Moontide 02 - The Scarlet Tides (56 page)

Affinity

The mage can be known by his affinities for certain studies or crafts. The other aspects of the gnosis are relatively uniform, but it is in the ability – or inability – to master aspects of the studies that a mage’s distinctive style becomes apparent, and in which their greatest power and vulnerability lie. Even the most powerful magi have studies they are unable to wield, as no man is perfectly in balance with all aspects of his world.

H
UW
B
LUND
, A
NDRESSEA
, 627

Mount Tigrat, Javon, Antiopia
Zulquda (Noveleve) to Zulhijja (Decore) 928
5
^th
and 6
^th
months of the Moontide

‘I have a present for you,’ Elena said as they ate one night in early Noveleve. She produced a pouch and tossed it to Kazim, who eyed it warily before opening it hesitantly. She realised that she was holding her breath, wanting him to be pleased with the gift.

Things were not the same between them – how could they be? Gnosis-training mind-to-mind was too great an intimacy; secrets neither would have willingly shared with another were given involuntarily. The Gnostic Colleges maintained distance between teachers and pupils, but that couldn’t be the case working at the accelerated speed she and Kazim were. Mind-to-mind learning was more intimate than sex; the bonds and ties it left were sticky and persistent, like trailing spiderwebs.

An observer would have thought them less close, not more. Kazim
had moved to a different floor, taking a smaller cell where an initiate monk had slept. They washed their own clothing, trained physically separately once more, in case the constant proximity became even more claustrophobic. They only shared meals, and then all their conversation was of the gnosis – but despite their efforts to keep some degree of space between them, internally, the training was wrapping cords around their two souls.

This had only been possible because Kazim had truly consented to learn. He opened his mind, and filled it with all she taught. There were basic gaps she had to fill in swiftly so a chance encounter with a low-blooded mage wouldn’t destroy him. Then she moved on, developing his repertoire: shields and wards; ways to lock down doors and windows; spells for hiding from normal sight and from mages’ sight; how to communicate mentally over distance; exploring his affinities.

He tried as hard as he could to restrict the amount of gnosis he used, to hold off the day when he simply had nothing left. But as days passed he felt himself becoming weak – not physically, but magically, for the final resources of his stolen gnosis were being bled away by their training. The energies first released by Meiros’ soul and then replenished by Wimla’s death were almost gone, and his morality and humanity forbade him from replenishing.

Elena approved, of course, but it meant that he was growing weaker even as his skill increased. And he’d told her that fighting the longing to kill and replenish was hard. It showed on his face sometimes.

But there were joys too, and tonight was one. He opened the pouch and pulled out a sapphire the size of a fingernail. His eyes goggled. ‘What is this?’

She smiled at his stunned pleasure. His smile was a wondrous thing; it lit up his face.

‘It’s a periapt gem,’ she said, ‘the sort easily attuned to Air-gnosis.’ She tugged her own into view: a similar stone. ‘Sapphires work particularly well with Water and Air.’

‘Ispal Ankesharan would wet himself!’ he exclaimed. He didn’t
need to explain; she knew his history as well as he himself did now – she knew who Ispal Ankesharan was, almost felt she’d met him.

‘But I can’t accept such a thing,’ he said sadly. ‘It is too much.’

‘It’s worth a lot to a trader,’ she admitted, ‘but its value is much higher to a mage. You’ll burn through energy more slowly – you’ll be able to go up against a trained mage on an equal footing. I need you to have it, if we’re going to work together. Without it, any one of Gyle’s gang will defeat you.’

He still looked uncomfortable as he dangled the gem in his fingers. She reached out and clasped his fingers around it. ‘Take it, Kazim. It is yours.’

They both stared at their clasped hands, hers pale, callused and lined with the first signs of ageing; his big, dark and smooth. For an awkward moment their eyes met.

‘I am not complicated,’ he’d told her once. He wasn’t, but the things happening to him were.

She let go. ‘You’ll need to tune it to your gnosis. I’ll show you how.’

He exhaled heavily, as if coming to a decision, then spread the cord and lowered it over his head. He looked up at her with his big, wounded eyes. ‘Sal’Ahm,’ he said softly.

