Candor paused to look out over the sea. Her arms hung limply by her side, and she tried to catch her breath. It had been nearly a month since Candor had left Farn’s office, head swirling with the answers the witches had promised and the questions that were forming even as she departed.
Farn’s warning about Choah rang heavy in her ears, and Candor had avoided the young man assiduously since he had opened her back. Her wounds for their part, had healed well, though Candor had lost much of her muscle in the month of healing. She had only recently returned to the beach to train with her sword, and she was feeling her atrophy. Candor scowled. She did not like feeling weak. She tucked her sword into the branch of a tree before turning towards the ocean. Candor had not let her guard down once with her sword; she was neither about to lose her weapon nor her life over its discovery.
The sand squelched between her toes as she walked towards the water. Candor practiced allowing herself to delve into her limitless mind. She felt the waves and greeted the sea. She noted the fish under the surface and kindly asked a ray to move along. She listened to the wind in the trees and the way they tickled each other with the breeze. Candor sighed in contentment. Despite her work with Farn, almost always unpleasant and rarely easy, Candor found herself more and more drawn to existing in her unbounded state. She had much more control over which mind she chose to use, practicing majik in both, but the world felt more aligned when Candor opened her mind to meld with the energies around her.
She hated that it might kill her. She hated that she did not know if it would kill her. Farn, followed by Douine who had attended some of her lessons, assured Candor that the Citadel was a safe place for Candor to practice her majik and test her Fae consciousness. Candor hesitated to tell either witch that she preferred the Fae perspective. She worried it would only increase their reluctance to teach her.
Candor turned and floated out a bit, until she couldn’t touch the sand with her feet. She flipped onto her back and stared at the sky, thinking of her last meeting with Farn.
Candor had become obsessed with her identity, recently to the detriment of her learning. Candor remembered the interaction, stomach clenching in shame.
~.~
“In your human mind,” Farn chastised Candor. “You must practice your majik in your human mind too, Candor. If you choose to use majik when you leave here, until you can find someone who might help you, you need to do so in your human mind.”
Candor breathed out, blinking hard. Majik was so much more difficult when she practiced in her human mind.
“It is not that much more difficult,” Farn, who had grown adept at reading Candor’s emotions, much to the latter’s dismay, snapped, “You are simply now accustomed to the ease of your Fae mind. You have practiced majik in your human mind, you must expand that skill now.”
Candor struggled to keep her tongue. “I need to find out if practicing in my Fae mind will actually kill me, Farn.”
“You spend too much time on this pursuit in neglect of your education.” Farn placed both hands on the table between them. “You are already span ahead of where your peers were. You have years of education under your belt, and it has been a month. Think of what you could learn at this pace, Candor. Just consider that.”
Candor rolled her eyes. “I appreciate that. Think of how good I could be if I just stayed in my limitless mind.”
“We cannot guarantee what this will do.” Farn gritted her teeth. “It’s like I’m having a conversation with a wall.”
“How can I be sure that you simply don’t want me to grow more powerful than you, and that is why you are keeping me from practicing in my Fae mind?” Candor knew as soon as she spoke, she had gone too far.
Farn drew herself up, her eyes flashing. “Do not think to doubt us, Candor Haelfin.” She hissed. “We here have given more than you could ever know for the future of Icaria. Much easier would it have been for us to die.”
“I’m sorry.” Candor raised her hands. “I spoke too quickly and out of impatience. I apologize.”
Farn’s scowl only deepened. “I have not changed my mind about you, Candor. I think you are still dangerous. Too young, too malleable, too powerful.”
Candor did not know what to say. “I can only address one of these flaws.”
“It will not be enough.” Farn shook her head. The ice in her voice had ebbed and flowed depending on Candor’s impatience and progress. It had returned as a glacier when she spoke. “Leave me. I will see you tomorrow.”
Candor nodded and inclined her head, exiting slowly. She cursed herself outside Farn’s door. In the first few weeks after Farn had informed her they would be studying together, Candor had been quiet, endeavoring to respect the witch for whom she knew their engagements would not be easy. She had slipped into arrogance and irritation, she knew, in the last week, triggering Farn to anger.
Candor tumbled into her limitless mind, what Farn now called her “Fae mind” after Candor had explained it more fully to her (she refused to let Candor show her as she had Carza). It calmed her. Candor sensed the students throughout the Citadel, though her mind only reached so far. In her small moments between activities, Candor had taken to trying to expand her mind, seeing how far she could engage with the world. It had resulted in a few uncontrollable shakings in fetal position, but it was as much of a challenge as Candor could attempt in the month following her whipping, as her back was still healing.
