Hey all, thank you to anyone who is still reading through this story. It's probably the longest one that I've ever posted and we're not even halfway. Putting your art out can sometimes feel like shouting into a blank void so I hope people are still enjoying our creation.
Bjorn, Main Academy Gate
The sun was rising through the curtains of mist until the world was a luminous shade of silken gold. The beauty was lost on Bjorn as he paced in deliberate circles in the stone courtyard before the Raya Lucaria lift. He had spent the night camped under the broken remains of the bridge leading into the school he had so effortlessly torn through. In the past, the bridge had been a bastion of the wealth and information that flowed through the Lands Between. Carriages bearing knights in golden armor and mages in blue robes would frequently travel the Bellum Highway connecting the Liurnia marshes to the Altus plateau. Bjorn had never been a part of the patrols along these roads for his role lay in protecting the outer walls of Leyndell.
But his comrades would talk of the Carian nobility and high-ranked mages they guarded in their silver carriages flecked with blue gems. "They floated, they did. I swear. With the noses so high in the air, I thought they'd ask us to kiss their asses. Those mages have probably never held a weapon in their hands." One of them said derisively. Others talked about the Glintstone treasures and strange instruments that hummed with power the more stars there were on clear nights. Bjorn had always been mildly curious about visiting Raya Lucaria after all of these stories but he had to say he was less impressed. The mages had been easily squashed like blue-backed beetles sent helplessly spinning with a strong breath. It was hard to believe that they had given the Golden Order so much trouble. It wouldn't be a particularly devastating loss if Raya Lucaria decided to break its alliance with the Golden Order again. He had always thought they were as fickle as the moon they claimed to worship.
Bjorn stopped his slow tread as he heard the gears turning for the lift. It was cold and the chill from the dank waters seeped through his heavy armor. Kira stepped off the lift with a traveling pack and a face sharper than the Estocs strapped to her belt. She bowed to him slightly and then they stared at each other for a moment. Bjorn could sense the killing intent hidden beneath the light blue of her eyes like red blood. It didn't matter. Their fight, if he could call it that, had proved she was utterly incapable of even scratching him. It seemed like she was expecting him to bow back but Bjorn was not going to partake in a gesture he had no understanding of. Without further ado, Bjorn started walking down the road into the sea of golden fog that obscured the way to Limgrave. He didn't check to see if Kira followed, she had no other choice.
"Where do you travel first?" The mage asked and Bjorn was slightly perturbed at how close she was to him. Even as his feet noisily splashed through the water covering all of the paths, Kira's feet made no sound in the brackish mud. She's like an assassin. Bjorn observed and it made his admittedly low estimation of her abilities rise a little. He also noted that she said "you", and not "we", further cementing the distant nature of this alliance forged by convenience.
"I'm going to travel through Limgrave to Caelid. I will claim Radahn's Great Rune before anything else is accomplished." He replied, the tip of his Greatsword leaving a faint ripple in the marshes. He'd have to make sure to polish the weapon later to prevent rust for it would be inconvenient to have a dull blade during a surprise attack.
"Because he is weak from Malenia's Rot?" Kira asked. She still trailed behind him quietly and Bjorn didn't bother looking at her to respond but he snorted at the absurdity of the question.
"Even if he wasn't filled with Rot, I would have no trouble taking him down. I merely wish to put him out of his misery. He was an honorable General before the battle for Aeonia and deserves a death fitting of his station."
Kira was silent but there was a judgment in her lack of speech that needled at him unexpectedly. "Do you not believe in honor?" He asked curtly though he wasn't truly curious in what thoughts flashed behind her stoic face.
"Honor is simply a tool to be wielded in battle." The mage said. "It is nothing more than a luxury for those who can afford it." Bjorn stopped, his feet splashing to a standstill in the water that captured more of the rising sun every second.
