20

A/N: I hope you're all doing well. These chapters contain no sex, but there's still quite a bit of action and some plot progression.

To any new readers: Hi there! Thank you for checking out this story. I know my first 5/6 chapters aren't the strongest, but if you could find the will to get through them, I think you'll grow to like the story.

Trigger warning: This chapter contains a brief implication of sexual assault. There is nothing graphic or detailed included.

*****

Glossary

Abode:

A house within the Academies.

Agrayodhin:

Champion of the Indian Academy and their commander in battle.

Bhisaj:

Healer at the Indian Academy.

Gift:

Extranormal abilities that Wielders can manifest. They augment their magic, but don't draw on it. Each Wielder's Gift manifests in different ways and acts slightly differently to other similar Gifts.

Power:

Magic.

Rishi(ji):

A Sanskrit term used to refer to a sage/saint, or someone perceived as being highly knowledgeable. Used here to refer to the Dean of the Indian Academy.

Wielder(s):

People who can use magic.

*****

Chapter 19- The Beginning

21

st

January, 2017

9:26 a.m.

My Abode

I knew something was wrong as soon as I opened my eyes. Regardless of who was up first, Saria and I had taken to staying in bed till the other woke as well. For the first time since we had been wed, I woke up to an empty bed.

If that wasn't strange enough, finding my legs trapped under a beam in the smoking ruins of my home, amidst the shattered frame of my bed, definitely was.

I probably should have led with that.

"Saria?!" I sputtered, coughing as harsh smoke was pushed out of my lungs and past my dry throat. "Nandu? Priya?"

Nothing. I was surrounded by complete silence. Even the brook running through our garden seemed to have ceased its babbling, as had the birds and the trees.

My eyes watered from the smoke that surrounded me. My thoughts were slower and my head felt stuffed. The rest of my body felt numb. For the first time in my life, I didn't know what to do.

I was fighting a losing battle against consciousness. I instinctually knew that if I went back to sleep, I'd never wake up. Groaning with the effort, I pushed myself into a sitting position, and tried to get the thick wooden beam off my leg. It simply wouldn't budge. I wasn't strong enough.

Feeling started to return to my arms and my legs. Heat. Pain. A pin of clarity stabbing its way through my brain.

I felt around for a loose piece of wood from the bed frame, and dragged it over to where my leg way. Maneuvering it underneath the beam, I pushed down on it with my body, managing to shift the beam enough for me to wiggle my leg out.

"Broken," I murmured, looking at the bleached white fragment dotted with red, that was jutting out of the back of my calf.

I had to find my family.

Spotting a hunk of wood I could use, I braced it against the ground and pushed myself to my feet.

I screamed in pain.

Booted feet and clinking armor responded. They rushed into my home. Two of the Royal Guard.

Glorified thugs.

"He is alive!" the thug on the right exclaimed, drawing his sword.

"Put that away," the one on the right commanded, walking towards me. "Though I do not know how you survived being drugged and left in a burning house, I am happy that you did. The General will be quite pleased to know that we managed to take our time with you."

"Family," I rasped. "What did you do with my family?"

"Do you really want to know?" Thug-in-Charge asked, placing one arm on my shoulder and stooping down to look me in the eye.

He was a little taller than me.

"Armored," I thought, assessing the situation. "Full helmet. Wide eye slits. Throat covered, groin covered, eyes exposed. Quick stab to the eyes. Push him backwards, exposing his throat. Crush his throat with a quick chop.

"Second thug will prepare to attack. Narrow stance, sword held high. Higher pitched voice. New hire. Minimal training.

"Toss wood at him. Distract him. Knock his sword away. He will panic. Try to run. Use his sword to trip him. Extract information. Find family."

Shifting my weight slightly, I centered myself mentally and prepared to execute my plan.

I clearly hadn't thought my plan through.

Roaring my challenge at the soldiers, I swiftly brought my off-hand up, two fingers extended, planning to blind Thug-in-Charge. He dodged my attack and kicked my broken leg, pushing the bone further out through the flesh and skin.

I fell to the ground heavily, screaming as waves of pain rushed through my body, the piece of wood that I'd been using as a makeshift crutch clattering away.

"Stupid old man," Thug-in-Charge snarled, slamming one knee into my chest and breaking a few ribs as he knelt over me. "Did you really think that would work?"

