First Apprentice

Chapter 5 Part 2

A calloused hand gripped mine as Selim's presence faded away. My eyes snapped open. When did I close them? Why did I drop my guard around him? "A gate?" he asked.

I nodded. "The Central Keystone. It's nothing to worry about. We've always been unusually close. Live blades, blunted, or weaponless?" I asked, changing the subject. My odd relationship with Selim wouldn't bear much scrutiny, especially if he started asking about family bonds and how I met Selim, the gate's over soul, when the Central Keystone wasn't my natural affinity.

"Weaponless for now," he said, dropping into a stance.

I eyed the mud thoughtfully. Little traction. Wearing my shoes guaranteed I'd spend most of the spar fighting to stay upright. He already knew what I was. Seeing my toes wouldn't reveal anything he didn't already know. My claws were an advantage. I needed every advantage I could get.

A burst of magic unknotted my laces. I slipped my feet out of the soft-soled shoes and laid them on the rock beside me. Then I unwrapped the wool around my toes and peeled the toe-less socks Irene made for me off.

"How long?" Joel asked quietly. I followed his gaze to my feet.

"Two years. Endellion says I'll be able to shift back after."

"Perhaps she can, but most can't." Eying the mud, he grimaced then bent and untied his shoes. A minute later, he tossed his boots beside mine. No socks, I noted. His neatly trimmed, but still razor sharp talons dug into the earth. I grimaced. So much for my advantage.

Pressing my fingertips into the rock, I swept my legs behind me, gaining my footing without taking my eyes off him or moving towards him.

He struck without warning. One second he was standing relaxed four paces in front of me. The next a fist sailed towards my head. I blocked. Barely.

Blows and kicks rained down on me with bone bruising force. I skidded on the mud, claws digging furrows in the ground. Somehow, I kept my footing, arms deflecting the worst strikes.

A punch glanced off my arm. Too weak. A feint, I realized as his foot hooked behind my right leg. A twist of his hips sent me sprawling in the mud.

"Don't think. Fight," he said, extending his hand. Wondering how many times he'd repeated that mantra and to whom, I grabbed his hand. He hauled me to my feet.

"Easier said than done," I replied.

"This," Joel pointed to his chest then at me, "is about letting go. It's getting control over our instincts the only way possible - by letting them play - before one of us does something we'll regret."

Like before, he threw the first punch. I sidestepped. The blow glanced off my raised arm. My muddy hand slid down his arm to his wrist, gripped. Step, turn, over he went. He barely hit the ground before he was back on his feet. If not for the mud clinging to his tunic, I would've thought he never touched it.

"Better," he said.

The pace quickened. Block, step, turn, kick. A pattern, but not. When I countered, he upped the difficulty. When I hit the ground, he followed with a quick pin or mimed a killing blow. It was brutal and unwinnable, but exhilarating. A challenge unlike any I'd ever had. Where Uncle Manfred, Endellion, and even Aunt Sumati would stop, he pushed. I loved it, reveled in it.

"Do you know why I'm here?" he whispered in my ear as he twisted my right arm behind my back.

An arm wrapped around my neck. I expected a choke hold. Instead, he turned his hand and revealed a wooden button held between his thumb and forefinger. My eyes widened in recognition. Button seals, I called them. Rather than waste money on expensive materials I would invariably lose or destroy, my early seals were all worked on wooden buttons which I carried on a string. Grandfather used to buy them by the gross.

"Four days ago, I received a letter from my old partner along with a seal his student supposedly invented. It negates our security seals without setting off any alarms. I came to meet Mitchel's student. Anyone who can walk through wards I personally invented is more than worth my time. The only question I have is when did you create this. Mitchel implied he sent it immediately. However," he flicked his little finger at my left wrist, "those are sentirus, not wood. The sealing medium changed, which indicates your skill increased. How old were you when you created this?"

No use hiding it. If I didn't tell him, Grandfather would. "Twelve."

Warm breath tickled the back of my neck. "Amazing," he whispered. His hand dropped down to my wrist, encircling it as damp fingers slipped under my bracelet. A half-remembered discussion with Uncle Manfred sprang to mind. He once said I should blood key the clasp and every storage seal, making it so only I could work it. I didn't. Endellion voiced concerns about possible injuries and healers having to work around a bracelet no one could remove and how I might wake one morning to find the bracelet embedded in my bones. Uncle Manfred had the right of it. I either stopped sheathing my sword inside the bracelet or I keyed it.

Joel's finger lingered over the coin bearing my sword, but he made no move to draw it. "Miniature subplanes," he mused. "Not habitable, but gateless. A dear friend of mine once dreamed of gateless subplanes - hospitals, farms, and supply depots when and where we need them. She nearly drove herself mad in its pursuit, became a guardian over it. You've made more progress in your eighteen years than she made in thousands. Show me what else you can do, Alannah. Don't hold back." A violent shove sent me flying. "I want everything, anything. Show me the woman I saw last night."

Red sparks lit up his aura like flames as he shifted. Jet black feathers coated his face like a helm. He pushed his sleeves back, raising the fabric off the feathers that extended from the backs of his taloned hands halfway up his forearms where they blended with mottled brown fur. I took an involuntary step back.

Before we were two acquaintances engaging in a friendly, unarmed spar. We both used our claws for traction, but didn't use them as weapons. His half-state turned our spar into combat.

Eagle eyes focused on me. He smirked. "If you hold back, you'll die," he said and attacked.

His probe lashed at my mind. The clearing shimmered. Trees turned into walls. The ground appeared to be stone, but mud still squished between my toes. I gathered my magic and pushed back as a second Joel appeared on my right. Which was real?

A magic-charged fist headed towards my face. I shifted on instinct. Talons struck scales. What would have amputated my arm turned into a glancing blow. I glared at him. "The rules?" I asked, already suspecting the answer.

"Nothing we can't heal afterward. Scars are fine though," he said with a feral smile.