Chapter Eight

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Her ears registered her consciousness first, the sounds of the city ebbing and flowing past her.

Gradually her eyes opened, and she saw Seth's face. "What are you doing?" she asked blearily.

“I should be asking you that.” He raised an eyebrow. “What’s with you? Last time I checked, you didn’t make a habit of fainting in the middle of a crowded street.” He shouldered his way past the last vestiges of the crowd which offered only the slightest of resistances.

"I was distracted, and extremely tired," she mumbled.

"And you just checked yourself out of the hospital without even getting proper rest? Tch, it's a wonder you've lasted this long," he grumbled. "What? Do you just push yourself until you hit the wall and hope that someone's there to pick up the pieces?"

She didn't hear the last question, having fallen back asleep in his arms.

"Cheater..." he pouted, sighing as he marched down the street.

"Don't think you've gotten rid of me. I'm keeping my eye on you, boy!"

He looked over his shoulder. It was that man again, following not two steps behind. He'd forgotten him. "Do as you wish," he shrugged, "just so long as you don't try to harm either of us I don't have a problem with you tagging along." Man, that is one heck of an evil eye he's got there. I wonder what happened to make him so distrustful...

*           *           *

She stood on the roof, a fence preventing anyone from seeing her. It was her father's rule. You are nobody to everyone. Outside of these doors you do not exist. That was all he told her. For her own protection, he said.

She held no weapons"simply the gift.

She hadn't used it before, but she had always known it was there. Perhaps it was time to try.

"Wind," she spoke, moving her hand in the direction she wanted it to blow.

It blew.

"Water," she said, cupping her hands.

They filled.

She drank from her hands eagerly, tasting success.

Perhaps ice?

Water formed a puddle on the roof. An cold wind blew across it gently, freezing it almost instantly.

What about a shield? she thought. Air is less bulky than armor, more flexible, and certainly free.

She played around all afternoon, experimenting with water, fiddling with air, toying with ice…

*           *           *

Just how long is this guy going to keep on following me? Seth wondered as he slipped into the shade of the arena.

True to his word, the man had kept an eye on Seth. A very close eye as it happened. He'd literally stayed within two steps the entire time.

"And just where the hell do you think you're going?!" he growled as Seth turned towards the rooms that were rented out to fighters and occasionally travelers.

"My room. It's the only bed I have access to, unless you expect me to march into the hospital and demand they give up one of their precious beds to someone who obviously isn't in mortal danger, and who only seems to be showing signs of exhaustion." He raised an eyebrow patronizingly

The solidly built man trembled, fighting the urge to just cave in the face of the audacious, brat in front of him.

"One wrong move," the man warned, as he got his anger under control, "one wrong move and I swear what's left of you will be leaking out under your door."

"Oi, easy big guy," Seth said as he awkwardly retrieved his keys from his pocket and opened the door to his room in an equally awkward fashion, "I haven't given you a single reason to hate me so much. Would some civility be too much to ask?" He shuffled over to his bed and deposited Kyari down on the freshly made sheets.

"Hell no," the man shot back, stalking over to the bed's foot and leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "Not for the likes of you. Not a chance."

Sighing, Seth sat down in a chair next to the bed and rubbed his brow wearily. "Care to explain?"

"You make a habit of asking every stranger you meet their life story, boy?" the man asked with disdain.

"No, I didn't mean-"

"You didn't mean, you didn't mean. Save your breath, I've heard it all before." The man fingered a hammer thrust into his belt with evident familiarity. "All you need to know is that I'll cave your head in if you so much as look at that girl wrong. That's more than enough information for you."

"I highly doubt that." Seth stared coldly at his unwelcome guest. "If you really meant that, why didn't you 'cave my head in', as you put it, back when I first picked her," he nodded to Kyari, "up?"

"Typical." He snorted. "You think I don't have a life? You think I'd throw away whatever future I might have for your scrawny hide? Feh, you're all the same. Think you're the center of the world."

"Now see here-" he started indignantly before he was abruptly cut off.

"No, you see here," the intruder jabbed his hammer repeatedly, "I don't give two bits what kind of flimsy justification you have, I'm not buying it. Now you're going to sit there nice and quiet like until the little miss wakes up and I hear her side of the story, and then we'll see if you leave this room with your bones intact." He drew out the hammer and began tossing it between his hands. "And just to make things absolutely clear. Outside? There're people outside, and I have a reputation to think of, even if you think that the meaning of my life begins and ends with how it affects yours. But inside? Well now that's a different matter entirely." The man grinned.