I coughed hard, blobs of blood splattering against his helmet. "Where are my family? What did you do with them?"

"You are supposed to be a wise man. One of the wisest, in fact. We are enemy forces with no moral compass. What do you

think

we are going to do to that beautiful wife of yours? To that sweet, innocent daughter? To that son who was brave enough to try to fight us off when dear old Father lay unresponsive in a burning house?"

"No," I murmured, tears filling my eyes even as more blood flowed out of my mouth.

"Yes. As we speak, our Sergeant is introducing your little girl to pleasures of the flesh; I do not think she will find it as pleasurable. Lucky bastard got first dibs, as always.

"Your wife is having the time of her life with the rest of our unit. When I dragged Kumbha along to search for valuables, she was entertaining four of them at the same time. Some twelve or thirteen more were lined up, eagerly awaiting their turns. I do not think she will get much rest any time soon.

"As for your son, when those who prefer him have had their fill, we will send him to the pits to die for the Emperor's amusement.

"And you, the most revered sage in the land, can do nothing for them."

I could only sob in despair as I lay there, choking on my own blood, unable to save the only people I loved in the whole world.

"I'm sorry," I sobbed, as Thug-in-Charge brandished a dagger and twirled it in front of my eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

"Chris?"

"I'm sorry."

"Chris, what's wrong, my love?"

"I'm—"

"Chris, honey, I need you to wake up."

"I—"

"Chris, wake up

now

!"

I sat upright with a start, my eyes open wide, panting like I'd run a marathon. I shrieked and backpedaled as a hand moved in front of my face, stopping only when my back hit the bed's headboard.

"Hey, it's okay," Rayka cooed soothingly, moving to sit in front of me, tentatively extending her hand towards mine. "It's okay. It's just me. You're at home. You're safe."

"Safe?"

"Yes, my love. It's me. It's Rayka."

She placed her hand on mine, moving closer when I didn't recoil again. She slowly pulled me into a hug and I gave in, resting my chin on her shoulder as she stroked my back. The helplessness and terror that I felt slowly receded, my heart slowed its frantic beating, and I became more aware of my surroundings; more importantly, I became aware of myself.

"Why am I wet?"

"You scared me," she whispered in my ear. "You started thrashing around and then kept on saying that you're sorry. I didn't know what was happening, and did the first thing I could think of."

"I'm sorry," I apologized, with a slight grin.

"I can feel you smiling, you know," she retorted, snuggling deeper into me.

"I really am sorry." I just pulled her in closer, kissing the top of her head.

"What was that?"

"I don't know. It was like a dream, but so real. If I didn't know better, I'd say that it was a memory."

"A memory? Whose?"

"Nobody's, my love," I said, pulling back to look her in the eye. "Let's just chalk it up to a really weird dream, okay?"

She just nodded, and I pulled her in for a tender kiss. Even though I'd dismissed her question, I wasn't so sure that it'd truly been a dream. I'd felt that pain; that loss; that helplessness. It'd felt too

real

.

"Saria. Nandu. Priya." I chanted mentally, committing their names to memory before they faded away.

"Saria. Nandu. Priya."

***

Two hours later, I was standing in front of the Library, located within the main Academy building. Rayka seemed to believe me when I said that I'd just had a bad dream, but I still couldn't shake the feeling that there was a lot more to it than that. So, I went searching for the one person who could probably help: Lisbet.

Well, "searching" may be misleading.

If she wasn't at home or training me, you could always find her buried in books and scrolls in the Library. Though there really wasn't any shortage of researchers I could have spoken to, none of them would be as widely-read as Lisbet. There was very little that she didn't know about, no matter how obscure it might be.

As I walked into the Library, I smiled as I recalled the first time I'd met her, almost seven months ago.

"The Library?" I'd asked Swati, as we walked towards it, "This is where we're supposed to find the best swordswoman in the Academy?"

"No," she'd responded calmly, "this is where we find the best swordswoman across all three Academies. Now, try to hold back your exclamations of surprise when we enter; it's still a library."

I had to walk in to understand why she'd said that. From the outside, the Library was as nondescript as could be. Like all the classrooms and other rooms within the Academy, a simple metal plaque hanging over an inornate door was all that you could use to know what room you were walking into.

