by Kyle West
“What’s to keep us from getting killed, then?” Isaru asked.
Avon looked at him levelly. “A guarantee by all the gang lords to spare your life should the attack succeed. Because none are allowed in the Sphere, it is likely the base from which Mithras is operating. Mithras is a man without scruple, as has been seen in his wanton aggression. And that is why we have to eschew tradition, just this once. Perhaps we are going against the will of the Sphere itself, but the price of not doing it is far worse.”
“Does anyone even know what it looks like inside?” I asked.
Avon shook his head. “None, save the Priesthood. If this isn’t attempted, then the evil Mithras threatens will be far worse than invading the sanctity of the Sphere.”
“Considering that it was our aim all along to enter the Sphere...it is useful to have license to do so.”
“The Sphere lies in the center of the Ruins, and is true to its namesake. It is a perfect sphere, its outside composed of a substance not found anywhere else in the world.”
“Ichorstone, no doubt,” Isaru said. “That, or something like it.”
Lord Avon continued. “There is but one entrance to the Sphere. The objective is to drive every last Sun from the Sphere, and kill any who remain. There are three walls that surround the Sphere. They were meant to prevent the unthinkable, but so long had the Sphere gone unchallenged, they were left almost deserted when Mithras made his move. It shall not be so easy for us. We have constructed siege engines to circumvent them – ladders, towers, battering rams. There is not a section of wall that is undefended, but our numbers are such that it will not matter.”
He sounded confident of that. “How are we supposed to get through, then, if our job is to get behind enemy lines?”
“You are to enter on the side that the main army is not assaulting,” Lord Avon said. “You, Elec, and some of my best men, including Valan and Nael. You will have a ladder, which you must use to pass through the three walls. You will likely meet resistance; after all, no matter how hard we’re hitting one section of wall, Mithras will at least leave a token force defending. They have torches in the towers that signify when a section is being attacked. Those torches must never be lit, which is why you must work quickly. Thankfully, Valan is the best bowman the Dragons have, and likely the best in the entire Ruins. It is our hope that he can take out any lighters from range. He is effective, even in darkness.”
“After the walls?” Isaru asked.
“You enter the Sphere and begin your search for Mithras. He may be in the Sphere itself, or somewhere in its vicinity. If you encounter a priest, you are not to harm him under any circumstances. Your job is to aid Valan, the leader of the strike force, in whatever ways he deems fit. Most notably, this will involve killing as many defenders as possible.”
“Why would we even do this for you?” Isaru asked. “It is not a Seeker’s way to kill with reckless abandon.”
“Because the Sphere will be open for your unrestricted study. Until Mithras is driven from it, this is something you cannot have. Besides this, I can give you whatever your heart desires.”
All we really wanted was as much food and water as we could carry on our backs. A priceless bargain for Lord Avon, but saying as much would make him suspicious. Risking our lives like this was too heavy a price to pay.
Then again...what choice did we have? It was unlikely that Lord Avon would let us go at this point. The only way we could have avoided all of this was by spending the night in a different building, and even then, things wouldn’t have been guaranteed.
If the north of the city was as dangerous as Lord Avon let on, then perhaps this was the only way.
“And if we refuse?” Isaru asked.
Lord Avon shrugged. “Then you are outlaws in Dragon territory.”
There was no need to explain what happened then.
“Besides the opportunity to study the Sphere,” Isaru said, carefully. “We will also require supplies. Food, water. As much as the both of us can carry.”
Avon looked mildly surprised, his eyes widening slightly. “Going somewhere?”
“Our research has us searching other places, too. Ruins to the north. That sort of thing.”
“I see,” Lord Avon said. “Of course, you shall have whatever you require, even if that is extra men to ensure your safety. The Exiled Lands are a dangerous place.”
“If this is your offer,” Isaru said, looking to me for confirmation. I nodded. “Then we agree.”
“Excellent,” Lord Avon said. Some of the tension went out of his face; apparently, he did feel a lot better knowing that we were part of the strike force. “Unless you have any other questions, I suggest you get as much rest as you can; you will need it, as the attack will be happening upon sunset. Valan, the mission leader, will brief you several hours before you are to begin. He will come for you when he is ready.” Avon gave a sigh. “Well. There is much yet for me to do today. I thank you, Champions Elec and Alara. With luck, by this time tomorrow morning, the battle will be over and all three of us shall have exactly what we want.”
We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into, but at the same time, it seemed as if there was no way out.
Whether we wanted it or not, there was only to be more fighting ahead.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SOMETIME LATER, THERE WAS A knock at the door. I had been awake for a while, practicing forms, while Isaru had continued sleeping. I sheathed my sword and answered the door.
As expected, Valan stood outside, waiting. He was dressed in dark brown pants and scuffed leather armor that left his muscled, dragon-tattooed arms bare.
“Wake Elec,” he said. “It’s time.”
Isaru was already stirring at the interruption, stretching his arms and legs.
We gathered the things we would need – for myself, it was my canteen, bow, and cloak, while Isaru latched on his sword and knife, hiding both when he threw on his cloak. Seeing the faded, dark green cloak, which had once belonged to my father, reminded me of the reason why I was doing this.
