by Kyle West
It didn’t take long. Samal was panting from exertion, his movements slowing. Even as I defended, I found windows to make cuts of my own. This was the true beauty of Treeform — taking those tiny hits and nicks that threw your opponent of balance, forcing them to defend. Murmurs broke out in the crowd; anyone who was at all familiar with how dueling worked had seen this pattern happen countless times, and any time a fight reached this point, the Treeform combatant usually emerged as the victor.
When Samal began backing away, I knew it was only a matter of time — all the same, I wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating him. I walked forward, taking control of the space. Just a few more steps and Samal would be on the ropes. I readied myself for whatever last gambit he had.
But what he did was far from expected. He charged forward, using a sequence I had never seen. His front was left completely open; it was as if was throwing everything into one last attack, all or nothing.
I stepped back, and I was forced to eat the whole of the impact with my blade, which staggered me. Samal relentlessly pushed forward, his eyes gleaming in triumph. For the first time, I felt panic — Samal was no longer using Flameform, but something else entirely. It was a form Aela hadn’t shown me. Samal moved gracefully, each of his movements flowing like water.
Waterform, I thought. That’s what this has to be.
I had been told Waterform was difficult to master, but Samal knew at least a little bit — at least, enough for one sequence. I noticed a pattern in his attacks — he came in from the right, spun, then came in from the top, then switched to the other side. After he did this three times, I realized this was the only sequence he knew. It was wearing on him, but he was determined to win. Defeating him was probably simple, but I just didn’t know the correct counter. I was stuck with Tree, and Tree didn’t give me enough opportunity to take advantage of the holes he was creating.
I knew I had to do something different, and that meant a switch to Flameform...but for some reason, I knew that wouldn’t work. I didn’t know how I knew that, I just did.
The only question left was what to do.
Tree seemed to be sufficient to hold Samal off; he had relied on the shock value to put me off balance, and it had almost worked. He was getting desperate, but he had a lot of tenacity.
Then, he grunted, heaving his practice sword overhead with all his might. I had been expecting the same sequence, but he had switched it up here. I didn’t know if he was straying from his plan, or whether this had been accounted for. My own blade was moving to parry where I had expected Samal’s next strike to fall. There was nothing I could do to block the blade coming in from the unexpected direction.
Instead, though, I found myself thinking on the fly. I would get hit, yes, but Samal was wide open. A quick thrust to his gut, and it would all be over. I did just that, managing to stab right before the hard metal thwacked my shoulder. We both cried out at the same time, falling to the earth in a cloud of dust.
We each lay there, panting, while the crowd broke into cheers and applause. I heard a pair of feet running up, followed by Martin’s voice.
“The winner of the first initiate’s bout is...”
From the way everyone’s voices went still, it was clear it was questionable on who had gotten the first hit. I knew it was me, but Samal still looked at Martin hopefully, knowing full well that if he had been standing in the right position, Martin might have seen something entirely different.
“Initiate Roshar! Congratulations: an excellent fight, I might add.”
“What?” Samal shouted. “I hit her first!”
“Not by my eye, you didn’t,” Martin said.
Most of the crowd was cheering and applauding, but some were also booing; either Samal’s friends or those who believed he had gotten the first strike.
“I demand a rematch!”
“It was close,” Martin said, “but Shanti clearly drew first blood. You’re both dead, technically, but you were dead first.”
Samal spit, staring venomously at me. “I can’t believe I just lost to...”
“Well...you did.”
Samal scoffed, and turned and stalked off.
Already, both Aela and Isa were coming up to congratulate me.
“Amazing,” Aela said. “I knew he was good, but gods, he pulled out some tricks that would have surprised me. If I had known he’d be pulling out Waterform, I could have taught you something very simple to counter it, but what you did worked, too.”
“Well, I’m glad it worked out.”
“Are you all right?” Isa asked. “You got hit hard!”
I rubbed my shoulder, which was still tender. It was the same shoulder the dragon keeper had whipped back in Colonia. That wound had long healed, but this bruise would last at least a bit longer.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I just need to rest up for the next bout.”
“You did well,” Aela said. “Whoever you’re up against next, I don’t expect he’ll be as tough as Samal. Either that, or we have a very talented crop of initiates this year.”
Maybe Aela was right, but I was leaning more toward the second option.
We walked off the circle just in time for the next bout to begin.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ADVANCING TO THE ROUND OF four were myself, Isaru, Nabea, and Alaric. All three would present a challenge, but thankfully, I drew Nabea’s name, with whom I was probably the most evenly matched. Even so, his fight against Ret had been decisive, and Ret had gotten the better of me many times during our training under Seeker Garin.
My upset against Samal had won me many supporters. As my name was called, there were more cheers than last time. I was still a bit fatigued from my last bout, but I forced that out of my mind as I made my way to the ring, taking the sword off the stand as Nabea did the same.
Nabea was well-built — tall, muscled, and it was clear he had been immersed in strenuous physical activity for years, his dark skin tight from the muscle it contained. My strength was of a different kind, but lately, my training had given me more strength than I’d ever had. Even so, as a girl and as someone who hadn’t been exercising as strenuously or as long as Nabea, he would overpower me greatly.
