Chapter 6: I Sweat Lava Now

What was it that made the Lurrannas known and feared as the greatest of the Mystic families? It wasn’t our wealth ... it wasn’t our influence, or even our deep aristocratic heritage. It was the shadows that made us great. The Lurranna family were among the first human Elementals to discover the secrets of Shadow Elemency, a power so potent that a master could almost literally accomplish anything that his mind could conceive of. It’s too bad for the poor, ‘innocent’ peoples of Tarrus that the Lurrannas could conceive of some very dark things indeed.

Éclair felt like she was fighting a shadow. Everywhere she looked, all she could see was darkness. And yet, her enemy could find her in that darkness. No, it was almost as if he had become one with the darkness.

The only sources of light were her Psionic Weapons glowing with blue energy. The white metal quiver on her belt glowed with blue runes lining down its length. Éclair had free movement as the arrows in her quiver would never fall, and they would never run out so long as she had psions. Her white steel bow also had runes along its length, as well as Psionic Blades in the shapes of feathers at the ends of the bow for melee combat.

Hush! The sound of feet shuffling to the left. Swoosh! The cascade of boots hitting pavement directly behind her. Reaching down to her quiver, Éclair instantly notched an arrow to her bow and sent it flying through the night’s air. The crystal-tipped arrow’s shaft glowed with a cold light as Éclair’s psions were channeled through the bow directly into the arrow’s tip to manifest into the physical world as ice.

It had been said by scholars of Elemency that when a Psionic User channeled the energy within to become the energy without, the physical form of that spiritual energy reflected the state of the user’s heart. Éclair began to grasp the full meaning of those words. It meant that no matter what situation she was in, no matter how many times she used her ice powers, there would be differing shades and variety to how the ice would manifest itself in the physical world. And since the spirit was constantly in a state of flux, it could be argued that energies released by that spirit would also change in shape, form, or design each time Éclair created the element of ice.

For instance, though Éclair’s arrows often had the similar effect of making streaks of ice in whatever direction that they passed, she noticed that the power would not manifest itself the same way every time. More often than not, the arrow would achieve the desired effect, but there would be fluctuations based on her mood, the situation she was dealing with, and the amount of concentration she put into each shot. For one thing, the patterns that the ice made were never consistent. Sometimes, the ice would make circular patterns in the air or ground, making for a smooth, almost flawless surface. Other times, the designs would be more complex ranging from polygons to ovals. And there were even times that she could have sworn she caught a glimpse of coherent shapes materializing out of the icy mists created from her arrows ... the figures of people and places long recorded in the annals of her memories. Whatever the reason was for this distinction, Éclair could never make a shot the exact same way twice. If she was a machine, then maybe she could do it the same way twice, but there was a reason that machines could never use Elemency.

The power of the elements was not an exact science ... Elemency was much too esoteric to be an exact science. If Éclair had to compare it to something, she would say that Elemency was more like fingerpainting than anything else. The use of Elemency communicated a message, but the meaning was different depending on who was sending the message and who was receiving it. The difference between science and Elemency could be compared to the difference between typing a simple communique and crafting an abstract background with various colors and shapes. Though both were used to send a message, one served a singular purpose; the other was left to interpretation

As Éclair absorbed the shapes of mist trails and ice left on the ground and in the air by her arrow, she got the faint impression of flowers ... flowers made of ice. A strange paradox as winter often discouraged the growth of plants, but the contradiction sent a ring of pleasure through her body nonetheless.

Relinquishing her momentary lapse into the insanity called art, Éclair focused all her mental faculties into directing her arrow to her desired target. Even as the arrow left the bow, it was still linked to her through the psions she left within it. As psions are simply spiritual energy made manifest, Éclair could detect and control her own spiritual energies at will, whether they were inside or outside her body made little difference. While controlling the trajectory of the arrow, she could actually feel the shaft as it whizzed through the air with blinding speed. It was almost as if a part of her mind had become one with the arrow ... that Éclair’s spirit had transmuted into the arrow’s tip. A euphoria that felt as disconcerting as it was wondrous.

