Ellida Page 5

  “But when we have children?” I said, trying to imagine that future. Husband, children, my own family.

  “We’ll leave them with their grandparents, great-grandparents, uncles and aunts. Even with Ingmar. I’ll teach them how to drive him crazy. And, of course, with Liv and Tristan. Can you imagine better babysitters than the Blakes?”

  I laughed. “Hardly.”

  Jack tucked the blanket around me. “Off I go now. Take a good shower before you go down.” He lowered his head and kissed me. “Wait for me, baby. I’ll be back before you start missing me.”

  “I have no plans to go anywhere,” I whispered on his mouth, stealing one more kiss.

  In a few long strides, Jack crossed the room and jumped through the window. I hugged the pillow and closed my eyes. I could pick up traces of his scent trapped in the fabric.

  I fell into a light morning sleep mingled with vivid memories of our night.

  Six

  Astrid

  A LOT of people passed through the house in the next couple of days to greet Morgaine and to see me. A formal dinner was planned for Saturday and a big outdoor party for the entire town later in spring.

  My training started on Monday, six o’clock sharp. Takeshi waited for me with a bundle in his hands. He was dressed in a black long-sleeved shirt and black cotton pants.

  “Change into this, please,” he said and threw me the clothes.

  It was the same garment he wore. We were almost the same height and size and his clothes fit me perfectly.

  We had one of the big ground level rooms at our disposal. The furniture and carpets had been removed the night before.

  Takeshi started with a short introduction to Japanese martial arts. “Budō, the way of war, and bujitsu, the science of war are the essential terms—”

  “Like theory and practice?”

  “If you have to simplify it, then yes, Astrid. As you know, martial arts aren’t a recreational physical activity; it’s a way of life that constantly improves your physical, spiritual, intellectual, and moral dimensions.” He stopped for a moment, clearing his throat. “Unfortunately, our time is limited, so in spite of my resentment towards this ankle-deep kind of training, I’ll give you some basic fighting techniques. I hope that you’ll catch the spiritual dimension down the road. You’re probably the only person who I would agree to train this way. But I understand you have to have alternative ways to defend yourself. I just need you to know that I’m not happy doing this.”

  So far, that was the longest speech that I’d heard from this quiet, serious young man. All my previous attempts to start a conversation with him had resulted in one-syllable answers.

  “Why’s it so important that I go through this?” I said.

  “Mother will talk to you about that.”

  We started with some basic aikido: lots of striking, throwing and joint locking. “I’ll show you a different way to use the energy you already possess,” Takeshi said. “This technique requires very little physical strength, but significant mental abilities, so you should be fine. The goal is to predict the motion of the opponent and neutralize the attack, before it even occurs rather than waste energy fighting it.”

  “In other words, I have to learn to think like my opponent?”

  “You unnecessarily simplify things, Astrid. Maybe feel, or breathe like your opponent would better describe the notion. Use your natural energy flow, but not more than that. No wizard tricks, please.”

  The first day was a disaster. I simply couldn’t grasp what Takeshi wanted from me. I could not please him, and he would ask me to endlessly repeat a single movement.

  By the end of the session, I was tired and frustrated, but determined to work even harder to make some sense of it.

  “Same time tomorrow,” was all Takeshi said.

  MY FIRST session with Morgaine was immeasurably more pleasant. We sat in the family room and talked. She asked me about my childhood, my studies, my job, my wolf and her behavior. Lots of small things she found important. Then I asked questions and she answered them.

  “Why do I need to be trained in human combat disciplines?”

  “There’re certain circumstances when you can’t use your wizard skills or change shape and use your werewolf powers,” she said. “In pregnancy, for example. Any excessive use of energy may harm the fetus. Shape-shifting is out of the question after the first trimester. Usually, our vulnerability during pregnancy isn’t a big deal because we’re protected by our partners, our families and the entire clan. Seth might just wait for you to get pregnant to try something stupid again. It would be wise to know some alternative defense techniques.”

