Chapter 28: The Weight of Power

Ben brushed at beads of sweat on his forehead, his own chest heaving in rough rhythm. His muscles protested at hours of drill, but the thrum that vibrated through him mastered the fatigue. He allowed himself to take it—true mastery. The power wasn't bossing him around now; he was beginning to boss it.

Lilith's turn, her eyes burning silver as hard as she could. "You're improving," she allowed. "But accuracy means nothing if you can't keep your head when things get hairy. Strength is useless if you can't hold it together in an emergency."

Ben's throat closed, knowing where this was leading. "And then what?"

Kieran grinned, stepping closer to him. "We fight. No holds barred."

Ben's heart kept pounding away beside them. They had battled with him before, but this was a different animal. The gravity in their stares told he wasn't going there to make a scene with them again.

They were there to kill him.

Cyrus groaned, stretching forward to turn over and loosen the stiff shoulder. "Don't get all heroeish, golden boy."

They attacked Ben when he stammered.

Kieran was fastest, his sword streaking toward Ben's throat. Ben barely had time to get out of the way, the air whizzing past as the sword missed his nose by inches. He spun and struck his arm in a circle, and a shockwave blasted toward Kieran. But before it could reach him, Lilith stepped forward, blocking the shockwave and sending it back at Ben.

The punch had stunned him, his legs kicking at the dirt as he fought for leverage. A fraction of a second later, Cyrus was upon him, a whirlwind of activity. A fist slammed into his side, driving the air from his lungs.

Ben snarled, acting on reflex. He pushed hard, forcing through to fire a pinpoint blast that stunned Cyrus. He did not have time to finish the movement before Kieran was back, his sword flashing towards him.

Ben acted on reflex—his power flared out, forcing the weapon off the air before it could touch him. He did not let go this time. He played with the power around it, and the weapon flashed back towards Kieran.

Kieran avoided it by a hair's breadth, his eyes going wide with surprise. "Now that's more like it."

Ben's resolve set, Lilith's words echoing in his mind and driving him forward. He allowed himself not so much as an instant's pause. The contained force within him broke out, a vibrant energy that he channeled. He charged ahead, his power in the lead, splitting the air like a bolt of high-tension wire.

Lilith, merciless, rushed at him, her strikes a storm of speed and precision. But something was changed in Ben. He wasn't responding now; he was pre-anticipating. He sensed the slight displacements of air, the faint gradients of pressure that came before she made the move and took it.

He countered her blow face to face, no longer backing away, no longer flinching. He deflected her onslaught with increasing confidence, taking advantage of her force wherever possible with effortless command of experience. He sent her strength back to her, letting her own power strike her, letting her own force drive her backward. A conflict of their powers hung suspended in the air, a battle as silent as death between them.

He was not even defending, counter-attacking, pressuring her back, making her react to what he was doing. He was reeling with joy, a feeling of control never known before. Power within him no longer a raging beast, but a high-performance machine, obeying his every command. He was mastering it, shaping it, bending it to his will.

The shift was tangible, a feeling of solid change in the dynamics of the play of the practice session. Ben was no longer simply responding, absorbing a beating and holding on. He was defending, asserting, and controlling the rhythm of the combat. He was no longer a vessel of passive energy for Lilith but a human being responding, a force to be reckoned with.

"He's turning nasty," Cyrus said, his own face spreading into a wider smile. There was a touch of real admiration in his voice, appreciation of what was before them.

Lilith smiled grimly, a spark of temporary pleasure showing in her face. "Good," she said, a crack of approval creeping into her voice. She did not require a sparring partner; she was creating a tool, and the tool was shaping up.

Ben's chest rose and fell, his body writhing in pain. Every muscle of him ached, every nerve end pulsed with exhaustion. But underlying the exhaustion ran a current of exhilaration. He had held out longer than ever before, not only survived but fought. He battled Lilith's magic, and he held the field.

The exhaustion was a good feeling, evidence of the energy he'd expended. He'd pushed himself harder than he ever imagined he could, and he'd emerged stronger for it. The pain was a reminder of how far he'd come, a physical measure of how far he'd progressed. And despite the fire that tore through his muscles, the weight of exhaustion in his bones, he craved more. He craved challenge, the call to sharpen his skill a little more, to try himself once more. He craved mastery.

Lilith stepped back, bowing her head. "Enough for today."

Ben panted, shoulders tight. He wasn't just learning to work with power.

He was learning to take it.