Soul script chronicles o.., p.17
Soul Script (Chronicles of Valmaron Book 1), page 17
“Begin what?” Jaron questioned.
“Training.”
CHAPTER 38
“Again!” Sephaeus instructed as Jaron got back to his feet on the dry, cracked barrens.
While there were no dust storms, the heat forced the Bowering Bungler to stop in order to cool itself. The only other object on the sunny landscape was a steep plateau the size of a small mountain a half mile away. Captain Kip serviced the Bungler while Jaron, Valara, and Sephaeus trained nearby.
Jaron got ready while Princess Valara began Casting again. Her eyes shimmered into blue and she made an underhanded slicing motion with her hand. A thin strip of blue aether erupted from the ground and went toward Jaron. He tried to cut through it but was carried back several feet instead. He hit the ground uncomfortably hard and dropped the Slicer.
Valara looked disappointed. Jaron got back up with his hand rubbing his aching sides. He wiped his sweaty forehead and caught a hot breath.
“We’ve been at this for an hour and I still can’t stop her,” Jaron complained.
Sephaeus walked over to the Slicer, picked it up and carried it to Jaron. He did not accept it back, spitting blood onto the ground next to him.
“You can’t stop her because you don’t want it enough,” said Sephaeus.
Jaron flared his nose. “What do I want then? Wise Sentinel.”
“You want to check your attitude,” Sephaeus said sternly.
Jaron lowered his chin, but didn’t take the Slicer back. “Fair enough.”
“You’re afraid to hurt the Princess, which is allowing her attacks through,” Sephaeus explained.
“I killed Beardy,” Jaron growled frustratedly. “I won’t kill her too.”
He sat on the ground and put his head between his knees. He peered up at the Sentinel Commander with one eye shut to block the sun.
“Your Battlemaster was a warrior, the warrior. He laid down his life the moment he first raised a weapon in defense of Valmaron. You did not kill him, no one could,” Sephaeus held up the Slicer. “And you won’t hurt her if you’re specific in your intent. Shall I show you?”
“Yes,” Jaron accepted.
“Very well.”
Sephaeus spun around and cut the Slicer upward toward the plateau, and the entire thing exploded into an eruption of massive boulders and pebbles mixed in a mist of red particles. The plume of rubble spread out and rained down around them. They struck a blue dome shielding the three and failed to harm the Princess, but Kip had to cower under the Bungler. Jaron jumped to his feet, his eyes nearly bugged out at where a tiny mountain used to be.
“The Slicer answered you!” Jaron exclaimed.
“Because you allowed it to,” Sephaeus said simply.
Jaron immediately took the Slicer, looking the crystal blade up and down. “You enjoyed that didn’t you?”
Sephaeus looked up and shrugged. “It packs a decent punch.”
“If you’re gonna blow up half the desert, at least wait for me to leave!” Kip shouted at them.
***
Nightfall came with tranquil winds. The Bungler rumbled on with its eyes lighting the land ahead of them. Jaron meditated cross-legged in the loading bay across from Sephaeus. Princess Valara slept in a small bedding compartment on the level above the engine room. Sephaeus flicked a tiny rubber ball at Jaron’s forehead. He frowned and peeked at the Sentinel Commander with one eye.
“Close your eyes,” said Sephaeus. “Focus.”
Jaron did as he was told and went back to meditating. He got popped on the forehead again. He ignored it that time. And the next time. And the next. Finally Jaron’s patience ran out and he caught the next ball.
“Are you going to keep doing that?” Jaron protested.
“Yes,” Sephaeus threw another one.
Jaron sprung to his feet. “How am I supposed to concentrate on nothing when you keep distracting me?”
Sephaeus slowly got to his feet. “Sit down.”
Jaron glared defiantly.
“I said sit,” Sephaeus repeated.
Jaron got back down with an exasperated grunt as Sephaeus mirrored his lotus pose.
“It’s not about having zero thoughts, it’s about watching your thoughts,” said Sephaeus.