My plan for him was the same; stick with Treeform and redirect the energy of his attacks. As Aela had taught me, it was my best way to match his strength, allowing my endurance to come into play. Nabea, if he were wise, would try to counter this, either through outright breaking me with brute strength, as Samal had tried, or playing the long game. For some reason, I felt as if it would be the latter.
Soon, Nabea and I faced each other on opposite sides of the ring. We both held the starting stance of Treeform; perhaps Nabea would fight more conservatively than I’d imagined. After all, he had seen my fight with Samal, and he and Samal were of a similar skill and practiced together often.
It was time to see whether my first match had been mere luck.
Martin waved his hand, signaling a start to the bout. Nabea and I stood facing each other, neither of us moving. Was he trying to get me to attack him? Which of us would move first?
In the end, it was I who advanced. I wanted to show Nabea, and the crowd, that I was as comfortable on the offense as I was on the defense. Nabea retained his posture, as if inviting me to attack him. I suspected some trick, but that had never been Nabea’s style in the few times we had sparred. Then again, wasn’t that what he would want me to think if he was trying to trick me?
On the other end of ring, Nabea’s eyes calculated, as if similar thoughts were running through his mind.
If Nabea was trying to trick me, maybe I could throw him off a bit, too.
I transitioned into Flameform, crouching lower and keeping my blade to the side. Nabea’s eyes widened slightly, and I was pleased to see that the move surprised him. This was just a feint; I planned switching right back into Tree at my first opportunity.
I thought of my strategy just a moment longer before advancing to engage. Nabea was l
arge and strong; my best chance of winning was to do so quickly. The longer the fight went on, especially if he remained in Tree, the easier it would be for him to win. Of course, things could change drastically during the course of the fight, but for now, that seemed to be my best bet.
I envisioned the sequences Aela had taught me, the very same ones Isa and I had practiced this morning. They came to me clearly in the Silence of my mind, and before I knew it, all thought was stripped away. Only action remained.
I started forward, unleashing my first attack; a powerful, if predictable, side swipe that Nabea easily blocked. His blade ate the fullness of the impact, as he was strong enough to not have problems stopping it outright. I stepped back to disengage, and executed a quick spin to attack his other side. Again, Nabea easily blocked, and the ring of metal showered sparks onto the grass. Then, we were locked in battle. My attacks came quickly — thrusts, sweeps, cuts from above, my blade seeking Nabea’s next point of weakness. But Nabea’s Treeform was sure, and he never struggled much to make a solid defense. I knew I was playing right into his hand, tiring myself on an unbreakable fortress. Nabea had seen my fight with Samal, and he was taking no chances. Despite his size and strength, he was careful. And that was what made him so dangerous.
I disengaged to catch my breath. Flameform wasn’t working. Nabea stepped forward before I could have the opportunity to rest. He wasn’t going to let me catch a break. To my surprise, he wasn’t being aggressive. He was just closing the gap so that I was forced to engage him. I tried backing away again, but he did the same thing, not allowing me any breathing space. I realized then what he was doing, and the genius of his strategy. This had been his plan all along. He knew his strength was defending, and he was playing to it. He was defending aggressively.
I needed a way out, but what?
I entered one of the more advanced sequences Aela had taught me yesterday. Spin, cut. Thrust, thrust, cut. Kick, when the opponent’s blade was occupied with mine.
The kick caught Nabea off guard, and he stumbled a bit. I used the opportunity to switch forms, back into Tree. This is the form I should have used from the beginning. It would lengthen the fight, and give me more chances to get back into it.
Nabea didn’t seem pleased with the tactic, but patiently, he closed the distance between us yet again. The fighting became less fiery, almost sedated. Our movements seemed slow, and anytime we took a strike at each other, we didn’t unleash our all into it. The battle was now a preservation of energy, and given time, Nabea would win.
My mind worked for a way out, but Nabea never gave me a chance to try anything new. He knew when to attack, and when to defend. He was an intelligent fighter. He seemed to predict everything I was going to do, and how to counter it. I knew Nabea had the Gift of Insight, which allowed him to sense others’ thoughts and feelings. It was known that those Gifted in Insight had an advantage in a duel, if only because they had an instinctual understanding of what their opponent might do.
It was then that I realized that it was what Nabea was doing. It wasn’t that he was more skilled than me — he just knew what I was going to do.
I knew that, given time, Nabea would eventually get the better of me, so it was time to take a risk — a risk that would cause me to deviate from my plan. I would do the opposite of what I was thinking.
Even if it wasn’t the best time to try it, I switched back into Flameform, fueled by the desperation of a cornered animal. Nabea had control of most of the arena space, and I had to break out. I was only dimly aware that the form I was in was not Flame, but I didn’t have time to think about it. Nabea seemed surprised, and I unleashed a flurry of strikes that immediately had him backing up. The sequence I had used seemed improvisational, but had been so precise that it was as if I had been practicing it for ages. What was more, there had been no discernible transition out of Tree. I seemed to flow right into whatever...this...was, as naturally as breathing, as naturally as the wind blowing.