"What differentiates a Tarnished from a wild beast if we live our lives without honor? It is not a luxury, it is a creed that separates us from our basest instincts." Bjorn said flatly.
"Where was the honor in you smashing your way through Raya Lucaria to take a Great Rune that wasn't yours?" Kira asked coolly as if wholly unbothered. But Bjorn didn't miss the moment her hand tightened on her staff in preparation for his perceived blow. Not that it would've made a difference but Bjorn was mildly insulted that Kira thought he was one to attack without warning. Especially when she had been one to attack him from behind.
"I faced my foes head-on and only attacked those who attacked me first. They had the chance to surrender but they chose to fight on. You must defend everything in your possession with strength for the world is not kind enough to coddle you in a cradle. I warn my opponents and give them the opportunity to defend what's theirs. I don't plot and scheme to take away things in the dead of night." The last comment made Kira's back stiffen and she glared at him again in a way that was uncomfortably close to Asher's accusatory gaze.
"Heaven blesses us with different gifts. It is close-minded to believe that we all must adhere to your idea of strength to be honorable." She said tightly. "Your code of honor only favors yourself. It is not a code, it is merely an indulgence for your own arrogance."
"Might I remind you that you yourself said you don't believe in honor? For someone bent on dismissing it as a luxury, you seem to have become a veritable oracle on it in the last thirty seconds." Bjorn said. Without waiting for an answer, he resumed his measured tread through Liurnia though he kept a careful eye on Kira in his peripheral vision. Her tread was heavier than it was before as if to betray her anger but she seemed to compose herself quickly. The mist was slowly evaporating from around them like a silk cover being pulled from a blue painting. Bjorn's shoulders relaxed as the Erdtree, once obscured, glimmered on the horizon with beams of radiant gold.
Peeping frogs and Wraithcallers filled the tense silence with a cacophony of sounds. The two of them traveled southeast past soaring mountains of black granite wrapped with rag-like clouds. Bjorn settled into a comfortable walking rhythm and kept a cautious eye on his surroundings. Every now and then, he tilted his head to the side to keep track of Kira who was nothing but a dark indigo blur that passed through their surroundings like a shadow. She was so quiet that if it were not for that killing intent he had sensed at Raya Lucaria, Bjorn could easily ignore her presence and look at his surroundings. There was no need to converse further with her to spark another pointless debate and he heavily doubted she would share anything about her background or her plans with him.
To be honest, he didn't know what to think of the mage even after their rather heated debate. Her emotions seemed deeply bound but in both their physical and verbal spar, he could sense the desperation threatening to crack that ice. From the mismatched calluses on her palms to the old scars on her face, she was a strange enigma that did not fit the clear lines drawn by the Golden Order. He had allowed her to accompany him on a whim but at the first sign of rebellion, Bjorn would be more than happy to separate from her and the untold stories frozen in her glacial eyes.
It would take at least a week to reach Limgrave's grassy valleys for Liurnia's blue swamps were vast with bits of Glintstone enticingly glittering about false paths. Even before the Shattering, the waters hid treacherous monsters in its untroubled depths. From Limgrave, it would take at least another week so Bjorn would have the pleasure of Kira's brooding presence for at least two weeks. It was a less than exciting prospect.
The two Tarnished continued on as the sun rose to its full glory over the marshes to burn away the lingering fog. Liurnia lost a little of its mystique as the burning rays revealed the murky sediment clouding the water and the scraggly trees filled with thin leaves. Like the Carian House, its true beauty lay under the full moon when its flaws were gilded away in silver. Bjorn kept a brisk pace along the road and even when it slyly hid under patches of moss or drowned in muddy pools, the Tree Sentinel had an unerring sense of direction. The sticky mud slowly solidified under their feet into firmer grass and a pleasant smell reminiscent of drying hay. It reminded Bjorn of the fleeting summers in the mountains when his family would harvest grass for their horses. Their hardy mounts did not need much to survive but oats and corn were expensive and the month-long blizzards made it impossible to dig up grass in the coldest months.
