Free Stories 2016 Read online

  That sounded almost right. I have to visualize the whole area—including the area where I am—exactly as it would be if I weren't there, if there was nothing there at all.

  But how…No, wait. What was that thought? If there was nothing there at all . . .

  If there was NOTHING there!

  This would have to be a triple visualization, and the third would be a paradox. I need White Vision in between High Center and Body Center, erasing perception of myself from the world around me.

  He tried focusing the white nothing visualization onto his own Body Center mental construct. Doing that took hours and many repetitions, but in the end it didn't work; all that did was make a white hole in his visualization the shape of himself, not a blankness.

  Still, he was sure he was on the right track now. Sensei had only taught him certain things, so those few things had to have the keys for figuring this out.

  In the afternoon of what must have been a month or two after Sensei first put the question to him, Xavier began again. But this time, he started with Body Center, then brought up White Vision.

  It was incredibly hard to maintain both. There was nothing to see with Body Center when everything was gone to blankness—not even a shadow of perspective from his mind's eye camera. All he had left was a sense of something there, of a continuity of spirit, perhaps. He held that blank something in his head and slowly, slowly started building up the High Center visualization, but this time starting from as far out as he could sense and moving inward. The walls, festooned with weapon racks and climbing grips and other equipment. Free standing equipment, mats on the floor; sparring area and the exercise weights. The great Column and the floor around him, bare, polished, closer, closer . . .

  Now he had one final piece, one more part of the visualization that had to be perfect. With absolute focus he built up the last piece of floor—the part underneath him, that was utterly invisible as long as he stood on it—and made sure that the lighting showed not a trace of his shadow.

  For long, long minutes he maintained this bizarre visualization, feeling his heart thumping rapidly, fighting the faint headache that such concentration was engendering. Then, very slowly, he opened his eyes.

  The world around him was…faded, was the only word for it. It remained clear and detailed, but the colors were muted, sepia tones like an old-fashioned photograph sitting too long in an old drawer. Everything was dull yet clear, and the sounds of Sensei's stronghold were quiet, reaching his ears like careful whispers. He turned slowly.

  Brilliance came into view, shining like a sparkling sun. The figure was humanoid, but the light that poured from him was like nothing Xavier had ever seen before. Yet in High Center, what stood there was . . .

  "Sensei?"

  The figure turned, looking…and the gaze went right past Xavier. A moment later, Xavier saw the eyes widen and heard a distant, triumphant shout.

  That was enough for Xavier. The concentration broke and he collapsed, exhausted, on the floor. But Sensei was there almost instantly. "Oh, well done, well done, Xavier Uriel Ross! You finally figured out the key!"

  "First Body, then White, then High, huh?" His head hurt, but that wasn't important now, not when he'd just succeeded.

  "That is one way to do it, yes, and I think the best."

  "When I was…invisible, most things looked dull, colorless…except you. Why?"

  Sensei smiled. "Because while you have faded from the realm of the physical, you still maintain a connection to the world through your spirit; you must, elsewise you might find yourself going…elsewhere. Thus, you see clearly the spirits around you, those who have not hidden or cloaked themselves…and even those would find it hard to truly become unseen by someone in the Hirlana."

  He gripped Xavier by both shoulders and looked down at him, and Sensei's gaze sparkled…with perhaps a hint of tears that surprised Xavier. "I am very proud of you," he said. "You have managed something that many masters of Tor have taken many decades to learn…and some never learn at all."

  "Am I that special, or are you that good a teacher?"

  Sensei's laugh was loud and deep, somehow younger than he appeared. "An excellent question. Perhaps it is some of both, in truth. But come, let's celebrate. You've made the second and perhaps third major steps in your training. You'll need a lot of practice to master that trick, of course—a lot of practice if you hope to use it in dangerous circumstances—but now you know how, and that, my student, is the most important thing of all."

  Xavier followed his Sensei, feeling a combined sense of pride and wonder. And with this, I'm that much closer to going home.

  Chapter 7.

  The dojo was pitch-dark, unlighted; set this far underground, it was as dark as any cavern on Earth. Yet in High Center Xavier could sense everything around him. Two throwing knives sped towards him from behind, but he was already spinning, his swords striking the blades aside. He leapt from one of the plum-blossom poles to another as he sensed Sensei's approach, barely reaching the next pole as Sensei's vya-shadu tore through the air he had just vacated. For long moments they traded blows, dual swords dancing, evading each other's strikes with jumps from one towering pole to the next, kicks parried by hilts or legs, a ballet of death and skill that sent a chill of distant awe down Xavier's spine. I can't believe I'm doing this. How much I've learned, how many impossible things I've seen and been shown how to do—

  Wham! Straight through his guard, as though he wasn't even trying, Sensei rammed through a kick that took him directly in the gut and sent him plummeting off the pole, to land with an icy splash in the water at the bases of the poles.

  "Ugh!"

  Sensei laughed from above, and the lights came on. "Well, you weren't focusing all of a sudden, Xavier."

  "No, you're right, 'sokay, I'm fine!" Xavier snickered as he climbed out of the water. "I was thinking how awesome it was, what I was doing. So you just took all the awesome away."