We have to survive tonight, for their sake.
Once ready, we followed Valan until we reached the atrium, where a group of three men, each in leather armor and dark cloaks similar to Valan’s, stood waiting. They regarded us without comment, sizing us up and seeming not to be too impressed. The only one I recognized was Nael, who stared at us without expression with his dark eyes. The other two I had never seen. The one on the left had shoulder-length blonde hair, and sharp, hawkish features – an older and edgier version of Ret from the Sanctum. Like Valan, he carried a bow, while having a straight longsword sheathed at his side. The other man had dark skin, with wide shoulders so broad and muscled that he probably was strong enough to lift his own bodyweight overhead. He glowered at us with baleful eyes. If he reminded me of anyone, it was Alaric from the Sanctum, whom I had defeated in a duel. The main differences were the color of his skin, his heavy tattoos, also of dragons, and the fact that his weapon of choice was a large, cruel mace. Of everyone gathered, he was the most heavily armored, with metal plate mixed in among the leather, including greaves and bracers. He scowled upon seeing us approach. Each of the men bore three marks upon their foreheads. They had been accorded the highest status possible, something which seemed to be reserved only for warriors.
“This is Pashte and Sarien,” Valan said, pointing to the blonde man first, and then the black man. “Two of the strongest warriors in the Dragons, personally selected by me for this mission.”
“These are the mighty champions of the Seekers?” Sarien asked in a deep bass. “They are children!”
“These children killed ten Suns, as I've told you,” Valan said, quietly. “On orders of the Dragonlord himself, they are to accompany us.”
Sarien didn't offer a rebuttal, instead sinking into silence.
“I saw it with my own eyes,” Nael said. “The end of it, anyway. Ten men dead in less than a minute.”
“Let us hope, t
he Sphere willing, these children fight as well tonight.”
“I would like to see them fight for myself,” Valan said. “I need to know what I'm working with.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Any takers?” Valan asked, looking among the others with a crooked smile. “What of you, Sarien? Care to teach these children how a real Dragon fights?”
For all his bluster, Sarien didn’t seem to want to challenge either of us – even me, and I was half his size. Apparently, he did believe the tales, despite his earlier speech.
Valan’s smile widened slightly. “Very well. Perhaps they can spar with one another, since none here claims to be their equal.”
“I will fight them both,” Sarien said, hotly, reaching for his mace.
Pashte gave a shrill laugh. “Not here, Sarien. The barracks.”
“And no real weapons,” Valan said. “I would not have my men killing each other before the Suns have their chance to do so.”
Regretfully, Sarien holstered his mace.
“We haven’t much time, but half an hour to test the new recruits’ abilities should suffice.”
Without another word, Valan turned for a corridor leading out of the atrium. Everyone followed.
The sparring room wasn’t far. As we neared, I could hear the familiar sound of the thwacking of wooden blades before we had even turned into the room. Once we entered, I could see five courts where the sparring took place. Three were already occupied by duelists while the other two were still open. A white line had been painted vertically across each, creating two halves to each court. As with the Sanctum, dueling was a sport here, but unlike the Seekers’ duels, the field of play was rectangular instead of circular.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that; it would be far easier to get cornered, meaning every mistake was all the more costly. It was good for when you gained an advantage, but might make it hard to come back from a blunder.
Various wooden weapons were held in racks along the wall, along with blunted metal ones. These weapons included staves, maces, gladiuses, and longswords, along with bucklers. Unsurprisingly, there were no katanas, which were rarely used outside the Red Wild or among the Hunters.
Sarien reached for a wooden mace, giving it a few testing swings, but kept his own shield, of thick wood fitted with iron supports.
The wooden longsword would have to do, and to my relief, the one I chose was similarly balanced to my own blade. After taking a few swings by running a simple Treeform sequence, it was clear that it would take some adjustment to get used to. Even so, I was confident it wouldn’t affect my performance too much.
Isaru reached for a similar blade.
“How are we to do this?” I asked.
“Me, against the both of you,” Sarien said, a tight smile tugging at his lips. “That should be fair.”
Valan, Nael, and Pashte nodded their agreement; apparently, they regarded Sarien’s skills and strength high enough to consider that a fair fight. If they were going to give us such an advantage, then I wasn’t going to discourage it.
Shortly, Sarien was squaring off against us both from the opposite side of the court. I had noticed all the other duels had stopped; everyone wanted to see this.
“Normal rules,” Valan said. “Any touch on the chest, abdomen, or neck is counted as kill, and being grounded is counted as a kill. Nothing to the head; I don’t want anyone taken out of the fight. This is merely so I can test the Seekers’ abilities.”
Sarien smiled. He seemed to not be concerned in the least that his mace had been a poor choice, given the set of rules. Maces were best for battering heavily armored opponents, knocking them off balance and crushing them once they were defenseless. Sarien would not be able to do such things in a practice fight.
All the same, he appeared confident. If someone was confident, it was usually worth giving them the benefit of the doubt. With Isaru at my side, however, there was no doubt in my mind that we would win this.
“Begin,” Valan said.