Relishing the moment to come, Éclair couldn’t help but exclaim, “Got you,” as her arrow finally found its mark, right next to the shoulder of her opponent. Not killing him, of course ... not even hurting him, really. Just freezing him to place, giving Éclair a quick and sound victory.

Éclair heard a loud thud! as her arrow hit the wall of the cave-like dwelling which now served as a sparring arena. She quickly withdrew another arrow and sent her psions into its shaft, making the tip of the arrow glow with a soft, blue light ... the color of her mother’s dress the last day Éclair had seen her alive. As Éclair neared the wall, she saw a figure held in place by the ice, but something kept her on edge. Though the figure was roughly the same size as the man she had been hunting, there was something off. The figure was not moving, not even struggling. Panic weld up inside as she considered for a one dreadful moment that her aim had been off ... that she had actually killed her opponent instead of simply incapacitating him.

As Éclair groped through the darkness towards the motionless figure, she cried out in terror, “Leon! Leon, are you okay?!”

But as Éclair neared the newly formed iceberg, she saw suspended in the ice was not the form of Leon, but his robe that he had quickly removed to serve as a decoy. Realizing the ploy too late, Éclair felt movement behind her, but even as she spun to her attacker with her arrow notched, she already knew the match to be over.

Fast as lighting, his hand came around, knocking Éclair in the chest with an open palm and simultaneously grabbing her bow and arrow. Even as Éclair hit the floor, she reached for another arrow to use as a knife in a last-ditch effort. However, Éclair felt dismayed to discover that her quiver had been removed from her side without her knowledge.

Now lacking his dark overcoat, Leon stood over Éclair holding one of her arrows which still glowed with the power of her psions. Using a small gust of wind in his hand so as not to touch the Psionic Weapon, the arrow seemed to hover just centimeters from his palm. Leon slowly brought the arrow up to his face for illumination. Despite his usually foreboding personality, he smiled kindly, his dark eyes twinkling fondly behind his spectacles. Éclair never understood why he wore glasses since his eyesight seemed almost as good as Tork’s. She didn’t even know how the glasses stayed on his face even in the midst of intense combat. In any case, Éclair did allow herself to feel a twinge of satisfaction from Leon’s disarming smile. However, that did not diminish the sting of losing ... again. With a flick of his finger, the arrow spun across the room to land near her quiver which was neatly stashed in the corner.

“Lights,” commanded Éclair to the computer.

Immediately, the whole room became illuminated by bright, white lights that forced Éclair to squint like a vampire in the sun. The room itself was not much to look at, just a wide, circular room surrounded on all sides by metallic walls. The only aspect about the room itself was the gray dirt covering floors designed for absorbing sound.

Since their training had begun several hours ago, the room was now coated with iced walls and icicles on the ceiling. Tufts of snow even fell from above, leftover residue of Éclair’s overcharged psions. To an onlooker, it might have seemed elegant, perhaps even artful ... but to Éclair, it was just a reminder of her ineptitude. Every patch of ice represented a failed attempt to defeat her opponent, and there was quite a lot of ice. Not even the exit was visible anymore, covered in a thick sheet. It would be a hassle reabsorbing that ice later.

Éclair quickly came to her feet and dusted herself off as she grumbled in frustration. “Well, that’s thirty for you and ... hmmm ... let me think. None for me. We’re getting off to a smashing start, aren’t we?”

Leon was overly generous as he said, “The point of these exercises is not for you to win, but for you to learn. Trust me, failure can be a better teacher than success.”

“Well then, I should be a bloody genius by now, right?” retorted Éclair bitterly as she rubbed her sore neck and stretched her tired arms.

“I believe a little respite is in order,” suggested Leon, drawing closer. So close, in fact, that Éclair could see her own reflection in his glasses.

