"Not all fighting is strength, shaida," Allia told her. "I fear that you will never be Selani, but you could easily learn some basic techniques for close-quarters fighting. I can teach you how to use an opponent's strength against him."
"Now that sounds fun," she laughed. "I hate to say it, but I can't stay any longer," she said, getting up. "I'll talk to you later."
As she slipped out of the opening, Tarrin leaned back. In a way, he understood what all that was about. It was nothing more than a social call. Here, so far away from what was comfortable for her, she felt more vulnerable, and that made her very insecure. She just needed someone to talk with. Really talk with. Even if it was for only a few moments.
"I see that she's starting to feel closed in," Allia remarked.
"You can't really blame her, sister," Tarrin replied. "All alone with nobody to talk to, when everyone hates you? I'd be looking for companionship myself."
"We'd best wander back, before they start looking," she said.
Tarrin nodded. "I'll see you back in the rooms," he said, standing up. Then he changed shape and slunk out a small hole in the hedge.
To: Title EoF
Chapter 12
Sweating with effort, Tarrin sat straight up in the chair, his tail lashing behind him. His eyes were closed, and he struggled to reach out and grab nothing.
That was about the best explanation he could come up with. He could feel it out there, just begging to be touched, but it slipped out of his grasp like smoke. It was maddening, but Dolanna did very little by way of suggestion or instruction. She told him that each Sorcerer touched the weave in a different way, and he had to learn it on his own. She also told him that all it took was one successful attempt. Conscious attempt, that is, for he'd already used Sorcery before. Now, his conscious mind was struggling to learn the trick that his subconscious one had already picked up. She would give him very basic help, but there was nothing more she could do.
"Relax, Tarrin," her voice soothed. "You cannot yank at it. You must reach, but you must also bring it to you at the same time. You are trying to reach out and grab it."
"That's what you told me to do," he protested.
"I said to reach out for what is there," she elaborated. "Part of the trick is drawing it in, the other part is reaching out to meet it. Once you make the connection, you will be able to charge."
Blowing out his breath, he tried again. He reached out with himself, something that he was used to doing with his senses. Now he was doing it with that something, that thing inside him that made him a Sorcerer. He could feel it within him, reaching out to complete the circuit that would make him a part of the Weave. But it couldn't find anything to connect with.
"Gently," Dolanna urged. "Gently. Do not force it. It is not something to seize, it is something to greet."
Closing his eyes again, he tried to visualize the strands in the room, from what he remembered of the day before. Then he reached out to them, the way flowers reach out to the rising sun, trying to draw in its warmth. He could feel them around him, but they would not respond to his call. He physically reached out with a paw, claws extending, as if to hook the elusive magical energy, but there was nothing upon which for his claws to gain a purchase.
He had been doing this for three straight days. Despite doing nothing physical, he left the training room drained, and could think of nothing but sleep. Allia and Keritanima had been much the same. It wouldn't have been so bad if he'd actually managed to accomplish something. But for three days, he'd done nothing but flounder around aimlessly, reaching out in vain for something that simply was not there.
Blowing out his breath in frustration, he opened his eyes and stood up. His tail hooked on the back of the chair, picking it up. "Tarrin," Dolanna said calmly, putting her hands on his arms. "Relax."
"It's frustrating!" he growled in exasperation.
"It took me almost a month," she told him. "You have plenty of time. Now sit back down."
Growling in his throat, Tarrin righted the chair and sat back down. He closed his eyes and started all over again, reaching out. And he failed, over and over, as minutes stretched into an hour. Dolanna put her hands over his paws gently as his claws dug deeply into the table, and he relaxed. "I must seem silly," he said, but the frustration was evident in his voice.
"I would go back to my room and throw chairs," she confided with a smile. "I went through ten desk chairs over that month. It is not easy, Tarrin. Even after you succeed, you will struggle, both to touch the Weave, and then to let it go. But as most things, it requires practice. Even though you fail, you are learning. Eventually, your trial will not result in error, and you will succeed. Do not dwell on your failures, look towards your success."
"You're so optomistic it makes me sick," he said with a smile.
"That is my job," she said with a gentle smile, patting the backs of his paws. "Now, let us start again, from the beginning. Breathe deeply and calm yourself."
Tarrin left that day drained, tired, out of sorts, and aggravated. He had failed again. Tarrin was not used to failing. Not like that. His parents had always taught him that failure was not bad so long as one tried one's hardest. Tarrin was trying his hardest, but when he did do his best, he almost never failed so utterly has he had done so for the past four days. It seemed unnatural to him to fail so miserably, even after he'd put so much effort and dedication into his task. He stalked back to the main Tower to get something to eat and fret over his failure to produce results, and he could feel the weight of the sand pouring from the hourglass, and right over his head. He had to learn how to touch the Weave. He had to learn how to use Sorcery. He didn't have a choice. He needed to protect himself against whoever was trying to kill him. And, if his hunches were right, he'd need it to protect him from the katzh-dashi.
That was one good reason. Allia and Keritanima couldn't see it, but he could. The faint glow of the Ward that blocked magic from passing through it, and also worked to seal him inside the Tower grounds. It was as good as the bars on his cage. Tarrin had a hatred and irrational fear of being imprisoned-it was integral in his nature as a Were-cat-and just looking at the Ward caused the Cat to rise up in him and try to take control. The other good reason was slinking around the Tower grounds like a rat. Jesmind was inside the Tower grounds. She was trapped inside with him, and he knew that she had more plans for trying to take off his head. She would play all light and sunshine as long as the Keeper or Sorcerers were around, but he knew that she was just biding her time. She was still trying to kill him, and she wasn't about to stop now.
After a quick meal, he went out and sat in the garden for a while. The smell of flowers and growing things always soothed him, and the relative isolation let him forget for a while that he was trapped on the grounds. Tarrin was a creature of the forest. He couldn't deny that. He was born and raised in one, and his transformation into a Were-cat had only intensified his attachment to the woods. The gardens were no forest, but the green and the lighter human scents made it possible for him to imagine it. If only for a little while.
"You're getting soft."
Tarrin was up and whirled around in a flash, claws out and his eyes locked on the green eyes of Jesmind. She was standing not a paw's reach from him, paws behind her back, her stance and demeanor obviously nonthreatening. She had approached from downwind, which was why he hadn't scented her, and she was light enough on her feet to walk the crushed gravel path without making any noise.
"What do you want?" he demanded.