  “Oh, I see.” Now everything made sense. That was the reason why Takeshi had reluctantly agreed to train me in “martial arts for dummies”.

  “I knew your mother, Astrid, and I liked her a lot,” Morgaine said out of the blue, locking her sage-green eyes with mine. “I’m her godmother; I chose her name.” She smiled. “I named her after Sir Walter Scott’s heroine.”

  “Lady Rowena from Ivanhoe,” I said quietly.

  “Rowena means fair in Welsh, and happiness in Old German. Your mother was born with a tuft of light hair, but she grew up into a dark-haired girl. She was beautiful. A bit wild, spoiled, temperamental, but a good kid. Astrid, whatever they say about her here, you must never believe she was a bad person. And you’re the proof. There’s still plenty of animosity toward her here, but that’s because nobody knows her well.”

  “It’s easy to blame her. She can’t defend herself.”

  “It’s interesting that Betty and Jack are far more tolerant when it comes to your mother. Your uncle’s stubborn with his prejudices, but he’ll come around. You’ll soften him. Remember, your mother is among the few people who know exactly what happened twenty five years ago and why. She’ll tell us soon, I hope.”

  I swallowed hard. “How soon? When am I going to see her?”

  “Astrid, sooner or later this little business with Seth is going to be over. I know Rowena never wanted anybody dead, especially not her husband or Brian. She’s a wizard, a protector of life. Keep that in mind. This being said, tell me now about your transformations.”

  I answered Morgaine’s questions, but my thoughts kept dwelling on her remarks about my mother. In the last several weeks, I’d heard something similar from Jack and Betty. And after my last change, while we were in the cabin, I’d heard Livia hissing at Tristan that my mother was innocent and anybody who still didn’t see that was a bloody blockhead.

  THE NEXT day Takeshi showed up with two wooden swords. “We’ll alternate aikido and kenjutsu for a while,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes. “Great. By tomorrow, I’ll forget whatever aikido you taught me yesterday, and then we’ll have to start from scratch.”

  “We’ll keep trying it for a couple more days, but in spite of your admirable mental and spiritual capabilities, you might not be able to learn aikido. And I think I know why.”

  I patiently waited to hear the explanation.

  “As I mentioned,” my teacher said, “you have to blend with the motion of your opponent, feel like him, become him. By your nature, however, you’re a defender, not an attacker, so you cannot feel like one. Make sense?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think it would. Never mind. Kenjutsu might work better for you, I think. Later we’ll also include kyudu, the art of the bow, in your training.”

  This time I just shrugged. “Whatever.”

  To my delight, kenjutsu was a lot more fun. I liked the feeling of the wooden handle in my hands. It fitted there naturally and I apparently grasped it correctly the moment Takeshi gave me the sword because he nodded briefly upon seeing it. Time flew that morning, and when we finished, I caught myself waiting for Thursday and my next lesson.

  Except when he gave me instructions, my teacher remained tongue-tied. In the next couple of days, I made a few more attempts to talk to him, with no success. After our lessons he would
usually stay in the training room.

  My easy-going cousin wasn’t any more successful. Takeshi politely ignored Eamon’s various attempts to improve his social life.

  Takeshi wasn’t completely absorbed in his martial arts world. He spent evenings in the well-supplied Mohegan library reading. He was fluent in several languages. When I finally managed to engage him in short conversations, he demonstrated a solid knowledge of various subjects and plenty of cool, logical reasoning. No wonder—his mother was half-wizard.

  Being of mixed heritage not unlike my own, I would have expected him to be more open and warm, not so emotionally controlled. Or maybe he was just still too young or he’d been spending too much time with his swords and bows. He didn’t strike me as an unhappy person, or a loner, but rather as a man who chose his company very carefully.

  JACK PHONED every night around midnight, and that was always the happiest part of my day. His voice filled me with joy and lightness. It would stay in my mind and linger in my dreams.

