here for today," she said. "You will practice those centering exercises tonight, dear one," she said. "If I feel you are ready, tomorrow I will guide you into touching the Weave yourself. Perhaps even attempt a weave."

"Alright," he said. "Do you think I'm doing alright, Dolanna?"

She laughed sweetly. "Tarrin, my dear one, I think you understand more than Initiates that have been here for a year," she said. "What I told you today was very short," she admitted. "I did not explain a great, great many things, for I wanted to test your natural understanding of the Weave, yet you made the connections on you own. And you passed with flying colors. You seem to understand things that take months for others to comprehend. Most would never have asked the questions you ask, and many more would not understand the answers. Like I told you once before, you are a natural. I have every confidence that you will amaze the Tower with your progression." She reached up and tapped his ear, which flicked involuntarily under her light touch. "And this is the reason I will allow you to progress so quickly."

"How do you mean?"

"Sorcery requires mental concentration and control, but what it requires most is willpower," she told him. "You must exert your will on the Weave in order to make it do what you want it to do. Because of your change, you posses tremendous will, and despite what you believe, you have a great deal of control over your own mind. Most other Initiates would spend rides, months, sometimes even years, building up the basic mental control and will to use the Weave. You already have that. You earned it while learning how to deal with your dual nature. Because you already have a very forceful mind, I think you would be capable of exercising yourself against the Weave."

"I hope so," he sighed. "I just don't want to feel lost, and I don't want to sit in here for a few months."

She patted his arm, her dark eyes warm and reassuring. "Trust me, dear one," she said. "You will do fine." He didn't tell her the other reason, that the faster he learned Sorcery, the faster he could use it to his own ends. To find out who was after him, find out what the Keeper and the Tower wanted of him, and another tool to use against those who were trying to kill him. "You are released. Report back to this room tomorrow at dawn."

"Thank you, Dolanna," he said, standing up.

"Mistress Dolanna," she said with a slight smile.

"Whatever," he winked at her. A little bit of insubordination was perfectly acceptable between friends. At least he felt so.

Back in his room, he considered Dolanna's words, and privately rejoiced in the fact that she was the one teaching him. Because she already knew him so well, that allowed her to do exactly what she did. And it seemed that would allow him to not spend day after day sitting there doing stupid mental exercises. Thinking of exercises, Tarrin changed into his leathers and picked up his staff, feeling its comfortable weight. Allia had been itching to get back onto the training field, and he was too. At that moment, Sorcery was the last thing on his mind. After two months without a workout, he felt rusty. He knew that Allia would think of that first thing after being released from her class, just as he had. He opened the adjoining door and went into her room, but found it empty, and the fading scent told him he had not been there since the morning. He wrote her a short note telling her where he would be, then he left through his own room and hurried out towards the sand-floored exercise grounds where the cadets of the Knights spent their days in training.

The day was cool and sunny, with a ridge of flat clouds standing to the west. The Skybands were wearing their customary day colors, the faint dull white, and Dommammon, the White Moon, was showing in the blue sky as a thin crescent. Although it was well into fall, coming on winter, the air was still quite comfortable. Back in Aldreth, he had no doubt that they'd already had their first snow. The village, being in the foothills of the Skydancer Mountains, tended to get snow earlier than Torrian, which was only 3 days to the southwest. His father had told him that Suld, being on the coast, had a much milder climate than the inlands of Sulasia. It did get cold, and snow and even having the harbor ice up were not uncommon, but the icebound time was not very long. Snow only piled up for about a month during winter, and then the first stages of early spring would melt it. It was the winter that was unusual, for it took winter more time to settle around Suld than it did most of the rest of Sulasia, even those areas to the south. Eron Kael suspected that the Tower had something to do about that.

The training area was populated, which was normal for this time in the afternoon, full of young men wearing leather jerkins and holding wooden swords, practicing forms, sparring with each other, or thrusting or chopping at the numerous wooden posts that were staked into the sandy ground. Surrounding and interspersed with these cadets were the Knights in their mail shirts, giving instruction, correcting mistakes, or punishing cadets for bad errors. Some of the faces, Tarrin recognized. Most he did not.

One cadet stood out, literally, among those on the field. He was a young man, that was obvious from his face, but the young man towered over the other cadets and Knights as if they were children, and he was almost a head taller than Tarrin. Tarrin was amazed at that, for few humans could look him in the eye. The young man had chocolate brown skin, even darker than Dar's swarthy complexion, was more than an axe handle wide across the shoulder, and had arms that looked like gnarled tree trunks. As Tarrin walked up to the edge of the grounds, the young man just kept getting bigger and bigger. He wasn't just tall. He was awesomely developed, and Tarrin had no doubt that the young man was monstrously strong. He swung his practice sword with a calm, calculated efficiency that came with long hours of practice.

A mop of dark curly hair sprouted from a rank of cadets, and Faalken appeared at the edge of them. Wearing a battered mail shirt and a pair of undyed leather breeches, the burly, jovial Knight recognized him and rushed over, his wide, cheeky face beaming. Tarrin smiled warmly and took Faalken's hand when he reached him. "By Karas, it's good to see you again, Tarrin!" he said in a joyful voice. "We heard you'd come back, but they didn't tell us you'd be returning to the grounds."

"They didn't tell me I could," he replied, "but they didn't say that I couldn't, either."

Faalken laughed. "You may get in trouble. You're supposed to be devoting yourself to your magical training."

"They can get as mad as they want," he shrugged. "Besides, I was told that my time outside of class is my own. They didn't put any kind of restriction on it." He glanced at the monster of a man. "Who is that?"

"His name is Azakar," Faalken replied. "He came from Arak."

"Arak!" Tarrin gasped.

Faalken nodded. "He's an escaped slave. He was one of their gladiators, and somehow managed to get free while he was being moved from one Arakite city to Dala Yar Arak. From what we know, he managed to get passage on a Wikuni clipper, and wound up here. Someone that speaks Araki helped get him into the service on the docks as a laborer. He learned our language out on the docks. Not long after you left, he showed up at the gates and asked for the chance to become a Knight. He's good, Tarrin. He was still in training when he escaped, but he learns fast. We have trouble training him," Faalken chuckled. "I use the troll-skin gloves when I work with him. I'm not used to my students being stronger than me."