Vibrations: Harmonic Magic Book 1 (12 page)

“Sam,” said Rindu, “Nalia is not accustomed to training others, especially those with views so different from the Sapsyr
way. You must understand, combat to the Sapsyra is a sacred rite, a moving form of worship. Even to the Zouyim, combat is a spiritual thing. I know it is difficult to understand our ways because you are new to this world, but please try. To start, please explain to me how combat is done on your world and then we can discuss how it is done here. It seems that the manner in which combat is done is different between the two worlds.”

Sam explained to Rindu how warriors learn combat on Telani. First, he told the mage, the novice trains to get fit, to have a working knowledge of his body so that it will move how he wants it to move. Then, basics are taught, how to stand or strike or block. As the student progresses, he learns more complex movements and combinations of more basic movements. Forms of many movements put together are learned and practiced as a kind of choreographed mock battle against one or more opponents. When the warrior is advanced, he moves from performing the techniques from muscle memory to flowing smoothly from one movement to the next almost by instinct.

“I see,” the Zouy said. “You therefore waste years in useless drills and training without ever touching the real essence of combat. Only at the end do you begin to grasp the true way.”

“What?” Sam sputtered. “There are some outstanding warriors where I come from, people who have trained for years and are so skilled that they do things that seem superhuman.”

Rindu put his hands up to show he meant no insult. “Please, do not take offense, Sam. Perhaps I spoke clumsily. What I mean is that we Zouyim, as well as the Sapsyra, know the true essence of combat. It is probably indicative of the most important difference between your world and ours. Will you empty your bowels and allow me to give you food?”

Sam winced. “Please don’t use that analogy. Can you just ask me to empty my cup of what I have learned before so that you can pour more knowledge into it?”

Rindu looked thoughtful. “Yes. Yes, I like the sound of that. Empty your cup. That is a more elegant way to put it.” The mage averted his eyes up and to the left as if registering the thought into his memory. “Ok, Sam, will you empty your cup and allow me to pour the sweet nectar of knowledge into it?”

Smiling and sitting on the ground with his legs crossed, Sam agreed. “Please, Master Rindu.”

He seated himself in front of Sam. “The universe is connected, everything with everything else. The stars, the planets, and all things that live are all connected through a type of energy, an energy that comes in many forms. The ancients called this energy
rohw
, from Old Kasmali for ‘spirit’ or ‘wind.’

“Flowing along pathways, this energy stream circles endlessly, a perfect gyration that never ceases, never disappears, and can never be created, no more than it can be destroyed. It has always been here and it will always be here, until the end of time. In the known world, in Gythe, the energy channels make up a kind of matrix of criss-crossing pathways. These pathways are the ley lines of energy and they are evident to those who have developed a sensitivity to the energy.”

Rindu watched Sam’s face for any reaction to what he was saying. “As people of the world, of the universe, man is capable of sensing, collecting, and using this energy. Though several forms of
rohw
can be used, the most basic, and perhaps the most powerful, is vibration. All things in the world tremble or vibrate, though to the untrained things seemed solid and steady. This vibrational energy is the basis for the Zouyim’s power, a power which I will explain later.

“The important point on the subject of combat is that since all things are infused with
rohw
, vibration is the key to the struggle of man against man. Combat has its own vibratory signature, its own movement and energy. In short, it has its own rhythm, much like music. Does this all make sense to you?” Rindu asked.

“Yes,” Sam answered. “I think I have it so far.”

“Sound is simply vibration in air, shock waves that travel and then are caught by the ear and translated into what the person recognizes. Each battle, each struggle, each conflict has its own ‘sound,’ its own set of unique vibrations. A true warrior can tap into and recognize that song and add his vibrations to it. When a warrior acts and moves in harmony with a battle’s song, he transcends mere physical action and becomes part of the song. He becomes invincible.”

Looking at Sam again for confirmation he understood, Rindu finished, “So, then, a fight between two people may be a short song with one voice. Larger engagements may be more complex songs, harmonies, or they may be like symphonies, with many parts, all blending together to make a grand sonic display. Until you can act in harmony with the song, you will never truly be a warrior. You will always be as a child beating on a hollow log with a stick and smiling at his own musical brilliance.”

Sam thought for a moment, opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and thought again. “So, you’re saying that everything warriors have based their fighting styles on in my world for thousands of years is wrong? How is that possible?”

Rindu put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It is not as difficult as it seems. Perhaps, in the distant past, one man was stronger, faster, and better at fighting than all others because of natural talent. Emulating him and his training methods, everyone started to train physically through repetition and choreographed movements. It just grew from there, but the path had been set. Perhaps there were people who learned the true song of combat, but because it was different than what everyone knew, it was too late to change. It is a simple thing. ‘When an ahu bird is grown, it is too late to teach them not to bash nuts with their heads to open them.’”

“Um, ok. Is that like ‘you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?’”

Thoughtful, Rindu nodded. “I suppose you could put it that way, but I like mine better. The point is, you must forget about training for combat by learning groups of preset movements. True, fitness and strength are important, but your time would be better spent learning to sing, to recognize and use the special vibration, the song, of combat. Will you, ahem, ‘empty your cup’ and try?”

“I will, Master Rindu. How do we start?”

“The first and most important thing is that you must stop thinking and start feeling. On that path lies proficiency.”

*****

Nalia was fuming. She was wasting her time. Not only that, but she still didn’t believe that Sam was an innocent traveler. One side of her warred with the other. She was determined not to give an assassin any tools with which to attack her or her friends, but she was also bound by her honor to train the man.