Seth sighed and eased himself back into his chair. What had he gotten himself into this time? He should have told the clearly deranged man to shove off when he had the chance.

This... was going to be a long evening.

*           *           *

"What is going on here?" Kyari eventually mumbled as she woke up.

"Oh hey, you're awake!" Seth grinned as he made to rise from his chair.

"Not so fast!" the man growled, propelling himself off the wall. "Do you know this kid?" He asked the half-awake Kyari, jabbing his hammer in Seth's general direction.

"I'm his trainer." She narrowed her eyes. "Who are you?"

"I'm..." his face softened. "I'm just concerned. Are you sure you can trust him?"

"Hey! Of course she can tr-"

"I didn't ask you!" The hammer wielding 'protector's' stormy expression snapped right back into place as he turned on Seth. "I asked her." He gestured at Kyari.

"Well?" he asked gently, if insistently, turning towards the raven haired thief.

"Yes. I trust him."

The man opened his mouth to argue that trusting someone and knowing that they were trustworthy were two different things, but thought better of it. He highly doubted the girl would care about that difference, if she even acknowledged the difference at all.

That was the funny thing about trust.

“All right,” he said grudgingly. Returning his hammer to its place on his belt he strode to the door. Placing his hand on the doorknob, he made to turn it, but paused. “Just… keep an eye on him, ok?” he requested, turning to face Kyari. “Look, I know you trust him,” he pre-empted any reply, “just… don’t let him try any funny business.

“And you,” he turned towards Seth, “don’t think I’ve forgotten you. I hear a rumor, any rumor at all, and there’ll be hell to pay. You got that?”

“Whatever you say,” he replied, perhaps a little more irreverently than he might have intended. He was still a little peeved that he’d lost all authority in what was essentially his own home.

Shooting the boy one last glare, the man turned back to Kyari.

“My wife and I, we’re here if he,” the man jerked his head at Seth, “gives you any grief. We’re the blacksmith’s on Keris Street; only place with a forge, you can’t miss it. Say that Hector sent you if I’m not there; Alma’ll do right by you.”

With that the blacksmith swept from the room, closing the door forcefully behind him.

Seth stared at the shut door dumbly, blinked a few times and turned to Kyari.

“The hell was that about?”

"I'm not completely sure," she mumbled, lying back down.

"It takes all types I guess..." he sighed as he leaned back in his chair.

"Never mind that guy, how are you feeling?"

"Just tired. Healing takes a lot out of me, so it probably wasn't the best idea to leave the medics right away. I have a...an...acquaintance who's a healer that's not part of the medical facilities here. I had to go to him since my wound wasn't completely healed...

"Thanks for taking care of me. I don't think I'll need to go to Hector's, no matter what he said."

"Damn right you won't," he fumed, crossing his arms. Who did that self-righteous man think he was, throwing about threats and accusations like so much verbal confetti... He made a mental note to give the suspicious blacksmith a piece of his mind the next time he saw him. "So why'd you have to go to your acquaintance instead of waiting an extra, what, day or so?" He  relaxed, turning to Kyari.

"It wasn't going to heal on its own. Besides, I rather pay a little extra than be in pain later."

"Ahhh, sorry, I didn't mean sleep it off at home or anything like that," he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I mean why did you have to go to this acquaintance of yours right afterwards? It's not like there's anything wrong with the medics here, right?"

"When they didn't do their best job to begin with, I'm not going to go back and ask them to fix it. Besides," she half-muttered, half-sighed, "he doesn't think the medics are trustworthy. Apparently, there's a conspiracy among them waiting for me to get killed."

"Oh c'mon, I know magic's amazing and all but even it has to have some limitations, doesn't it?" he said, exasperated. "I mean, in healing, they're messing around with something as complex as the human body, right? That's got to take more time than, what, a night? Maybe two?" His eyebrow’s shot upwards at Kyari’s final statement.

"To get you killed?" he frowned thoughtfully. “That… doesn’t make sense. There’s nothing in it for them, unless someone’s paying them to do the deed, or not to do it as it were. But who? Who wants you dead so badly that they’d bribe the entire medical staff? Because that’s what they’d have to do if they, apparently, want you to die over a prolonged period of time.” He shook his head. “The possibility that you’d be transferred to another, competent caretaker the next time you get hurt is just too great otherwise.”

He laughed hollowly. “But then, what do I know? Nobody makes it to the top without stepping on a few toes, and you’ve been standing at the top for quite some time, haven’t you Miss Undefeated?” He grinned sardonically at her. “So I’m gonna ask you again, is there a reason, any reason someone might be after you? Because if there is, I’m damn sure they’ll happily make me ‘disappear’ if it’ll help them get to you, and I’d really hate to be caught unawares…”

She sighed, sitting up and leaning her back against the wall and wrapping her arms around her knees. "First of all, I can tell when a wound is going to heal well on its own or not. If it's been poorly healed by magic, it's going to have an even harder time healing itself back up.

