Jean Lorrah - Empire 01 - Savage Empire

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Chapter One

Exile

Sword clashed on sword.

Lenardo parried and stepped back, deliberately open as he feinted,

came in under his opponent's guard, and pulled his stroke before the blade

touched the boy's throat.

"Decius, you were not Reading!" he scolded.

The boy flushed. He would have lost the fight and probably his life. "I

didn't want you Reading me, Magister."

Lenardo shook his head. "I am not your teacher today. I am your enemy,

non-Reader, open for you to Read and combat."

"Yes, Magister," Decius said contritely—for the dozenth time.

"Let me try him," said a voice from the sidelines.

"That's not fair!" protested Decius, and Lenardo smiled. Where else

would a student of swordsmanship consider his opponent to have an

unfair advantage because he was blind from birth?

Torio, who was lounging gracefully on the bench where Lenardo and

Decius had laid their cloaks, now rose, doffing his own cloak and striding

easily forward, Reading his way.

Lenardo had taught Torio swordsmanship—but the student was now

more skilled than the teacher. At seventeen, Torio was tall, with a long

reach, but his real advantage was his disconcerting eyes. Years ago, he had

not been able to concentrate on swordplay and the social amenity of

making his eyes appear to focus at the same time. Then he discovered that

others were put off stride by a swordsman who was obviously blind.

By now, Torio needed no advantage but the skill he had developed with

long practice. He had long since stopped showing off; Lenardo Read

clearly Torio's eagerness to teach Decius—the sincere desire of a true

teacher to share the process of discovery.

Decius was only thirteen, his body just beginning its adolescent growth

spurt. Torio adjusted his own skill to the younger boy's as Lenardo

watched approvingly.

Decius, however, was watching Torio, becoming fascinated by the milky

eyes that drifted, unfocused. A yelp and a clang—Torio disarmed him,

then pinned him against the wall. "Don't watch me—Read me! By the

gods, Decius, you waste your talent! Magister, will you lend me your

kerchief?"

"No!" cried Decius.

"You are a Reader," Torio told him. "You have as much talent as I, but

you lean on your five senses. Block out the most important of them, and

you will have to Read." He tied the fine linen kerchief over Decius' eyes.

"There. Now, let us fight as equals."

Lenardo could Read Decius' tight throat and sweaty palms. Now the boy

had to Read Torio, their surroundings, and himself, all at once. He

fumbled, could not even parry at first, backed against the bench and

almost fell. Then, by degrees, he found his way. Within half an hour he had

made more progress than Lenardo had got from him in a month.

Torio allowed Decius a touch, saying, "Now you're doing it, Decius.

Good work. By the time you've reached your full stature, you'll be a better

swordsman than I am."

Blushing at such praise from an acknowledged sword-master, Decius

pulled off the blindfold, blinking in the bright sunlight. Torio smiled and

answered his half-formed thought, "Yes, it is as bright for me." //I am still

Reading, Decius. I cannot not Read, or the darkness enfolds me.//

"Will you work with me again tomorrow, Torio? Oh! Pardon, Magister

Lenardo—I didn't mean—"

Lenardo smiled at the boy's confusion. "For this particular skill, Torio is

the better teacher. I shall assign you to him."

"Oh—thank you, Magister!" Decius had stopped Reading again—a pity,

Lenardo thought, for he missed the warm anticipation from Torio.

"Tomorrow! I'll be ready— I promise!"

As Decius hurried off, he also missed the cold apprehension that went

through Lenardo at his words. The teacher cut it off, lest Torio Read him.

He knew, Read, that tomorrow Torio would not teach Decius. That was all,

except for an attending bleak sorrow.

But the blind boy was too enthralled to notice that Lenardo had stopped

Reading. "My own student! My very first!"

"Yes, Torio," Lenardo agreed. "You are certainly qualified to teach

swordsmanship, even if your methods are… unorthodox."

Torio laughed. "But they should not be. Boys come here at eight or nine,

completely reliant on their five wits. I' came at seven, and within a year I

was a proficient Reader —simply because I could not rely on my eyes. New

boys would learn much faster if for a portion of each day we blindfolded

them—aye, and stopped their ears, too. Then . they'd have to learn to

Read."

For a moment, Torio's enthusiasm woke in Lenardo the delight he had

felt whenever Galen had proposed a new idea—but Galen was gone now.

Lenardo's fault for not teaching him to master his enthusiasm. He must

not make the same mistake with this boy, who shone above the other boys

just as Galen had.