The first thing I saw as soon as I walked in was the librarian's desk. A strict-looking Tier 4 Wielder sat behind the desk, next to which lay what looked like—

"Is that a Mole Companion?" I'd whispered to Swati.

"It is."

"I've never seen one before. Are they rare?"

"Not really. You just haven't had much contact with non-combatant Wielders."

"That makes sense," I'd conceded, as we'd approached the librarian.

"Swati," the librarian had greeted her. "What are you doing here? And who is this?"

"This is Chris," Swati had answered. "Chris, this is Dipankar."

"Pranam," I'd said in greeting, folding my hands together in the traditional Indian salutation.

The librarian had just nodded in response, looking at Swati pointedly. I'd gotten the feeling that he didn't have very many friends.

"We're looking for Lisbet."

"Desk number forty-thousand-and-seventy-six. On your right."

She'd thanked him, before motioning for me to follow her. Looking away from the Mole at last, I'd noticed that a never-ending series of desks stretched away into the distance on either side of the room. In typical physics-defying manner, each desk faced a window that looked out over a different vista.

I hadn't gotten the chance to really understand how the Library worked back then, but over time, Lisbet had explained that the desks and windows were enchanted with ancient spells that were lost to the annuls of time. Once a Wielder chose which desk they'd like to sit at, they could choose from a vast set of vistas, or even a custom location. The spells on the desks allowed Wielders to search the Library's resources for the material they required, and based on how much the librarian trusted them, either summoned the physical copy of what they'd requested, or projected the material onto the surface of the desk.

"Get ready to boost your speed," Swati had instructed, as we dodged a flying scroll.

Nodding in response, I'd gathered my Power and started funneling it into my body. A split second later, the world seemed to slow down as I sped up.

Being in that boosted state was always a thrill for me. Growing up, I'd read a lot of comic books, some of which featured superheroes who could move at superhuman speeds. They'd always been some of my favorites, and being able to emulate them in real life was a nerd's wet dream come true. Well, one of them, anyway.

"Stay below twenty percent of your boost, and stay right behind me," Swati had said, as she sped up to match me. Since every Wielder could boost themselves to different degrees based on a combination of how much Power they had and their physical prowess, a lot of work had gone into understanding and equating boost limits. Twenty percent for me was less than two percent for Swati.

While mainly useful in training scenarios, being able to match boosts with someone came in handy in other instances as well. And yes, that includes in bed. Really helps put the word "quickie" in perspective.

Once we'd synchronized boosts (evidenced by both of us being able to hear and see the other person at normal speeds), we'd set off down the long column of desks, dodging books and scrolls along the way. I could see that if we'd gone any faster, we'd have left a lot of chaos in our wake, with some of the books and scrolls actually getting caught in our stream. My staying behind her helped minimize our stream that as well.

It'd taken us a little over fifteen minutes to reach the forty-thousandth desk, which was where we'd started leeching off our speed and slowing down. By the time we'd crossed desk number forty-thousand-and-sixty, we were jogging at a regular pace, and could slow down to a brisk walk.

The desks had mainly been empty that far back, and there were only three other people there that day. Two of them had been men, so that'd left one other person.

"Lisbet," Swati had whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder, "I need to talk to you."

Lisbet had practically squealed in surprise when Swati had touched her, sending a bunch of scrolls crashing to the ground as she jumped. Gathering the scrolls as the other two shushed us, she'd shot Swati a nasty glare, before checking the scrolls for any signs of damage.

"You're lucky nothing's torn," she'd whispered, as she'd rolled them up. "Now, what do you want?"

I'd taken in her features, noticing her darker skin, hooked nose, and wide brown eyes. She was shorter than Swati, with the top of her head coming as high as my chest, and was more "gifted", if you get what I mean. She was definitely fit, but was also softer and more feminine than most of the other women I'd interacted with.

Her arms and what I could see of her legs were completely covered in hieroglyphical tattoos, and she even had some on the top and back of her shaved head. Her cuff displayed a leopard of some kind, and she had an Arabian lilt to her accent, and was dressed in Tier 2's blues.

"Is that Egypt?" I'd asked her, noticing that the window she was sitting at looked like it was situated atop a pyramid.

"What was your first hint?" she'd countered wryly, gesturing at her hieroglyphs.

"Lisbet," Swati had interrupted, "this is Chris. I need you to take on his swordsmanship training."

