Tales of the Misplaced - Books 1-4

Chapter 9-2

“Not right now,” she said. “I’m just glad to get a break. How did your class go?”

I shrugged. “I’m told I did well. Especially for a human.”

She looked at me. “Could you elaborate?”

“I was able to do everything with the amulet, but without it, I was only able to see the Ralahin sometimes in flashes.”

Ralahin “You were able to see it without the amulet on your first day of trying?”

“Yes, but only sometimes, and not for long.”

She looked annoyed. “That’s very fast. It does happen a lot, but most commonly, it takes days or weeks to get that far. Being human has nothing to do with it.”

“The hardest part is that when I wasn’t touching the amulet, I couldn’t understand what anyone was saying.”

“Right! I hadn’t thought of that.” She thought for a moment. “You’re going to need a class on that, too. You’ll have martial training in the afternoons, so I can probably arrange a tutor for the evenings.”

I looked at her. “That sounds like quite an intense schedule you’re setting up for me.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be bored,” she grinned.

After I finished eating, Neelu led me down another set of corridors and we ended up in a large room. I could see Ulané Jhinura sparring in pairs or moving through choreographed motions, either alone or in groups. She led me to a wide-shouldered man with a dark beard and long chestnut hair pulled back into a ponytail. He saw us coming and flashed his teal eyes at Neelu with a grin.

Ulané Jhinura “You’ve been away too long,” he said to her. “I was beginning to think you were afraid of a rematch.”

“Hardly,” she smirked. “Veron, this is⁠—”

“Mira, yes?” He nodded at me.

“Yes,” I was surprised. “How did you know?”

“Word travels fast,” he chuckled. “Let’s see,” he scratched his chin, pretending to think. “Magic in the morning. I suppose you are here for bo-ka-bo training, yes?”

bo-ka-boI looked to Neelu, not sure what he was talking about.

“Yes,” she answered. “Too bad you can’t anticipate my strikes as easily as other things.”

“I can anticipate your strikes just fine,” he said. “But I’m happy to put it to the test.”

“I wish I had the time,” she sighed. “Veron, I don’t know how much time we have before we have to leave. Probably only weeks, at most. I’d like her to be as ready to defend herself as possible in that time.”

“I see.” He looked me over. “That’s quite a challenge for anyone. Do you have any experience in any form of martial art?”

“No.” I shook my head, watching the others going through their motions. “But I did spend a few years studying dance, and I’ve always been fairly athletic. Maybe that will help?”

“Yes, that will definitely help.” He turned to Neelu. “Unless you’re planning on that rematch, we’re good here.”

Neelu arched an eyebrow at him. “If I had more time, I would teach you more respect.”

“Another day then,” he grinned. “I look forward to the lesson.”

“Despite his loose tongue,” Neelu said to me, “he’s actually quite good at his job. You’re in good hands. I’ll see you for dinner.”

With that, she turned and left.

“This way,” Veron said. He spoke as I walked with him. “Diplomatic advisor, I hear?”

I nodded.

“Very prestigious, especially for one so young. You are young for a human, yes?”

“I’m sixteen,” I told him.

He nodded in response, but it didn’t look like that cleared up his question. I realized I didn’t know how quickly the Ulané Jhinura developed, either.

Ulané Jhinura We reached a table against the wall that had a stack of rolled, light-grey cloth. He grabbed one of the rolls and tossed it to me.

“Unless you want your regular clothes sweaty and stinky, you’ll want to change into a rinti. It will be a little short on you, but it will do just fine.” He pointed to a nearby door. “You can change in there, and there are shelves where you can store your things. When you’ve changed, I want you to go and join that group down there.” He pointed to a group of younger Ulané Jhinura at the end of the room. “Just try to follow along with their motions. I’ll find you once you’ve warmed up.”

rintiUlané Jhinura He turned on his heel and went back to observing the others. The other room had some benches and rows of shelves with cubbies. The rolled cloth turned out to be pants and a top. The pants had no outside seam, but had ties at the waist and ankles—shins for me—so it would wrap and cover the legs. The top also wrapped around my torso and tied snugly into place; the sleeves were a little short as well. There was also a belt I tied around my waist.

I put my Forester gear in an empty cubby and changed into the practice clothes—what he had called a rinti. I noticed there were also showers off to one side, and I could see piles of folded towels. I had a feeling I was going to need that when I was done. I still had my hair scrunchie, so I pulled my hair into a ponytail.

rintiI went to the back of the group Veron had pointed out. They stood on some sort of mat. I mirrored their stance, which had my feet offset and shoulder-length apart. Their knees were only slightly bent, and both feet pointed forward. Their hands were extended forward with open palms, held facing forward about chest height or slightly lower. They practiced moving forward and backward, turning, and single and double palm strikes. As they did the motion, they called out each part in unison.

“Step, step, strike, shift, step, strike, rotate left, block, strike, strike, rotate right, block, rotate right, block, strike, strike.”

Then they would start over facing a new direction. It was sort of like line dancing.

One woman was walking through the group, correcting here and there. I guessed she was an instructor because her rinti was a bright blue instead of light grey. Veron’s had been black.

rinti She came to me and corrected my wrist on my palm strike so the heel of my palm extended a bit more than the rest of my hand. Seeing my pendant, she reached out and held it up.

“It’s not a good idea to practice with this on,” she told me. “The chain will likely break.”

“If I take it off, I won’t be able to understand you. It has a spell. I don’t speak your language.”

“Best to start learning.” With that, she pulled the pendant over my head. She held it up with emphasis, looking at me, then she strode to the wall and hung it from a hook that was part of a weapons case.

She motioned me to join back in with the group. They were still chanting the motions as they went, but without the enchantment from the pendant, it sounded totally different.

“Chun, chun, rijh, ajhtir, chun, rijh, enga, dzom, rijh, rijh, engo, dzom, engo, dzom, rijh, rijh.”

Chun, chun, rijh, ajhtir, chun, rijh, enga, dzom, rijh, rijh, engo, dzom, engo, dzom, rijh, rijhAt least there were a half-dozen words I would know by the time this was over. I probably practiced these same motions for an hour before I noticed Veron speaking with the instructor in low tones. I wondered what they were talking about, but my next rotation put them out of my view.

After a moment, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“Bor,” it was Veron. “Bor,” he said again, making a separating motion with his palms facing down.

BorBor“Bor?” I asked. “You mean stop?”

BorHe just smiled at me and pointed to where my pendant hung from the wall.

I retrieved it. As soon as my hand was in contact with it, the chanting of the students became understandable to me.

I looked at Veron. “I take it that was the word for stop?”

“It was,” he said, still smiling. “You are doing well in beginner level one.” He motioned me to follow him. “Normally, we would leave you there for at least a week, but we need you on an accelerated program.”

He took me to a bag that was hanging from a rope. It reminded me of punching bags I had seen in movies.

“Your level one motions are good,” he said, “but they lack conviction. Take your stance facing the bag.”

I faced the bag and went into the stance I had spent the last hour practicing. He put his hands on my shoulders and moved me closer to put me in position.

“Strike the bag,” he told me.

I was tired, but not as tired as when Neelu was running me through the forest. I struck out with my palm at the bag.

“Face me,” he said.

I turned and he struck me in the center of my chest. The impact was slight and the blow didn’t hurt.

“Do you think you can stop an enemy if you hit them like that?” he asked.

“Um, probably not.” I was confused.

“Then don’t hit like that.”