Asher and Bjorn would often work alongside each other and the boys tanned so evenly their families would joke they couldn't tell the difference between the two. The two families would mow down swaths of grass and lay them out to dry in the sun. Bjorn could still remember the stacks of hay under the sky that curved over him like a blue glass bowl. Though no money was ever exchanged between the families for the bond of mutual need was understood by all in the Kaiden tribe. Everyone helped each other with the knowledge that the survival of all through a harsh winter was dependent on the survival of the individual. There were nights that Bjorn would sleep with Asher's family to help them at the first dazzling rim of the dawn sun and Asher would do the same with his family. Bjorn had many a pleasant memory of the families gathering around a fire at night to roast the wild potatoes that the two boys had dug up from the fertile dirt.
Even after the lavish banquets that the Golden Order had hosted after their victories, Bjorn had never had anything quite as delicious as the roasted potatoes he had shared with Asher under the night sky. But why was he reminiscing about such meaningless things? The truth of the matter was that though the Kaiden were fearsome warriors, their numbers had dwindled due to the overreliance on surviving in groups. Had they been more self-sufficient, stronger bloodlines could have prevailed and become more dominant.
Was Asher weak then? No, Asher is my brother. Then why did he say he hated you? Because… Kira's words from the morning came back to him with the precision and force of a well-timed halberd strike. "Your code of honor only favors yourself. It is not a code, it is merely an indulgence for your own arrogance." These thoughts were making Bjorn uncomfortable and he tried to divert himself. It was troublesome that the mage that engendered such unease in her when Marika knew what honorless crimes she had committed. All that mattered is that he found Asher and brought him back to the path that they had set on together all those years ago. The golden path that they had sworn to protect and been forged anew under Radagon's hammer.
There was a slight commotion and there were hoofbeats. For one, unnerving moment, Bjorn thought he was back in the mountains but the cliffs around them were too short to be from his homeland. Then he saw a pale blue glow and a cloud of hissing mist to mark the erratic passage of two Wraithcallers. The strange creatures looked much more terrifying than they were, especially at night upon their skeletal horses but after weeks in Liurnia, Bjorn was used to dealing with them. One of them charged at the golden-armored man wildly, swinging its bell and a deafening cacophony and the horse reared up on its hind legs. Brackish balls of fire blazed towards him but Bjorn's attention was on the horse's hooves streaking down towards his head. Without breaking a sweat, Bjorn raised his gauntleted hand up so the horse's attack bounced off the heavy metal. It veered off course with a startled whinny and as it plunged down, Bjorn yanked the Wraithcaller off the saddle and ended its incessant flailing with a bare-handed blow.
He belatedly remembered his traveling companion and turned around to observe Kira in the auditory aftermath of a small explosion. To his surprise, it was her attempt at Cannon of Haima and though the trajectory and color of the spell were correct, the attack sizzled into the water without causing any damage. She began casting spells in a seemingly desperate manner and Glintstone Pebbles ineffectually bounced off the Wraithcaller's mount. Watching her casting technique, it was clear that she was quite skilled so Bjorn was puzzled by why her spells were so weak. The wisps of blue magic were barely brighter than sunlight and the Wraithcaller's own attacks knocked the mage off her feet. He sighed in disappointment and raised his own staff to cast a Comet at the simple foe that Kira was unable to defeat.
However, even as his hand closed over his staff, the Wraithcaller's mount suddenly stumbled and the rider went tumbling forward. And Kira, who had appeared helpless on the ground, thrust her Estoc up with deadly precision so that the tip sank into the falling Wraithcaller's throat. There was a spurt of black blood and the Wraithcaller's flailing body toppled into the water, scarring its placid surface with its death rattle. Kira's other hand was a blur and the humming blue blade of Carian Piercer found its mark in the horse's eye and it went mad with pain and terror.
