‘You speak the words of healing first,’ Sodar instructed, eyes still closed. ‘The joining comes second.’ He took a deep breath then exhaled. As he spoke, his thumbs softly probed Annev’s broken wrist. ‘Slànaich is cuplaich. Cuplaich le slànachadh.’
Annev watched in fascination as the water-smeared lines of charcoal glowed and his wrist subtly realigned itself. The moisture quickly evaporated, leaving only a dry, black powder to mark Annev’s skin. Sodar blew on the ash and it floated away, leaving the skin unmarred save for Sodar’s bloody thumbprint. Annev rubbed this away and was pleased to see even the purple bruise had faded, leaving the limb pink and clean. He tested his wrist, carefully moving his right arm. When he felt no pain, he shook it, made a fist and pounded it on the table.
Sodar nodded. ‘Good as new.’
Annev grunted, marvelling. ‘That didn’t hurt. Normally it stings during and aches after.’ He shook his hand again. ‘I didn’t feel a thing. Is that how a full healing normally works?’
Sodar hmmed to himself. ‘No. If anything, the pain should have been more intense because your body healed at an accelerated pace.’ He tapped his chin. ‘It’s not unheard of, though. The efficacy of a spell depends on several factors, and a few could affect residual pain.’
‘Like?’
‘Well,’ Sodar said, thinking, ‘Darite magic tends to work better with experience and an understanding of the words of power, the glyphs, and their meaning. A powerful and experienced wizard-healer can perform miracles where another man using the same spell might only cure a stubbed toe.’
‘But you healed my cracked ribs two days ago,’ Annev objected. ‘Mending them felt like you were breaking them all over again. Has your understanding of magic grown since then?’
‘I doubt it.’
‘So what changed?’ Annev iterated.
‘I’m not sure. The emotional state of the caster or recipient can sometimes enhance or hinder a spell, but that’s more typical of spellsinging than glyph-speaking.’
‘Spellsinging?’
Sodar nodded. ‘Ilumite magic. I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before. They use music and emotion to invoke their spells. As for Terrans, what they use is called dwimmer-crafting.’
‘I remember all that. But you didn’t sing, and neither of us are Ilumite.’
Sodar hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded. ‘Right. Quite right.’
There, Annev thought. He’s hiding something. But what is he not saying?
‘So,’ the priest said, shifting topics, ‘you’re mended. Have you eaten?’
‘A bit.’
‘Good. Sparring lesson then. We’ll eat properly afterwards.’
Annev groaned, unable to conceal his frustration at the thought of another fight; he had fought in Edra’s class, and in Duvarek’s class, and then again with Fyn in the street. He had no desire to spar with Sodar, particularly when he just wanted to interrogate the man.
‘Can’t we just skip it? I didn’t miss much of Edra’s class – and I’ve more than made up for the missed combat training outside of class.’ He gestured at the lumps, cuts and bruises that still covered his face, neck and arms.
‘One could argue those bruises prove you need more practice.’
Annev’s temper flared, indignant. ‘That’s unfair. Fyn was armed and attacked me with his friends. I could beat him if we were alone.’
Not every time, Annev silently admitted, but probably half the time. Maybe.
Sodar shrugged, indifferent. ‘When danger comes, it usually comes prepared. You don’t get to find your friends and pick your weapons. You have to plan for that – expect it – and don’t make excuses when you fail.’
‘That’s so … sympathetic of you.’
The priest raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t be churlish. If I let you rest when you’re beaten and worn, I’m not helping you. And if I give you reprieve when no one else does, what am I teaching you?’
Annev sighed. ‘So we’re sparring?’
Sodar shrugged again. ‘You can rest if you want …’ Annev rose from the table. ‘… but if you do, I can’t give you your present.’
Annev rocked back on his heels. ‘What present?’
‘The one I was going to give you for Regaleus.’
Annev’s hand slipped into his pocket, touching the red glove. ‘Oh. I just thought … you always say Regaleus is a cursed holiday. We never exchange gifts.’
‘Well, you’ve endured enough holidays without a present that I felt you deserved one today.’ Sodar smiled, a touch of sadness gracing his eyes. ‘If you like, you can call it a … birthday present.’
‘Why?’ Annev asked. ‘Is it my birthday?’
Sodar sputtered. ‘I didn’t … Look, call it whatever you want. My point is you won’t get it unless we go a few rounds this afternoon.’
Annev considered it then nodded. ‘All right, old man. If you’re that eager for a beating, let’t fight.’
Chapter Eighteen
Annev flung the woodshed door open and hopped down its three short steps. When he reached the weapons rack at the back of the room, he snatched a wooden axe and battered shortsword off the wall. Sodar groaned.
‘Not those again. You’ve chosen that combination every time for three months.’
Annev shrugged. ’I like them.’
‘You like two-handed fighting,’ Sodar amended.
‘No,’ Annev corrected. ‘I like being able to hook, slash and disarm with my axe – and I like the length of the shortsword. I can slip in close but still have some reach.’
Sodar pulled a longsword from the weapons rack.
‘Prove it.’
Before Annev could respond, the priest leapt to attack, stabbing outward. Annev dodged, left foot moving back, his axe hooking the sword’s blade and pulling it aside. Then he bounced forward, stabbing for Sodar’s ribs.
But Sodar wasn’t there. Instead, he had gone with Annev’s pull, rolling under his own sword and taking a knee behind Annev.
He’s so fast. How can an old man be that fast? The thought brought back all Annev’s questions, his sense of betrayal. I need him to admit he’s been lying – and to tell me what he’s been hiding.
He spun left, dancing backward so that he was facing Sodar again. He swung his axe down, thinking to intercept Sodar’s next attack, but the priest surprised him by stepping into his falling arm; he grabbed Annev’s elbow, pulled it down across his body, and rose to his feet. Annev was lifted from the ground, his chest rolling over Sodar’s shoulders as his body followed the momentum of the axe. He crashed onto his back, dropping his axe, and felt the wind rush out of him.
Sodar’s longsword tapped him on the chest.
‘The advantage of fighting catspaw,’ Sodar said, looking down at Annev, ‘is that you can block your opponent’s attacks at the same time as you make your own. To do that, both hands need to be dominant. They need to work at the same time – independently or together.’ He lowered his sword and extended a hand to Annev. ‘It’s a hard skill to master. That’s why I always preferred a staff – or a paired sword and shield.’
Annev reluctantly took the priest’s hand and rose to his feet. ‘But you can only defend with a shield. With an axe in my off-hand, I can block and attack at the same time.’
Sodar smiled. ‘I’m not certain your left hand is your off-hand.’