Bastion

by Kyle West

  I unleashed a flurry of strikes that immediately had Alaric on the back foot. Even so, he recovered quickly, but before he could ready his own counter, I was attacking again. If I let him get one chance at a strike, it was probably the end for me. Even with all my aggression, Alaric was defending adequately. Windform, it seemed, was flexible, and equally suited to both offense and defense. It wasn’t that my form choice was incorrect; it was that Alaric was that much stronger.

  I thought of what Fiona told me. I could throw this fight right now and no one would know the difference. At least then, it would be my choice.

  But something inside me railed against it. I wasn’t going to let Alaric win. I couldn’t let him win. I wanted to prove to myself that I was strong enough to save my parents.

  Alaric switched forms again — back to the aggressive posture he had started with. I stayed in Flame, knowing that as long as I kept up the pressure, Alaric wouldn’t be able to attack. My calculation ended up being wrong, however.

  He battered away my attacks with a grimace, and the force of his counter strokes staggered me. Then, he attacked relentlessly. I didn’t even have time to switch forms. Indeed, my form was breaking.

  And then, to my astonishment, one more hit and my blade was battered right out of my hand, landing uselessly a few feet away.

  Alaric smiled in victory.

  * * *

  Alaric walked forward, simply holding his blade out for the kill. I backed away to the edge of the ring, even as people called and cheered from the sides. Cheering for Alaric to finish me, and cheering for me to keep fighting. I wouldn’t be dead until Alaric’s blade touched me. He looked a little annoyed, and began to move faster.

  I watched my own blade, now a few feet behind him in the dirt. There was no way he was letting me get to it, so I had to think of something else.

  I hadn’t learned much about hand-to-hand combat, though Seeker Garin had devoted a little time to it. It was all about getting your opponent grounded and pinned in cases where you had no access to a weapon. But I had no idea how to fight someone who had a blade while you didn’t, and Alaric was easily over twice my weight. Getting him grounded was laughable and doomed to failure.

  And worse, Alaric wasn’t taking any chances. Anytime I tried to skirt around him, he was there to block me off. He was slowly penning me in, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  I had one chance. I calmed myself, trying to seek an answer in the Silence formed in my mind. There was nothing I could consciously do to get out of this. I had to rely on anything that might be buried beneath…anything Anna herself might know.

  I knew that meant acknowledging that she was, in fact, there. I knew it meant accepting that she was a part of me, and that she could help me in this moment. But even with Alaric staring me down, even with the battle going on in my mind and my pressing need to win, I couldn’t accept that she was a part of me.

  Maybe throwing the fight was the best move after all…and now was as good a time as any.

  Still, I stubbornly refused to give up. I reached deep into my mind, desperate for any chance that Anna might help me out.

  And then, she was here, in this moment. I seemed to be possessed by a power higher than myself, and my muscles and joints moved as if they were someone else’s.

  Alaric, at last tiring of chasing me around and being egged on by the crowd, came straight ahead. Rather than doing a simple cut, he went for a huge attack that was completely unnecessary given how defenseless I was. I could hear the crowd cry out in alarm.

  That attack would only work in my favor.

  The blade came down, and I easily stepped to the side. I stepped forward, punching him right in the jaw. He cried out, even as he stepped back and swung again, this time low, while roaring in fury. I pushed his hands down, hopping over the blade as it came under me. He rammed me with his shoulder, staggering me back, and he swung from the other side. I ducked just in time. It went on like this for a while, him cutting and slicing furiously as I stepped, spun, and redirected his attacks, all of my movements seeming to be a part of a predetermined course. The crowd roared with delight, and Alaric’s face reddened as his attacks became ever more furious while his embarrassment grew.

  I was stepping toward my own blade, patiently, and Alaric could do nothing as I continually dodged his attacks. When he went for another large attack, I stepped out of the way. I took advantage of his imbalance to push him into the dirt with all I had. The giant crashed down, and I guess what they say about being big and falling hard is true. He groaned as he hurried to stand up, giving me more than enough of an opening to grab my sword. It felt so natural in my hand, as if I had been born with it. I noted that my hand was bloody — whether it was Alaric’s blood or mine, I couldn’t say.

  I faced Alaric, who was now standing. He had assumed the conservative Treeform, and I could see that he was flustered and weak. His chest heaved, and ironically, he had exerted himself far more than necessary while I was utterly defenseless. I also knew that when someone was desperate, they were all the more dangerous.

  He scowled, determined to take me down again as he had before. Not even meeting his blade, though, I kept dodging his blows. I knew it was as simple as reaching out with my blade and touching his side.

  So I did.

  Everything went still, and the crowd was struck silent.

  * * *

  Even as the crowd came alive and started cheering, Alaric looked at me, his expression unreadable. He looked down at my blade, still held at his side, and gave a single nod.

  “You fought well,” he said in his deep baritone.

  I nodded, still breathing heavily from exertion.

  “I’ve never seen anyone but Champions use Sightform,” Alaric said. “I’ve been trying to develop it myself. Perhaps you could show me a few things later?”

