by J D Astra
I cocked my head. “I thought you wanted to escape your home?”
He blew out his cheeks. “Right now I do. It’s complicated.”
“I get it. So, what’s your village like? What do you grow?”
He pulled in a long breath, then sighed. “Rice. Rice every day. Grow the rice, harvest the rice, process the rice, sell the rice. Rice.”
I hummed with amusement. “Our lives are for more than just rice.”
His shoulders slowly dropped away from his ears. “What’s your home like?”
I wondered if I should tell him the whole truth. No. I didn’t know him. “Chores, work, siblings. Every day.”
“How many siblings?” he asked with genuine interest.
I loosened my posture. “Five. Two brothers and three sisters.”
“That must be nice. I have one sister, older. She’s in the kingdom already. A dancer.”
I nodded. I’d heard about pretty girls from outer-city getting recruited as ry dancers in the kingdom. Given Cho’s unusually light hair and almost honey-colored eyes, it was a good bet that was what happened for her.
Cho grimaced. “I guess I’ll let you get back to it. Thanks.”
I wanted to keep talking to him, but I didn’t know what to say. Excited shouts from the front of the line drew my attention, and I looked past the dozens of bodies to the entrance where an adult in instructor’s clothing appeared. “We’ll begin registration sign-in in ten minutes. Have your documentation ready.”
“Did you score well in Primary graduation?” Cho asked as he rubbed his hands down his pants. They left little wet stains as they slid past his pockets.
“Decently.” I had scored exceptionally, thanks to my father’s tutelage, but I didn’t want to make him self-conscious.
Cho’s eye’s bulged in exasperation. “You really don’t say much, do you?”
I shook my head. “Sorry. I’m better with machines and artifacts than people.”
“I think that’s the most words you’ve said all morning.”
“When I asked you about home, that was more. So was this.” I smiled slyly.
He laughed. “You’re alright, Jiyong. I hope you get in.”
“You as well, Cho.” I bowed to him, and he returned the gesture.
There was no more time to cultivate from my surroundings as the line moved steadily along to begin registration. Primary registration was simple. The student found their name on the list for the school closest to where their parents lived, tested for aptitude placement, and got a class-list.
Primary ended at thirteen, giving teens a chance to apprentice for two years before Secondary started, which had a much more rigorous aptitude test. Every child was guaranteed Primary schooling, and it was illegal for children to not attend a Primary school, but Secondary was where all the important knowledge came from.
It was critical to get into a good Secondary school because the classes’ well of knowledge was only as deep as the instructors’. Most of the instructors in outer-city worked jobs during the off season, but many of the inner-city and kingdom instructors would simply practice their craft, improving their skill for the next semester. They would continually bring new spells and knowledge into the academy, enriching it. Outer-city, not so much.
Cho and I parted ways as we entered the testing building, his family name taking him to a line on the other side of the hall. We wished one another well and began the wait in our new, shorter lines. I’d hoped the testing was going to take place at Bastion, but it made sense with so many students applying that they would have to open additional testing centers. Since this was the closest center to me, it was the one I had to register at.
I cycled more and more energy through my core, keeping my eyes on the body in front of me, and my mind’s eye on the band around my core. My reservoir was nearly full, and I felt confident I was prepared for whatever they could throw at me.
At the front of the line sat a woman wearing artifact goggles behind a desk. The shimmer of the lens told me she was corroborating information between her colleagues, and possibly a nearby database registry, as she sized me up.
“Name?” she asked flatly.
I cleared my throat. “Law, Jiyong.”
She grunted as she made an upward gesture with one hand. The glow behind her goggles flickered and shifted at the movement. “Namnak?”
“Yes.”
She pulled out a clean sheaf of parchment and pulled her finger across the page. Scrawling black lines appeared as silvery ry munje leaked from the tip of her sharp nail. “Floor three, corridor nine, room six. Ten minutes.” She pushed the paper towards me. “Go.”