‘Thank you for taking it,’ she replied. She studied him. The smile had transformed his face. She would have loved to see it again.

Instead he sighed and said, ‘How do I tune it?’

‘Channel your gnosis through it, as gently as you can. It takes time – hours, days even – before the flow becomes natural. But it’s worth it, trust me. It will allow you to burn less energy.’

He looked hopeful, but the following days proved her wrong. The periapt made no difference. On reflection it made sense: a periapt boosted renewal of gnosis, allowing spells to be cast more intensely, but as a Souldrinker he simply could not replenish. It made her wonder if their relationship was doomed.

*

Despite this setback they began to make plans. It was late Noveleve, and Kazim’s training was progressing well. He felt more comfortable with taking instruction now, in combat at least. The gnosis was a
different matter; she suspected it always would be. His affinities were basic and his gnostic style would never be subtle, but he was very strong in a simple but extreme way. His spells might be straightforward, but they were brutally effective.

‘When will we go to war?’ he asked from time to time, feeling his eagerness to rejoin the fray return. Finally, she gave him a direct answer. In Janune, the cooler temperatures would make travel more bearable …

As Noveleve ended, the north wind began to blow cooler around the mountain, giving Kazim a hint of what winter would be like here, so high above the plains. They were low on fresh meat, so Elena took him to the river upstream from Shimdas village. He’d fished before in Baranasi, dangling lines into the muddy, sluggish flow of Mother Imuna. This river was very different. It wound through the dried-out land like a wriggling snake, changing course by the season. Right now it was broad and shallow, awaiting the autumn rains, but there were plenty of places to fish.

But first, Kazim wanted to bathe. He left Elena beside the largest pool and walked upstream until she was hidden by a fold in the land, then stripped and waded naked into the water. It was colder than he had expected and his skin started tingling as he waded deeper. He found that he was already subconsciously scanning with the gnosis, seeking life; a few fish were near, just small things. He ducked under and launched himself into the deepest part of the flow.

He swam blindly for a few seconds, then came up, spluttering, enjoying the bracing chill. It was so much cleaner than the Baranasi waters – though Mother Imuna was supposed to be the world’s purest river, its purity was very definitely spiritual, not chemical. This was completely different: fresh, natural, clean …

Movement caught his eye and he realised he’d swum past the mound he’d picked to hide him from Elena. He was a little shocked to see her, sixty yards or so downstream, also wading into the water, straight-backed and completely unselfconscious in her nakedness. She was standing sideways on to him and he found himself studying her cautiously, curiosity overcoming his disapproval. She had strong
shoulders and a flat, straight waist, not in the classic hourglass shape women should have. Classically, Ahmedhassan women were supposed to be wider at the hips than shoulders, and she was not … but he could see that did not mean she was not a woman. Her bottom was narrow, but it was rounded, and her breasts were just as he’d imagined them: small and high, and so firm they barely jiggled as she moved. She’d unbound her hair and it fell about her face in a pale cloud, hiding her eyes. Her belly and breasts and bottom were utterly white, like snow, which made her look unnaturally bare, as if an extra layer of skin had been revealed.

She sank beneath the water, and he did too, to wash the image of her body from his mind’s eye, but it didn’t work. He caught another presence: another living mind, one so alien and hungry that he surfaced, recoiling in fear, and started searching around for the threat. Then he realised what he’d sensed was a catfish, lurking in the lee of the far bank – a big one, waiting ravenously for its lesser kindred to pass.

He glanced back at Elena, sitting in the shallows some way away, washing her arms and legs. Her tiny nipples were pink, he noticed, and erect from the cool water. The sight caused his cock to stiffen, and she suddenly raised her head and looked directly at him, as if sensing his attention. She lifted her chin, didn’t trouble to hide herself.