  I blinked. Sightform. I knew nothing about it, except for Aela mentioning it during our last session. I had no idea what it even was.

  “Sure,” I said.

  He nodded. “You should come practice in the Copse sometime.”

  And then, others were surrounding me.

  “That was amazing!” Isa said.

  “Good job, Shanti,” Aela said. “I don’t know where you learned those moves…”

  She was looking at me strangely, as if I was keeping a secret from her. I supposed in a way, I was.

  “Sightform,” Deanna said. “Even I’m impressed. Maybe what everyone’s said about you is right after all.”

  I frowned. “What have they been saying?”

  “That your connection to the Xenofold is stronger than any initiate in living memory. I thought for sure you’d lose, but I’ll be the first to admit you proved me wrong.”

  I felt a bit dizzy from the victory, and everything felt distant. It hadn’t been me who had won that fight.

  It had been Anna.

  It was hard to be proud of a victory when it hadn’t been you who sealed the deal. I had held my own against Alaric until he disarmed me. Anna had bailed me out, in the end, just as she had with Samal and Nabea.

  I reminded myself that it wasn’t about me or my victory. If Anna was guiding my hand, it meant I was strong enough to return to Colonia and save my parents. They were what mattered, not my vanity.

  Soon, others were surrounding me, congratulating me on my victory. Their faces were jubilant and incredulous. Even the apprentices and some of the Seekers offered me hearty handshakes. I spied Elder Tellor and Seeker Haris speaking in low tones about fifty feet distant, both of them looking toward me.

  I realized then that Fiona had probably been right.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I SPENT THE REST OF the day watching the apprentices, and then the Champions, fight. Aela made it to the finals, but in the end was defeated by Roland from the kitchens. It had been a close, entertaining brawl, with lots of different forms, but Roland eventually wore Aela down and took the victory.

  By now, it was late after
noon, and organizers were preparing for the Seekers’ duels. I made my way across the green to the north side of town, where a range had been set up for archery. I got there just in time to watch Isa make a good showing, though the competition was open to all — initiates, apprentices, Seekers, and even the townsfolk.

  Isa was very skilled, always hitting the target and hitting the center besides. She was the best at her age, only shown up by those who were older and more experienced. Afterward, she and I watched a fast draw competition, where contenders used a short bow and ran through an obstacle course while shooting targets, both moving and immobile. The woodsmen living in the Red Wild had traveled far specifically for this competition, and seeing them in action was amazing.

  We returned to the green just in time for the Seekers’ matches to begin. Competing were Seekers Garin, Amalia, Haris, and even Elder Tellor. Amalia was matched with Tellor, and there was something familiar in the way they fought, as if they had done it many times before. Tellor, after all, had trained Amalia, and knew all of her tricks, and Amalia would have known much of Tellor’s. Watching their fight was fascinating. The chief difference between a Seeker’s fight and an apprentices’ lay not in the actual mechanics of tactics, but the overall strategy. They made shifts of form that seemed nonsensical to me or counterintuitive, but I realized that they were fighting on a level that I couldn’t begin to comprehend, and that they were competing with each other’s minds as much as they were in physicality. Amalia was quicker, even stronger, than the older Tellor, but Tellor had years of experience to back him up, and his forms and sequences were more varied. Amalia struggled against him, and ended up falling when Tellor took a wide stance and was able to maneuver Amalia into an awkward position.

  I realized, among these fights, that a single mistake was enough to send it all crashing down. They fought at such a level that something as minute as being one inch off with your attack would avalanche into a series of disadvantages, culminating in defeat.

  The fights continued into the night, until there were but two left: Seeker Haris, and Elder Tellor. Haris was a surprise. I remember hearing that he was skilled in the blade, but to see him advance to the finals only proved he was among the best of the best, and the fact that he was a Scholar made it all the more impressive. He had a relentless style in line with his personality, while Tellor’s was the opposite — cool, collected, but taking advantage of every mistake, no matter how small.

  This was the main event. It seemed everyone was here, and I was thankful I had chosen a place where I could see the action unimpeded — a problem, I think, that any short person can relate to. Isa watched from beside me. I think everyone among the initiates and apprentices wanted Haris to lose; his ego didn’t need to be fed any more than it already was.

  When they finally did join battle, it was less like a fight and more like a dance. They made dueling look easy. There was no wasted motion, and everyone watched, rapt, as they parried and dodged, each testing the other’s ability. As the battle continued, their eyes grew brighter until there was no doubt that they were glowing.

  “They’re both within the clutches of Battletrance,” Isa said.

  Indeed, the fight took on a new level of intensity. Their motions seemed to blur, too fast for the eye to keep up. By the time I’d registered one attack, they were already into another. The speed at which they were moving seemed inhuman. There couldn’t be any room for thinking in all of that; it was the result of countless hours of practice. It seemed every moment that passed they were into a new form. They often came close to the edge of the ring, but never overstepped its bounds. Even so, the spectators would pull back.