  Liv and Tristan called often. It seemed that the Blakes and Ingmar had been rapidly developing a friendship. Liv and Tristan decided to move back to Seattle by the end of the month. Now Ingmar was spending a part of his vacation with them in Rosenthal.

  “We miss you so much that we decided to adopt another wizard,” Liv said, laughing, when she’d phoned a few nights ago. “I’m currently working on Ingmar’s sense of humor.”

  “Oh, come on, Liv, nothing’s wrong with Ingmar’s sense of humor. There might not be barrels of it, but at least it’s authentic.”

  “You’re walking on very thin ice, Astrid,” I heard Ingmar from the background.

  “You should see my teacher, Liv. Compared to him, Ingmar’s a stand-up comedian.”

  Liv giggled. ”How’s it going with Young Master Nakamura?”

  “Well, nobody’s going to offer me a role in next Jackie Chan’s movie, but I’m doing my best, which is far from making Takeshi happy.”

  “And how’s Red Cliffs treating you?” Tristan said.

  “I bumped into Jack’s ex-girlfriend, my cousin wants me to sing in a local pub and my uncle thinks it’s a great idea. A six-year old local genius caught me with my eyes brown. My wolf wants to join the party. Never a dull moment here! Tristan, I’ll need a job soon.”

  “Aren’t you too busy now to work?”

  “That won’t be a problem. Maybe in the ER, a couple of nights a week. The thing is, Tristan, I studied human medicine. I don’t know anything about werewolf physiology and pathology.”

  “They’ll give you some training, but their physiology is almost identical to humans’ and wizards’. As for pathology, well, they are immortal. They don’t suffer from physical illnesses. They can have the same mental issues as humans. You’re not a psychiatrist, so don’t worry about it. Adults usually don’t need much medical care. They can get injured, break a bone, cut a finger with a knife, things like that. You’ll see small injuries as well as serious injuries, but not often. Their appendix can get inflamed, for example, even though it can’t kill them if it bursts. But it’s painful, nonetheless, and has to be removed. Werewolf children are very similar to human children, and prone to the same illnesses, although they’re tougher. I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Princess.”

  EAMON HAD his own agenda with me. He’d stopped openly pressing me to start singing with the band, choosing rather a more subtle approach.

  In the evening we would go to his studio in the basement, a good-sized room with formidable soundproofing and solid equipment. It was divided into two parts: a studio and a smaller control room.

  “Jack helped me to buy this,” he said to me one day, proudly waving toward the smaller glass space with a mixing console, multitrack recorder, microphones, monitors and keyboards.

  “You are the frontman of Rawhide, right? And you compose songs?” I asked, looking around the studio.

  “Most of them. We play and record our demos here. We don’t have big ambitions, we simply like playing some very noisy and raw rock’n’roll,” he said, unconcerned about his band’s lack of fame. He looked straight into my eyes. “But trust me, nobody wants to listen to that on Friday nights at Goblin’s Hollow.”

  Ah, there we were.

  I’d expected him to pursue that line of conversation, but my cunning young cousin knew better than that. He’d asked me if I wanted to listen to some instrumental music he’d composed and towed me towards the stereo-equipment.

  “I’m fascinated with ethnic music,” he’d said. “Recently I experimented with different ethno-sounds. I tried to combine them into something universal. Wanna hear?”

  It was a completely unexpected yet harmonious mixture with the heavy, complex 7/8 and 9/16 rhythms of South Balkan drums and wind instruments, combined with lighter Celtic threads.

  I was truly impressed. “Wow! That’s fantastic!”

  Eamon’s passion for composing was similar to mine for singing, and after a few evenings in his studio, I started giving his offer some serious thought.

  Seven

  Astrid

  BETWEEN MORNINGS with Takeshi, never happy with my progress, and evenings in Eamon’s little music kingdom, I was looking forward to spending some time in women’s company, with Morgaine and Betty, in our favorite place—the kitchen.