Kira stood up and impassively watched the poor creature galloping through the marshes in a dirge of screams and mist. Bjorn sprang into action and put the injured horse out of its misery with the Comet that had been meant for its master. The water was smooth again with no sign of the violence that had just occurred yet Bjorn was perturbed once more. "Did you make the horse fall?" He asked, curious despite himself.
She pointed down and Bjorn squinted to see a perfectly round hole imprinted into the mud below. "That was why I cast Cannon of Haima." She said and Bjorn now understood why she had thrown a barrage of useless Glintstone Pebbles. It had merely been a cover for the trap that she had laid at the beginning of the fight. If she had been someone Bjorn was more amenable to, he would have been impressed with her ingenuity but their current animosity watered his recognition of her intelligence to a begrudging admiration.
They resumed their journey and he could hear the water streaming from her dark robes and the wet jingle of armor. The sound was all too familiar to Bjorn who had heard it in the early marches through Liurnia where the water had dissolved the lubricating oil of chain mail. The two were drawn into several more small skirmishes with groups of Wraithcallers, wandering Albinauracs, and Miranda flowers that had imbued the blue Glintstone of the marshes. Bjorn always took care of his opponents swiftly and would watch Kira dispatch her enemies slowly yet steadily. He still didn't understand how one so fast with a blade and with such a deep understanding of warfare tactics made for such a poor sorceress. She was quick on her feet and used the environment and superior reach of her Estocs to great effect but her use of magic reminded Bjorn of new recruits. Recruits who had to make the clumsy transition from a wooden practice sword to a metal one capable of slaking its thirst on its owner rather than the enemies.
The sun, once so fierce and golden, was beginning to dim as it succumbed to the poisoned bite of nightfall so Bjorn, despite still being full of vigor, decided to call a halt. He could see that Kira was starting to tire from the slight dip in her shoulders and it would be bothersome if she received a serious injury. They set up camp in a forest clearing lit blue by crystals and swirling eddies of blinking fireflies. Bjorn started a fire with an Incantation and there was an uncomfortable silence as the two Tarnished stared at each other, trying to figure out if they trusted each other enough to share tasks.
Kira answered the unspoken question by striding off with her Estocs and staff gripped in hand. "Well, alright then." Bjorn said aloud into the sudden emptiness and a bullfrog croaked in response. He took his time gathering wood, collecting water and setting up his sleeping accommodations. Kira was still nowhere to be found, not that there was a point to her being around, so Bjorn headed out to hunt down a meal from himself. There was scant prey, none of the meaty pigs, goats or fowl that he was used to subsisting on. Before the Shattering, the roads linking the Lands Between had been populated with numerous inns offering comfortable beds and the local cuisine. Bjorn had spent many nights resting with his squad inside these inns. There were good memories gilded by firelight and golden ale as the soldiers listened to the haunting voices of bards. Bjorn had been indifferent to music at first but Asher had a strange fascination with it.
"It's nothing more than a collection of notes created by variations of the voice and string." Bjorn had said as he methodically ripped a loaf into bite-sized pieces. Asher had paused his perusal of the bard, a pretty woman with braided raven hair and even darker eyes, to scowl at Bjorn.
"You're always the life of parties, you know that?" He asked.
"No, I didn't know that." Bjorn responded and belatedly picked up on the sarcasm when Asher threw a fork at him. "I admit the combinations of colors are pleasing to the eye but-"
"What are you talking about? Colors?" Asher had been picking up another spoon, perhaps to fling it at him, but his full attention was on Bjorn now.
"The colors that appear when the notes are sung at specific timbres. Like now, there is blue and gold when she sings the chorus." Bjorn said and angled his head towards the bard.
"I don't see colors with music. Many people don't. Just another gift the gods gave you, eh?" There was an unnerving note of envy in his voice now. Bjorn was uncomfortable with it because that emotion had been coiling itself in Asher's eyes more as of late.