  "Not all of it, I hope."

  "Not any of it, really," Xavier said, more seriously. "That kick…it didn't hurt, at least not any more than it could have before. I'm really totally healed."

  "And have been for a while. You said you had something to show me after this workout?"

  "Yeah, um, let me go get dried off first, though."

  A little while later, Xavier led Sensei over to the target area, where they'd practiced throwing knives, shuriken, and pretty much everything else. "Now, of course, I'm gonna screw it up now that you're watching."

  Sensei's eyes glanced at him sideways. "Xavier, what have I said about belief? You should understand by now that it is even more true than your mother ever knew that the right attitude determines success."

  "Sorry. Just…preparing myself in case it doesn't work."

  "And by that you are preparing your own failure. Focus on what you have to show me and nothing else. Eradicate thoughts of failure and uncertainty."

  Easy for you to say, Sensei. You've been doing all this for…how long? Long enough for you to talk about centuries, and even though that sounds impossible too, somehow I think you really might be that old.

  But he closed his eyes and focused. Body Center and White Vision, and he felt that awareness of spirit and nothing else. Holding that awareness he passed on to Hand Center, curling his hands together, cupping them with space between as though he held some tiny, delicate thing within. Then the discipline Sensei had taught him a few months ago, feeling the rush and ebb and flow of his blood and the strength it carried.

  And my spirit flows through me too, guiding every motion, every thought, every action. I can slow down and speed up my heart, even—now—cause blood to flow less or more to parts of my body at will.

  So with my spirit perceptions, I can feel the ebb and flow of my essence, my spirit, my chi. And guide it . . .

  That sense was strong now, he could perceive his true self, the spirit that could stand between two perceptions of the world and understand them both, and now he focused that perce
ption through Hand Center, between, imagining, visualizing, and making real the thought that the power was there, between his hands, his own spirit manifesting, a power that could bridge between reality and thought. He imagined himself pouring into that hidden hollow, and felt tingling warmth between his palms, and the tension of his arms and hands pressing in, no longer relaxed but tight, holding in something that struggled for release . . .

  Slowly he opened his eyes, maintaining an absolute focus, certain of what he would see.

  Between his cupped hands seethed something, something shining so brightly that brilliant beams of light were escaping through the tiny seams between his fingers and hands, something swirling so violently that his arms vibrated like cables in a wind. But even as he saw this he was extending his arms, letting his fingers flower open as he commanded his spirit to fly.

  A streak of pure white light erupted from his open hands and struck one of the sandbag targets, blasting it asunder in a detonation of sand and shredded leather, continuing on to hammer the steel wall like a piledriver.

  Xavier tried to give a triumphant leap, but wobbled instead, collapsing to his knees, head spinning. Sensei caught him as he started to fall on his face.

  "How…was…that?"

  Sensei's face wavered, and the room seemed slightly gray, before it slowly solidified again. "That was brilliantly done, Xavier. But I think you see why you should not do that again."

  "Ever?" He didn't object as Sensei carried him over to a seat.

  "I would never go so far as to say you should never ever do it. There are times for the use of anything, howsoever desperate. But to do what you did required much of your spiritual strength, and it will take some time for that to be recovered. Body and spirit are closely linked—and for those of us who practice Tor or any similar disciplines, that link only becomes more close and vital. You will notice," he said, smiling, "that even I only used the power of my spirit as an enhancement of my strike—by hands or through weapons I find suitable to the technique."

  "So, I can't make my soul strong enough to do that regularly?"

  Sensei tilted his head and was silent for a few moments as he prepared some herbal tea and what seemed a veritable mountain of snacks and set them before Xavier. Finally he said, "You can improve the strength of your spirit, certainly. It is in fact stronger by far now than it was when you entered. Partly this is due to your letting go of the immediate fury, fear, and hatred that were combating your sense of responsibility and your guilt. A spirit that is fighting itself is weakened. But partly it is in fact an essential strengthening, and as you continue to learn and practice, you will grow stronger.

  "Now, if you were to find yourself in certain other places—places where the powers mostly lost to the world are stronger—then you could take much advantage of the power that lies on the border between magic, the divine, and the human spirit. And it is possible that you may, one day, find yourself in such a place; power and possibility, I have found, have a way of coinciding."

  He nodded as Xavier ate and drank. Once started, Xavier realized he was ravenous, and by the time he stopped eating he realized he must have consumed half again as many calories as he usually ate in a day. "Holy crap, that did take it out of me."

  "Yes. Now, you are fortunately so far along that it will take me only a little while to show you the much more efficient—and easier—technique of channeling the power through your hands or other objects. Be warned, though, that ordinary weapons and items are not made to survive such channeling."

  As usual, Sensei knew what he was talking about; with the sense of the spiritual flow he'd gained, it took only a little while to learn how to make that power flow along his hands in a strike or even out and around a blade. Sensei left him to train with that, heading upstairs to do some of whatever work he did in his library.

  Wow. Here I am, channeling chi or ki or whatever through a sword—his blade whistled around and cut entirely through a section of log a foot thick—and able to go invisible, pass through walls, all this stuff that Sensei said I needed to learn.

