Glyphbinder Page 4

  Byn pressed her own staff into her hands, marked with many nocks from prior triptych duels. He was huffing hard, and she had no doubt he had sprinted all the way to her room and back. Beastrulers could run faster than humans when the proper glyphs took them, and Byn’s panting and narrowed eyes were the aftereffects of Rannos the Wolf. It made her think of graybacks.

  Kara readied her staff — a gift from her mother — and ignored the needles poking her legs. She settled into a low guard and sheathed her staff in ice. Time to knock that smirk off Aryn’s face.

  “As the challenger, Kara will initiate staffs,” Journeymage Talbot said. “Duel when ready.”

  Aryn twirled his flaming quarterstaff around his waist and legs. Kara stalked forward. They circled for a moment, sizing each other up. Aryn winked. Kara thrust at his waist.

  He sidestepped her strike and slapped her head with his staff. Talbot’s glyphs softened the blow, but it still sent her reeling. How had Aryn done that? She hadn’t even seen him move!

  “Point, Aryn,” Talbot said. “Aryn, begin point two when ready.”

  Kara dropped into a hanging guard and fell back as Aryn thrust, moved, and grinned. His staff hit hers and hit it again. She backed and huffed as his staff landed everywhere at once, leaving tracers of flame. Ice shattered. Kara’s hands ached. Her staff bounced from her hands and Aryn’s thrust toward her chin.

  Air exploded. Kara opened her eyes on her back, on the grass, tasting blood. Her teeth ached like someone had slammed a rock into them, but she still had teeth. Talbot had blunted the strike.

  “Point, Aryn,” Talbot announced. “Kara, you may begin point three when ready.”

  As Byn hauled her up Kara fell against him, struggling to stand. Her jaw ached and her hands did too.

  “He’s getting lucky.” Byn steadied her and handed back her staff. “Don’t let it shake you. Pick your time and strike.”

  Kara swallowed blood. “He’s a bit faster than I expected.”

  Aryn twirled his flaming staff in a hypnotic spiral, spinning it forward then around his back. He snapped an end down at his boot. One of his blood glyphs had suspended three interlocking columns of flame on the air: the essence of Heat in glyph form.

  Aryn turned his smile on a buxom initiate in the crowd. The woman grinned like a besotted fool, and Kara remembered her. Sashia Grace, a Lifewarden, and one of Kara’s most vocal critics.

  Sashia had long lashes, curves that strained her uniform, and silky black hair. She made a wonderful distraction. Kara thrust her staff at Aryn’s turned head.

  Aryn ducked without looking and knocked Kara’s staff away with a single backhanded thrust. Sashia oohed and aahed, and she wasn’t the only one. Kara stepped back, mouth open. No one had ever beaten her so fast.

  Talbot raised his arms. “Point, Aryn. Aryn takes—”

  Aryn’s staff smashed Kara’s temple. When she next opened her eyes, she was flat on her back and coughing at the smell of burned hair. An utter silence hung over the ring.

  “Locke!” The anger in Talbot’s tone shocked her. “That point had been concluded!”

  “I’m so sorry!” A shadow stood over her — Aryn — and Kara wanted to bite his boot. “I struck as you concluded the point.” Aryn offered his hand and a taunting smirk. “Allow me to help you up.”

  “Shove off!” Byn backed Aryn off with two forceful steps. He helped Kara to her feet, and she stumbled into his thick arms.

  The world rocked like a boat in a fierce storm. How could she wrestle Aryn when she could barely stand? She supposed she’d start by standing, first.

  Aryn strutted before the crowd, pumping one arm and shouting for encouragement. Some of them were shouting back, but many more weren’t. That meant some might actually care that he struck while she was unarmed. She hoped someone had noticed.

  “Wrestling now,” Byn whispered. “You ready?”

  “On any other day, I’d flatten him.”

  “You still will. You can do this. Now, can you stand?”

  Kara wobbled. The crowd was a blurry mass, but she didn’t look at them, or Aryn, or Talbot. She looked at Byn, at his round face and stubborn frown. She handed him her staff.

  “I’m standing, aren’t I?”