~.~
Candor returned to herself, sighing. She drew her mind back into its human boundaries before gently swimming a few laps up and down the beach to release her muscles. She missed the presences of the fish and the elements, but she knew she could not continue to live in her Fae mind, especially if she were to return to Icaria soon. Present in the thoughts that continually plagued her was Douine’s ominous prediction that Candor would not remain at the Citadel much longer. Candor had not sought Douine for explanation, nor had she hounded any of the other witches for answers. She was desperate to learn more about her mothers, but somehow, she did not expect any of the witches to offer her clarity on that front. Not yet at least. Candor had learned enough about the witches and their habits regarding the divulging of information to know she would not receive the responses she wanted. Candor missed Letti. She missed companionship. After the whipping, Candor had made little attempt to engage with her peers, and they were happy enough to avoid her. Candor drew no affection from the women in the student population, and the men did not seem to have any use for her either. Candor had chosen to avoid Choah, who had been her central companion prior to the whipping and who likely would have remained friendly in its shadow. She did not mind the quiet, only the loneliness.
Candor turned slowly and floated once more. A flicker of movement caught her eye, and Candor’s gaze focused on the beach. A figure stood at the edge of the water, arms by its side. Candor squinted, but could not identify the individual, though she had a guess as to whom it was.
With a telling grace, the figure dove into the waves, and as he poked his head up, closer than Candor had anticipated, she recognized the way he shook the water from his hair.
Suddenly self-concious, Candor felt her back tingle. Choah swam towards her, and as he approached, Candor could see his smirk. She felt a thrill quiver through her lower belly, and she chastised herself.
“You have been avoiding me.” Choah’s voice was as smooth as ever, and Candor found herself preparing herself as if for a battle.
“I have.” Candor was honest.
“Did the witches tell you to?” He had reached her and tread not an arm’s length away.
Candor could feel the currents from his strokes displacing her and strove to maintain her position.
“Would you expect them to do so?” Candor asked.
“So, they did.” Choah’s face fell. “I would have thought you’d ignore that advice.” The mocking edge had returned.
Candor felt herself rise to the bait, but then she paused. She tread for a moment before responding. “I don’t know what to think or who to believe here, Choah.”
“I’ve done nothing to warrant distrust, have I?” Choah asked. He cocked his head, as if genuinely curious.
“You used majik against me in my last trial, you may or may not have left me to steal something from the witches, and you laid my back open to such an extent that I have not been able to spar for nearly a month.” Candor tried to keep her voice level. She recognized only some of these were fair accusations.
“I would have healed you, had you come to me.” Choah sounded hurt.
“You know I was not allowed to be healed by majik.” Candor found herself closer to Choah than she intended, having overcompensated for his strokes.
Choah smirked. “As if you care for rules.”
“I care about not getting thrown off the mountaintop for a second time.” Candor rolled her eyes.
“They wouldn’t do that to you.” Choah dismissed this concern. “You are too special. Fae with a mysterious upbringing?” Choah shook his head, before grinning mischievously. “They want to dissect you, learn all your power, and then maybe they’d throw you from the mountain.”
Candor made a face. “Reassuring.”
“Hey, that’s what I’m here for.” Choah splashed Candor so unexpectedly, she yelped, and he grabbed her.
Instead of wrestling her under the water, as Candor braced for, Choah simply held her, using the water to bouy her weight. She had not noticed they had drawn so close to the shore. Candor could feel Choah’s arms on her back’s fresh, new skin. She felt her body grow warm.
“I can feel your scars.” Choah remarked.
“I would imagine you could.” Candor murmered. “They are not small.”
“I am sorry for that.” Choah sounded so sincere Candor looked around to meet his gaze. “I simply thought to take that hurt from someone else. Causing someone pain is a disturbing thing. It can really break a person.”
“I would hope so.” Candor muttered, unsure what to say. She disliked how vulnerable she felt in his arms. She was unsure how fast she could react, should she need to.
“How have your studies been going?” Choah asked, still cradling her.
“Fine.” Candor shrugged, causing friction between their skin. “I am learning control over my mind.”
“How much control?” Choah asked nonchalantly. “It wasn’t as though you were uncontrolled before.”