“I don’t understand,” said Jaron.
“Fighting your mind only creates resistance and wastes energy. You must learn to observe your mind and choose how you will respond. Separate your actions from your emotions.”
“And if I get angry again?”
Sephaeus leaned forward. “Then you allow it. That is how aether manifests. Allow your emotions and decide where you want them put to purpose. That is basic Casting.”
“I’m not a Caster. Esmerelda tried to—” Jaron cut himself off. “We didn’t have time for me to learn much. I don’t even know what all those colors mean.”
“Explaining it won’t give you emotional control,” Sephaeus shook his head. “But very well. Each color is attracted by an emotion. The strength of that emotion is the strength of your Casting. You direct it with your intent. Purple involves compassion and works best on the mind.”
“I’m not feeling compassionate right now,” Jaron muttered.
Sephaeus ignored the remark. “Blue is easy. Any state can bring it, but your concentration gives it solidity and energy. When the Two Terrors fly, they’re probably using that. Green is passion absent sadness, which will bind things together.
“Yellow is your manifested force of will. Orange is creative, transmuting energy brought by desire. And red is made by anger, capable of great destruction.”
“I’ve made red before,” Jaron recalled. “How do I keep myself from hurting the wrong people?”
Pop. Sephaeus threw another ball.
“You remember. Remember what you’re angry at…and remember what you love,” Sephaeus stood up and turned away. “We’re done for the day.”
The Sentinel Commander strode off with heavy steps out through the engine room. Jaron sat in silence staring at the Slicer, deciding to try again. He closed his eyes to concentrate when the Bungler made a sudden jerking motion and slowed to a stop. Jaron got up and ran to the cockpit. Kip was flipping toggles and switches, moving around the cockpit like an overburdened cook.
“Why are we stopped?” asked Jaron.
“Somethin’s jammed in one of the scoops, the Bungler won’t budge until it’s out,” Kip answered.
“What is it?” asked Jaron.
“Sometimes tumbleweed gets in there,” Kip looked accusingly at him. “Or big rocks.”
“I’ll go clear it out then. Is there a way to reach it?” asked Jaron.
“From the inside, yeah,” said Kip. “Go check the manifold access from the engine room.”
Jaron stared blankly at him. Captain Kip rolled his eyes.
“Open the big barrel shaped cylinder on the side. Scoop out whatever’s blockin’ the filter and we’ll be underway.”
Jaron got up and went to the angry, shuddering engine room. He looked past blowing steam and saw a large pipe running along the floor to a bulging object Kip called a ‘radiator’. A latch sealed a hatch which he pulled open. The change in air pressure blew out the object onto the engine room floor. It was a naked woman. Bronze skinned like Sephaeus, with the same kind of wavy golden hair long enough to pass her shoulders. She looked disoriented and her boots had been worn so badly the soles were peeling off. And she was tall.
“I need help!” Jaron shouted.
Kip ran in and nearly tripped over himself, completely stunned at the sight.
“Mister Spellcraft you are just the gift that keeps on givin’ ain’t you?”
“Get me something to cover her with you idiot!” Jaron snarled.
“On it!” Kip ran off while Jaron cradled the woman’s head. Her sapphire eyes fluttered open as the Captain returned with a blanket and threw it on her.
“Are you alright?” asked Jaron.
“I t-think so,” she answered weakly.
She started fading and Jaron gave her a light shake awake. “Stay with me. Tell me your name.”
“My name, is Ketra.
CHAPTER 39
“I don’t like it,” said Princess Valara.
They all sat in the cockpit while Ketra recovered elsewhere in the Bungler, discussing their new hitchhiker.
“There wasn’t much else we could do. All we had was that gray blanket,” Jaron pointed out.
“You tore it in half, tied one part around her bottom and the other around her top. She’s practically naked!” Princess Valara protested.
“I know,” Kip grinned. “Isn’t it awesome?”
Princess Valara held up her hand to block Kip’s face from view. Sephaeus had his arms crossed. “All this space and no spare clothes, no wonder you smell.”