  The crowd cheered when they saw that Kara was ready to continue, and that raised her spirits. There were people out there cheering for her, too. Aryn wasn’t the only favorite.

  “Wrestling’s your strength, not his.” Byn thumped her back. “You’re tied. Take your win even if you have to knock out his teeth.”

  Kara walked to the center of the ring. It spun around her, but she refused to fall. She would not give Aryn that satisfaction.

  Aryn handed his quarterstaff to Jair and when Jair took it, his wide eyes fell on her. His brow was furrowed and Kara didn’t understand why. Why would Jair be worried about her?

  Aryn stepped into her vision. “Forfeit now,” he whispered. “You’re exhausted. No one will think less of you.”

  Kara shook her head. “You haven’t learned anything, have you? Well, pay attention. I’ll give you something to remember.”

  “Wrestling begins upon the first strike from Initiate Locke,” Journeymage Talbot announced. “Aryn, attack when ready.”

  “Last chance.” Aryn set his feet. “Forfeit now.”

  “Not happening.” Kara beckoned. “Come at me, Locke.”

  Aryn lunged. Kara caught him easily but barely held her grip. He threw a knee at her gut. She blocked it with her thigh and snapped her heel behind his leg. They pivoted on his locked joint and he went down like a falling tree. With her on top.

  They hit hard. Sweat and grass wrinkled Kara’s nose, along with Aryn’s waxy cologne, and when she tried to roll off him she couldn’t. Her arms felt like she had spent a day rowing a boat upstream.

  “What’s she doing?” Sashia yelled. “Is that legal?”

  “Get off me,” Aryn hissed in her ear.

  “Point one, Kara,” Talbot said. “Seconds?”

  Byn helped her up. Kara stumbled and supported herself by clinging to him. Getting up was harder than falling down, but she only had to do it twice more.

  Aryn batted at Jair’s hands. He stood and brushed grass and dirt from his shirt. He would have a stain now, a stain on that nice fine shirt. Kara knew it was petty, but it still made her grin.

  “This was a horrible idea,” Jair said quietly. “Why win like this? What’s it really worth?”

  Jair knew why Aryn had manipulated her into dueling tonight. He did not approve, and Kara’s respect for him jumped a good bit. Aryn might be an ass, but even an ass had decent friends.

  “You’ve both dueled admirably,” Jair continued. “You’ve both had enough. Call it a tie and end it.”

  “Jair,” Kara said, pushing off Byn. “I appreciate the concern. But we’re finishing this. Tonight.

  Aryn glared at her. “My thoughts exactly.”

  “Kara will begin point two.” Talbot’s calm tone offered no hint of what he thought of this exchange. “Attack when ready.”

  Kara limped into place. The crowd spun around her, around Aryn, and Kara caught sight of Sera. She had pushed her way through the crowd and stood against the warded wall. Her eyes were wide and her hands clenched.

  Kara was doing this for Sera. For herself. For her mother, and that last goal was most important. Time to stop stumbling about on the Commons grass and save her mother’s life.

  She shouted and lunged. She hit Aryn with her full weight and he pushed back, hard. Each dug their heels into the Commons grass, but everything Kara had simply wasn’t enough.

  Aryn twisted an arm behind her back and knocked her legs out from under her. He dropped her face first into the grass, pinned her, and Kara spit at the hard landing. The crowd cheered and hollered.

  “Point two, Aryn,” someone said above her head.

  “Kara,” Byn whispered. “Wake up!” He was kneeling at her side. “Don’t give up. You can’t! You’re one po
int away from winning!”

  Kara wanted to save her mother. She wanted to sleep. She almost did, until she heard the chanting. There were people, dozens of them, and all of them were chanting her name.

  “Ka-ra! Ka-ra! Ka-ra!”

  Who was she to let them down? She could sleep when she’d planted Aryn’s face in the grass. When everyone cheered for her.

  Kara stood and then dropped to one knee. Stupid, traitorous legs. Byn pulled her up, balanced her. Made her stand.

  One more point. Just one more point. Kara stumbled forward, set herself, and mimicked Aryn’s smirk. “What’s wrong? You tired?”

  “Aryn,” Journeymage Talbot said. “Begin.”

