Chapter 27 - Jonko’s Gift.
After two weeks of storms, the temperature dropped suddenly from hot and humid, to cold and brisk. Within days of the last storm, the Season of White was entrenched. A mantle of frozen moisture, called zekon, covered the ground and the upper surfaces of the buildings and trees.
The daily routine of the palaces changed subtly in the cold season. The evening and lunch meals were served indoors, in the Great Hall of each palace. There was a greater emphasis on indoor occupations, but the outdoor activities did not cease entirely.
Weapons training continued outside, since fighting in the zekon or snow as it was called on other worlds, might be needed one day. The students learnt how the cold and damp might affect the high tech weapons they were learning to use. It either slowed the response or caused electronic malfunctions. They also learnt that fighting with physical weapons like swords and staves took on a new complexity when one’s feet were on icy, slippery mud, and when they were bundled in heavier clothes.
The aim of learning to use weapons in such adverse conditions was to understand different ways that weapons could be used, above and beyond the designers’ specifications, and in all possible combinations of circumstance.
The teachers stressed that the emphasis on understanding weapons and weaponry and their tactical use was not primarily for the purpose of attack, unless no other avenue was possible. Nor were weapons necessarily to be used for the first line of defence. Knowledge of weapons was a strategic advantage and perhaps a means to deflect attacks without needing to fight.
It was pointed out that Tymoreans who became missionaries on far-flung worlds might have to use local armaments to hide the special abilities of a Royal Tymorean.
Amongst level epsilon, Tymos and Jonko were by far the best fighters. There was little between them in skill, whether they were using swords or staves, or the high tech personal weapons. Both seemed to have an instinctive mastery of whatever weapon they picked up. Stenn was skilled with all weapons, as a legacy of his heritage, but he was still a degree less adept than these of his classmates.
Kryslie sensed within herself a degree of distaste for fighting with weapons. She excelled at the exercises the students were set, and never spoke against learning to fight. In her mind, there was no reason why she had to fight with weapons once she graduated from learning.
Lessons in unarmed defence and attack appealed to her more for their efficiency and stealth. In the aspects of unarmed fighting, she was the equal and better of her brother and Jonko.
Keleb was noticeably less adept at the use of weapons for fighting than all of his fellow students. Even Lexina and Denlic were skilled enough to satisfy their teachers.
Kryslie, without making an issue of it, tutored Keleb in the skills of defence. She was the only one of his friends that really understood his abhorrence at the thought of injuring another living being. She knew that it came from his empathic gift. For his interest in animals and his ability to attract them and have them respond to him was part of it. He was having special lessons from one of the Elders to understand this gift.
Keleb did not need to verbalise his gratitude to Kryslie, but he did comment, “I doubt that I will ever be as good as you, Kryslie.” He referred to their practice in disarming an opponent. “I only manage to get your weapon when you let me.”
“Perhaps,” Kryslie agreed mildly. “But have you considered that I am making you work harder and harder for each victory?”
“No,” Keleb said.
Kryslie had suggested, wickedly, “When you try this next on Jonko or Tymos, they might be surprised. And I think their faces would be interesting to watch.”
Those two students were working out vigorously with two of the finely honed practice blades that had the feel of the real weapons, but would not gravely injure an opponent.
“I doubt that,” Keleb muttered, watching his friends. “When Jonko was warming up with me before, he kept scoring hits on me.”
“Ah, but…that was with you trying to fight by his rules…with a sword. You don’t really want to skewer Jon, and he knows it. This little trick is for when you want to disarm him and fight by your rules, without weapons.”
“So was this what you did to Tymos before?” Keleb’s eyes widened with the realisation. “But you two always seem to know each other’s moves as you make them.”
“Yeah, and that makes it harder. Even when we block each other from our minds, we are aware of each other – I think it is because we are twins. Then I figured out that I could sense the exact moment when I needed to distract him. He still reacts damn fast though.”
“I can’t do that – distract him mentally, I mean,” Keleb commented.
“Mentally, vocally – same thing. Try it on Jonko later, after Tymos wears him out a bit.”
“I don’t think those two want to stop,” Keleb decided, after watching them for a moment.
A short time later, Perrin Reslic called for the students to finish their practice and begin their cool down routine. Lexina, Stenn and Denlic left the target range, going via the armoury to put their equipment away. They returned to join Kryslie and Keleb.
“You four run off,” Kryslie said with her attention on Jonko and Tymos, who were still duelling a short distance away.
Stenn looked in that direction, and to where his Uncle stood, and murmured, “If you can tell Tymos to quit, now will be a very good idea.”
“Something feels wrong,” Kryslie admitted.
“Uncle Perrin can sort it out. My advice is stay out of it,” Stenn said. “We need to cool down before we get under my uncle’s eye.”
Kryslie ignored his advice, though her friends began to trot.
When Perrin Reslic called a halt, Tymos withdrew his blade immediately. Jonko, it seemed, had not heard the instruction and claimed a breach in Tymos’s defence.