“Different kind of control.” Candor tried to explain. She turned to face Choah as much as she could. “I have an innate grasp of majik, but that is not control. That is talent. Talent without discipline is worse than useless.” Candor could hear Mo’s voice echo through her own.
“Young,” Choah smirked, “but wise beyond your years.”
Irritated at his superciliousness, Candor snorted. “Hardly. Just unwilling to be caught off guard.” It was a poor rejoinder, and Choah knew it. His smile grew.
Candor shook her head slightly and tried to escape from his arms, wriggling outwards. Choah kept a hold on her, tightening his grip.
“Let me go.” Candor snarled. She was unwilling to twist too much, lest she tweak her back. She was not confident in her deep healing.
“No.” Choah answered simply. “We’re getting out.”
Candor, utterly incensed at being treated like a child, bit her tongue, then grew angry at her own impotence.
Stewing, Candor felt the water recede from the pair as Choah trod towards the shore.
“Look that way.” Choah said as he set her down gently.
“Why?” Candor asked but did as she was told. “It’s not like I’ve not seen you in your trousers before.
“I’m not wearing trousers.” Choah responded cheerfully.
Candor felt something shift uncomfortably inside her. She’d not known. “You said nothing.”
“Indeed.” Choah flopped down on the beach.
Candor turned at the sound and carefully sat next to him. She folded her arms around her knees, feeling the tightened skin on her back stretch.
“Those are thick scars.” Choah commented. He turned onto his side and stroked down one that curled around to Candor’s hip. “I did this.”
“You did.” Candor whispered. She liked the feeling of his fingertip on her skin, but it felt wrong somehow, invasive.
“I can erase them, once they fully heal.” Choah offered.
“I don’t know if I want that.” Candor lay back slightly, resting on her elbows. She hid her scars on the sand. “I might want them to remember you by.”
Choah chuckled in that way that alerted Candor that he had not expected her comment.
“You seek novelty, always, don’t you?” Candor asked.
“Is that an inquiry or an accusation?” Choah rolled up and over Candor quickly, so that his body hovered just over hers.
“Both.” Candor met his eyes. “Neither.” Her voice was steady; she braced for a fight.
Grinning, Choah lowered himself until there was little more than a fingertip’s width between them. Candor could tell he was waiting for her to push him off, to retreat, to surrender. Instead, Candor lifted her chin and said nothing. Choah stopped.
For a few moments, Choah and Candor posed silently on the beach, each frozen in a challenge, unbent by the other.
Finally, Choah relented, throwing himself down to Candor’s side and tucking his arms behind his head. Candor breathed again, the air feeling particularly cold as the warmth from Choah’s body ebbed from her skin. Her stomach clenched, and she worked her jaw, trying to regain control of her pulse. She had won, but somehow, she felt as though it had been a stalemate.
They listened to the dull roar of the sea for a moment before Choah spoke.
“Some students here, myself included, have what I would call an extracurricular activity we participate in. An extra way to practice majik, if you will.”
Candor glanced at her companion. His gaze still rested on the sky.
“I think you would be an excellent addition, if you are interested.” Choah’s voice betrayed him at the end, the smallest tremor, unlike him.
Candor considered. “I’m interested.” She said carefully.
Choah smiled. “I thought you might be.” He turned to her. “The witches, however, are unaware of our activities. And it needs to stay this way. So long as you are ok with, ah, navigating some rules, you are most welcome.” He stood abruptly, pushing himself upward. “I’ll leave directions in your room.”
Candor turned to look at Choah as he grabbed his tunic from the sand. “When?”
“You’ll know.” Choah grinned suddenly, cheerfully, with no reservation. It was as if the sun had appeared from behind clouds. Candor’s breath caught, and she stared at the young man, wordless. “I’m glad you stole from Chrayse, Candor, I will not lie to you.”
Candor did not know what to say. She watched as Choah pivoted and trotted back towards the woodline until he disappeared. While oddly gratified that Choah appreciated her choice, Candor knew, deep in her gut, that his praise for her thievery boded well for no one.
Several more days passed before Candor caught any wind of a meeting. She and Choah had returned to ignoring each other for the most part, less difficult for Candor as she readily ignored everyone in her path. She’d received a small nod from Taelia earlier in the week, but Candor had not pursued it. It was simply easier to maintain her isolation.