My movements seemed sure and calculated, finding the right holes to pick at Nabea while stepping deftly out of the way any time he tried to swat me away. I came close to scoring a hit multiple times, and it was clear Nabea was having a hard time with this unfamiliar form.
What was it, though? I couldn’t be bothered with the question for now. All I wanted was to win.
Over time, Nabea’s form became more staggered. His movements grew clumsier; he started making simple mistakes. All of this culminated when I formed a quick strike from above. Depending on Nabea’s movements, I would go either left or right, and I was coming too quickly for Nabea to accurately guess. I started coming down to the left, but Nabea formed a block that would stagger me. Instead, just as the blade connected, I tripped him up, sending him sprawling to the ground. After that, it was a simple matter of holding the point of my blade at his throat.
Applause met my victory, and Nabea looked up at me, panting.
“That form,” he said, still catching his breath. “What was it? How did you...?”
I reached down a hand, helping him up. “I’m not sure what it was.”
He looked at me skeptically, and it was clear that he thought I was trying to rub it in. By the time he was up and standing, he pressed the point.
“No one makes up moves like that on the fly,” he said. His tone almost seemed to say that I had cheated somehow.
“I won,” I said. “I just did what I thought was best.”
Nabea shook his head before he walked away; it was clear he thought I was keeping something from him. It was the truth, though: I really didn’t know what I was doing. The victory felt a bit hollow, because it seemed to come from luck rather than skill. Perhaps this was something Nabea sensed, too.
“You’re just full of surprises.”
I turned to see Deanna, standing beside Aela. She had her arms crossed, which made me a bit guarded. She and I didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.
“Now, I know I didn’t teach you Windform,” Aela said. “I’m not saying it wasn’t the right choice — in fact, it was the perfect choice. Why would you keep something like that from me?”
“I didn’t know what it was,” I said. “I just sort of...felt it.”
“Battletrance,” Deanna said, shaking her head in disbelief.
I had heard of Battletrance several times in passing. It was apparently a very rare Gift that gave a Seeker intense focus during battle. Those who had it described it as a slowing of time, a hyper-awareness of the Four Disciplines, the ability for the body to perfectly execute the sequences it had learned.
“Battletrance, maybe,” Aela said. “So, you’re saying you never learned Windform, ever? Battletrance doesn’t impart forms its user never learned.”
“I didn’t know what I was doing,” I said. “That’s the truth.”
Even as I explained, though, I felt a familiar coldness. There was someone who probably knew Windform, but it wasn’t me.
“I have to go,” I said. “Sorry...”
And before either of them could ask anything more, I walked away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I WOVE MY WAY THROUGH the crowd, ignoring calls of congratulations. How could I be satisfied with my victory when I knew it wasn’t me fighting, but someone else? Yet again, Anna was showing up, not in my thoughts, but in my actions.
The crowds thinned as I reached the periphery of the village, and I found myself on a field of xen south of the city, just past the last of the buildings. Growing from the xen were several fields of crops, only sprouts given the earliness of the season. Several cabins of silvery wood had been built near those farms, and beyond them was a line of xenoforest filled with thick, twisted trees: the border of the untamed Wild, with Nava and the Sanctum a small, civilized island within.
“Shanti?”
I nearly jumped at hearing Fiona’s voice. I knew I should have turned to face her, but kept my head forward for some reason. “What is it?”
She didn’t answer, instead coming
to stand by me. She didn’t look my way, and neither did I look at her. I could see her golden, wavy hair in the side of my vision.
“It was Anna, wasn’t it?”
I felt surprise, but kept it hidden. “What makes you say that?”
“It makes sense, doesn’t it? No initiate knows Windform. I wanted to come out here to tell you...be careful.”
She trailed off, but I could complete her sentence for her. Be more careful. If you’re an initiate who knows Windform, it’s an oddity. It will cause suspicion.
But all that was the least of my concerns for the moment. I was just wondering if there was any room for me, the girl from Colonia who only hoped to go to school and live a simple life.
“I suppose all of this was inevitable,” I said. “What if one day I wake up, and I’m no longer who I am? That’s my greatest fear. What if she takes over?”
“Do you believe she will?”
I had worried about it for weeks, but with Fiona asking that question, it seemed like something that could never be.
“She will always be a part of me,” I said. “That much I know. I still want to say it isn’t true, but I’ve never used Windform in my life. I might have seen it used in the Champions’ Copse, but that’s it.”
“Who do you think it was that invented the forms to begin with? Fiona continued. “It was said that Annara’s skill at the blade could not be matched. After the war, she developed the forms that worked in conjunction with the Xenofold, and when the forms were born, her power only increased. When she founded the Seekers, she taught others her skills to be passed through the generations. Those original forms evolved into those we know today.” Fiona now looked at me, and I met her gray eyes. “You weren’t merely using Windform. You were using a version of Windform that has all but passed from memory. And that is dangerous.”
