The ground dissolved and Masis found himself turning over and over again in space. All about him was darkness but none that frightened him with thoughts of lurking creatures or creeping monsters. This groggy deep, befuddled with remnants of sleep, relaxed him with its warmth and assurance that the day had yet to start. He floated in that calm.
This has to be a dream, thought Masis, the wisps of consciousness that he could grasp flimsy with soporific laze. I wonder what it means when one is floating in a dream?
Water's cold shock snapped him into focus. First his backside hit the stream then it swallowed the rest of him, not affording him enough time to hold his breath. Thrashing to the surface, sputtering and coughing, Masis tore his head about in an attempt to make sense of what had befallen him.
Lady Kyla stood on the shore, arms akimbo, a smirk at war with a scowl on her face. One eyebrow cocked upward, a finger drumming on her hip, and a single foot tapping into the sandy ground, Kyla resembled an upset Calla, ready to box Masis' ears for pilfering something from the kitchen.
Masis kneeled there in the water and shook his head to clear out the ironic burning, as the inhaled water scorched up his nose. He stared at Kyla, a question filling his slack mouth.
"Do you realize," said Kyla, "if I had been anyone else, wightie or bandit, you would have been killed? You wouldn't have ever woken up?"
"I was sleeping," said Masis. He spat into the stream, his mouth muddy.
"Do you think that those attacking you will reconsider because you're sleeping?" Kyla screwed her mouth up in mockery. "'Oh, we had best not disturb the little lordling's sleep. He might be mad if we wake him.'" She straightened from her pantomime. "Do you think they will be kind to you because of who you are?"
She stepped into the stream and sloshed her way toward Masis. He scrambled to his feet, his sodden clothes clinging to him, water dripping from everywhere. Runnels coursed down his face from his saturated hair. He blinked rapidly as it interrupted his vision and shocked his eyes. He ran his calloused hand over his face several times trying to clear away what moisture he could. As Kyla neared, he hesitated half-a-step back.
"I can't be aware of everything that is going on around me," said Masis, the shock of the water still not having worn off. "Especially, while I'm asleep. That's impossible."
He shook himself, droplets raining out of his hair. Hitting the side of his head, he tipped it in an effort to dislodge some water that had worked its way into his inner ear. It muted his hearing, but after three smacks it popped out of place and exited in a warm trickle.
"That's where you're wrong," said Kyla, stopping just in front of him. The stream came up to her knees, but without her customary cloak Masis found her less intimidating somehow. She wore only her breeches with her winingas wound about her calves and a loose linen shirt. Her bare feet worked their toes into the silty stream bed.
"You have to always be alert no matter if you're sleeping or not." She raised her eyebrows as if to challenge him. "It is possible. Believe me when I say that it is not only possible, but you will be able to do it before too long."
"Did you have to throw me into the stream just to prove the point?" Masis asked, a full head taller than Kyla. Turning his eyes down on her, though petite, Masis knew her hands, body, her general person were lethal. The two men she had killed in the forest made that more than clear. Not only that, the distance between where he had been sleeping and the stream proved she had strength well beyond his own. Without anger to dampen his reasoning, he hesitated in his stance. His fingers fidgeted. His knees bounced. His muscles tensed.
Her hard expression lasted only a moment longer. It softened as one corner of her mouth puckered.
"It was more for the smell, truthfully." Her nose rumpled and she huffed out sharply as though dispelling something foul. "Now, strip, wash your clothes and yourself, and by the time you're done the sun should be high enough for you to set everything out to dry and that includes yourself. I'm surprised that someone hasn't found us simply by following your reek."
She made no move to go, only cleared her nose again. Unblinking, she stood there, her hands back on her hips, as a mother would while waiting for her wayward child to obey.
Masis shuffled his feet, his eyes going to their movement. They came back up only to meet Kyla's resolved attitude and immediately sank back down into the stream's shallow depths.
Does she expect me to strip with her right in front of me? wondered Masis. The tips of his ears and nape scorched with blood.
When he didn't move, a frown sank Kyla's mouth. She quirked a single eyebrow. Still Masis made no effort to comply. Partly because of his embarrassment. Partly because his arms no longer seemed to work. She reached for him.