"You know I'm a researcher now, Swati," Lisbet had responded. "Why is this oblivious young man worth my taking time away from my work?"

"He's Lia's son," Swati had stated, simply, and Lisbet's whole attitude had changed instantly. Her posture had become more relaxed, and rather than a weary vibe, I'd felt welcome.

"Chris," she'd said, pulling me into a hug, surprisingly, "it is an absolute pleasure to meet you. You probably don't know this, but your mother was my first girlfriend."

"I'm sorry," I'd stammered, pulling away, "did you say that you and my mother were

girlfriends

?"

"That's right. Didn't she ever tell you that she was bisexual?"

"Not really, no."

"Oh, the stories I could tell you. That woman really knew how to use her ton—"

"Lisbet," Swati had cut in again, sternly this time, "I want you to train Chris, not scar him. Let's leave stories about his mother's performance in bed in the 'Never discuss' pile, okay?"

"This is why nobody likes you!" Lisbet had exclaimed, "You suck the fun out of everything."

"Will you train him or not?"

"Do I get to tease him?"

"No."

"Ugh, fine," she'd given in, to a second chorus of shushes for being too loud. "I'll train the kid. Let me just put these away, and then I'll meet you by the front desk."

Nodding in agreement and gesturing for me to follow her again, Swati had slipped into her augmented state, and I'd followed suit. We made our way back out past the desks, slowing down and coming to a stop by the front desk. A few moments later, Lisbet had joined us.

"Dipankar," she'd said to the librarian, "I'll be home late. Could you please see that the brats do their homework?"

"Of course," the librarian had responded, before shooing us away. The Mole had given Lisbet a lazy wave goodbye, as all three of us had walked out of the Library. Rather than head outside, though, Lisbet had turned to the left, leading us deeper into the Academy.

A short walk later, we had been standing in front of a doorway labelled "Training Rooms". It opened out into a corridor that, similar to the desks in the library, stretched away into infinity. There were doors on either side of us, some of which were shut. We headed towards the first open one we could see.

The room was not as big as I'd imagined it to be, but it wasn't small, either. If you ignored how high the ceiling was, it could easily have been a comfortable living room in a family home.

The walls were bare and painted a plain gray, and the floor was covered in rubber matting. Two weapons racks stood on either side of the room, stocked with more practice weapons. Made of wood, the weapons were all enchanted to be unbreakable, as well as to weigh just as much as their real counterparts. The enchantment could even be tweaked to make the practice weapon lighter or heavier, based on each Wielder's own individual preference.

While Swati stood off to a side, Lisbet and I had both picked up and activated swords. She had chosen a khopesh, while I had stuck with a modified single-edged Germanic sword with a bastard grip.

"Interesting," Lisbet had commented, as she had watched me try out the sword and adjust its weight. "Why did you choose that one?"

"I like the versatility the grip offers me," I'd responded. "The ability to switch between single and double-handed use allows me to maximize both, the thrusting and cutting potential of the sword. Additionally, should one of my arms be injured enough to require a Bhisaj, I can still wield a sword and defend myself with the other."

"Is that what we're aiming for, then? Ambidextrous use?"

"Yes, that is what I've been training to do."

"Why a single-edged blade?"

"Gives me better purchase for parries," I'd responded, demonstrating by bracing the back of the blade with my left hand and pushing outwards. "I am also training with Senga, with a quarterstaff, so I think some of those skills and movements would transfer over well if I was to use a single-edged sword."

"You've thought this through, haven't you?" she'd asked, taking a ready stance.

"I ha—"

I hadn't even gotten a chance to finish replying. Her blade had crashed against mine in the blink of an eye, the strength behind her attack jarring my arm and shoving me backwards. I had crashed to the floor, sliding backwards, till my back hit the wall.

"Your arguments are logical," she'd said, standing up straight, "but logic will only get you so far. Strength and technique are all that matter in battle. Consider that lesson number one."

"That wasn't fair!" I'd protested, pushing myself to my feet. "I wasn't re—"

The next thing I'd felt was the wood of her blade against the skin of my neck. My neck, as I'd been surprised to discover, was nestled within the curve of her khopesh, and if this had been an actual battle, I'd have been dead. I'm sure a tiny woman like her pinning a taller person against the wall with a blade might have been funny in a different situation, but right then, all it did was drive home just how lethal she could be.