"When you are Master here, Torio, then you may institute your own

techniques."

"But you will be Master long before that, Magister. And even now you

might try my suggestions."

Will I ever be worthy to be a Master? Lenardo blocked the thought,

then covered his discomfiture with a laugh. 'Torio, Torio, just appointed

tutor today and already trying to run the academy!"

As he had hoped, the boy was distracted. "Tutor! Yes— if I have a

student, then I am officially a tutor! Oh, thank you, Magister Lenardo!" .

"You deserve the post. I shall consult with Master Clement about your

tutoring one or two beginning Readers. If you don't frighten them to

death, you will have the chance to demonstrate whether your method

produces good Readers in less time."

"Frighten them?… Oh, yes—I understand. I must Read the new boys to

comprehend the fear of the dark, for I have never feared it. Dark was all I

knew until I was seven years old—and you showed me light."

"It was you who Read me, Torio," said Lenardo, recalling the surge of

joy ten years before, when he found in the little blind boy the talent that

would release him from his dark and circumscribed world. In those days

he had never questioned his calling to teach. Now he was no longer

certain—no longer trusted his judgment to guide the young Readers. How

well had he guided Galen, that the boy had come to question the law—and

.been branded a criminal, thrust beyond the pale, where he would have to

cease Reading—or die?

Surely he is dead by now, Lenardo thought. And yet… I would know. I

loved that boy. I cannot Read for him into the savage lands—but surely I

would perceive if he were dead.

"Magister?"

"What? Oh, I'm sorry, Torio. It's nearly midday. Come —let's see what

the refectory has to offer."

As they began to unstrap their swords, however, Torio stiffened.

"Magister—Read!" His delicate, skilled hands reversed their actions as the

alarm bell clanged, rousing all Readers to open their minds to the

message.

//Attack! Adigia is under attack! Battle positions!//

Three years ago, Lenardo would have dashed with Torio to defend the

gates. Fifteen years before, he would have run, as Decius should be doing,

to hide with the children. Now, however, his place was in the center tower

of the keep, deep within the stone walls where the most skilled Readers

would direct the battle while remaining safe from the attackers. For

Readers were the only defense of civilization against the encroachment of

the savages.

Lenardo was well into the passage before it occurred to him that Torio,

despite his youth, was an increasingly skilled Reader who should be

protected. I'll put it to Master Clement at the first opportunity.

The unlit passage twisted and turned, winding stairs deliberately

impeding progress. In utter blackness, it was negotiable only by a Reader.

A torch would throw hundreds of flickering shadows to fool the eye. For a

Reader, though, the passage might as well be open to the sunlight.

Lenardo caught up with Master Clement on the narrow, twisting stairs.

The old man was bent with rheumatism that slowed his steps, making the

trek to the safety of the tower a painful journey. As always when he Read

the Master's pain, -Lenardo had to force down the traitorous thought, If

only we had the skills of those savages!

Even as he took Master Clement's arm to help him into the

well-protected chamber, the attacking savages sent their power

thundering against the tower itself. Pure mental energy shook the very

stone about them.

//What are they doing?// Lenardo wondered.

//Wasting their energies, let us hope,// replied Master Clement.

The two men entered the chamber and lay down on the comfortable

couches. They would be sending then- minds out now to guide the troops

in battle; then: bodies must be left secure behind.

The routine was already old to Lenardo. He removed his boots and

stretched out, carefully composing his long limbs so that no part of his

body placed pressure on another, no wrinkle of clothing threatened to cut

off circulation. The process took only moments, but Master Clement was

already waiting when Lenardo's consciousness left his body.

With no physical sensations to distract, the two men began to Read the

battle. The savage warriors had already broken through the town's

defenses, and the townspeople were retreating to the stronger-walled

academy grounds. The academy, however, was the target. It had been

attacked before, but never with such numbers, in such a determined

effort!

//Tell Tiberium!// instructed Master Clement, then concentrated his

efforts on guiding their troops strategically.

Lenardo reached out impatiently, not wanting to deliver messages when

he was needed for defense. But the Master was right:—the central

government at Tiberium must know that the savages were trying to push

the empire's borders back once more—and it looked as if they might

succeed!

Concentrating on the academy at Tiberium, Lenardo found himself

"there," a faint consciousness floating in the courtyard where young

women were practicing the intricacies of an ever-changing dance. The

academy at Tiberium was female, as the one at Adigia was male. Briefly

touching the minds of those in the courtyard, he found that Portia was not

among them. Reading outward, almost at the limit of his strength to hold

himself a single entity, he found her in meditation, her thoughts directed

inward, not Reading.