His hands jerked to his jerkin and fumbled with its clasps. He undid the topmost one. He undid the next. Hesitating on the third, his momentarily thick fingers eventually undid it as well. By now not only had his nape and ears gone afire but his entire face radiated heat. His hands went to the fourth but stopped as a strangled laugh crept out of Kyla's mouth. Her face fought to subdue the levity that sought to explode from it. Shoulders bobbing, eyes glistening with mirth, Lady Kyla waved her hand out in front of her while shaking her head.
Masis' face soured. Shadow you, woman!
"I wondered how far you'd get before I laughed." Snorts snagged in her nose. "At least now I know you can follow instructions decently well." She tossed her thumb over her shoulder toward the entrance of the dell. "I'll go and find something for us to eat since your supplies are all but depleted, while you finish up here." She made as if to leave. "And don't worry. I won't come back while you're still...finishing up the task."
She winked. Masis' skin ignited again. Though over four centuries old she still appeared physically to be at the mid to end of her second decade. As she sauntered away, her shapely hips swaying, Masis could not deny she was a comely woman.
What am I thinking?!
He dunked himself into the stream's chilled waters, holding himself beneath the surface for as long as he could. When he came up for air, Kyla had gone along with his embarrassing thoughts and resulting heat. Moving to the shore, he thumped down onto his backside, surprised that only a general protest came from his back and muscles. During the watery exchange with Kyla he had not had enough time to take stock of his physical condition, which only the previous day had reduced him to the state of a decrepit elder.
Sitting on the banks now, only a faint outcry came from Masis' frame, though every quarter had a different complaint. His back bent and straightened as it should but not without popping several times. Both legs had zones more sensitive than the rest. And his arms burned as he tugged off his boots, which suctioned to his feet because of the moisture.
Maybe she's not such a bad healer after all, thought Masis, straightening his back and feeling it pop satisfyingly.
His boots finally pried off, the rest of his clothing followed. The sight his skin presented left his mouth wide, his eyes agape, and his breath catching in his throat. First his arms, mottled with patches of green and yellow, bruised beyond recognition. His chest in much the same state. Removing his breeches, Masis found his thighs so discolored that he could not discern any normal fleshy tones. Imagining the pain his back had radiated just the other day, he shuddered.
I should have died, he realized. He twisted to see his bare form at every possible angle. She said she was only decent at healing.
What she had done rivalled Masis' healing of his sister. His body must have been mangled and broken, nearly pulverized from the fall and she had corrected most of the damage, leaving only superficial bruising and some residual pain from still mending bones. He shook his head as he moved back out into the water, lowering himself first to his knees then submerging beneath the surface again. Running his hands through his greasy locks, he let each strand float freely through the water, enjoying the sensation as it fanned out and glided about like some aquatic plant. Turning over, his body floated to the surface and he just let the water hold him there for a time, the current so meandering that a few strokes from his arms kept him in about the same place.
The pale early light had matured becoming more robust, filtering down through the branches. Birds sang out amongst their boughs and insects darted about the water's surface. The dell smelled clean, as though no one had stepped foot within its bounds before the previous night. The damp air, full of the verdant breath of grass and the branches above, filled Masis lungs and eased more tension from his body.
This reminds me of Asthurn. He closed his eyes and mind to the thought, content to float and breathe for a time. Just like the day when I met Lady Kyla. Just like the day my family...
He sat up at the memory. Shivering though the morning air was warm, Masis moved out of the water to the shore. Wrapping his cloak about him, he went about hanging his clothing over bushes, rocks, and low hanging branches, a frown ever on his lips. Water slid down his face mingling with the tears that seeped from his eyes.
His legs collapsed beneath him. Sitting on his crumpled limbs, his cloak still wrapped about him, Masis cried. He held nothing back. No one's presence impeded it. No wails escaped his lips. No great cries of anguish ascended to Wilo. Silent sobs shook him. Quiet grief, a healing purge, leaked from his eyes. Each tear fell for his mother and his sisters and his father. Each tear was anger for himself and Lady Kyla dripping away. He shook himself as the tears ceased to come.
He was cleaner.
Righting his legs, he got them under himself and moved away from the dell's rocky sides, his cloak covering his nakedness. Sitting in a patch of sunshine, he tilted his face up toward Wilo's presence.