“We were told to stop,” Tymos reminded his friend as he leant down to pick up the blade that Jonko had sent flying from his hand.
“No, I beat you! I’ll prove it. Pick up your blade!” Jonko insisted.
Tymos straightened and put out his hand on Jonko’s arm. “It is time to stop.”
In that touch, Tymos sensed that Jonko was having what felt like a childish tantrum. He did not want to stop.
“Damn it,” Jonko swore in the language of Earth. “You want to squib out just when I start to get the better of you!”
“Jon, we were instructed to stop.” Tymos repeated.
“You just don’t want to admit that I am better that you!” Jonko retorted disagreeably.
“Jon, I admit you are good but practice is finished. It will be dinner time in a little while and you know that we will be in trouble if we aren’t presentable then.” Tymos tried to make his friend see sense.
“To hell with dinner!” Jonko said angrily and stalked off, through the zekon, in the direction of the armoury.
Tymos was in two minds about following his friend when he sensed Kryslie by his side.
“Father said his skill with weapons is a gift.” Kryslie told her twin. “There is a psychic aspect to that gift. I sensed it awakening. That is why he is acting so childishly. It is confusion within him. He should not be left alone. Confusion and the precarious control of our power do not go well together.”
“No!” Tymos agreed. He set off at a brisk walk after his friend. Kryslie, left alone, sensed someone looking at her. She expected it to be Perrin Reslic but when she turned, she met the eyes of the President. It was as if he had heard the brief exchange. He nodded at her briefly as if acknowledging both her words and the intuition behind it.
Kryslie watched Jono Reslic until he disappeared into the armoury an area near the large lyceum. It was an effort to restrain herself from becoming involved. If Tymos could not get through to Jonko, then Reslic must do what he knew to be necessary.
“Have you finished your cool down routine,” Perrin Reslic spoke from behind her.
She glanced behind her, recognised the look that implied, “You had better do it without slacking off,” and began to trot around the practice clearing. Her other classmates had finished and were heading back to the palaces to prepare for the evening meal.
As she ran, slowly, she decided that their teacher had summoned his brother – must have seen or deduced what was happening. Then she considered what she had sensed from Jonko, and what Tymos had sensed. Different aspects of the same problem. Tymos sensed the reaction; she had sensed the cause. Yet she could not determine what had set Jonko off, and that bothered her.
So involved was she in her thoughts, Kryslie paid no attention to the fleeting glimpse of the child figure that trotted by behind the guard who had remained to keep an eye on her.
Tymos quickly caught up with Jonko and tried to engage his friend in conversation, keeping the subjects strictly away from the day’s activities. Jonko remained sullenly silent. When they reached the armoury, Jonko turned on Tymos, his face contorted with anger.
“Why won’t you come out and admit I am a better swordsman than you?” Jonko shouted at Tymos.
“I admire your skill, Jon,” Tymos did reply. “I am fortunate to have someone as skilled as you to practice against. You really do extend me.”
“I’m better than you! Admit it!” Jonko snarled.
“I’m not the one to say” Tymos said thoughtfully. “An observer would be a better judge.”
“You…” Jonko did not utter the obscenity but Tymos heard it clearly in his mind.
“Let’s have it out. I’ll prove it to you, here and now. I challenge you… Prince … to a duel!”
Inside the armoury were racks of weapons – including blades of many different kinds, from many worlds. Jonko replaced the practice blade he had been using and selected two that were razor sharp.
“Jon! We are not permitted to use these!” Tymos protested. His friend did not take the hint.
“Are you afraid, Prince?” Jonko sneered. “Are you a coward?”
“If you want a fight, Jon, so be it!” Tymos said softly, accepting one of the blades. He moved to the cleared centre of the room and faced Jonko. He glanced beyond his friend, seeing the glassed in cabinets holding projectile weapons as well as beam type weapons and was glad that Jonko had not decided on any of those.
It was bad enough that they both only had on the light armoured leathers, covering chest and groin. Tymos knew that this duel was not going to be mere practice.
It was a custom to bow to your opponent before a friendly bout. Tymos followed custom, but Jonko did not. He lunged at Tymos who was barely able to jump back and bring up his sword in defence.
In the intense clash that followed, Tymos aimed only to defend himself. He had no wish to injure his friend. It seemed that Jonko did not share that sentiment. He seemed to be intent on striking his opponent hard. It occurred to Tymos briefly that he was out of his depth. Jonko, uncontrolled had the speed, strength and skill of a madman.
In that fierce battle, Tymos realized the truth of his sister’s words. There was a psychic aspect to his friend’s skill. Jon, it seemed, could read every move he was planning to make. Tymos knew only his slight speed advantage had prevented him from receiving a nasty wound.