Returning from a trip to the beach, Candor stripped from her tunic and trousers, hanging them on a hook she’d installed near her window. She brushed the excess salt from her body, before donning her other pair of clothes. Since she’d given up considering the judgments of her classmates, Candor had taken to living in bare feet again, building up callouses that had vanished during her time in boots. Candor bent to sit on her bed, then jumped as something crinkled under her blanket.
Suspicious, Candor whipped the covers back to discover a note.
Tonight, as the blue sun crests the far horizon, be in the angel courtyard. Choah had left no initials, save a small mark. Candor peered more closely but could not identify the symbol. She tucked the paper into her pack, carefully ensuring it was in the waterproof sack.
So, he invited me once before, Candor thought to herself. She remembered the woman who had snuck into her room so many nights before. Why again now?
Candor replaced her blanket, irritated that Choah had placed the note under it. She looked around her room quickly, considering what he must have seen when he entered. She had nothing on her walls, no extraneous items. She kept her ruck intact, packed as if to exit at a moment’s notice. Satisfied that there was nothing to give him anything to analyze, Candor upended her ruck onto her bed, and set about repacking it. Nothing was missing, but as she replaced her possessions, Candor thought of Thorn and Letti and wondered where they were, what they were doing. She wished she had some way to contact Letti and made a note to ask Carza how she might create something like that in the future. Kind words from a good friend would often be welcome, Candor thought.
Eyes on the horizon, Candor slipped from her room as the blue sun dipped towards the violet line between the sea and sky. She followed the corridors to the angel fountain, descending quietly into the courtyard. Remaining in the shadows, Candor waited, listening intently. It did not take long for students to file into the space, Choah among them. Waiting for a moment to see what they would do, Candor watched as Choah moved a flagstone from the base of the fountain. Just as Douine had raised the whipping post, Candor heard the rumbling clunk of stone falling into place below their feet.
Is this entire place hollow? Candor wondered. As the students began to descend what appeared to be a staircase, Candor stepped forward, alighting at Choah’s elbow.
He startled slightly but seemed pleased. “Welcome. I’m glad you decided to join us this time.”
“I had a personal invitation.” Candor met his eyes for a moment, before walking forward and following her peers downward.
The steps were old, and they were made of a sandy stone, not marble. Candor noticed the difference right away, as the purity of the Citadel contrasted deeply with the dark, gritty chamber she now found herself in. Along the walls hung torches, which someone had sprung to life. The flickering orange glow felt contrived, dim, ominous in the wake of so much natural light.
Candor heard Choah shut the top of the passage and listened as his footsteps echoed hers down. As they wound further into the mountain, Candor’s skin began to prickle. For the first time in a long time, she felt herself begin to flicker between her Fae and human minds. She took a deep breath. Something bad happened here, Candor could feel it. Giving up, Candor allowed herself to exist in her Fae mind alone, sending her consciousness out to probe the space. She found no life, and the stones would not tell her their names. It was a dark space, with no energy. Candor felt a deep terror well up inside her, an abject fear she’d not yet experienced. She stopped short, face locked in a grimace.
It took all her willpower not to whirl at Choah and attack him as he arrived at her step.
“You’re ok.” Choah grasped Candor’s upper arms and rubbed gently, as if he expected her reaction. “It will pass, I promise.”
Choah left Candor alone, passing her in the stairwell and disappearing around a bend. Aware of the burning sensation his hands had left, Candor focused on that feeling, forcing her feet to move forward. Even the fear of the Kotemor could not compare to this space. It was as if all that was good and pure and right had simply abandoned it.
Rounding a final bend, Candor found herself on the outside of a loose circle of students, all facing inwards. More torches lit the dank space, casting wandering shadows around their feet, over their faces. Despite their casual conversation, their appearance seemed sinister, as if they were complicit in the creation of this catacomb.
Choah clapped his hands as Candor looked around. She had managed to lock most of her fear in her gut, but she jumped at any sound, any movement she was not expecting. She knew she looked like a trapped mouse, but at the moment, she did not care. Something was not right. Candor half wondered if she’d been brought down to this forsaken place as the subject of a ritual sacrifice.
“Welcome back.” Choah was saying. “We have a new visitor among us tonight. Candor, thank you for joining us. I am sure your engagement will be fulfilling.”