A cough interrupted his revelry.
"Lady Kyla," said Masis, not opening his eyes, knowing who it had to be. "How is it you're able to move silently, even through water?"
"If you had struck the bargain with Manu that I did, you would be able to do the same things."
"Then why don't I just do that?" he asked. "Wouldn't it be easier than just training me?"
The silence his words left prompted Masis to open his eyes. Kyla stood in front of him, a brace of coneys in each hand. Her expression unreadable but the constant flexing of her jaw made Masis wonder if she planned to lob the dead creatures at his face.
"Easier?" she asked. She swung her arms back and forth like pendulums, the varmints becoming the bobs by extension. "Yes, considering who I have to train, it would be much easier to just sell yourself to Manu and possibly become a creature that is far worse than the wighties themselves. That sounds like a genius plan to me."
Adjusting the cloak as though to cover his nakedness more fully, Masis harrumphed a few times, eyes darting about the material that now covered his skin, going everywhere but Kyla's face. His right hand smoothed out wrinkles. Fingers picked off real and imaginary specks. The cloak opened just enough to accommodate his arm, exposing just a bit of his chest. He fumbled about with the cloak's edges near his throat trying to make the opening smaller.
Wonderful, Masis! Why not convince her you're even more of an idiot than she must already think you are.
A brace of coneys landing before him stopped his silent self-deprecation.
"Prepare them however you will," said Kyla. "But please keep the fire as smokeless as possible. I know full well you know how to send smoke signals, but I would like to avoid having unwanted guests at this particular campsite."
Masis' eyes went from Kyla to the small creatures and back again. Her expression blank. Her body stilling to an unusual degree.
"I'll leave to let you dress and eat in peace. Please, don't take as long as you did to bathe."
Marching back into the stream, her pair of rabbits still dangling from her hand by their ears, suggestive crunches and suspicious chewing culminating in the suspect blood on her cheek came to mind. A shiver went through Masis at the thought that Lady Kyla chose not to stay not only to afford him privacy but also to consume her kills in the manner she preferred. He shook again as she vanished into the tunnel's gloom.
Going back to his clothing, Masis proceeded to dress in the still substantially damp articles. Wincing occasionally, biting off hisses other times, Masis eventually tugged the clinging garments back onto his limbs. He left his boots in the sun to dry further.
All about the edge of the dell fallen limbs from the trees about the ridge littered the ground. Collecting them, snapping some into more manageable sizes, Masis filled his arms. Pausing to take in the dell a bit more fully, Masis noted the ideal positioning of the trees almost so they would provide shade throughout the entire day and more than sufficient protection should it rain. The stream entered the glade from an even smaller depression in the opposite stone wall and then exited through the tunnel through which they had entered. So arranged, one segment of the near perfectly circular dell was crystal water, more a pond than a stream. Carpeting the entire ground was a short, soft grass that only came up Masis' shin partially. It was as if someone had planned this little hideaway for just such a purpose, as though Werold herself had prepared this choice spot.
Maybe she did prepare it, Masis thought, tittering at himself while he arranged the wood. Look at you, Masis Domrae, accepting the old ways like some old crone.
He caught himself. But then again there was Lady Kyla. How could he laugh her away?
He had no answer, so he turned his attention to the task at hand, using a firestone—another mage made device—to ignite his tinder. Soon flames ate hungrily at the gathered wood. Animals, completely dressed and spitted, hung above them, and Masis turned the arrangement from time to time. Fat hiss as it plopped into the fire and the aroma of cooking meat set his mouth watering. He deemed them done when his grumbling stomach would not allow the teasing scent to torture it any longer. Reaching for the spit, Masis' hand hesitated.
The old ways were not unknown to him. Part of his education had included reviewing the old religions of bygone centuries, when men and women had given thanks to Werold, their providing Mother, and Wilo, their ever-watchful Father. They had offered thanks for both blessing and disaster alike, thinking that both were meant for their benefit, both could aid them in some way. In their fires they had offered a portion of their meals, returning it to the providers—the ash to Werold and the smoke to Wilo.
Much has been taken from me, thought Masis, his hand curling into a fist. But much has been preserved and given.
Gathering up the haslet and other bits that remained, Masis tossed them into the fire, adding a charred scent to the air as they blackened.