  They seemed to be perfectly matched — Haris making most of the attacks, with Tellor adroitly defending. Even the forms I was used to seeing — such as Tree and Flame — seemed far more artful when executed by either of them. Treeform, which I often thought boring, was instead something beautiful to behold, and its simplicity held intricacies that had escaped my notice before. Haris hardly ever used Tree, opting instead for Wind and another form I was unfamiliar with.

  “Dragonform,” Isa said. “It’s all the forms wrapped in one. Done right, it’s said to be the most powerful. But doing it right is incredibly difficult.”

  It did seem Haris was struggling to maintain the form against Tellor. Something told me that Dragonform was best used against an opponent less skilled than you — the flexibility of being able to use every form would ensure that a sudden gimmick wouldn’t catch you off guard. However, Tellor was Haris’s equal, and he was able to stick with his form and begin poking a hole in Haris’s defenses.

  Sensing this, Haris switched to Treeform, knowing that he was going to have to defend for a while. Tellor took advantage, unleashing a fury of attacks with what I believed to be Waterform — the movements were fluid and efficient, and for the first time, the fight seemed to tip in Tellor’s favor. In time, it was clear why he was the Elder. Haris’s movements became slower and more lethargic while Tellor pressed the attack.

  And Haris simply seemed to crumble, just as darkness spread over the village green.

  * * *

  Everything went quiet as everyone looked up. Much of the sky had been blocked out — and whatever was blocking it out was moving.

  Then, people started screaming.

  “Dragons!”

  And to my astonishment, there were dragons in the sky — at least three, all of which were descending on the green.

  Everyone scattered, although Haris and Tellor immediately faced the threats as the first of the dragons clawed into the mass of helpless, fleeing people.

  And one of them was coming right for Isa and me.

  She pulled at me frantically and we ran through the crowd. I stole a glance over my shoulder to see the dragon still coming for us, as the others terrorized the rest of the crowd.

  Isa screamed, and I knew there was no way we could outrun it. I jumped on her, and we both crashed to the ground. The dragon swooped overhead, its claws just inches above.

  I looked up to see the dragon soaring back into the sky.

  “Mindless,” I said.

  I pulled Isa up, just in time for the dragon to circle around and swoop down again. I pulled Isa toward a large tree, and we hid behind its trunk. The Mindless bellowed, easing up and circling around to get us from the other side. We switched to the other side of the trunk. I looked around, only to see the dragon settling on the ground. It knew it couldn’t catch us from the air.

  “Run!”

  We sprinted down the path. It was pandemonium. Some initiates and apprentices were running up the path toward the Sanctum while villagers crowded into whatever building they could find. Any who were caught in the open were violently mauled. In the space of half a minute, the crowded green had been completely deserted — save for what few, lifeless bodies there were. Some among the dozen or so bodies were still screaming.

  Isa sobbed from beside me. “What do we do?”

  My inclination was to continue running until we reached the Sanctum, but I was afraid of being caught in the open. For the moment, it didn’t look as if the dragons were focusing on the people fleeing in that direction. All the same, something told me that running was a bad idea.

  We needed somewhere to hide.

  “This way!”

  I turned around a house, leaving the dragon behind on the previous path. We had to find a place to hide before it rounded the corner.

  In front of us was the house that Seeker Karai had taken us to. Mara’s house.

  “In here,” I said.

  I tried the door, but it was locked. I knocked madly, glancing over my shoulder for the dragon, which was still out of sight.

  “Please, let us in! It’s Shanti. I was here just a few…”

  The door opened, and we were hastily pulled inside.

  Mara was the one who had grabbed us, and she shut the door and bolted it.

  “Thank you,” I managed.

  I looked aro
und to see that several other people were already there. Besides Mara, there was her daughter, Kilan, who appeared to have recovered, and there were five other people. The man now touching Mara’s arm, brown-haired and well-built, I assumed to be her husband. All looked at me with frightened eyes.

  “Stay away from the door,” Mara said.

  Outside, I could hear the padding of heavy feet and breaths so deep that they couldn’t be anything other than the dragon. The people in the house cowered in the corner, and I grabbed Isa by the arm and backed away from the door. I wished I had something to defend myself with — not that a blade would have been of use against a dragon.

  Isa was still sniffling, holding onto me.

  “Quiet,” I whispered.

  The entire house went silent, and there were no more sounds from outside. We waited for half a minute, and I would have thought the dragon was gone — except I hadn’t heard it walk away from the door.

  There was a sudden snort, so loud that it was a shock. Isa whimpered, and I covered her mouth in case it became anything more than that. I could hear Kilan crying from behind me, and Mara trying to comfort her. I looked back at them, letting them know that not a sound could be made.

  A few seconds later, the dragon’s clawed feet scuttled against the dirt, and I heard the flap of its wings take flight.

  Only then did I allow myself a sigh of relief.

  “We’ll be all right,” I said to Isa. “It doesn’t know we’re here.”

  I could only hope that was true — if the dragon thought we were in here, then it would have tried to attack; of that I was sure. I put an arm around Isa, trying to comfort her. She was younger than me, and even if she had been at the Sanctum longer, I still felt as if she was my little sister. One of us had to be strong, even if all I wanted to do was cower.