A small smattering of whispers swept the room, but they were none of them surprised. Choah, it seemed, had informed them all ahead of time. Candor wondered idly if he’d needed permission to invite her or if he had simply informed his faction of her immanent arrival. As she slowly regained control of herself, Candor considered the assembly. About half the student body was in attendance, the same ones, Candor could see, whose minds had been blocked from her at her whipping. Candor wondered what they practiced here.
“We join these evenings, to sharpen our skills.” Candor realized he was addressing her, answering the questions she had not uttered. “It is a dangerous thing to fight and wield majik simultaneously, for reasons for which you are already well aware. Both require significant focus. An absence of said focus, and both could kill you.” Choah’s voice was as serious as Candor had ever heard it. “However. We will be turned out into a world with no nun, no government, no means of protecting ourselves against those who would take us, harm us, enslave us for our skills. So, we must learn ourselves, how to defend our own safety.” Choah met Candor’s eye, and something, some flash of expectation, or perhaps exhileration danced in his gaze too quickly for her to analyze.
“Tonight, Candor, you will watch. Everyone else, partners.” At Choah’s command, the students moved in pairs to line the room, each drawing their weapons.
Candor had been so focused on maintaining her control, she had not noticed that each person had brought a blade. Some bore daggers, some longer swords. Choah did not hold a weapon, Candor noticed. He walked over to her and nodded. “We will observe tonight.” He repeated. “The first half of class is dedicated to practice. Each coupling is to attempt to disarm the other, while working to incapacitate his opponent. One side will resist only slightly, that the aggressor might know what it feels like, the proper pressure to apply, and so on.”
As they spoke, Candor watched strikes that seemed to be happening in slow motion. Faces grimaced and scowled, blades flashed in the dark fire. “This is incredibly dangerous.” Candor murmered. “What happens if someone slips?”
“Well,” Choah’s answer was lost as someone howled. “Here, you can see for yourself.”
A man with dark hair spotted with grey lay on the floor, his leg torn open along the inner thigh. His partner, a woman with short curly hair, knelt over him, hands on the wound. Her eyes closed, her mouth moved as she worked to heal him.
Choah watched for a moment before touching the woman on her shoulder. She sat back, exhausted, and Choah took her place, closing his eyes and stretching out his fingers. Slowly, Candor watched the wound begin to close, its eventual mending only indicated by a thin pink streak.
“Thank you, Choah.” The man said gratefully. The woman also offered her thanks.
“If you are struggling with whole-body incapacitation, try to stall one body part at a time,” Choah suggested. “You have much more strategy with that approach. That way you can predict where he might move next.” The woman nodded.
Candor shivered. She found it unsettling how deeply deferential these two students were to Choah.
“You started this?” Candor asked as they resumed their circling.
“I did,” Choah shrugged, “But it was a concept I resurrected. Before the nuns, there was a sect of witches that taught themselves to fight. This was the real reason the nuns were created, don’t let them fool you.” Choah walked Candor to a far corner of the room and pointed to a carving in the wall. “This is the original symbol of the nuns.”
A small, roughly hewn crown sat over two stars and a moon. A curved sword lay horizontal under the celestial bodies.
“The nuns were not their own sect but were rather witches who had pledged themselves to martial endeavors. This was a secret society, as the purpose of witches was supposed to be peace, prosperity, and justice. These witches understood that those concepts are rarely born of each other or inaction.”
Candor glanced up at Choah and noticed that same, nearly maniacal gleam glimmered in his eyes again.
“When they were discovered, the witch council created the nuns as a separate sect, dedicated to the defense of the witches, but also created as a sort of check on the potential power of the witches. The witches had to be defended and were left dependent on their nuns.” Choah shook his head. “The history states that the council wanted to ensure the safety of the witches, as too many were dying in Icaria because they could not defend themselves, but in reality, they were afraid of themselves.” Choah’s voice had grown disdainful. “I found this place. I searched the history in the library. You would be stunned what people don’t remove, simply because they think students won’t look for it.”
Candor remained silent, but a deep disquiet was growing inside her. She remembered the way his body had felt as he’d practically lain on top of her but failed to link these two memories to the same person.
Choah reached out and touched the small carving. “You’ll see, if you ever see a nun’s first tattoo, that their swords face up.” Choah traced the blade that curved downward. “The nuns took the essence of this place, those old witches, and turned it into something poor, a mockery of what it could have been.” His eyes blazed. “So, we take it back.”
Choah turned to look at Candor and smiled. “We all have our own tattoos, and soon, if you stay with us, you will too.”