"I return this to You," Masis intoned from memory, "with my gratitude for what You give," his voice broke, "and take. So, may it be."
With charred offal in his nose and a subdued heart, Masis ate slowly, his hunger meliorated by his mood. The meat ground beneath his teeth, but the taste hardly reached his tongue. Working automatically, his hand traveled from cooked corpse to mouth and back again over and over, dislodging the cooked flesh from the bones. Eyes foggy, his mind wandered back to his family. He had left so much unsaid, so much undone. And each of those expressions of love, of appreciation, of humanity, every instant that should have been filled with gratitude or kindness but had been left vacant and unused compounded his aching regret.
"How can I possibly be grateful?" Masis asked, his face tensed with a bitter grimace. He threw what remained of his fodder into the fire, letting it consume what he had not. "I give no thanks for what was stolen from me. I'll give thanks when I've killed the thief."
Clouds passed in front of Wilo's face, darkening the entire dell. A chill breeze gusted through the depression, stirring the vegetation. An involuntary shiver passed through Masis at the sudden change.
"You're not going to cry again, are you?" asked Kyla from behind him, her approach again undetected. Masis did not turn. "And by the way, this is the third time you died today."
"How do you figure that?" he asked, wincing as he rotated and his back popped up its entire length.
Kyla stood behind him barely an arm's length away. This time no blood marred her face and betrayed how she disposed of her game.
"First when I threw you into the stream," said Kyla, counting it off on her fingers. Masis opened his mouth to protest but Kyla's words cut him off. "Which you can learn to be aware while you're sleeping, no matter what you might say or think."
Masis mouth snapped shut. A scowl formed on his face.
"The second instance was after you had bathed. You didn't notice my approach then either. And lastly, just now, you were too busy insulting Werold that you failed to observe my approach again. I even went so far as to make some noise, hoping that you would take notice, but alas no."
"What does it even matter whether I notice your comings and goings anyway?" He rose to his bare feet, his posture drooping with his previous ponderings.
One of Kyla's eyes twitched. "You can't possibly be the one I need." She crossed her arms. "What does it matter? What does it matter?! I'll tell you why it matters, you daft upstart. I move silently, undetectable to all but a few creatures and even them I can get around with a few other tricks I have up my sleeves. But I am nothing when compared to a ruddy wightie. One of those will be on you, drain you, and leave you for dead before you can so much as let wind. What does it matter?! If you cannot survive against me, there is no way under Manu that you will survive another encounter with a bleeding nightling. Warden or not."
The truth stung Masis' ears, but it went deeper than that. It stung his pride. His smarting ego straightened him and deepened his frown. He took a few steps toward Kyla.
"Well, why didn't you tell me you wanted me to try and catch you in your sneaking? You're supposed to be training me to fight nightlings, to prepare me to become the blooming Warden, whatever that means. Why don't you actually teach me something then, instead of expecting me to read your mind?"
Kyla took a step closer, leaving little distance between them. Her head turned up so she could look into Masis' eyes. Her brown eyes had flecks of gold in them, glinting out at Masis.
"Do I have to hold your hand through all of this then?" she asked, her voice dangerously calm, like a sword still in its scabbard. "Do I have to tell you to do everything? What good are you to me then. I told you last night, when you stumbled into this place, that training began then. Is it too much to ask of you to understand that everything I did from that point on was a part of your training? The wighties you face aren't going to wait for you to be ready. They aren't going to invite you cordially to a duel. At the first given opportunity, they will either kill you or, worse, take control of you again. Unless, you can adapt quickly to any situation, you'll be doing nothing more than giving yourself to the queen of the night to do with you as she pleases!"
Each word struck at Masis' ruffled vanity, battering him down, deadening his frustration, slouching his very posture. Hardly could he look at Kyla for the uncomfortable state her words had forced him into.
His head hung, eyes averted. "I apologize."
"I don't want your apologies, Masis Domrae. I want that fire I saw when you tried to defend your family and your fellow Shadows. I want to see that stubbornness, that refusal to yield, no matter what anyone says. And that includes me. I want the full force of that intelligence you so effectively conceal most of the time." Kyla pointed a single finger at his chest, tapping him repeatedly on the sternum. "Give me all those things, or I have no use for you."