“Thank you.” I took the sheet with a brief bow, then looked for the stairs. When I found them, I glanced down at the page. It was my Primary information—which highlighted my li deficiency in clear red text.
Worrying is a waste of energy, I heard Do-hwan’s voice in my mind and blew out my cheeks. I took the polished limestone stairs two at a time up to the third floor and exited to a deserted hallway. It was unsettling after being surrounded by chattering teens, but after a moment, the quiet was welcome.
My dull shoes clopped hollowly against the polished stone as I walked past important artifacts showcased in glass cases, frames of ancient art, and plaques defining the purpose of each piece. The ancients were a wondrous mystery.
I found corridor nine and hurried down the hall to the room marked with a six. There was no one waiting outside, and the door was closed, so I knocked.
No reply.
I knocked a little louder.
Nothing.
It had to have been at least five minutes since she handed me the paper. I waited, my toe tapping idly as I counted down the seconds in my head. When I’d counted another three minutes, I knocked again.
Silence.
Was this a joke? Or was it part of the test? Would I open the door when I was not invited to? Would it be locked?
I couldn’t do nothing, and I couldn’t keep doing more of the same when it yielded no results, so I turned the handle. The door was unlocked. It opened with a whining creak that demanded oiling.
“Welcome to the assessment,” an older woman’s voice came from the left of the enormous room. It was at least four times larger than my entire house!
The floor was all polished limestone, the ceiling farther away than seemed natural, and huge black velvet drapes covered the windows. There were no artificial lights in the room, and the streams of sunlight peeking through the tiny gaps in the drapes were not enough to see beyond a few meters.
I leaned a little farther into the room, keeping my feet squarely on the other side of the threshold. “May I come in?”
“Enter at your own risk,” a man warned.
I filled my chest, trying to push down the fear with air. This was it.
The test had begun.
Chapter 5
THE ENCOMPASSING DARKNESS nagged at the worry in my gut. I wasn’t going to walk blind into this test. With a thought, I called up stored ry and let it flow down my right arm. I swirled my wrist and forearm as I held my elbow steady. Yellow light formed a halo as my hand swooped around and around.
When the glow was bright enough—about ten turns—I thrust my hand forward, throwing the ry munje to the center of the room. The light burst in a shower of sparks a few meters away from me, illuminating three figures but for a second.
“Good,” someone whispered behind me in the hall and I spun, fists guarding my face. “Jumpy?” The voice tickled the back of my neck, and I turned again, but there was no one there.
“Show me what you’ve got!” the voice of a younger woman rushed at me from the side.
A solid hit bashed against my forearm and pushed me off balance. I poured zo munje into my legs, and the muscles flexed with excitement. I leapt sideways and listened for her next assault.
Above!
I twisted out of the way and threw a backhand where I heard her land. The shot whiffed over her
head, and I caught a glimpse of bright red hair and unnatural black eyes that glowed with zo. She lunged with an uppercut, and I turned again, barely avoiding the strike.
Pain radiated through my chest as her leg connected with my sternum. I staggered back, trying to catch my breath, when agony like a sharp knife lanced through my mid-back and up my spine. I fell forward and landed on my hands, directing zo into my fingertips. I scrambled across the floor like a lizard, desperate to get a second’s pause from her assault.
She laughed, pursuing me.
I heard her stomping foot coming just in time and pushed myself left. I avoided the crippling blow as I rolled onto my back. The second stomp came down as I predicted, and I grabbed the assaulting leg, rotating the foot well beyond breaking point.
The woman jumped, following the twist of her leg through with the rest of her body, then pushed her foot down toward my chest once more. I pulled her leg down to the side, taking her off balance.
I sent more zo to my feet and pushed myself out of the way, my dobok sliding easily on the polished stone. The red-haired fighter flew after me in a gravity defying display unlike anything I’d ever seen. Her heel sliced through the air as her leg came down in a deadly arc that would surely split my skull, but there was no time to move.