Once he had found his object, Lenardo could focus on her, no longer

fearing his consciousness would dissipate. How to get her attention?

Again traitorous envy suggested, A savage would tug her sleeve or pull

her hair. But he was no savage; he had no such power, and would not use

it if he had. Besides, a savage could not Read.

//Portia!//

No response. She was the strongest and most skilled of Readers; thus

her barriers were the most firm against intrusion. However, she would be

sensitive to a concerted attempt to intrude, from a strong and practiced

mind. So he mentally shouted at her, seeking over and over to Read her

with all his strength… until at last she yielded to irritation and dropped

her barriers for a moment to Read who was pestering her.

//Lenardo!// She Read instantly that he was not physically near—even

if he had been before her, she would not have recognized his face, as they

had never seen one another. Portia's warm greeting was tinged with

apprehension. //Why do you contact me?//

//We are under attack here at Adigia. You must ask the emperor for

more troops.//

//They are attempting to push back the border again? Or do they seek

to take the academy?//

//Both, I think. Portia, we may be able to hold them oft for a few days,

but I Read a huge assembly of troops massed in the mountains. They will

take us if we do not get help.//

//May the gods protect you, Lenardo. A Reader of your skill should not

be left amid the dangers of a border town. Go back now, and tell Master

Clement that Portia says an army will be on its way to you by nightfall, or

she will take up sword and march to your defense herself.//

//The gods bless you for your help, Portia.// Lenardo withdrew

regretfully from Portia's presence. As often as he had contacted her, the

Master of Masters among Readers, he had never dared to Read her

exterior. Her abilities were renowned throughout the empire. She had to

be older than Master Clement, yet confronted with the power and

compassion of that vigorous mind, Lenardo could not envision her as an

old woman. He could not envision her at all.

Perhaps it was for the best that by law male and female Reader could

never meet face to face, unless one or both had been declared unfit for the

two highest ranks.

The familiar thoughts flitted through Lenardo's mind in the brief

moment it took him to return his conscious presence to the Adigia

Academy chamber. Master Clement was Reading the battle, guiding the

Readers who led the defenses. Lenardo Read with him briefly, touching

Torio's strong mind, the thought coming unbidden, He could be trained to

take my place here, were I sent to Tiberium.

But then he had no time for personal thoughts. The battle raged at the

very gates of the academy. People rushed to put out fires in two wooden

outbuildings. Fire was one of the savages' most potent weapons—but they

had to see the target to start the blaze. If they could Read, as well as thrust

their powers outward, the empire would be doomed.

Only because they could not Read was it possible to defend against

them. As another fire appeared on the roof of the bath house, Lenardo

directed young Silvius to it. Silvius led a contingent of townsmen, the gruff

men and women following the boy's direction without hesitation— nobody

questioned a Reader in battle.

Another blow struck the ancient stone keep, shaking it to its

foundations. But it only shook—that savage tactic might tumble a wooden

barn, but it was a waste of strength against a building of stone, partly

carved from the living mountain rock. Why were they doing it? The

Readers speculated that the Adepts among the savages used enormous

amounts of physical energy in such blows. They must deplete themselves,

for if they could continue that kind of effort indefinitely, they could

destroy anything. No one knew their exact limitations.

The blow came again. Why? What was the sense of pounding away at

the keep? Lenardo tried to Read the Adepts who were striking against the

stone building. As he did so, he caught a faint touch of familiar presence.

Shock rang through him but was dispelled by the content of the thought

he perceived: //… flaw directly beneath the keep tower. Direct your power

low, right at the fault.//

A Reader! A Reader directing the savages! Relaying that horrifying

news to Master Clement, Lenardo sent his mind deep beneath the keep,

Reading the stresses in the very stone of the mountain. A fault! Centuries

of gravitational shifting had produced slippage of rock layers deep under

the ground. It was safe enough, though, unmovable by anything short of

an earthquake—or the kind of pounding the savages were now inflicting.

//Master Clement! The savages will bring the academy down about our

ears!//

The Master Read with him, and Lenardo felt infinite sadness in the old

man at the impending destruction. But neither man took time for

sorrow—both began at once to broadcast the alarm. //The keep will fall!

Get the children out! Take shelter outside, against the walls!//

Immediately, everyone inside the ancient stone building was on the

move—except Lenardo and Master Clement. //Return to your body, my

son,// said the old Master.