“I’ve not seen your tattoo.” Candor remarked.
“Perhaps if you’d not turned away the other day, you might have.” Choah’s abrupt switch to levity left Candor spinning.
“You told me to turn away.” She reminded him.
“Aye.” Choah faked a deep sigh. “But you didn’t have to.” He grinned devilishly at her and winked.
Nonplussed, Candor followed the young man as he returned to the lighted floor. Candor watched as students sliced at each other, some clearly under some spell, slowed. She watched as blood spurted from various limbs, as individuals slipped and lost control. She watched as Choah offered to heal several of the students, and all the while, Candor grew more and more apprehensive about the entire endeavor.
She had little history of the witches or the nuns, but the story that Choah told sat oddly in her perception of the Citadel. It wouldn’t have been the first time a sect of powerful people had thought to safeguard their authority, Candor knew, but something about this particular account seemed untrue. With no way to verify, Candor tried to push it to the back of her mind.
“Enough.” Candor was startled from her reverie by Choah’s voice. He clapped his hands and the room fell silent. They gathered around, leaving a space around him.
“Who is first?” Choah asked. “No injured allowed.”
After a brief moment, two students stepped into the circle. They approached each other, blades raised horizontally. Each inspected the other’s weapon, and they bowed.
“Prepare yourselves.” Choah intoned. “Begin.”
The fight was slower than Candor would have expected, but quick enough that the students backed up accordingly.
The blades met each other sparingly, and Candor could tell that the woman was much more skilled than her partner. The man ducked and weaved, but as he drove his blade forward, his arm would stop, and the woman would try to slice down. Often her whole body would slow, but she seemed to escape the effects more quickly than did the man.
Candor realized this was how Choah had been able to fight her so effectively in her last trial. Chilled, Candor realized Choah’s mastery over his majik, and was grateful to her past self that she had forced him into an oath. They would not be able to spar this way.
“Enough.” Choah called again, and the two opponents stepped back immediately, bowing once more.
Chatting quietly as they exited the battlespace, the couple recounted the fight, each analyzing the other’s moves. Candor half listened as she watched the next pairing.
As they finished, Candor watched Choah slide into the circle. “I need a partner.”
A few students glanced around at each other, none eager to engage with the young man. Finally, a student, an older man whose face bore more interaction with time, stepped into the ring. Choah drew his sword, and the man flew at him, only to be held in place.
“Choah is the best of us.” A woman’s voice whispered close to Candor’s ear. She jumped. “No one can beat him. So, he just helps us become better.”
Candor glanced at the woman’s face to see it rapt with admiration. Candor blanched but did not reply.
The fight ended swiftly, without Choah having delivered a single blow.
“Candor.” Choah called as he sheathed his sword. “You are invited.”
Irritated and heart now racing with adrenaline, Candor marched into the center. “I should have known.” She growled at Chaoh. He grinned. “You should have.”
Candor lost her breath for a moment, before scowling. “I have no sword.”
“You will fight with your hands.”
“I will get you for this.” Candor promised quietly, before turning her back on Choah.
“She needs an opponent.” Choah informed the group.
No one stepped forward.
“This is our last fight,” Choah admonished. “Someone step forward.”
Reluctantly, the woman with the curly hair stepped into the ring.
“Thank you, Ru.” Choah said approvingly.
Candor stretched carefully, feeling her back and how mobile she could be. In her limitless mind, she probed Ru’s defenses, noting the mental barricade. They circled. Candor felt the stab of Ru’s consciousness against her own, and once more invited her attacker in. She spun Ru’s mind inside her own, hoping to dizzy it. In return, Candor dodged a kick from Ru, and slammed her chest with an open-handed strike.
This is unfair, Candor thought to herself. Ru stood incapacitated as Candor held her opponent’s mind for a moment. What is he playing at? Candor realized too late there was some larger game afoot; Choah was trying to learn something, or perhaps prove something. Candor couldn’t tell which.
Candor felt Ru trying to pull herself back from Candor’s mind. Candor clamped down harder and watched Ru wince. Slowly, Candor pulled Ru’s mind evermore into her own, as if she were pulling a bucket up from a well. Ru paled.
As Candor felt little resistance left to pull against, she stopped. As Candor tucked into Ru’s mind, she heard fleeting sounds, memories of Ru’s existence. A quiet brook, a young woman’s laugh, the sound of a screaming baby. Candor found that she knew Ru a little better, thought she understood the shadows of her motivation to study at the Citadel. Candor was intrigued and resolved to ask Farn about this later. For the moment, she needed to finish this fight and escape. She asked Ru to turn.
