He winced inwardly as he poured bucket after bucket of the turbid brown water into the barrels, filling them to the brim. Shalkan was standing behind him the entire time, watching in an eloquent disapproving silence. When the barrels were full, he minced forward, and lowered his horn into each in turn.
As the tip of Shalkan's horn touched the surface of the water, there was a blue shimmer, and the water went from brackish brown to crystal clear, as pure as the unicorn spring itself.
The touch of a unicorn's horn not only destroyed all baneful magic, but could purify water—and any other harmful substance as well. In the City, Kellen had been taught that a cup made from a unicorn's horn would allow its owner to drink even poison safely, a little nugget of information he didn't think he was going to share with his friend anytime soon. In fact, the very thought made him sick now. Who could be so vile as to kill a unicorn? Even despoiling one found dead of its horn seemed obscene.
'Thanks,' Kellen said.
'I have to drink it, too,' Shalkan pointed out inarguably.
By now it was fully light, and time to put his armor on and go to work. It was only as Kellen was settling his helmet into place that he realized he ought to be sore today… and wasn't. The allheal had done its work. He felt fine.
He hoped he'd be able to say the same thing once the lesson was done.
BY now the novelty of wearing armor and swinging a sword was past, and he could concentrate fully on the work of learning what Jermayan had to teach him. As a Knight-Mage, a lot of his abilities came from his connection to the Wild Magic, but instincts and innate abilities wouldn't build muscles and hone skills. What Kellen really needed to sharpen his Knight-Mage skills was practice, lots of it, and Jermayan seemed to be prepared to give him an infinite amount. This morning, to Kellen's surprise, they even spent a few moments on extremely simple drills: how to stand, how to hold his sword, how to advance, the basic forms of attack and defense and their names.
'As a Knight-Mage, your body knows these things already, but your mind does not. Therefore, I will tell them to you: once. Try to remember what your body already knows, so that you do not get in your own way,' Jermayan said dismissively.
Though the Elven Knight was ruthless in his training, never letting Kellen get away with anything, and his corrections were always swift and painful, Kellen found that he did not resent his new teacher in the slightest. For the first time in his life, Kellen knew that his instructor not only had his own good at heart, with no other agenda in mind (other than keeping him alive), but that he could master what he was being taught, if he worked hard. And— also for the first time in his life—it was something that Kellen actually wanted to learn. He applied himself to Jermayan's lessons wholeheartedly, with a passion that would have surprised all of his previous instructors, Idalia included.
At first, these simple things seemed useless, as useless as tracing and retracing the glyphs of High Magick. But then, as Kellen went through the patterns for the third and fourth times, something clicked in his mind.
Because on the third and fourth time—he did them correctly. Absolutely correctly. And his body recognized that fact.
What was more, with the recognition came another realization; there was a good reason for insisting on perfection in these fighting moves. A perfected movement went as far as it was possible to go in eliminating strain, minimizing the risk of damage, making the most efficient use of strength and energy. Which, of course, was why it felt right. This was fighting; obviously he could not completely eliminate injury and damage, and when he actually fought, he probably wouldn't be able to do those perfect moves because his enemy wouldn't give him the proper setup. But the more Kellen drilled, the more doing it the right way became habit and muscle-memory.
This wasn't mindless repetition for the sake of humiliating the student; it was mindful repetition to make the movements second-nature, so that he would never have to think about them. Because thinking took time, and in a fight, as Kellen very well knew, there never was any time.
Which must be the explanation for that passage of The Book of Moon.
And maybe it went a long way toward explaining why he and Shalkan had been able to fight their way free of the Outlaw Hunt. Because at some point, he hadn't been thinking at all, only letting his body act.
Exactly what The Book of Moon said…
'VERY nice,' Jermayan said, an hour later, as Kellen stood, winded and panting, in the center of the teaching circle. What mind and heart knew, muscles were being forced to learn—and fast. Kellen was ruefully coming to accept that while the muscles that came from a season of chopping wood and hauling water might be a good foundation for becoming a Knight-Mage, they were only a foundation. Swordplay used those same muscles in an entirely different fashion!
'I accept that under most circumstances you will probably not be hit by one swordsman, should only one swordsman attack you. And unfortunately one swordsman is all I have available to teach you with. We will therefore proceed to other matters. Can you hit me, Knight-Mage?' Jermayan asked.
Kellen wasn't sure himself. The spell-sight showed him where Jermayan was going to strike, but that meant it was only being used reactively. If he attacked, wouldn't that mean Jermayan would have as much opportunity to