“I been bathin’!” Kip replied.
“We get a gallon a day with no soap. That’s hardly a bath, and your boiled grain is hardly food,” Valara complained. “But we’re getting off subject. We’re talking about Ketra. She just turns up out of nowhere, knows who Jaron is, and is perfectly comfortable being naked in front of him? I don’t trust her.”
Jaron recoiled his face with a frown, “Is this about her looks?”
“She is so hot,” Kip drooled.
Valara blocked Kip’s face again with her hand. “What does that even mean?”
“It means she’s sexy, ya know? Gorgeous, beautiful, whatever ya wanna call her. She’s hot!” Kip explained.
“Very hot,” Sephaeus agreed.
“And tall!” Kip added.
“Very tall,” said Sephaeus.
Princess Valara groaned in shrill frustration. “Argh!”
Jaron started arguing back and forth with Valara. “She’s not even my type!”
“Are you saying she’s not beautiful? You brought it up!”
“Of course she’s beautiful!”
“So she is your type.”
“No, she isn’t.”
“What is your type then?”
“You are,” Jaron looked Valara right in the eye.
That one had her blushing. After a moment of being clearly flustered, Princess Valara composed herself and stood up.
“That’s hardly even the point,” she retorted. “Why would Vaelonn help both us and Zen Daaz? That feels odd.”
“Zen Daaz was lying,” said Jaron.
“Zen Daaz never lies,” Princess Valara replied.
“Neither does the Emissary,” Sephaeus stated.
Valara clutched her hair with her fists and made a wide-eyed look of disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with two grown men who—”
“Three,” Kip chimed in.
“You don’t count,” Valara continued. “Grown men who can’t see past their eyes!”
“What would you have me do, throw her back outside?” asked Jaron.
Princess Valara crossed her arms. “No.”
“Then she stays. She might know something we don’t,” Jaron decided.
He was tired of arguing, and even more tired of this subject. The Emissary’s words were all he had to go on, whatever it took.
“Jaron,” Princess Valara walked over and got on her knees in front of him. She took his hands into hers. “I’ll do whatever you tell me to do, but something is really wrong about all this and I don’t feel good about it. I’m asking you to trust me. Please.”
Princess Valara’s eyes pleaded with him. Jaron looked for a way to contradict her, but his heart gave in. He sighed. “Alright Valara. We can find the Codex without her. When we get to the Rolling Rumblers, we’ll leave her with them.”
“Yes!” Princess Valara sprang up happily and shoved her lips right onto Jaron’s.
It took a few seconds for her to realize she was kissing him. She quickly pulled away and stood up, visibly shocked at what she’d done. She held her palms to her cheeks and turned around. Jaron melted into his chair. Kip made an ‘ooh’ face. Sephaeus didn’t react.
“I-I-I apologize, that was uncalled for,” Valara stammered.
Jaron took a moment to recover, grinning ear to ear. Infatuation got the better of him—without thinking, he grabbed her arm and spun her back around, then pulled her back in. He kissed her just as forcefully as she did to him. Valara was even more passionate the second time, but then broke the kiss abruptly.
Her face blushed the deepest red, her mouth opening and closing as if to say something. No words came, instead she stormed out of the cockpit. Jaron reclined into his seat, his stomach fluttering from his first kiss with the Princess. He’d waited too long for that. Sephaeus finally uncrossed his arms and stood up.
“Spellcraft, the Princess is engaged,” he said.
Jaron frowned. “I know.”
“Don’t ever do that to her again,” the Sentinel Commander warned before walking out.
Jaron sunk down into his seat, forlorn.
“I think you should definitely do it again,” Kip chimed in.
It was Jaron’s turn to storm out. He marched into the engine room and distracted himself with the symphony of sounds coming from the Bowering Bungler’s heart. The heat quickly began to bother him, so he went back into the loading bay and leaned against the War Wagon’s plow. He heard footsteps. Jaron turned around and saw her. It was Ketra.