//And you, Master. Hurry! I will help you out through the passage.//

//No. This is the end of the Adigia Academy. I have lived a full life. It is

fitting that it end here, defending the academy to the last. Lenardo—I

appoint you Master.//

//No!//

//Yes. You have authority now. Help the Readers to escape. They must

not be taken! Especially the youngest ones—the ones our enemy could

force to work for them. Find a way to get the boys out if you can, Lenardo.

Build a new academy. Go now—I shall stay and direct until the battle

ends.//

Until they destroy your body, thought Lenardo, but he blocked the

thought and his sorrow. //The gods protect you, Master Clement. I shall

revere you always as my teacher.//

//You have far outdone me, Master Lenardo. Remember always the true

joy of the teacher—to have one's students reach beyond oneself. And reach

they must, if you have taught them well. The gods protect you. My blessing

goes with you.//

Reluctantly, Lenardo returned to his body. As always, it felt clumsy and

unresponsive, his senses—even his Reading • —closed in after the freedom

of being pure mind. But Master Clement was right: he must attempt to

save as many Readers as possible; none must be allowed to fall into the

enemy's hands. Any who did would be tortured to death if they dared

Read. Except the children… the gods preserve the children!

Drawing a few deep breaths, reorienting himself, Lenardo left the

chamber and began Reading his way out through the winding

passageway. The familiar presence of Master Clement rang in his mind,

directing the children and older Readers out of the building, issuing

instructions for escape through the fields behind the back wall in the

confusion that would follow the fall of the keep. //Lenardo will lead you. I

have appointed him Master, to build a new academy.//

The keep shook again with one of those mental blows— and yet again!

What were they—? They want me! They want to bring the keep down

before I can escape! They?… or he?

Another blow threw Lenardo to his knees. Struggling up, he Read deep,

deep down into the rock, to the flaw they were battering. This time he

searched further, amazed that there was no change since he had Read it

before—only minutes ago, but before the latest series of devastating blows.

Sensing a few minutes of safety yet, he paused to Read further. The fault

was most obvious just beneath the keep, but he could trace it back into

the mountain… through the mountain to where it changed from a barely

perceptible weakness to a precariously balanced fault that ended only

where the sheer cliff face was exposed—where the far side of the mountain

had fallen centuries before.

Now there—a single blow like the ones aimed at the keep could bring

the entire cliff down in an avalanche upon… upon the massed troops of the

enemy! They were all there in that valley, ready to surge through the pass

as soon as the town was taken, to push the border of the empire back

farther and farther, until one day they would drive all the way to the sea!

Lenardo pulled his mind from that train of thought. Did the Reader

who was guiding the Adepts know that the fault ran through the

mountain? Lenardo had lived here twenty years and discovered the fault

only today. Another blow shook the keep. Lenardo Read its reverberations

along the line of the fault. The greater weakness might be on the other side

of the mountain, but the blows were carefully aimed at this side, their

strength dissipating through the living rock. At its weakest point, the fault

was receiving only faint echoes of pounding force.

At the next blow, the rock deep beneath the keep gave for the first time.

At the tiny slip of edge against edge, the stone beneath Lenardo's feet

seemed to turn to water, lifting him like a gentle wave, settling again into

firm earth. Outside there were screams, and a rickety storage shed

tumbled over.

Again Lenardo Read deeply, and he saw that the shift had left a

precarious balance; moreover, the crack had extended beneath the

mountain^ making it possible that this side could tumble down upon

them unless…

He cursed his lack of engineering and mathematical knowledge—not

proper studies for a Reader, he had been told. Instinctively he knew that

there was a stress beneath the mountain such that more powerful blows

could go either way. With the fault now connecting both sides, there was a

possibility that another shift could bring down not only the keep but the

mountain slope above it; or the shift could slant in the opposite direction,

dropping the cliff face on then- enemy.

And what good -would it do me to understand it? he thought bitterly. I

am no Adept, to direct the stress against the enemy. But would it not be

poetic justice if their enemy destroyed its own troops with its own

weapon?

It was useless for Lenardo to move at that moment. If the keep came

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ScannedbyHighroller.ProofedmoreorlessbyHighroller.MadeprettierbyMollyKates/Cinnamonsstylesheet.ChapterOneExileSwordclashedonsword.Lenardoparriedandsteppedback,deliberatelyopenashefeinted,cameinunderhisopponent'sguard,andpulledhisstrokebeforethebladetouchedtheboy'sthroat."Decius,youwerenotReading!"he...

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Jean Lorrah - Empire 01 - Savage Empire

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