  The Mohegans didn’t have domestic help, so Betty, Morgaine and I would prepare dinner. Takeshi and Eamon would often join us. We didn’t bother with setting the table in the dining room, preferring to eat in the kitchen. Meals were an informal, relaxing time. After a few days, even Takeshi wasn’t in a hurry to go back to the library anymore. He’d loosened up noticeably, taking part in our little conversations and showing a healthy measure of dry humor.

  I wasn’t surprised then when he accepted Eamon’s next offer to join us in his studio.

  UNFORTUNATELY, TAKESHI’S sudden thawing wasn’t reflected in his teaching attitude. He continued talking very little and most of the time looked displeased with my progress.

  “This isn’t going to work, Astrid. This is not aikido, and that’s why it’s not working,” he said one morning. “I’ll simply teach you to fight, without any philosophy behind it.”

  “You’ll teach me how to fight dirty, in other words.”

  “Well, yes. One day, if you really want to study martial arts, we can do that properly.”

  To our mutual relief, this approach proved to be more successful. I started developing some potentially useful skills, and Takeshi stopped wrestling with his guilty conscience.

  He’d also admitted that I was not totally hopeless with a sword. “You seem to have a connection with it. The primary goal is victory over your opponent, and you have the spirit of a warrior, so let’s take advantage of that.”

  “You said I was a defender. You’re teaching me how to fight dirty. Doesn’t sound like a noble warrior.”

  “I was talking about the spiritual level. I said you were not an attacker, I didn’t say you’re not a warrior. Besides, defenders, Astrid, they are the greatest warriors of all, no matter their fighting technique.”

  I’d glanced at my teacher to see if he was joking with me, but he looked dead-serious.

  “LET’S GO outside, Astrid” Morgaine said one afternoon after lunch. “I want you to show me your skills.”

  We stopped outside of town, at the small semicircular clearing at the beginning of an ancient forest, which thickened toward the Great Orme.

  “That’ll do,” Morgaine said, and then cast a spell to make us invisible to accidental passersby.

  For the next few hours, I spontaneously combusted several times, turned into different animals, threw energy bolts and levitated fallen branches. I made a tiny blizzard using the snow that lay around in abundance and moved the tops of the trees producing a howling, stormy wind. And I didn’t break a sweat.

  Morgaine just nodded after each of my actions.

  “Now, let’s see how you fight,” she said and started casting spells. She
would fire blue-green light balls, and I would bring them down. She would make the wind, and I would stop it. She raised the snow from the ground and shaped it into a ferocious mini-twister, and I bent it into a sparkling rainbow.

  As the rainbow disappeared into a pot of gold that I created at its end, Ellida Morgaine’s soft laugh filled the air. “Oh, I liked that very much, Astrid. I like the way you perceive things. Wonderful!”

  I let out a deep sigh.

  “I’m a bit confused, though,” she added. “Everybody insists your skills are undeveloped. From what I see, there isn’t too much to improve. I heard that you could easily cast even the Fire Spell. And I know you didn’t have much chance to practice.”

  “I rarely used any of my skills, although it looks like they’ve been spontaneously improving since I started with the changes.”

  “That makes sense. That’s another proof you are an Ellida. Now try this.” She pulled out a three-inch nail from her pocket.

  “What would you like me to do with it?”

  “Whatever you can.”

  I took it and bent it with my fingers. I tied it in a bow. It snapped in the middle and then I forged the two broken pieces together, making a mental note to fix little Graeme’s truck at the earliest opportunity.

  She took the nail from my hands and threw it on the snow. “Pick it up, but don’t levitate it. Use your energy to draw it, like a magnet.”

  I couldn’t do it. I could make it float, hop and dance toward my hand, but I couldn’t drag it to my hand.

  “Okay, you should work on that. Your grandpa will teach you. And Takeshi. He told me you’re quite good with wooden swords. We’ll see how you’d do with a katana. In any case, there isn’t a lot you can learn from me. We can polish some of your skills, but that’s it.”