53. The Quiet Places
The Quiet Places
The Resh’Agar’s private training ring lay quiet beyond the inner walls of his wing, shielded from the noise of the metropolis below behind layers of S-class wards and webs.
The Mirror Shafts, visible from this high perch atop the Jade Lattice, were fading as daylight surrendered its warmth to evening.
Auryn and Kailorien met Zarrek and Lu’ma here after the heated Council session that morning.
Polis lanterns lit the perimeter, set atop tall posts at equal intervals in a circle around the ring.
Zarrek had redrawn lines in black, marking boundaries.
Auryn stood in one such circle now, rolling her shoulders and drawing a slow breath.
Veilpiercer hummed in her hands, ready. Hungry.
Kailorien watched her from across the courtyard.
He had shed his Morvane and his mantle, leaving him in dark training leathers that clung to the long lines of his body. The runes along his arms and throat lay dormant, the etched lines drinking in the fading sun.
“You’re hesitating,” he said.
Auryn lifted her brow.
“I am stretching.”
“Hesitating,” he repeated.
She huffed and lifted her hand.
Mana gathered in her palm in a swirl of pale silver light. The threads arched and twined together, weaving strings of light into form until a glowing quiver took shape against her back—translucent, elegant, humming with contained power.
She drew a shining arrow from within and notched it against the string. Drew. Took a breath. The arrow loosed with a high-pitched whistle, and the target at the far end of the yard exploded in a shower of splinters and sparks.
Auryn lowered the bow with a satisfied smile.
Kailorien didn’t react.
“Again.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Yes, Your Quintessence.”
Another arrow formed. Another whistle and release. This time, the instant the string snapped forward—
Auryn took a single step and vanished.
The world folded, and she slipped into the Veilweave. It was like sinking into a warm bath. Heat surrounded her, much like nether residue when stepping through a portal, but different. Lighter. Her thoughts fragmented, and she worked to focus them. To remember where she needed to go.
Kailorien. His back. Twenty paces or so to the right. Not too high, or she would reappear in the air and fall to her death. Not too low or her body could coalesce below the earth and merge her flesh with stone.
Her calves burned from the strain, but she pushed. Endless practice had given her enough control to do so. Her chest hurt, and she exhaled before the nether could turn to liquid in her lungs.
All in less than a fraction of a blink.
She Veilstepped.
And reappeared behind Kailorien, another arrow surging into being. She notched it, ready to fire.
He didn’t turn, but his hand lifted, the minor runes along his forearm flaring blue.
The arrow struck an azure shield of force surging around him and shattered into golden sparks.
Auryn groaned. “You anticipated where I would step.”
“I anticipated you,” he corrected, so calm it irked.
She released the glowing quiver on her back, allowing it to dissolve into floating motes of light.
“My timing was perfect.”
“You announced your intentions, starlight.”
Auryn blinked, frustrated. “I did not.”
“You did.” His glowing eyes flicked toward her. “When you Veilstep, you flinch. It’s painful, and your body knows it. First, your shoulders shift, and your center of balance follows. Anyone watching closely will notice it.”
Auryn crossed her arms. “Anyone watching closely would already have my arrow in their back.”
“Confidence is useful,” Kailorien teased. “Overconfidence is fatal.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Again.”
Mana flared back into her hands, the quiver reappearing on her back. This time, she didn’t step immediately. She circled him, drawing the bowstring as she moved.
Kailorien remained still, his posture relaxed, his expression serene.
This time, Auryn was determined not to anticipate the pain of the step.
She loosed an arrow then vanished into the Veilweave and the nether surrounding it.
Slipping through. Focusing only on location.
On intent. Moving so fast, she did not have to exhale.
Pushing past the pain in her chest to reappear halfway up the courtyard wall.
Beneath her feet, a glowing platform manifested.
She stepped on it. Leaned. After training for just over a year, she could still only manage half a second before the platform faded. She loosed another arrow and Veilstepped once more. Onto another platform. Higher this time, closer to Kailorien. With each step, she fired another arrow.
One struck before Kailorien’s shield fully formed.
The force drove him half a step back.
Auryn grinned triumphantly, but the loss of concentration eroded the platform beneath her foot. She started to fall and burst into another Veilstep, reappearing on the ground.
Joy withered into memory of the Path of Fire. Frustration. Anger.
Why didn’t I Veilstep that day? I could have avoided that entirely. Could have stopped the fall.
You are too hard on yourself, starlight.
She released a pent up breath.