I crossed my forearms in front of my face and directed zo to reinforce the spot. I caught the offending ankle and held fast. I couldn’t let her get away and wind up for a more powerful attack. I locked her foot under my arm as she dropped her knee into my gut. Half-digested porridge squished up my esophagus, but I held it down with a quick, desperate swallow.
Breathing was difficult, but I managed a small breath as she wound up for the next assault. Her black glowing fist jabbed my nose and sent my vision to darkness. In the black, I saw the zo blocked in my constricted pathways. The reservoir was clammed up from fear, and the munje trickled like a dying stream.
A second jab bounced my head against the stone, and I knew I couldn’t take a third. As she pulled her fist back, I kicked my legs up and locked one around her neck. I straightened my body and pulled her down to the ground in a clumsy leg-lock. I sat up and reached for her arm, trying to keep her under control, but she pried herself out of my grip.
“Not bad,” she whispered, rubbing her throat while she gained her feet.
I panted through my mouth and rubbed blood from my upper lip. “Thank you.”
She made herself small by tucking her elbows in and lunged forward. I forced all my zo to guard my chest, tucking my own elbows against my sides as I pulled my face behind my fists. She had a strange fighting style, something that was never taught in Primary in Namnak, but I’d seen enough post bot-fight brawls to know how to defend myself.
A flurry of blows beat against my arms and flew at my face. I dodged and pulled back, avoiding the powerful full-body strikes by sidestepping. The iron taste of blood filled my mouth as I panted. My constricted lungs struggled to draw in enough air to keep my heartrate stable, but my body was getting weak. I had to get on the offensive.
The red-haired demon spun with a high kick aimed for my shoulder. I turned sideways and took the blow as I grabbed her leg. I stepped into her guard and put my leg behind hers, then forced her back.
The air whoofed from her lungs as I dropped her to the stone. I pinched her kicking leg against my side, and she wrapped her free leg around my back as she tried to twist me out of the top position. She swung up toward my face, but I couldn’t give her the distance. I needed to stay close to win, and so I took the hit.
I pushed my bodyweight forward and pinned my hand to her collar bone, then hammered blow after blow into her side. She twisted her legs, squeezing until I felt my lower ribs flexing into my chest cavity, but I didn’t relent. She landed a few more feeble punches against my shoulders, since it was all she could reach.
I infused the next hit with as much zo I could get out of the reservoir. My fist landed against her side with a loud snap, and she yowled in pain. She reached up to push me away, and I landed another blow against her arm. The elbow joint caved in the wrong direction, and she screamed.
“Enough!” a man boomed, and the room illuminated.
I released my opponent and came up to my knees, bowing deeply to her. “Thank you for the challenge,” I said nasally as blood continued its slow drip down my lips.
The redhead sat up, and the unnatural glow of zo munje in her eyes vanished, revealing glistening sapphire irises. Black zo curled down her arm from her chest and settled around her elbow and it popped as the joint bent back into proper place. The zo flowed up her arm and settled on her ribs. There was another grinding crack, and she gritted her teeth. Finally, the black munje settled and disappeared.
She dipped her head to me. “Likewise.”
A man in a flowing green hanbok stepped forward, his shoes making no noise against the stone. “You’re dismissed, Rae-li.”
“Thank you, Master Sung-ki.” Rae-li bowed deeply to the master and strode from the room as if nothing had happened.
I climbed to my feet with a wince, holding my gut as if it would help against the pain. I faced the mid-fifties master with short, jet-black hair and a matching mustache like a catfish. He circled me, and I felt his appraising eyes. The tingle of ry munje poked and prodded at my insides, looking for all my imperfections. His ry felt like fiery cinnamon burning in my nasal passage but smelled like pine. I followed the sensation of burning to his destination: my core.
“Can you heal yourself?” Master Sung-ki asked as he came to a stop in front of me.
