After Anna left, Conor sealed himself in his room. "Celia. Any advice you care to share."
'Don't feel like you are going mad anymore by talking to me?'
"Well, I may be mad, but you seem to still offer solid advice, even if I am talking to myself."
A low guttural chuckle greeted him, 'What is it you wish to know, young Dovari?'
"First off, do you know who those men were or why they would attack me?"
'Specifically them? No. The Dragoons, if that is who they belong to should be the honorable warriors from the temple of Abrasax. Abrasax would have little reason to attack you... unless he or his young Prima feel that you are not worthy to bear my talisman. Though Abrasax should know better than to question me on that."
"You know this Abrasax?"
'Young Dovari, you are just a fledgling. We are old. Of course, we know each other. Before we were reduced to these soul stones over a thousand years ago, we flew the skies together.'
"Would revealing you change their loyalty?"
'Perhaps. For the more faithful, the true Shavot would kneel before the bearer. But I fear these may not be the loyal Dovari Dragoons of old. Their very souls felt... tainted.'
"Tainted?"
'I told you, burn bright. I meant that figuratively and I meant it in a spiritual sense. Bright as in a bright soul who could pour out compassion on those around you and provide a beacon of hope... you turned my burn bright a bit literal with that pretty maiden you took to bed... not that I was opposed but...' another guttural chuckle sounded, 'I suppose it may have been the spark you needed to reignite that dying flame of yours.'
Conor flushed at the memory of Monday night... and this morning... and hopefully tonight... "Any suggestions moving forward?"
'Well, she might prefer you try-"
"To deal with the Dragoons! Gah, Celia!"
'Oh, right, well. I suppose we have been lax in training you. Your mother always hoped you would be able to avoid such a life.'
"What would training involve?"
'Your Mr.Nuri will need to reoutfit your room but we will be able to do much through our mental connection to start honing your skills. It will take time, but even the Dragoons are not a match for a dragon trained Dovari Kendov.'
"When do we begin?"
'NOW'
Conor sat on the floor and fell into a trance, his mind-melding with Celia. His world shifted and he found himself at the temple of Celia, staring into a mirror. However, the face looking back at him was not his own, but his mother's. In the reflection, her long brown hair was tied into intricate braids that fell down her back. When Conor had last seen his mother, she had been in her early forties. Now, she appeared as a gangly teen, a small tear forming on her cheek.
"Rania! Again!" snapped a male voice from behind.
"Must we, Eli?"
The man bowed, then dropped to one knee. He appeared to be about ten years older than Rania, perhaps in his late twenties. He was clearly a warrior from his muscular build and the staff he bore. "My lady, we must train you in the ways of the Dovari Kendov. With you as our head, many will try to attack you."
"Isn't that why I have you, Eli? My valiant guardian?"
"My lady, for now, I have the honor of being by your side, however, I may not always be able to stand guard for you. My services have already been requested by the crown for the war in Serret. In time, others who are younger and more able will take my place. For now, we must train you so that no matter who is guarding your door, you can guard yourself as well. Now, AGAIN." He stood and took a fighting stance.
Rania frowned at him but took up her short, wooded practice dagger. Around and around they went, drilling counter-attack, perry, and dodge. The moves were basic but done at speed and with such precision that they would be unmatched by even some of the best-trained soldiers. Rania was under no illusion that she could go into battle with these skills, but they might just keep her alive long enough to escape or for additional defenders to arrive.
Conor spluttered back to reality. "What the hell was that?"
'Try the moves' came the guttural voice of command.
"I have never even been in a street fight unless you consider getting my guts pulverized"
'Try.'
Conor grabbed a letter opener off the small desk in front of the computer screens and faced the window. He slowly worked through the moves he had seen his mother practice.
'Prepare yourself'
"For what?" but as the words left his lips, his room transformed, and his vision saw attackers all around him. He swiped at fantom assassins, the visions evaporating like the wind. Then he felt one connect with his make-shift blade. This one felt real! He flowed into the moves and the attacker followed suit, matching his motions, faster and faster.
"Conor?" came a horrified gasp from the hall. Anna stood there with a bag of food, staring at Conor and the tattered curtain as he stood there, shredding the fabric with his blade.
"Umm.." The visions had dropped and he was back in reality. He could tell that he had in fact learned the skills Celia had shown him, but he would need real practice space if she was going to do that to him again.
"Did the curtain offend you that much?" Anna calmed as she saw sanity return to his face but couldn't help letting out a chuckle at his embarrassed distress.
"I umm, Right. I think I am going to need some training equipment so I don't destroy the room in the future."
"If you were going to be that destructive, you should at least have the courtesy of letting me be the cause," she smirked at him, her tone laced with lustful intensity.
Conor gulped. To hell with it. Nuri could hire a crew to redecorate and refurnish the room tomorrow.
The letter opener was dropped and he scooped Anna up. She let out a squeak and giggled at his enthusiasm and he set her on the bed.
"Well all right then!"