Bjorn should've been more cognizant of what that emotion would bring, his own Shattering of a bond he had thought absolute. But none of the Tarnished had the gift of foresight. As if to mock this thought, a giant creature erupted from the water and the muddy water swirled in chilling waves around his body. It was an enormous lobster with algae crusted over its back and beady eyes filled with a vacant ferocity. He had seen these creatures scuttling about in the distance as vague disturbances in Liurnia's blue fogs. They were smaller during Rennala's time but they must've gorged on the bodies, casualties of the Shattering's wars, to swell into these monstrosities.
The lobster rushed him and Bjorn's Greatsword clanged as he blocked a stab from its barnacled claw. Faster than was normally possible for such a huge creature, the second claw came at his face. He crouched under the attack and poked his Greatsword into the vulnerable flesh of the lobster's stomach. It hissed at him angrily, dirty bubbles frothing into his face before a stream of water struck his breastplate with incredible force. Bjorn was sent flying and he landed with a splash into cold water that did nothing to cool his rising temper. His cloak that was embroidered with the white Erdtree was now covered in slime and Bjorn was now truly seething at the blow to his pride from being hit by a mere crustacean. The lobster scuttled towards him and jabbed its claws at him with the precision of a fencer but Bjorn had had enough. He seized its limbs and crushed them viciously in his gauntleted hands until they shattered into muddy slivers of shell. The lobster reared up in confusion and the white of expanse of its underside was as soft and fragile as snow as Bjorn mercilessly cut into it.
It slowly curled up under the onslaught of blows until its legs stopped wriggling in its ascension to death. The marsh was unusually quiet after this display of violence but after a few moments, the chorus of frogs and crickets started up once more with the flashing of more Glintstone fireflies. Bjorn contemplated the corpse of the giant lobster for a moment. Its flesh looked clean and unspoiled and this journey was of indeterminate length so sparing his supplies would be prudent.
Bjorn performed the mindless task of butchering the carcass, its joints were fragile and the flesh sliced apart like paper. He looked up at the sky to see the moon nestled into the Erdtree branches as neatly as a pearl sewn into golden thread. This was why he disdained traveling through Liurnia; it wasn't just the constantly wet boots and incessant noise. It was an irritating reminder that the House of the Moon had fought the Golden Order to a standstill, requiring weaker and more diplomatic solutions. In a rather foul temper, he turned his back on the luminous moonlight towards the red-gold glow of their makeshift campsite.
Kira was still nowhere to be found so Bjorn sat down and wrapped the lobster meat in wet leaves to bake them in the coals of the fire. He wasn't worried about a sneak attack even with Kira's quiet tread. Even if she could kill him, she wouldn't until he had fulfilled his perceived purpose. He had met all types of soldiers with the same cunning glint in their eyes that betrayed their intentions to sacrifice all to be accepted into Radagon's good graces. He could smell the cooking flesh so he fished the steaming packages out with his bare hands. The lobster meat was tasteless and chewy and Bjorn thought that it could be much improved with lemon. It still filled his limbs with vigor, perhaps the life-force from the warriors the lobster had eaten was now granted him. It was a slightly disturbing thought but such was the way of the world. Bjorn would take up the fight they had been too weak to finish.
After cleaning his sword and armor, Bjorn set off to find Kira. It would be troublesome to lose her when he was admittedly curious about the stories she knew about the Demigods. He cast the Crucible Incant of the Wings, a spell frowned upon by Tree Sentinels, but Bjorn was in no mood to wrestle with moral quandaries. The luminous wings bore him aloft until the marshes shone beneath him like a tarnished mirror. His body was free of the gravity that weighed down his massive frame and it was sometimes pleasant to be free of that tether. He looked around until he saw her, a dark figure amidst the darker waters in a ruin not too far from the golden beacon of his own campsite. Bjorn furled his wings into a fast yet controlled spiral dive to the location he had marked.