Despite the fact that his gorgeous face was only inches from her own, Éclair refused to be swayed. She could ill afford to be distracted from her training by the charms of her would-be teacher. “I can keep going as long as you can.”

Leon drew up to his full height and said in a gentle, but firm voice, “Please, sit.”

Without her even realizing it, Éclair sat cross-legged on the dirt floor despite herself. She knew a telepathic suggestion when she felt one, but was too tired to muster much of a rebuke. How the bloody hell does he do that? Oh, well. I was about to fall over anyway. Five minutes won’t hurt. Besides, I don’t think I can take many more sessions of constant failure.

Leon felt relieved when Éclair obeyed his command. He doubted he’d be able to do that if she were at her full strength. She had begun studying how to resist telepathic intrusion, and that training was beginning to show. As far he was concerned, these training sessions of theirs presented an opportunity for both of them to improve their skills in telepathy - resistance in telepathy for Eclair, and practice for Leon. He had only recently discovered his ability to induce telepathic commands, though within limitations. The suggestions only worked with verbal commands, and only if they didn’t overtly contradict the subject’s wishes. A part of Éclair wanted an excuse to sit down, so she adhered to the command.

“One of these days, I’m just going to say ‘no’ when you do that, and then you’ll be the one looking the proper idiot for a change, now won’t you?” said Éclair snidely, though not without humor.

Leon chuckled as he sat down across from the silver-haired beauty. “I wouldn’t have been able to make you sit unless a part of you wanted to sit. It was only pride keeping you on your feet, not common sense. Deep down you knew that, so you listened to the command. I keep telling you, I’m not that talented in telepathy yet.”

Éclair sniffed loudly, but brokered no objection. She wore a tight-fitting light blue training outfit that was so lightly colored it could have almost been white. She had light, gray pants and aristocratic, brown leather boots that almost went up to her knees. Though she still wore the insignia of the Ministry of Fire, her color scheme was outside the norm of red and gold. Leon himself enjoyed the lax dress code that came as a privilege of being a part of the Grim Team, especially in regard to Éclair. Her choice of attire perfectly accentuated her tall, athletic build, and her well-endowed figure.

Aside from her wondrous violet eyes, flawless fair skin, high cheekbones, and adorably innocent smile, Éclair’s hair was, by far, her most marvelous feature in Leon’s opinion. Her long, sparkling silver hair rippled through the air like a white wave of pure starlight. It was like seeing the sun reflected on the ocean, or waves caressing a white-sanded beach during the morning. On the other hand, maybe it was like watching a blizzard unfurl on the surface of an ice-covered lake. Whatever it was like, it seemed to complement Éclair’s delicate ice powers.

As Leon gazed briefly around the room, almost remiss to take his eyes from Éclair even for an instant, he almost gasped in wonder at the beauty that surrounded them. Éclair’s attempted attacks to foil Leon had left the room in a half-suspended state of winter. But that was not the only reason that Leon felt his breath stolen away. It was the design of the ice structures which now decorated the once plain, dirt-covered little dome. Every trail of ice, every patch of snow had a certain symmetry to it that bespoke of intelligent design and not just mere Elemental weaponry used for destruction. The way Éclair used ice was more akin to the way that a sculptor carved a masterpiece statue.

She’s an artist and a warrior rolled into one magnificent package. She can destroy and create at the same time. Whatever she does, whatever she touches, it somehow winds up being beautiful. I must discover the source of this power! I must discover Éclair’s essence!

Leon meant no harm to Éclair with his need to understand her power. This was a sort of obsession of his that had been instilled in him since childhood. For the Lurranna family, obtaining and understanding power was everything. Essentially, the more one learned, the more power became available.