Masis clasped his hands before him. He swallowed the overabundance of spit in his mouth and brought his penitent eyes up to Kyla's.
She's right, he thought, his mouth puckering to the side with determination. His eyes flickered with wicked glee. But she'd best prepare for what she has coming to her then.
"Lady Kyla," he said, swallowing down his numbing pain, "I've sworn an oath by all things I hold dear and then some. You have all of me at your disposal."
"Good. Now let's begin."
Turning her back on him, Kyla began to step away. Masis thrust out his arms to push her, but he found only air. She sidestepped and twisted back around, grabbing one of Masis' extended wrists in the same motion. Pulling him forward, she thrust her foot out, tripping him. He landed on his face in the sweet-smelling grass. Stunned. Unable to work out how it happened.
"That's the right idea," said Kyla, from above him. "But I would suggest that you attack an enemy when and how they least expect it. Attacks of that kind are normally much more successful. Now, when you're done rolling in the grass like a dog, I'd like you to come sit with me. It's time we begin your first lesson about Works."
Her rustling footsteps faded as she went.
I think that's the first time that woman has made a sound, thought Masis, logging that fact away.
Pushing himself up to his knees, he turned his eyes to Lady Kyla not some ten paces away sitting cross-legged in the grass, her palms resting in her lap, her face drinking in the sunlight as Wilo rose above the top of the stone walls about them. In the leaf-flickering light, her tanned skin glowing, her expression almost peaceful, she appeared quite lovely with her small perky nose and gracefully curved lips.
She's over four hundred years old, you twit! Masis shook the momentary attraction away.
He gritted his teeth and drew in a sharp breath to smother the pain as he climbed to his feet. His knees locked into place as he straightened, but he forced them into jerky obedience until he too sat in the cool grass just in front of Kyla, practically falling into his place. The jolt set his bruises ablaze.
"What do you know about the Warden?" asked Kyla, snapping her eyes open.
"I...I," Masis stammered out, taken off-guard by the suddenness of the question.
"I thought you were the one with all the tutors and professors," said Kyla, ripping up some grass. "I thought they had filled your head with all the history of the clans and kingdom." She threw the handful of grass in Masis' face. "I'd have thought, you being the son of a Forest Lord and all, that you'd have been schooled in rhetoric and speaking so that the knowledge that they actually managed to cram into your head would be of some use to you when you spoke to others."
Eyes pinched shut and mouth puckered closed, Masis spat the grass that lingered on his lips and swatted the rest away with his hands. His face had already begun to itch.
"They did." He spat again, running his hands down his face once more. "They just never taught me how to talk while being attacked with a handful of grass." He flicked the last blade from his lips. "And what I know about the Warden is as follows: first, it was a position established to keep the peace between the now extinct Animal Kingdom and ours; second, that it was passed down over the centuries from an aunt or uncle to one of his or her nieces or nephews; and, third, the Warden supposedly possessed legendary, even mythical, abilities."
He swatted his face one last time as the phantom sensation of grass came again.
A polite, soft clapping came from Kyla as she raised her hands, as though she were at court. Her face hosted an insipid smile.
"Well, done milord," said Kyla. "Very well done, indeed."
She sounds exactly like my tutors, realized Masis, the thought making him fidget in his seat, his eyes cast sidelong.
Kyla's face lost its insincere attitude. "They have at the same time taught you everything and nothing. For example, do you have any idea how the position of the Warden was even created, how a person gained these abilities?"
"You told me the Great Wolves changed a human," Masis said, his eyes' rapid saccade made it appear as though he read his very memories. "That person must have gained their abilities when they underwent the change."
Musing, Kyla sat still with pursed lips. "Hmm... yes, well... you're correct."
Got you! Fighting a smirk, Masis' eyes never left his new teacher.
She ran her tongue over her teeth beneath her lips. "One thing the history books won't tell you about the Great Wolves is that their bite was venomous. They also possessed other abilities that made them an equal match for the then lifelight wielding human soldiers. The venom was very virulent, able to penetrate the body's many systems in a matter of seconds. If a human were ever bitten, there was little too no chance that they would survive."
"A wolf with a venomous bite?" asked Masis, his eyes slit with skepticism. "That doesn't sound like anything of this world."