Kailorien looked down at the fading ripple of her mana across his shield.
Then back up at her.
“You’re improving.”
She stood, dusting off her pant leg.
“It doesn’t feel like it.”
“You caught the edge of my sleeve,” he said, smiling in that infuriating way that made her want to kiss him and slap him at the same time.
Across the yard, steel rang out in sharp bursts. Lu’ma stood near the weapon racks, a training blade flashing through the air in a precise arc. Zarrek circled her, a patient predator, his practice blade moving in measured corrections.
Lu’ma lunged forward and struck.
Zarrek knocked the blade away, blocking.
She pivoted, sweeping outward with her leg. He dodged, but she anticipated it. Twisting, she ducked beneath his outstretched arm, her size allowing her to squeeze into a gap in his defense.
The edge of her blade stopped a breath from his throat.
Zarrek barked a laugh.
“Good! Again.”
Auryn smiled.
Lu’ma’s movements were restrained but efficient, every step precise, every strike controlled. No hesitation. Only discipline honed through years of invisible service.
“She improves as well,” Kailorien observed.
“She always does,” Auryn said, and Kailorien caught the faint hurt in her tone.
Auryn, you are making great strides. I have never seen the magic you wield, especially not in combat. You are forging a new path, and—
New paths require more effort. I know, my love. You are sorely predictable in your lectures.
Though her words were clipped, she stepped forward and leaned against his side. He took no offense, allowing her ambition the space it needed to grieve its minor setbacks.
Don’t stop, Kail.
He raised a brow. Don’t stop, what?
Lecturing me. I fuss, but I do love to learn from you.
His hand settled at her waist. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. I know, starlight. You do enjoy it when I praise you.
The tips of her ears caught fire, but she didn’t deny it.
Beyond, Zarrek and Lu’ma continued their drills.
Relentless, not taking a single break. Auryn watched her friend with fascination.
Lu’ma was incredible, to say the least. Over the last year, the limp in her leg ceased to be any kind of hindrance in combat.
She was powerful, competent—not just physically, but magically.
Zarrek had taught her how to cast like a battlemage, summoning wards mid strike and weaving complex webs even in the direst of situations.
Their blades clashed in another fierce song. Lu’ma jumped into the air, attempting a complex twist and strike. But Zarrek disarmed her with a twist of his wrist, sending her blade skittering across the stone.
Lu’ma didn’t protest.
She simply retrieved it and resumed her stance.
Auryn turned back to Kailorien, her heart racing.
“Our turn.”
His brow lifted.
“You wish to spar properly?”
She smiled.
“I wish to win.”
Kailorien stepped back, his expression hardening.
Don’t hold back this time.
Auryn didn’t wait.
She Veilstepped without hesitation, and the courtyard blurred into streaks of silver light.
With a sound like cracking thunder, she emerged behind him…
And cursed when his hand closed around her wrist.
The world snapped back into place.
Auryn stared up at him.
“How—”
“You linger too long in the Veil.”
His grip loosened.
She tried to jerk her arm free, scowling. But he held it.
“I lingered for half a breath.”
“That is long enough.”
Auryn blew a loose strand of hair out of her face. Tried to Veilstep again. But his runes flared, interfering with the magic. Grounding her.
“Kail—”
“Escape without magic,” he said, his grip firm but not tight enough to bruise. “This is the weak link in your technique. It cannot overcome the leys of established webs and runes. If you are ever surrounded like this, you will be vulnerable.”
She frowned, pulling again.
“No. Not like that. Like I taught you.”
“I am not strong enough to do that. We’ve established this.”
He pulled her against him. “If you give up so quickly, how will you ever learn?”
“I cannot learn something that is beyond my body’s limits.”
Kailorien’s mouth smoothed into a hard line. Still holding her bound, he turned so she could see Lu’ma fighting once again.
“Your leg isn’t scarred and twisted. Your arms are whole and strong. You are slight in build, but that gives you a different kind of advantage.”
Auryn watched Lu’ma bob and weave, jump and roll and kick.
“You enjoy humiliating me,” she said, more than a little hurt.
“Never. Only giving you what you need to come home to me.”
Her stubborn pride melted at the devotion in his words, and she softened against him. He released her wrist, but she didn’t step away.
Across the yard, Zarrek finally called a halt to the training.
The four of them drifted toward the shade of the courtyard wall, the sunlight fading in the Mirror Shafts as day gave way to night.
Auryn wiped sweat from her brow with the edge of her tunic.