Several times, Jonko forced Tymos back into the doors of the cupboards that held the practice padding and armour. He needed to time a duck under Jonko’s offensive moves, and spin quickly to counter the retaliatory lunge. Once Tymos was backed up to the padded benches that doubled as storage for other training equipment. He leapt backwards and up to stand on the bench, lunged in an attacking move of his own, and then leapt back into clear space.
Neither of them gained a clear advantage over the other, but Tymos knew he was tiring and wondered if he could keep Jonko busy until his friend tired or used up the excess energy he had accumulated.
As Tymos began to understand what Jonko was doing, he began to try to predict Jonko’s movements. The ability came easily. While still fully occupied in defending himself, Tymos sensed a presence behind him. A part of his mind investigated and realized that the President stood there. The realization that what he and Jonko were doing was not allowed caused him to lose concentration for a moment and Jonko taking advantage of the lapse flicked Tymos’s sword from his hand. A fierce grin of exultation appeared on Jonko’s face as he aimed his sword at Tymos’s chest until it just touched the fabric of his tunic.
“Admit defeat, Prince!” Jonko laughed unpleasantly.
Tymos bowed but did not reply. He wondered why Jonko had not reacted to the presence of the President, even when Reslic stepped up beside him.
“Softling!” Jonko fiercely accused Tymos and he followed that with a string of insults in mixed Terran and Tymorean. Tymos bowed again and still did not reply.
Jono Reslic spoke softly. “Am I to take it that your words apply to me also?”
Jonko noticed Reslic for the first time but his manner did not change.
“You and everyone else!” Jonko did not appear to realize that he had just insulted one of the three most powerful men on Tymorea.
Tymos momentarily saw through Jonko’s eyes, saw the face of a stranger where Reslic stood and wondered if Jonko was simply blind to the truth or if Reslic had used his own power to appear different.
“Move aside, Tymos,” a soft mental command instructed and Tymos obeyed the will of the President. He walked to one side where he was in shadow. The light from the high windows fell into the centre of the room, where the two duellists were now circling each other.
The sword that Tymos had dropped appeared in Reslic’s grip without him leaning over to retrieve it. There was an aura of power in the room.
Reslic moved first and lunged forward, Jonko parried the thrust and the duel began in earnest. Tymos, as an outsider, could appreciate the skill of the two protagonists. That Reslic was the finest living warrior was well known but now Tymos could appreciate the subtle way in which Reslic called on his power to get the utmost out of his art. There was perfect control, absolute precision and a harsh beauty in his performance. By contrast, Jonko looked gawky and uncontrolled, as indeed he was, yet he was determined to prove himself. Reslic was easily parrying all Jonko’s attempts at attack and gradually increasing the intensity of his own.
Tymos began to sense when Jonko began to feel afraid and uncertain, when his angry confidence began to fade. The realization came to Jonko of the identity of his opponent. Reslic who was surely aware of the change in Jonko’s attitude gave him no chance to back out and apologize for his behaviour. The intensity of the attack never lessened and now Jonko had to defend himself against a man he knew to be enormously more skilled than he was.
Tymos sensed a moment of sheer panic in Jonko, and he pondered Reslic’s actions. The President was pushing Jonko to his limits and must surely be trying to get Jonko to call on something more from with in himself. Perhaps it was only by pushing him further towards the point of desperation would it happen.
His friend was learning but it showed only by the gradual change from desperation to confidence. Tymos knew that Reslic had not lessened the intensity of the attacks but slowly Jonko was parrying them more easily and Tymos could sense that Jonko had begun to use his own power.
“Enough!” Reslic said suddenly. He withdrew from the conflict and bowed to his opponent. Jonko returned the traditional bow and waited, sword pointing downwards for Reslic to instruct him further.
“Tymos, a practice bout!” Reslic suggested quietly.
It was a command not a question. Jonko handed Tymos the blade he had been using then stepped back to observe.
The bout began with the traditional courtesies and Tymos quickly found himself under attack. He felt extremely clumsy but Reslic did not give him time to find his power gradually. Tymos knew he was being tested as Jonko had been but he had the advantage of observing his friend calling on his power. Tymos had meditated on many different analogies to help him gain a fine control of his power. His favourite was of a plant drawing moisture from the soil. He used it now but the increase in power was too slow, too gradual. He needed more NOW!
It was almost too much! Tymos reacted with violent and powerful strokes. Reslic parried them with a great deal of skill. Tymos still had control of his power and gradually lessened it, trying to rely foremost on skill. Reslic called a halt a short while later.
“Enough Tymos!” Reslic said quietly, withdrawing with the traditional bow acknowledged by Tymos.
“I am pleased with your control, but you should go now and rejoin your family for the evening meal.”
As Tymos walked apart from the others to transmit to his quarters to change, he heard Reslic speaking to Jonko. “Perhaps you would join me for the evening?”
Tymos was smiling thoughtfully as he changed into clean garments. Jonko had come through well and Reslic would not need to help him much. Jonko had been rebellious but he had not lost control completely. That was indeed good!