With the art of Elemency, with so many different shades and varying techniques that could be used in battle, the possibilities were limitless. So, since coming into Chissler’s employ, and later the Ministry of Fire, Leon had made it a point to understand every ability he encountered. He learned anything he could from wherever he could: Elementals, aliens, even advanced technologies were not beyond his grasp.

But Éclair was different. Éclair was a pure, unadulterated representation of grace and strength in perfect harmony with one another ... a true diamond in the rut. More than that, Leon felt a kinship to Éclair somehow, more so than he did for anybody else in the entire Ministry. Although Leon was not entirely sure what that meant of his overall feelings for her, he was determined to find out; after all, curiosity had always been his greatest virtue.

“You’re doing very well,” said Leon, attempting to console Éclair in her moment of defeat. “You’re making better progress than I would have thought possible. Just a little more time running over the basics, and I think we’ll be ready to move on to-”

“I’m not going to make it, am I?” said Éclair suddenly, turning away from Leon.

Leon was momentarily caught off guard. When it came to matters of Elemency, of power, the young Lurranna knew all the ins and outs. But when it came to the subtle matter of emotion, he found himself greatly lacking. “What do you mean?”

Éclair folded her hands together and sighed loudly. “I mean I’m not bloody good enough. I know about the exams. I know that this is not just a time for me to prove myself, but for you as well; to put you in a leadership role. That’s part of the reason that the Seconds are participating, isn’t it? To gain credit for the Third Level Exam. You’re probably thinking you should’ve chosen a different partner, because now that you’re stuck with me, it’ll be that much more difficult for you to make it to the Third Level.”

Éclair seemed to be displaying a level of vulnerability that Leon had rarely seen in her before. Such things often had an inverse effect on him ... emotional displays threw him off his game, made him unable to cope. If I can get her to understand the true essence of her power, maybe it will bolster her confidence in herself.

Trying to quell his own rising panic - and at the same time, being very careful not to show it - Leon made a circular gesture with his finger. “Take a look around this room. What do you see?”

Éclair’s head swiveled briefly as she scanned the room. “All I see is bloody ice all over the place, evidence of my futile attacks, and not a single one of the buggers managed to come close to hitting you.”

“That’s not what I see,” said Leon, raising his hand and pointing at a particularly lovely trail of ice with glacial structures that extended from the ground in aesthetically pleasing patterns. “Look at the design and complexity of this structure here. I have seen ice artists try for hours and never come close to achieving the level of beauty in this construct ... and all that done in the heat of battle no less.”

Then Leon raised his hands and caught a single snowflake in his palm, his mind quickly racing for inspirational methods to embolden his student. “And look at this here. This snowflake has patterns that I’ve never seen before. Patterns that almost look like writing. And what’s more, it’s just about the largest snowflake I’ve ever seen, and yet it is stable against the heat of my palm. This is a sign that you have mastered your element superbly, perhaps even equal to Level Three power of mastery.”

Éclair glanced at the snowflake before turning away. “I suppose that it looks lovely, but that’s all it’s good for. In the end, that’s all I’m good for ... looking pretty. When it comes down to it, I’ll choke, I just know it. Sure, I did good against a bunch of mercenaries, but any Elemental novice could take on those scum. What’s more, I know for a fact that there are far more dangerous things out there. Things like...”

Éclair drew in a deep breath, and Leon realized in horror that she was near tears. “I promised him, I promised him that I would complete my training so that he could come back. That’s what he told me ... that if I completed my training as an Elemental, he could come back to me, and together we would ... we would...”

“Wait a minute,” said Leon in bewilderment. “Who? Who told you this?”

Éclair gasped as if she had been stripped down naked. Regaining her composure at least, she said in a sad, quiet voice, “No one. No one important.”

Leon had already made a mental checklist as to who Éclair could be referring to, but decided not to voice these suspicions. Doing so would bring to light too many details on his own past that he was not ready to share with Éclair. Details that perhaps he would never be ready to share.