  Aryn charged her and the world slowed. Kara let him hit her, let him flow past, and twisted her body so she tripped him as he did so. She latched onto Aryn’s back like an octopus wrapped about prey. She dragged him into deep water, dead weight on his back, and then they hit the Commons grass hard.

  With her on top.

  “Point three, Kara.” Journeymage Talbot dropped his glowing arena. “This triptych duel goes to Kara, five points to four.”

  The crowd erupted in shouting, many cheering, some booing, but all excited by the spectacle they had witnessed. Kara felt Aryn wriggle free and rolled onto her back. Stars glittered above, and she smiled at them. She wanted to pump her fist, but it wouldn’t move.

  Byn whooped loudly as he dragged her to her feet. Kara fell against him, filled with a flush of victory. She lifted her gaze and found Aryn staring, blue eyes wide. Wet. He trembled. He might cry.

  “You fought well.” Kara smirked at him. “You almost had me.”

  Aryn’s hands formed fists. His arms were trembling, his lower lip as well, but not from grief. It was rage. Aryn Locke hated her, a hate so fierce and ugly it made her stumble back a step.

  Jair said something, but Aryn brushed past him without another word. Sashia stepped into Aryn’s path, arms open and eyes wide, and he stiff-armed her so hard she stumbled back. She fell into another student’s arms with her mouth frozen in a shocked O.

  Kara stared after Aryn and felt a chill temper her flush. As much as she disliked Sashia, the woman certainly didn’t deserve that. What was wrong with Aryn? Was he that poor a sport?

  Even at the height of their rivalry, Kara had never hated Aryn. Not really. She had just wanted to beat him. The thought of someone hating her like that, wanting her hurt or dead — that left her cold.

  Students were pushing in, slapping her back or pumping their fists, but she couldn’t pick out faces and felt like she should. Then Journeymage Talbot scattered the crowd with a look, giving Kara the space she needed to breathe. He turned his calm eyes on her.

  “Kara. The Council of Elders has requested your presence.”

  She swallowed hard. “The Council wants me?”

  “Only if you feel up to it.”

  “I’d be lucky to walk home.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Sera stepped forward, fingers bleeding, and gripped Kara’s wrists. Before Kara could stop her, she closed her eyes and glyphed. She sent a huge transfusion into Kara’s body.

  Kara jerked at the flash before her eyes. Her exhaustion melted. Sera stepped back as Byn steadied her. Sera’s normally pale skin looked practically white.

  “You didn’t.” Kara stared at her.

  “You’ve got a council to meet. You’re fine now. Trust me.”

  “You’re insane! You shouldn’t have done that!”

  A flash heal — the glyph Sera had just used on her — transfused a tremendous amount of the caster’s blood very, very fast. It could restore the patient’s health almost instantly, but faded soon after. It also took a heavy toll on the person who scribed it.

  “I’m fine.” Sera blinked through heavy lids. “I don’t get to practice those enough.”

  “You took Aryn apart!” Byn beamed through clenched teeth as he hugged Sera close. “I’ll get her home safe. Promise. Now go!”

  Kara felt like she was flying. She supposed she could make it home before this new blood expired. If not, she supposed the elders would call a stretcher. Or maybe she could just sleep in the street.

  “I accept.” Kara waved away Talbot’s arm. “I can walk.”

  More students shook Kara’s hand, patted her on the back, or shouted congratulations as she walked away. It overwhelmed her. How did Aryn handle all this adulation? She frowned as she considered.

  She and Aryn were nothing alike. She didn’t take these people for granted, didn’t drink in their adoration like fine wine. She actually liked them. They had supported her, cheered her on, and that left her feeling grateful and guilty all at once.

  Kara caught Jair’s eyes as he stepped close. He gripped her hand and bowed his head. Then he stepped away, and he simply wasn’t there anymore.

  Kara gasped and cast about. Soulmages did that sometimes, moving so quietly that the night swallowed them up. Jair could do that as well, and he had picked a fine time to practice.

  Kara gave up and looked at Talbot. “Shall we go?”

  He smiled and led her from the gossiping square.