“You’re making the right choice,” said Ketra. “None of you know me.”
Jaron averted his eyes in embarrassment. “I’ll make sure you’re well off before we part ways.”
“I appreciate that,” said Ketra.
An irresistibly uncomfortable feeling took hold of Jaron’s chest.
“Did the Emissary really send you?” he asked.
Ketra carefully stepped toward him and adjusted her makeshift tube top to contain her busty bosom, which was nearly eye level with his face. Jaron felt himself blushing and his blood getting hot. He averted his eyes.
“I wasn’t told much,” she admitted. “Only that I would find you and that we had to travel together.”
“I got the same,” said Jaron.
Ketra backed away from him and curved her body backward to lean against the plow. “Aren’t you going to ask me where I’m from?”
“Why bother? If you lie I won’t know, and if you tell the truth I won’t know. You’re not Valmari, definitely not Tolian, and you don’t look like Unscrupulous.”
“But I am Unscrupulous,” said Ketra. “Or at least, I was.”
Jaron immediately reached toward the Slicer. Ketra saw him do it, and started moving toward him slowly. He drew it fully and held it out at her. “Stop where you are.”
Ketra slowed down, got down onto her knees in front of Jaron and exposed her neck.
“Then do it. I understand,” she urged him. “You can’t let me live knowing what I was.”
She grabbed the Slicer with her hands and pulled it against her neck, breaking the skin and bleeding it. The Emissary’s words came back to him: it would be his choice. He watched the blood dripping down her neck.
“Stop!” Jaron pulled the Slicer away and threw it across the loading bay.
Ketra looked up at Jaron, who took her hands and pulled her up. Her neck healed after a few moments.
“Thank you Jaron,” said Ketra. “…There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Which is?” he wondered aloud.
“I met Jevaan Spellcraft.”
Jaron’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “My father?”
Ketra nodded back to him smoothly. “After he left Valmaron, and I’m not sure that he’s dead.”
CHAPTER 40
Jaron and Ketra stood across from each other against opposite walls in the War Wagon, the front console jutting out between them. The carpeting and floorboards were completely ripped out, leaving nothing but a metal floor where the wood used to be.
“You still haven’t explained how he escaped the Withered Willow,” said Jaron.
“Because I helped,” said Ketra.
“What were you doing there in the first place?” Jaron retorted.
Ketra curved her chest out while she inhaled, taking a long breath as she looked over at the tactical table. She’d since discarded her tarnished boots and went barefoot.
“I want a child,” she admitted.
Jaron was taken aback. “Excuse me?”
Ketra moved a hand to her stomach, gently tracing a circle on her skin with her fingers. Jaron stared at her towering, voluptuous figure a little longer than he meant to before looking away.
“I want to have a child, and I want to raise it in Valmaron,” Ketra explained.
“So you escaped,” Jaron put together.
Ketra nodded. “I wanted in, he wanted out, so I showed him the way through.”
Jaron crossed his arms and started tapping his foot. He waited for further elaboration, but it did not come.
“Where did he go?” Jaron asked.
“He told me that he had a son, that he wanted a better life for you,” she added.
“You haven’t answered my question,” said Jaron.
Ketra pointed up. “The Brightstar.”
“What?” Jaron’s eyes widened. “How?”
Ketra shook her head. “I don’t know, but I saw him go up. He was only gone for a moment when your Slicer appeared in his place. It fled when I touched it, and your father’s men chased me away believing I killed him.”
Jaron’s mind raced with questions and possibilities, leading to one. “How did you make it all the way out here?”
“I haven’t been out here, if that’s what you’re asking,” Ketra crossed her arms underneath her bosom. “I had nowhere else to go. I laid low in the Ziggurat until things got so bad I left again.”
“You must have gone while I was still there,” Jaron realized.
Ketra nodded. “That man who calls himself Captain told me that his people send these machines to pick up the fleeing women they found.”
“The Emissary said you would help me,” Jaron recalled. “How would you do that exactly?”
