Page 117 of Anathema
Once again, I held up my palm, imagined the glyph, and exhaled. On a faint squeal, a gust shot out from my palm with a force that felt like a rock hitting the surface, beating against my bones.
Zevander flew back faster than the first time, but still kept his feet planted on the floor. Again, he strode toward me, sighing. “Imagine for a moment that you’re stood before the thing that took your sister.”
A memory flashed inside my head. Aleysia standing on the other side of the archway. Moros grabbing her from behind. Her screams echoing all around me.
Grinding my teeth, I shot my palm out without warning. The blast thumped against my hand, vibrating my bones, and Zevander shot backward, but still, he maintained his unyielding stance. “Again.”
“Again?” I echoed.
“You will repeat this move until I find it satisfactory. Now, raise your palm.” He commanded the same move three more times. Each time, he landed on his feet, despite the power growing stronger. My palm ached with the force, my body growing warm in my gear. Yet, he never tired. Never smiled, nor praised, nor gave any indication that I’d improved from my first attempt.
Dolion’s words of encouragement filled the obvious absence of Zevander’s.
A dozen more times, I fulfilled the command, and dozens more after that, growing weaker as the afternoon wore on.
Every mistake seemed to frustrate him, and his impatience chipped away at my confidence. Hours passed, my palm sore, muscles weak. I felt as if I’d run circles around a village a dozen times over.
“Focus!” Zevander barked, and I bit back the urge to tell him to go to hell.
“What is it I’m trying to accomplish with this glyph?” I asked, catching my breath, confused by my lack of energy. All I’d really done was stand and order a command, yet I felt like my bones were melting.
“It is meant to disarm, or stun, your opponent.”
“Wouldn’t the bones be more effective for that?”
“Do not question my teaching.”
“It’s not your teaching I question,” I volleyed back, “but your relentless pursuit of some invisible goal I’ve yet to understand.”
“Then perhaps you should remain quiet. Now, try again.”
I steeled my nerves, glaring back at him. “No. I’m tired. I haven’t had water all afternoon and I’m practically sliding in this damned suit from all the perspiration I’ve worked up.”
“Again! Now!”
Ice rushed through my veins. “I will not!”
“Then, I am wasting my time with you!” His intimidating voice thundered around me, and I winced at the harshness. Lips gnarled, he stared back at me, his eyes smoldering orbs of ire.
“Zevander, let the poor girl take a break.” Dolion’s voice, calmer by comparison, came as a relief. He waved me over for a pitcher of water he’d fetched for me an hour ago, and poured a glass. “Magic is exhausting, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” It was as I lifted the glass to my lips that I noticed my hands were trembling. Not from fear but adrenaline. I glanced back to Zevander, who rubbed the back of his neck, pacing like an angry wolf. “I think he’s getting frustrated with me.”
Dolion chuckled and nodded toward him. “I knew the man who trained him, after he was released by the Solassions. His name was Solvyn. He was the master of magical warfare for the Imperial Army while I worked as a Magestroli.” He lowered his gaze, and the way his lips twitched, as if to hide a smile, made me suspect he and Solvyn might’ve known each other intimately. “I used to pass the training yard on my way to the library when I lived in The Citadel. Hours, the two of them would be out there. Well into the night, when I’d return from my studies, I’d still catch Zevander training alone.” As he spoke, I sipped my water, watching the devil himself trace his palm with his thumb, his muscles less bunched than before. “I asked Solvyn one day, why do you torture this poor boy, forcing him to train so many hours in the day?” When I glanced back at the older man, he smiled, a nostalgic expression in his eyes. “He said to me, it’s not me who requests long hours of training, but the boy.”
It was strange to think of him that way–a boy so eager to learn. It made me wonder what drove him then.
Dolion tipped back a sip of his own glass. “I suspect he trains this way because he refuses to watch you fail. In his mind, such a thing would be his own failure.”
I sighed and took a long swill of the water, then returned to the floor, standing before Zevander.
“We can stop for the afternoon.” The calm in his voice didn’t match his brutal form and the effortless intimidation he radiated. “It wasn’t my intent–”
“No. I’m okay now. I just needed some fluids in me.”
He cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders back. “Yes, well. Let’s pick up where we left off.”
His sudden flustering had me puzzled, but I drew in an inhale and forced my head to focus. The moment he lowered his arm, I exhaled, and the force that hit my palm sent me flying backward. The marble floor crashed into my spine and stars burst before my eyes. With a quiet moan, I sat up, double blinking, and noticed Zevander across the room, lying flat on his back. A jolting alarm wound through me, as I forced myself to my feet and stumbled toward him. When I reached him, his eyes were closed, his chest wasn’t moving.