“Yes, sir.” I pulled a breath through my mouth, and it felt heavy, yet somehow empty, as if there was no air in my lungs at all. I closed my eyes and looked to my reservoir for the last of the zo munje I’d stored. There wasn’t enough left for my nose, my neck, and the bruised ribs. I focused on repairing the bones in my nose, which was surely more impressive than healing skin or damaged blood vessels. Moving bones took a considerable amount more focus and energy than surface-level wounds.
Tears came to my eyes as the bones in my nose cracked again. A fresh wave of blood trickled down my upper lip, and I brushed it away with the sleeve of my dobok. He grunted approval and turned away to a table at the back of the extraordinarily large room.
I took a moment to identify my surroundings now that they weren’t shrouded in darkness. There were stained outlines on the glossy floors, and it was apparent that there had been display pedestals and desks of some kind in here not long before. The thick red curtains were sun-bleached in areas at the tops of the folds, and beyond them, the windows hadn’t seen cleaning in months it seemed.
The ceiling was tall with a mural painted at the top depicting the life of the ancient ones. This mural depicted a dance between two giant men, battling for supremacy of a ring. They wore small coverings over their lower half, had long hair in buns behind their heads, and appeared to scream war cries at each other. An audience of eager observers cheered in the background.
So much wasn’t known about what happened to the ancients, but with the relics of the past and some accounts from ghosts, we were able to identify how they’d lived before they disappeared. This dance was called Sumo and might have helped keep the spirits at bay, or at least, that’s what we thought. The true purpose might never be known.
“Come here, Jiyong,” Master Sung-ki said, and my gaze snapped down to meet him. There was the hint of amusement in his eyes, and I realized I’d been staring open-mouthed at the mural.
I crossed the room to meet him at the table. There were three objects sitting on top of the thin metal surface: a potted dragon fern on the verge of death, a glass of water, and a pot of rich-looking soil.
“Save it.” Master Sung-ki stepped back and allowed me to stand in front of my task.
No point in complaining, I reminded myself for what felt like the millionth time today. Li was not my specialty, but I had stored a significant amount of it just for something like this.
My nos
e whistled as I pulled in a pained breath. My lungs still ached from Rae-li’s knee in my gut. I closed my eyes and released li munje down my arm and into the tip of my right forefinger. I reached out and touched the long, slender, crumbling leaves of the sickly dragon fern.
What’s wrong with you, little plant? I mused in my head, allowing my mind to be consumed by the crisp of the leaves, the lack of moisture in the roots, and the circulation of nutrients. Show me your pain so I can heal you.
But there was no reply. Suyi told me to speak to the trees, and they would speak back, but perhaps years of working in the arborum—cutting trees down—made me immune to their communications. Or perhaps they didn’t want to talk to me.
I sent more li munje down my arm and into the leaf, down to the root, back up the other side, but I couldn’t understand what ailed it. All I saw were the symptoms: dry leaves, lack of sun absorption, missing nutrients.
I opened my eyes and took another slow breath through my nose. “May I move the table, Master?”
Sung-ki quirked an eyebrow but nodded. I picked up the table, careful not to tip the water, and moved toward the window. I threw back the shades so that the indirect sun could reach the crisped leaves, then looked down on the sickly dragon fern.
I knew I couldn’t work the li munje the way that Eun-bi and Suyi could, but I had to try. I pushed li munje into my hand and dug down into the dirt, asking the plant to strengthen its roots. It pulled free from the loose, dry earth easily. I moved to the second pot and scooted the dirt aside, making space.
When I felt it was in the best position possible, I willed the roots to push out and explore the new space. I used my left hand to lift a bit of water from the cup with en munje—since I assumed that was part of the test—and directed it to the newly planted fern.
Grow, I whispered in my mind, pumping more of my reserved li into the plant to support it. Slowly, color returned to the leaves, but it wasn’t quite as it should’ve been. Dragon ferns were brilliant green with red stripes down the long leaves, and mine was dull. But, after a few minutes of effort and pleading, the plant perked up.