He splashed down, the earth pulling him down insistently, and walked towards the ruins. Bjorn was quiet lest he startle a Comet out of the sorceress and to be frank, he was curious what she was up to. The ruins were covered in a tangle of moss and pearlescent Ruin Fragments that gave the encroaching night a harsher hue of black. He could just spot a basket filled with…wild vegetables? It seemed that Kira was quite the forager and he spotted a line strung with fish. Again, there was a grudging admiration for her self-sufficiency and a parallel with her stubborn independence that Bjorn didn't want to examine. She had already set up a lean-to shelter against the angled slant of the ruins; she clearly had no intention of sharing a camp with him nor even giving the location of her own. Bjorn would've been insulted if he was one to obsess over the small details.
For now, he watched her as she practiced her sorceries and swordsmanship. Her steps were light and stirring up droplets of water that accentuated her movements in silver. Amidst the serene water and bright moonlight, perhaps her bladework could've been an elegant dance. But he could see the look on her sharp face. One of desperate determination that turned her practice into a torturous ritual of self-criticism. Her sorceries were more fleeting than the Glintstone fireflies around her and Bjorn was curious once again watching her practice. Kira had flashes of ability yet the weapons and sorceries suited her about as well as ill-fitting armor. She was rattling around clumsily in the empty spaces of her whatever insecurities she was harboring. Kira was veiling something away and it seemed utterly impractical to Bjorn.
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Well he had enough of watching her ineffectual training for it was tiresome to see someone wasting time. He was about to head back to his camp to get some sleep when Kira stopped her practice and climbed atop the ruins. She was holding something, it appeared to be a thin stick, and she sat at the apex of the crumbled wall. Her figure was small before an infinity of stars but something about her controlled pose differentiated her from the sky. There was a pause and then a mournful yet clear sound rang out in a swirl of deep blue. The deepest blue Bjorn had ever seen while listening to music and a color that could only be described as a midnight ocean. He had heard his fill of flute music from Leyndell pages who played the ballads of the families they served. This was similar only in instrument and Kira held her flute differently, vertically instead of the sideways and the sound was more somber and lingered for far longer as if the waters held the reverberations close.
She kept playing and Bjorn tilted his head to the side as he listened to the strange chords and new note progressions. It was unlike anything he had heard before with a melancholy sharper yet more subtle than the sonorous drums and cellos of Leyndell mourning dirges. The din of the marshes quieted down as Kira's flute notes rippled through runs as dexterously as a wind through grass. In an uncharacteristic moment, Bjorn closed his eyes to better see the colors that were more vivid than the blue Glintstone crystals and shadowy pools. Many shades streaked across the shadows behind his eyelids but there was that deep blue again and flashes of red. Unlike her swordplay and cold face, there was nothing veiled in this song and Bjorn could sense a sorrow behind the skillful playing.
Kira stopped all too soon and slipped down from her spot among the stars. Bjorn turned around to return to his camp. The warm sphere of the fire was strange after the chill hues of Kira's flute and Bjorn felt like he was coming out of a trance as he organized his supplies and weapons for the morrow's march. Just like there was a hidden world of color only Bjorn could see, he had glimpsed something of the world Kira kept walled in layers of ice. He still didn't trust her and would gladly part ways with her after he fulfilled whatever bargain they had struck. But there was more to her than he had first thought. What exactly? Bjorn couldn't say and his internal assertion that he didn't care didn't ring true.
Outskirts of Liurnia, Kira
Screaming that was shaped by fire and blood. Embers and the silken heat of ashes fluttering down her face in black tears. There was that door again, the rice paper panes stained red in a dark splatter.