  Everything he said I had to learn . . .

  Everything?

  He glanced over at the towering column. He'd tried climbing it a few times, but it was just as impossibly sensitive as he'd thought, leaning and chiming even at a pressure that wouldn't support a cat, let alone a human being. He could walk through it, but being intangible had drawbacks. You couldn't touch things—like steps and handholds—when you weren't solid. And even leaving aside the noise, a lot of those so-called handholds were like goddarned knives.

  At least now he did understand how Sensei could reach that top platform. There weren't any hidden doors. He'd just gone right up through the bottom of the platform in Hirlana.

  Wait a minute. But then he'd be standing on those supports in Hirlana. Which means he'd be intangible and should be falling down until he hits the—

  The dawning of understanding hit him so hard that he found he had literally just let the swords drop from his hands.

  How stupid can you be, Xavier?

  He looked over at the plum-blossom poles. A perfect test.

  Xavier walked over to the poles and looked at the floor around them—or rather, at the floor-level pool, dotted with water lilies (that really shouldn't be growing underground either, but . . . ), that provided both a soft landing and a somewhat punishing reminder of failure for anyone falling off.

  He went into Hirlana and concentrated on removing doubt, hesitation, clearing his mind as he had before he'd done what he liked to think of as his "Spirit Cannon" trick. Hey, if it's going to look like a super anime finishing move, it should have a name like one. Sensei's reminders always applied widely. If he thought about what he was doing and how it was impossible, it would be impossible.

  Then he simply walked forward, eyes closed. But in High Center he saw himself walking until he stood in the middle of the plum blossom poles—walking, without falling or sinking.

  And that's the answer.

  He turned and walked back across the water to the floor. I was thinking that Sensei should fall back and hit the floor. But if he was intangible, why would the floor be any more of a barrier to him than anything else? Shouldn't he either just stay at one level…or just fall to the center of the Earth?

  Which means . . .

  He strode to the column and looked up, still focused, still clear. I'm going up.

  He put his foot on the first bladelike support…and he felt it this time, solid, supportive. Yet he was intangible, so whatever force might be exerted on that metallic blade would be infinitesimal, the interaction of steel with soul. He stepped up, grasped, and climbed. As smoothly and easily as Sensei had, he progressed up the column without it swaying in the slightest, without a whisper of sound, and passed through the wide top of the column, and found himself standing atop it, gazing around at the dojo from an entirely new vantage point.

  Before him, in twin, elaborately worked sheaths, were two swords, the only other objects on the platform. He picked those up and saw they had a harness that could be used to strap them on, so he did. Then he descended.

  Sensei was sitting in the library bent over a book that must have been two and a half feet on a side, studying some kind of diagram that Xavier couldn't make out. Xavier just approached and waited.

  Sensei glanced up—and his eyes widened. For just an instant, Xavier saw a complex series of expressions cross the old man's face—surprise, gratification, pride, resolution, sadness, and hope. The smile that followed was not mixed, however. Sensei stood and bowed, still smiling, and waited as Xavier returned the bow.

  "And so you have completed your final task, your graduating exercise."

  Xavier snorted. "I should've completed it weeks ago, maybe months. I can't believe I didn't realize—"

  "It is only an obvious solution in hindsight, Xavier. Others have taken longer to realize what you did. And even had you thought of this solution beforehand, you would not have used it until now.
"

  "I wouldn't?" He thought a minute. "Oh, yeah. Because I would've known there were things you hadn't finished teaching me that you said I needed to know. Right?"

  "Exactly."

  "Well," he unfastened the harness and held it out. "I guess now you have to show me the way out of this place."

  Sensei took the harness and looked down at it pensively. The smile faded but remained at one corner of his mouth. "Have you not already guessed that exit?"

  Xavier smacked his forehead. "Oh, right, duh! That's why no one has a chance of finding it! You don't have any doors. You just walk out through the top of this underground fortress until you reach the surface." He glanced at the small ventilation ducts above. "Must have some really bizarre way of keeping air fresh in here, though."

  "It is unusual, yes." Sensei was suddenly solemn. "Xavier Uriel Ross."

  Xavier straightened.

  The older man bowed again, and then extended the swords in their harness. "Take these with you. They have lain too long unused, and in your quest, you will have need of the finest blades possible. These are those blades."

  Xavier could see how seriously Sensei took this, and was careful to accept the swords in their scabbards with proper reverence. "Were these…are these your swords?"

  "Those were the vya-shadu I wielded when I was much younger, yes," Sensei answered, and his eyes did not seem to be seeing Xavier and the room around him, but something immeasurably farther away in space and time. "For many years I wielded them, but I have not done so in…well, a very long time indeed."

  He reached out and drew the one that would sit just over the right shoulder when the harness was strapped on; the blade shone a delicate spring-leaf green, like no metal that Xavier had ever seen. "This is Ianakala, Starcleaver in English." He returned Ianakala to its sheath, drew the other, also the silver-green of new leaves. "And this was named Lurinakala, Soulcleaver." He resheathed that sword and bowed once more. "They have been waiting for someone who would take them where they are needed once more."