She knew that she seemed moody and inconsistent, but that was because of her two disparate sides doing battle with each other, pushing and pulling her until she felt like she would scream. She had meditated on this, dissecting the issue and inspecting each piece, but still she was not sure what to do.
Oh, Mother, what would you do? Father seems so sure of things.
There was no doubt in the man, it seemed.

She grabbed an empty bucket and ladle and walked to the central cistern. What could she do? She trusted her father implicitly, but she knew he was wrong. This man was trouble. How could she, in good conscience and with honor intact, train him in things he could use against them? She felt like hitting something.

She chuckled to herself. She had to hand it to the man, he could take a beating. She had seen hardened warriors quit after suffering some of the things she had inflicted upon him. He was bruised, battered, and sore, but he kept coming back for more. She smiled briefly. It did feel good to hit him with a solid strike. But that was a bad attitude, and unworthy of a Sapsyr. Did her mother ever have doubts or have to rein in every feeling and impulse or was Nalia just a bad person? She let the smile slip off her face and hefted the full bucket to bring back to the men.

While walking across the compound, she decided that she would try to do as her father requested. For now, she would teach Sam some skills, some minor ones. For now, she would suspend her irritation and dislike of the man and try to be a dutiful daughter, an honorable Sapsyr. Perhaps it would bring her a measure of peace. She must develop the proper attitude if the way of the
Sapsyra Shin Elah
was to survive. Her petty irritation and doubts could not be placed above that.

The men were sitting on the ground with their legs crossed, facing each other. Her father seemed to be explaining the
rohw
and the song of combat. She listened as he finished and as Sam declared that he would try to learn this way that was foreign to him.

He was unskilled and ignorant, but she appreciated how he showed humility in accepting instruction. Even the “instruction” she had been giving him. Maybe he
was
simply a stranded traveler. It would be revealed. She would watch carefully for any deception.

Reverently handing a ladle of water to Rindu, she set the bucket down.

“Thank you,” Sam said to her.

“It is my duty. My father asked and I obeyed. It is nothing more.” She did not say it with venom in her voice, but Sam winced as if struck. Perhaps she needed to work harder at hiding her irritation at this man’s existence, she thought.

12

Dr. Walt called the other three together later that week to discuss what he had found in his research. As the four of them sat around a small table in the main building, and Skitter sat on the floor beside Sam, the doctor spread out a scroll and a few books. Speaking in Kasmali, which Sam had learned well enough to communicate in a simple manner, he said, “I have looked through everything I have. Nothing helped much. I’m afraid that even with the information about your travel here, Sam, I don’t have a good idea how to get you back.”

“Is there nothing you can do?” Sam asked, surprised with how whiny it sounded even to himself. “I’ve already been here for more than two months. Each night before bed, I try to go back home using the same things I did before, but can’t do it. Don’t you have any idea at all what we can do?”

“Aside from you trying to learn to use your apparent abilities again without help to transport yourself back, I have only a couple of ideas.” Turning to the mage, he continued: “Rindu, are there any records left at the Zouyim Temple? Anything that may explain how ancient vibratory masters used their skills?”

Stern-faced, as always, the Zouy answered. “No. Everything was destroyed in the Gray Man’s attack. All the knowledge of the Zouyim exists now in the memories of the few of us who survive. We have not met together for several years, since the Gray Man started sending groups of Collectors to search for us. Meeting is too dangerous. I have therefore lost track of all my brothers.”

“Well, then,” the doctor answered, “there is only one other thing I can think of. We must go to the Gray Fortress. We must infiltrate the very home of the Gray Man. He has spent years collecting all the ancient knowledge he could find. If there is anywhere there might be a solution to your problem, it would be in the Gray Fortress.”

Nalia stood abruptly. “Are you suggesting we attack the Gray Fortress itself? I have been there and I have seen with my own eyes what the Gray Man can do. He has only grown in power since he allowed me to leave the fortress alive. The only Sapsyr left alive of the attack force, I might add, and only by his sufferance. Do you suggest that we can succeed where one hundred Sapsyra failed?”

Rindu directed a look at Nalia and she sat down in a huff. If he didn’t know better, Sam would have said that he saw heat actually emanating from her face behind the mask. He agreed with her, though. It was a suicide mission.

“Now, now, just hear me out Nalia,” Dr. Walt said calmly. “I am not suggesting anything. I’m just telling you my ideas. If it is possible to get a look at some of the Gray Man’s store of ancient texts, it may be possible for Sam to go home. I do not suggest a direct confrontation. As you say, the Gray Man is very powerful, but in the years that have passed, you also have become more powerful. Perhaps together, we can sneak into the fortress, find the information we need, and then leave without being caught.”

“But,” Sam asked, “if the Gray Man is, as you say, from our world and he is avidly collecting all ancient information to find a way to go home, doesn’t that mean he doesn’t know how to go home? Wouldn’t it be a waste of time, possibly a waste of life, for no reason?”

“Ah, I see that you are clever, Sam. I’m impressed that you thought of that.” The doctor patted Sam on the shoulder. “However, I think he does indeed know how to go back home. I believe he is looking for other information, information to allow him to use the resources of both worlds to take control of both. I think with his information and your talent, there is a good chance that you can get back to Telani. After all, you made it here twice on accident because of fortuitous pockets of energy.”

Sam looked around the table. Rindu was as stone-faced as ever, showing no emotion at all. Nalia was shaking her head slightly, muttering under her breath. Dr. Walt looked at him expectantly, his bushy white eyebrows rising as if in question. Even Skitter had risen to stand up and was looking at Sam.

What do you think, Skitter
, Sam sent.
Do you have any ideas on how I can get home from what you’ve eavesdropped from my mind?