Ru did so, her eyes spinning wildly in her head. The whites showed, and Candor was forcibly reminded of a prey animal in the sights of a predator. She detached herself from emotion, noting the fear that Ru’s mind emanated within her own. Candor invited Ru to raise her sword and place the tip at the center of her belly. Ru did so, utterly unable to resist.
Candor paused for a moment, returning to her surroundings. As she retreated from Ru’s mind, Candor grew exhausted, almost as tired as the moments after she had completed the universe test. She held on, strengthened slightly by the knowledge that she had an audience.
Not a person moved in the room. For one, brief moment, Candor found Choah’s eyes. They were nearly as frightened as Ru’s. He had not expected this turn of events.
In a split second, Candor felt the shift in presence and withdrew into her own mind. Letting Ru return to herself, Candor threw up defenses as fast as she could. She was too late. Consciousnesses slammed into her own, knocking her to her knees. Unable to fight each, and indeed tactically impotent, Candor bent over, trying desperately to evict her invaders. She looked up, her jaw clenched, veins bulging. The looks on the faces of her opponents ranged from utter fury to madness. She had attacked one of their own. She was not welcome.
Candor grew angry, angry enough to push one or two out with a severe strain on her own energy. She was not strong enough to expel them all, however. She fell forward, her body straining against the weight of the attack. She had not lost her will as Ru had; her mind was still her own, though it was severely beleaguered.
“Stop.” Choah’s voice rang out, higher than usual, panicked. “STOP!”
Candor felt the minds ebb, one by one, and as the last exited, Candor collapsed forward. Choah caught her, murmuring. “Criya, criya.”
Candor breathed. She felt violated, more defeated than she had in her life, more broken than when she’d had her back torn open. She struggled to sit up, pushing back from Choah. When she saw his face, she appreciated its palor, vindictively pleased her pain had frightened him.
Starkly aware that she had to continue training with her aggressors, Candor chose her next words carefully.
“Thank you, all, for the invitation tonight.” Her voice shook but did not break. Candor looked past Choah and up at her peers. “I learned a lot. I hope you’ll see fit to spar again in the near future.”
The submission burned Candor’s throat on the way out, but she recognized she’d been bested. Despite the fatigue and the humiliation, Candor was desperate to learn more. Shakily, she stood and walked to Ru, who was sitting with her head between her knees.
Candor proffered her hand. Ru considered it for a moment, before reaching up and grasping it. Candor pulled the woman to her feet, remembering the gentle memories she’d extracted. Ru nodded, then turned, disappearing up the staircase. One by one, the other students followed, some touching Candor on her shoulder, some leaving without a second glance, some glaring at her.
Only Choah remained. As the last student vanished into the darkening curve of the staircase, Candor sank to her knees breathing hard. She retched.
“Why did you make me do that?” She asked bitterly.
“Make you do what?” Choah knelt by Candor, further away than was his norm. He behaved as if she were a wounded animal. “Spar? Candor you wanted to spar. I could see it in your eyes.”
While Choah was more than half right, Candor looked up, scowling. “I was not ready.”
“You beat one of our best minds.” Choah scoffed, but that apprehensive look betrayed him. “Ru—”
“That’s not true.” Candor interrupted. “I watched her make a mistake. I watched her hurt her opponent. She has little control. Don’t lie.” Candor finished with more vitriol than she’d intended, her voice echoing around the chamber.
“They attacked me.” Candor said in a small voice. “And I could do nothing.”
Choah hesitated, before putting an arm around Candor. Candor resisted briefly, before leaning into the young man. He smelled of salt and pine and something metallic.
“Come on.” Choah finally murmured. “I’ll walk you back.”
Together, they stood and exited the underground chamber. Candor did not articulate the relief that permeated her belly as they reached the clean air again. She had no desire to revisit that space, but the little etching from the corner of the room blazed in the back of her mind. She’d seen it before.
Choah bid Candor goodnight at her chambers, and she watched him disappear into the darkness. With a sigh, Candor turned and opened the door to her own room. As she lay in bed, sleep almost taking her, Candor remembered where she’d seen the symbol. It was not amid Mo’s many tattoos.
It had been etched into Lola’s skin.
~.~
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