Sarien raised his wooden mace in a defensive posture. It seemed as if he was going to stay right where he was. That was no matter to me; I was confident Isaru and I could handle him, whatever his tactics. Isaru entered Flameform, and I followed his example. I didn't care how strong or skilled Sarien was; there was no way he could stand up to both of us, even if he managed to strike one of us.
Isaru and I fanned out, approaching each of his flanks. No matter who he attacked, he left his other side exposed to the other. Sarien realized what we were doing, backing away until he was standing in the corner. He was giving up all of this space, but that was the only thing he could do. Even if he was pinned, he seemed utterly confident. His stance was low and heavy; it reminded me of Treeform, and given his size, it wasn’t likely that either Isaru or I could win by forcing him off the court, as he was firmly rooted.
Isaru and I could still stick to the plan and attack simultaneously, so this is what we did. Isaru approached from the side of the court, while I walked along the end.
Isaru and I both paused, just out of range of Sarien’s mace. Sometimes, in the moment before the actual fighting broke out, your opponent could make a mistake out of nerves. Sarien remained still, however, even after Isaru adjusted his form to something more defensive. There was no reaction on Sarien’s part.
He had a plan, and he was going to stick to it no matter what we did.
I quickly saw that Flameform would be risky in this situation. A lot of space was required for it to work well, at least in the beginning. The beginning moves of Flameform were almost always weak, and it only grew stronger as time went on and the opponent became unbalanced. Without sufficient space, we wouldn’t have that luxury. We needed something that thrived in compact space, and would be sufficiently strong from the beginning.
Like Isaru, I shifted into Treeform before starting forward, confident that whatever Sarien had planned, he couldn’t touch us as long as we were both defensive. With my and Isaru’s attacks combined, even Treeform would overwhelm.
Together, Isaru and I invaded Sarien’s space, and it was here that he lashed out. First, he kicked Isaru as the mace came down, at the same time twisting his large body to avoid my attack with surprising alacrity. Except, I hadn't attacked yet; I wasn’t going to attack where he was, but instead, where he was going. This caught Sarien off-balance, even as Isaru's swipe missed and Sarien’s club grazed Isaru’s shoulder.
Isaru, like that, was out of the match.
But already it was too late for Sarien. I thrusted my blade right at his exposed side, but suddenly, Sarien's mace was there to parry. I blinked. He was moving unusually fast, or faster than seemed possible. I recognized my miscalculation, and like that, he was charging me like a bull, battering my blade with relentless aggression. I could feel the shock of each strike in my hands, and knew that the blade could very well break from those attacks. I ignored the numbness in my hands, the spreading pain, and entered fully into Silence, noting in the side of my vision that Isaru had withdrawn from the court and was nursing his shoulder, his face a mask of frustration.
Even in Treeform, I felt outmatched. Treeform was a strong defense, but it was direct. Using it against an Initiate or Apprentice of the Sanctum was one thing, but against a giant of a man like Sarien, it would just shatter me, no matter how perfectly I executed it. I needed breathing room to switch my form, but Sarien wasn’t giving it to me – and combined with the unfamiliar shape of the court, I found that I was quickly running out of room to maneuver. The Silence in my mind threatened to slip away as I realized I had grossly underestimated Sarien.
It was, perhaps, more than a fair fight.
The other Dragons began to cheer Sarien on, even as Isaru shouted encouragement for me. I felt bad for that; I had essentially used Isaru as bait to get in an easy hit. It hadn’t been a bad plan, but it had been hasty.
Sarien smiled almost gleefully as he batted my sword away from my body. I stubbornly held on, despite t
he fact my hands were ringing with pain. And that was when Sarien kicked...hard. I stumbled backward, only barely keeping my feet. The only thing that allowed me to ignore the sharp pain was the deepness of my Battletrance.
However, the damage had been done. I now stood in the corner of the court. One more step, and I would be out of bounds and disqualified.
Sarien had me where he wanted me. “Yield, little girl. It’s all but over.”
If anything, that taunt gave me the fire to continue. His hesitation at finishing the job gave me the chance to switch forms. I needed something I could attack and defend equally well, and something that would be highly unfamiliar to Sarien. Waterform would do perfectly; it was a manner of fighting that was bewildering to look at, something that seemed to not make sense on the surface, because it often left one open to attack. It was also a form that was exceedingly difficult to execute, and was energy-intensive because it necessitated constant movement. But like Flameform, it was a form that strengthened the longer it went on, eroding an opponent’s strong position as a river might erode rock.
One false move, however, would be my end.
I lifted my blade completely above my head, exposing my entire chest to attack. It was a cheap trick, but it was a trick that Sarien had probably never seen. It was a move taught to Initiates to illustrate just how illusive Waterform could be – it was often called a form of opposites that, performed quickly enough, was designed to utterly confuse one’s opponent.
Those unfamiliar with the overflow sequence did one of two things – they saw the opening as an opportunity to strike, or they grew suspicious of a trap and held back needlessly. Sarien did both, hesitating a long moment, before shrugging and swinging wide with his club, horizontally so that I had no chance to step out of its way or to even duck since my sword was high above my head.