Deciding not to press the matter any further on this mystery man from Éclair’s past, Leon chose instead to redouble his efforts into raising Éclair out of her temporary emotional crisis. “Very well. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Éclair looked at Leon in wonder as if she expected him to debate the matter with her. “Really? You don’t mind?”

“We all have our secrets, Éclair,” reassured Leon. And mine are darker than you can ever imagine.

“Besides,” he continued. “I was only trying to encourage you. If getting stronger is that important to you, then I just want you to know that you’ve come much farther than you think you have.”

Éclair scoffed. “Don’t patronize me, Lurranna.”

“I never patronize, not when it comes to issues of power,” replied Leon, perhaps too sternly. “You have real talent, Éclair. One that can be honed to perfection in no time. The aesthetic qualities of your ice constructs are impressive enough alone. With a little fine-tuning on my part, these skills of yours can be sharpened to their full, lethal potential, making you a prime candidate for success in this little exam of theirs.”

Éclair’s mood finally seemed to brighten as she gave a glimpse of that beautiful smile Leon craved. “Can you really mean that?”

“I mean every word I ever say.” Then Leon allowed himself a smile. Whether his smile conveyed affection or insatiability, he did not know. He did not know which of the two emotions were predominate within him in regard to Éclair Hamashe.

Ryan was not in the best of moods as he sat in the training arena that had been built high atop in the trees. The large, coliseum-styled arena was suspended with four strong wires that allowed it to hang between the trees high atop the grounds of the Ministry of fire. The seats were made of wood and the arena itself was covered in gray dirt, perhaps to add a more gladiatorial feel to the place.

The visage was beautiful, literally hundreds of feet above the ground, but Ryan hardly noticed. He hardly even noticed Torsha as she started yammering on about some training nonsense. It could have been Ryan’s over-familiarity to the place that contributed to his boredom, but even if the scenery was different, he doubted he’d be very interested in his surroundings at the moment.

It was the same arena he had fought Grafael in, the same place he had encountered Hamma Steel, the dangerous Mystic assassin. Overall, not a place possessing the most pleasant of memories for Ryan. But that was not why Ryan felt so melancholy. It wasn’t that Torsha was annoying the heck out of him with her training antics. It wasn’t even the fact that he had become the laughingstock of the Ministry.

Ryan was in a bad mood because at this very moment, Éclair was training with Leon, and the jerk was probably having the time of his life while doing it. I bet his making the moves on her even as I speak! Or think ... I guess. That guy! If he wasn’t my roommate, I swear I’d kill him! Actually, the very fact that he is my roommate may be enough reason to go ahead and kill him.

Ryan tried all the therapeutic techniques he could think of on himself. He tried to tell himself that Éclair and Leon would most likely be more interested in training, not flirting. He told himself over and over that he had more important things to worry about than the romantic endeavors of his two best friends. He even attempted to console himself with the fact that Éclair was never his girlfriend in the first place, so there was no reason to get so upset.

But that almost makes it worse! Éclair never even considered me a romantic possibility. She looks at me and all she sees is a little boy. I can see it in her eyes. But she looks at Leon, she sees a man. She won’t even acknowledge that it was me who did most of the rescuing last time!

Without warning, the raucous noise of a loud canine bark vibrated within his ear canal. Ryan turned to Torsha in annoyance before saying, “What the hell?!”

“You seemed to be in ‘la, la’ land. You should pay attention when a girl is speaking,” replied Torsha as she leaned a little too close for comfort.

“Werewolves don’t know what personal space is, do they?”

“Oh, we know. We’re just not self-conscious like other races.”

Torsha leaned even closer, forcing Ryan to take a step back. “I can see that.”

Torsha finally disengaged herself from Ryan and took a few paces back before saying, “Alright. I’ve heard you’ve done a little bit of training in hand-to-hand combat with Grafael. However, this will be of little use since most of your opponents will be armed. I think it’s best if we focus on your dueling for now and work our way from there.”