He ducked back under the water to avoid her challenging eyes. Something else was threatening their delicate balance now: physical desire. She was, for all her strangeness, still a woman and not without her own allure. Irritably, he pushed the thought away and sought a distraction. He tried to still the waters about him as he swam and sent his senses questing out, seeking the catfish. A plan formed in his mind, a way to prove himself …

There—

He was good at swimming, as he was at all things physical. He worked his way upstream of the catfish, then floated towards it, barely having to move, letting the current take him.
I’m just a little fish
, he told the silent darkness beneath the bank.
So tasty
…

The darkness heaved and jaws careened out of the shadows, lined
with rows of needle-like teeth. He quailed in alarm as jaws wider than his head clamped onto his leg and a massive body thrashed about, shaking him like a doll. He shouted in pain, stunned at the sheer size of the creature, which was so much greater than he’d anticipated. His vision spun as the jaws clenched tighter, burying the razor-sharp teeth hooked in his thigh deeper. As pain went shrieking through his body he grabbed onto his gnosis and blazed away at it in terror, using the Air-gnosis lightning she’d taught him, desperate to get this monster off him. The water boiled about him in a vivid white
CRACK!
, and then the biter was gone, leaving him reeling about in the still-churning water, desperately trying to regain his feet, but failing—

He fell backwards as his legs gave way, and the sky swirled above.

‘
KAZIM?
’ He could dimly hear something thrashing through the water, and realised it was Elena calling. Her voice sounded full of fear. ‘
KAZIM!
’ she cried again as his skin started fizzing and livid patches of fire danced before his eyes. He could hardly feel a thing.

‘
Holy Kore, what have you done?
’

Elena’s face appeared above him, flushed and fearful, distorted and alien as the colours in his eyes ran and pulsed. All he could do was stare up at her, dazed, then the pricklish buzz receded and a wall of pain struck him down, a rolling boulder of agony that pulverised him.

He sank back into the water.

*

Kazim awoke to darkness – a damp cloth wrapped over his eyes. Apart from that, as far as he could tell, he was floating in water.
Am I in the river still?
He remembered that brilliant flash, and the burning, boiling agony that followed. And he remembered Elena’s voice.

What happened?

His skin felt …
numb
… there was nothing else, really: no sensation except for a deep itching. But something in the totality of the darkness frightened him.

‘Elena?’ His voice was a hoarse croak.

‘I’m here, Kazim.’ Her voice was filled with exhaustion and worry.

‘Where—?’

‘We’re at the monastery. You’re going to be all right, I promise you.’
Her hand touched his shoulder and he felt her breath on his face. ‘I’m here,’ she repeated. She sounded rather like Tanuva Ankesharan – his Lakh ‘mother’ – did when one of her brood fell ill.

‘What happened? How—?’ He had a thousand questions, and no idea which should be asked first.

‘Hush. Sleep now.’ Her voice made it a command, and he couldn’t disobey.

*

When he woke next it was still dark. His skin itched like crazy. He wasn’t lying on his back in water any more but on his front on a mattress, and as far as he could tell, he was still naked. Cloth still bound his eyes – he could feel it – and everything was dark. He tried to reach his gnosis, but he couldn’t, and the feeling of helplessness that gave him was frightening.

‘Elena?’

No reply.

‘
ELENA!
’

He heard running feet as she cried, ‘I’m coming!’

She hurried in and asked anxiously, ‘What is it?’

He felt immediately ashamed at his small panic and admitted, ‘It’s nothing – I woke up, that is all.’ His limbs felt leaden, but at least he could feel them. He groped around for a sheet. ‘Where are my clothes? Why is my face bandaged—?’ He swallowed as a new fear struck him. ‘My eyes—?’

‘Will be fine,’ she answered firmly. ‘Lie still, you idiot.’ A sheet settled gently over him. ‘I was just letting your skin breathe – it’ll heal faster that way.’

His hands flew to the bandage about his face. ‘But—?’

She caught his wrists firmly. ‘Leave it,’ she said sharply. ‘They are mending well, but they need rest.’

‘Am I blind?’

‘No, no – you’re not blind, but it will take a little time for your eyes to fully recover.’

He forced himself to do something like relax. ‘What happened?’ he whispered after he had calmed himself a little.

She snorted. ‘You just about killed yourself. What on earth made you use electrical energy in water you were actually
swimming
in yourself?’

He had no idea what she meant. ‘Electrical energy? What is that? I only wanted to catch a fish—’