Then the floor opened beneath her and she fell down a tunnel into a village without sunlight. Kira was in a vast cavern filled with the strange sparkle of purple and blue crystals. A voice was calling out to her, a familiar name and the even more familiar face of a young girl. Longing, sadness, and rage washed through her more powerfully than the storm that had almost ended her life. She tried to listen to the girl's words but the monotonous chime of mining picks drowned out her voice. BE QUIET! Kira wanted to shout, let me hear what-
Pling pling pling. Pling pling pling. Kira woke up with her ears still ringing from that strange dream. It was still dark and in her confusion, the glimmers of those blue and purple crystals lingered in her vision until she blinked them away. Her gaze focused on the source of pinging and she saw it was the Glintstone familiar she had enchanted to wake her up before dawn. The translucent crane was pecking the stone next to her to wake her up and Kira groggily severed the spell so it collapsed back into an inert pile of crystals. She was still sweating from the torrent of emotions and her clothes stank with the scent of the countless bogs they had waded through.
So Kira emerged from her shelter and headed towards a secluded spring she had found while foraging yesterday. The waters frothed and bubbled from its groundwater source and was mercifully clear. Kira undressed and then sank into the pool, her feet barely skimming the rounded pebbles at the bottom. The icy cold didn't bother her for she had used to swim in the sea to increase her endurance. Nothing took one's breath away faster than cold so she had slowly hardened her body against it. Her back was stiff from sleeping on the ground and for a fleeting moment, she pictured Raya Lucaria's immaculate white washing rooms and then her comfortable bed. How easily one became accustomed to their comforts.
Blue crystals glittered through the predawn fog laid over the distant forests, reminding her of that cavern village. Kira plucked a leaf from a fern overhanging the water and scrubbed herself vigorously as if to wash away the stains of that vision. When she looked down at the water, Kira swore she could see the reflection of that girl staring at her reproachfully through the bubbles. She slapped the image away in a rare lack of control and hastily finished her morning bath. As the mage dried off and pulled on her Raya Lucarian robes, there was a whisper that wafted through her mind like silver smoke. Her pocket flickered with blue light and when she reached into it, her fingers grazed the bloody stone she had taken from Ari's body.
There was another flash and stinging pain flamed upwards through her arm. She yanked her hand back and stared at the blue light spreading through the spider web of veins. Tiny crystals began sprouting from her wrist and ruby droplets of blood seeped from the fresh wounds. Kira plunged her hand into the spring and the frigid water seemed to halt the spread of the crystals even as her blood bloomed like a flower. She readied her knife in case she'd have to cut off the affected hand but luckily the water froze the affliction, preventing her from losing her main sword arm. Withdrawing her hand, the blue crystals glistened around her wrist like the heirloom bracelets worn by noblewomen.
Kira's heartbeat was pounding and she tapped the crystals with the flat of her blade. They rang and the reverberations from the metal buzzed against her skin. It appeared that the crystals did not share sensation with her skin so Kira dug the point of the knife into one and tried to pry it out. The pain was instantaneous and the dagger clattered into the spring as she hissed in agony, holding her wrist tightly. The prickling sensations slowly ebbed away and Kira dug a hole in the ground with the tip of her boot. Carefully, she held out her robe and sliced away the pocket with the stone so that it fell into the earth. She smoothed the dirt over the crystal from Ari's body and wrapped a strip of dark cloth around the crystals on her wrist. The physical actions gave her a measure of control of the situation that smoothed away her worries. Kira didn't know what happened but if nothing further happened, she would have to shelve this issue for another time.
The mist over the marshes had lightened from inky blue to silver shot with tinges of gold. She didn't have much time to practice until Bjorn would wake up to resume their journey. Kira could see the contemptuous look in the armored man's eyes when he saw her fight. Contempt. Oceans away from home and she still could not escape that look. Not from the Raya Lucarian students who whispered about her weak sorceries nor this man in perfect golden armor and eyes as unfeeling as mud. They all looked down on her, underestimated her, tried to make her feel small but she was not going to allow them to do so. She returned to her camp and though her body still ached from the fights yesterday, Kira picked up her weapons and resumed the training that she had stopped last night. Old blisters burst across her palm when she gripped the Estoc hilts tightly but she embraced the biting sting of the reopened wounds. It was a reminder that she was pushing her body to the limit and as long as she did, she would improve. She had to improve.