  Chapter 6

  THE ROUND MARBLE BUILDING that housed the Council of Elders was extraordinary, five great walls of reflective brown marble. Ornate columns supported a pentagonal overhang that shaded the grass below. Statues of mages from Solyr’s past waited between those columns, stone eyes looking beyond. The building flowed into a thin tower with a solid gold sunburst at its point. The symbol of Solyr.

  Journeymage Talbot opened the wooden double doors and motioned her inside. Kara missed a step. Talbot was two ranks above her, a veteran of the Rain rebellion, and one of the most respected Journeymages in Solyr. Yet he opened a door for her?

  “You’re expected,” Talbot said. He smiled at her.

  “Thank you.” Kara gripped his arm as she moved past and entered. The doors closed her in, and a hallway stretched ahead.

  The Council Chamber’s builders had spaced diamonds of smooth obsidian at regular intervals through the white marble floor of its central hall. That hall led to the large pentagonal room in the center of the building — five walls like The Five Who Had Made the World. With mages, it was always fives. The heels of Kara’s boots echoed through the hall as she followed the obsidian lines.

  Murals illustrating the formation of the world hung from the walls, everything from the first spark to the journey of the Five to the fusion that had made their world and everyone in it. One showed the first people of Loess — her world — as the Five made them from ether. Another showed the first of the great singers changing the land and forming their homes. A third depicted the great singers completing the Hymn of Revocation, the song that had taken the ancient language from all save those charged with its protection.

  More tapestries followed, beautiful illustrations in rich colors that showed the strife of the Revocation War, the exile of the tribes, the hiding of the first glyph tomes. The illustrations shifted as she looked at them, and Kara knew creating each involved more than simple tailoring. These threads held magic.

  Behind the murals were layered slats of alternating white and gold. They rose to an arched ceiling covered in painted tiles that fitted together like swatches in a quilt. The tiles curved across the ceiling, bright, blue, and filled with smatterings of thin white cloud.

  The tiles made a mural of the Heavens created in mind and glyphed into reality by an ancient method tracing all the way back to Braun. A bright yellow sun shone down on her as she walked, and Kara often thought the shimmering illustration seemed as alive as the sky outside. It hurt to look directly at this sun, which lit the whole building as if noon still reigned outside.

  She wondered then if Lunyr’s council chambers had an equivalent white moon. Lunyr was Tellvan’s magic academy, built in the great mountain forest that overlooked the winding spires of Concora, Tellvan’s massive capital. Kara hoped to visit Concora someday, with her mother. Ona had always wante
d to see it.

  Finally, she reached the center. All around her were the tiered wooden benches that sat the elders when the council held session. Only the trio of leaders was present, Elders Halde, Ine, and Gell, and all three wore long crimson robes. This was a private session. Had something happened with the Tellvan man she’d rescued?

  Kara kept marching until she reached the golden sun painted on the center of the chamber floor. She stopped there, locked her feet together at its center, and bowed at the waist.

  “Initiate Tanner,” Elder Halde greeted her.

  Kara straightened. His voice made her feel safe. Despite his position, as years passed Halde had become as close to her father as any man could be. She loved him dearly.

  Today Halde was one of Solyr’s most powerful Earther battlemages, and his fifty-two years had done little to dull the powerful muscles beneath his crimson robes. His shaved head glittered in the mural’s sunlight, and his spiky vine tattoos were black as darkest night. A simple black beard hugged his chin.

  “Thank you for coming,” Halde said.

  Kara remembered the graybacks, charging, and her heart fluttered. “Have the Tellvan revealed why their mage attacked me?”

  “We are investigating that incident,” Elder Ine said, “but Lunyr’s council has disavowed all knowledge of any attack. You need not worry about further Tellvan aggression.” The study of stars and astral glyphs caused Ine’s eyes to glow bright blue. He was a Skywatcher, and Skywatchers could even teleport when they wished.

  “I’m sorry for causing all this trouble,” Kara said. “Has something happened to the man I dragged in?”

  “The man you saved is just fine,” Halde told her. “You’re here so we can officially nominate you for the post of royal apprentice.”

  “As … really?”

  “Your instructors have been keeping us informed of your progress,” Elder Gell added. White hair clung to his head like a coiled snake. “Only experience outside these walls can teach you anything more than what you have learned. You do feel ready, yes?”