"They weren't."
Masis opened his mouth to speak but another handful of grass struck his face, some falling into his gaping orifice. The flavor of grass filled his mouth as he spat repeatedly, his tongue sticking from his mouth. Shaking his head to dislodge what clung to his face, the grass's smell invaded his nose with its potent freshness.
What is this woman's problem? questioned Masis. If I didn't know she spoke the truth, I would swear she was touched, completely barking mad.
"When the treaty was struck between the Animal Kingdom and the humans," said Kyla, proceeding as though nothing had happened, "and a person volunteered to become the Warden, the Great Wolves had to devise a way for this change to come about. They determined that their venom would serve the purpose."
Wouldn't the person just die? Masis kept his mouth firmly shut now that it was rid of all the invading grass. His jaw flexed with the effort to keep the question contained.
"And no, the person wouldn't simply die because of the venom," said Kyla.
Masis eyes widened. How does she keep doing that? What other things has she plucked from my mind?
His face grew hot recalling his attraction to her form. Stilling his body and quieting his mind as best he could, Masis tried to keep any other thoughts or memories from floating into the forefront of his mind just in case.
"Before they infected the first Warden, they altered some of it, engineering it to change the person on a fundamental level. The Great Wolves also designed it so that the position could be passed on when the person felt it needed to be. A Warden would then voluntarily—and that's important—pass the venom on to another, making them the next Warden. And each Warden went to great pains to make sure the new one was worthy of the position and dedicated to fulfilling the responsibilities connected to it."
She stopped. Masis' eyes darted from side to side. His hands fidgeted in his lap. A slight breeze ruffled his now dry, disheveled hair. Kyla just stared at him, unblinking, her expression surprisingly soft. Mouth creeping open, Masis' eyes stayed trained on Kyla's hands.
"Well, unless..." He tested his words as one would test their steps while walking on ice. "Unless, you have some of that venom, I don't see how this is going to work."
One of Kyla's hands went to the pouch at her belt, working it open.
Masis relaxed. A sigh escaped through parted lips. Another wad of grass struck him in the face. He spat and shook and swatted his hands about.
If she does that one more time, Masis silently promised, I'm going to tackle her!
"Never let your guard down," said Kyla, her words even. "Never. As soon as you do that's when you'll be attacked. Never assume you're safe." She paused. "And for your information I do have some of that venom."
By now Masis had cleared his vision and his eyes fell on a single glass vial held between two of Kyla's fingers, its glass so thick that it distorted the light that passed through it. A clear liquid filled the bottom half, appearing as nothing more than water, kept from escaping by a cork bound by cloth and cord covered in hardened wax now almost black with age.
"If that's the venom," said Masis, his entire being alert and tense with readiness, "why not make me the Warden now?"
"Oh, that it were that simple," said Kyla, replacing the vial and cinching the pouch closed. "Do you remember when the she-wight took control of you?"
Masis shuddered at the memory. Control over his very body had been wrenched away from him, obeying the very creature that destroyed his entire life. He nodded.
"The last Warden, my...my son," she shook her hesitation away with a snarl, "was foolish enough to be mesmerized by the same she-wight. That incident had an unforeseen effect on the venom. It corrupted it. It polluted and diluted it. She had a greater control over him than any other person before and was able to give him orders that he would carry out without her being present, even during the day." Her head drooped, and she shook it at the memory. "The only way for this to work is for you to reclaim the venom, purge it of that corruption."
How did she get the venom from her son? Masis wondered. The memory of his struggle against the she-wight's will oozed about his mind.
In the background the stream burbled, the grass swished with the wind, and the boughs' leaves high above their heads fluttered about, making the light flicker and hesitate in its golden warmth. The gray rock walls ringing them in flashed as tiny motes in its composition caught the light just right. Few birds hopped about in the branches above, calling out to others of their kind with high, somehow melancholy notes.
"How will I do that?" Masis asked, breaking the empty silence.
Kyla cracked her neck, twisting it from side to side then rolling it as the popping faded. "You're going to practice."
Masis mouth opened with a question.
"And unless you want another mouthful of grass, I suggest you close yours. I'm going to tell you how you're going to practice."
Swallowing the question back down, Masis waited.