Kira practiced the thrusting motion she had learned to adapt more since coming to the Lands Between. But it felt constrained, the tip trapped in a shallow groove that demanded perfect lines of symmetry. Kira moved her feet like a fencer's, in yet another straight line as she danced forwards and back to toughen the muscles of her thighs. Using rapiers was finding the balance between a relentless charge and a controlled retreat. The water lapped around her in a soft tapestry of light and shadow and her Estocs cleaved through shafts of growing sunlight like a needle. When Kira had healed enough from her ordeal with the storm, she had marched straight to the weapons master. The weapons master, an elderly man who used a sword as a cane, had sized her up with his rheumy eyes before handing her the Estocs.
"Do you have…" Kira fumbled for the words. Guidon was still teaching her the language and some words didn't come naturally to her. "Slashing sword? Diagonal strike."
"What are you talking about girl? This isn't a Leyndell armory. Mages use weapons as a last resort so be happy I have these polished up for you. Short and small fighters like you must rely on speed and precision." He said and tossed the rag-wrapped weapons at her. Kira didn't have the vocabulary at the time to argue with him though she had briefly indulged in the idea of poisoning his cup of tea. The weapons were light and the metal polished to a mirror-like brightness. But the heft of the thrusting sword was wrong in her hands and it was yet another unfamiliarity in this new world defined by strange languages and even stranger customs.
And magic…magic was foreign to her. The Raya Lucarian teachers had told them how in the beginning the stars first fell to earth. The first Astrologers had harnessed the power of these starlight shards, binding them to their own visions. "Magic is the force from the ancient stars and we mages are the ones chosen to understand its secrets. Seize the currents around you and shape it to your whim to change the world as you see fit." But Kira could never seize those currents. Perhaps the stars were too distant from her or had turned their back on an outsider who had washed up on their shores. Unlike her fellow students, Kira struggled with each spell and threading magic through her staff was like trying to hold onto a snake.
Magic had saved her from that night filled with fires and burning bright sea. But Kira hated it. She hated the way it sounded, its colors, the feel of it rushing through her body. It was wild and alien and no matter how hard she studied or tried to control it, it broke free from her grasp. Why had it chosen her to be its vessel when she wanted nothing to do with it? Like a stubborn child, it had hidden itself from her in those early, desperate years when she needed it most. Stupid and useless like all of her natural gifts.
A hiss of frustration left her mouth and she swung her staff forwards for Carian Piercer. The blue blade scraped the boulder in front of her before disappearing without leaving even a scratch. She switched to the Gavel of Haima but the magic danced out of her grasp and her staff became too heavy for her to lift to finish the spell. "Kuso!" She ground out and viciously stuck the staff into a crack in the boulder before she did something childish like throwing it. Why couldn't she do it? Kira could feel the magic swirling around her, fading in the Glintstone Fireflies, gleaming in the crystals and winding below her in the cold waters. So why couldn't she use any of it? Why could Bjorn, a thick-headed man of the Golden Order, effortlessly use the spells that she had spent months laboring over? The sun was up in earnest now and Kira had to halt her practice, not that it had been going well, to get ready to resume their journey.
She walked back to Bjorn's encampment to see that the Tree Sentinel had already packed up most of his belongings. He was sitting by the remains of a fire, eating a strange white meat. He looked up at her with no hint of surprise at her approach and inclined his head in greeting. Kira returned it with the barest of nods. After he refused to return her bow at Raya Lucaria, Kira had decided her courtesies were wasted upon this golden barbarian. Bjorn kicked a shower of sticky mud over the fire and they wordlessly continued their journey with only a thin spiral of smoke marking the evidence of their stay.