"When the she-wight mesmerized you, she left you tainted as it were, much like she did to the venom, but not to the same degree. However, if you were ever to be near her in your current state, she could more than easily take control of you again. You're going to learn to control your lifelight enough so that you can burn that taint away." She squinted a single eye up while drawing the corner of her mouth toward it. "In theory it should work the same way with the venom."
"In theory?" Masis asked, scoffing slightly. "You're not sure?"
"I'm fairly certain." Her eyes looked to the top of their sockets and her head cocked to the side in thought. A few quick nods followed. "It may be a bit more difficult when it comes to the venom, but we'll have to see, now won't we?"
Her nonchalant attitude floored Masis, leaving his body still and his eyes roving about.
A thought stilled him. This isn't her strangest moment. Get a hold of yourself.
"All right," said Masis, taking in a settling breath of the dell's moist air. "How do I do this?"
Lady Kyla hopped to her feet, shaking her legs as though to waken and rouse them. She cracked her knuckles, then placed her hands on her lower back, pressing as she curled backward. A groan left her lips as she straightened her body and began to circle Masis.
"First close your eyes," commanded Kyla. "You've already performed a Work so this won't be as difficult, but it will still require some effort. I'm assuming you've tried to perform other Works after your first but were less than successful, am I right?"
Eyes closed, Masis head bobbed up and down hesitantly. "Yes."
"The first mistake most make when it comes to Works is trying to seize control of their lifelight as though it were a sword or hammer or some other tool."
With his eyes closed, Kyla's voice floated about Masis, her tones not harsh but mellow and pulsing like the purr of a cat.
"Lifelight is not a tool in that sense, it is not something you grab hold of, it is a part of you, another appendage, and therefore all one has to do is move it as they would an arm or a leg."
With his mindeye turned inward, Masis focused on his lifelight, that rutilant outline of himself that glowed like burnished gold beneath the sun. Flecks of other colors would shoot through the fiery maelstrom from time to time—cerulean and burgundy strands offset the glamor. But now something different presented itself to him. A webbing of sorts overlay the shimmering scene, black and noxious, encapsulating the pure light with a sticky presence. For all its brilliance the lifelight should have just fried the incarcerating filament and make it fall away, nothing more than discarded ash. But still it endured. Inherently wrong.
Masis opened his eyes to peer at Kyla with a pinched expression.
"You see it, don't you?" Kyla asked.
"What is it?" A queasy rumble spasmed in his stomach.
"That is what wights do to people they mesmerize. They defile their very lifelight, entangling it with Manu's ilk." She began pacing again. "Now, close your eyes. It will help."
Following her directions, Masis focused back on his lifelight, the violation of that dark net, making him pucker his mouth as though he had tasted something foul.
"Now, try to move it as you would an arm or a leg, control it as it were a part of your body. Will it to break the mesmer."
With the understanding of what lifelight was, it felt a part of him. Sensation rippled through it, as though a sensitive skin encased it. But the sensation tingling from its surface was entrapped and suppressed, like the feeling of being trapped beneath the constricted folds of a blanket. The air instantly hot. The pulse seeking to escape the chest. Limbs without the ability to free themselves. With that panic, Masis' lifelight began to expand, fighting the constraints, but weakly, like a muscle that had been left too long without exercise. That weakness and the inky tethers' continuous resistance made Masis' breath grow more ragged, more rapid. He squeezed his eyes shut as he threw his will against his bonds. He twisted and turned the black cords. They didn't budge. He contracted his lifelight inward and then burst outward. Still the webbing held. He pummeled it with a flurry of mental blows that nearly stole his breath. But no matter his efforts, the wight's foul precipitates would not yield.
Sweat staggering down his forehead, breath tattered, Masis let his lifelight fall back dormant. Shoulders sinking, head bowed, eyes barely opening, Masis sat there examining the palms of his hands.
Am I going to fail at everything?
"Well," said Kyla, her tone matter-of-fact, "I hardly expected you to do it on the first try. If you had succeeded, I would have thought the wights were losing their touch."
In an instant her bare foot, ripe with dirt and other unwashed smells, came beneath his chin, raising it to look at her. It retreated before Masis could knock it away.
"Now, get up. If you thought that was strenuous be prepared for what comes next."
*DON'T FORGET TO VOTE*