"Second, the whole medical staff wasn't bribed, just enough of them. They must have a certain team of people that's only allowed to 'heal' me. According to my acquaintance, they are being bribed."

She fell silent for a minute to gather a response to his last questions. "It could be Marcin. He's convinced that I'm nobility, and will probably find a way to get to me that doesn't involve direct confrontation.

"I don't know, Seth. I don't have any answers, and I don't have any reasons."

He nodded to himself. It made sense. Even when healing the old fashioned way mistakes happened. If broken bones were poorly set, they ended up healing wrong, severely limiting the patient. Magic would just magnify the problem.

“But something still doesn’t sit well with me. Like I said, if they didn’t bribe the whole staff, how would they insure they’re the only ones that work on you? That’s a busy hospital, and I’m sure they have little choice on who they heal. Someone’s hurt? Whoever’s free is put on the job.” The brunet pinched the bridge of his nose. “And it’s not like they can exactly wait around for you. Avoid too much duty while they wait for you and they’re bound to attract attention.”

He tilted his head towards her.

“Marcin? I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “Like you just said, he’s absolutely convinced you’re royalty, which means killing you is the absolute last thing he’d ever consider. And don’t say he’s just trying to weaken you. If he was, then why take the chance of you actually dying when under the care of the people he’s bribed? No, if he wanted you weakened, he’d order them to weaken you. People feel more comfortable when murder isn’t involved and charge a hell of a lot less to do the deed.”

The boy leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face wearily. This whole affair gave him headaches. He promised himself that the moment he extricated himself from this whole mess, he’d take an entire week to just rest. No strenuous thinking, just… relaxation.

“I know I’m being a broken record here, but I really, really don’t like this whole situation. It just doesn’t make any sense. When it comes down to it, there’re only two real possibilities. One, there’s someone neither of us knows who’s after your life and is willing to shell out cash to do it,” he ticked the possibility off on his right index, “or two, your contact is lying.”

She closed her eyes, feeling potential tears pushing against her eyelids. "I don't have any answers, Seth. All I really know is that every time I've come back from the medics recently, they haven't healed me completely, and I've had to redo it. Everything else I'm just relaying to you from someone else, and I can't argue my side when I don't understand it.

"I don't know what to do."

He growled, slamming the back of his head into the wall in frustration. “That makes two of us…” He sighed.

“Sorry,” he apologized, hanging his head, “I’m just a little… high-strung. All this cloak and dagger stuff is making me paranoid. And it’s not letting up,” he clenched his fist at the word ‘up’, “It just keeps going deeper, and deeper and I don’t know what the hell is going on!” He slammed his fist into the wall behind him, before visibly deflating.

“I don’t know what to do either…”

He raised his head, looking her full in the face.

“But we have to do something. Even if it’s just acting ‘normal’, we have to do something or whoever’s got it in for you is going to smell something fishy and come down hard before they lose it all. So… do we part ways or push forward?”

She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, looking back at him. "If you're willing, I want to push forward with you. I don't want to try to go through this on my own. In a situation where I'm not sure who to trust, I want to have someone I can depend on.

"I don't know if we're going to get hurt. I don't know what's going to happen. But I want to stay with you."

He looked at her strangely before shaking his head and looking away.

"So it's decided then..." he said, trying to brush off the awkwardness he suddenly felt.

"Well then," he plowed on as he ham-handedly avoided addressing the undercurrent of trust in the girl's words, "if we're going to act normal, then we're going to have to turn up at the arena sooner or later. How long do you think it'll be unitl you're good to go?"

"I'm going to need a day at least. I won't be able to know until tomorrow morning if I need any more time.

"We don't have to fight to train. I have some books back at home that would be rather useful."

"I wasn't really talking about training for training's sake," he rubbed the back of his head bashfully, "more... training for appearance's sake. Do you think they’ll leave us relatively alone if we switch to more theoretical combat exercises, or do you think that’ll just make them step up their agenda?"

She shrugged. "It could be both, albeit from different people. The medics might leave us relatively alone, whereas Marcin would step up his agenda."

"Damned if we do, damned if we don't, huh?" he closed his eyes tiredly. He could really go for a nice long sleep right about now.

"So, who would you rather take your chances with? Marcin, or the medical staff?"

"We can avoid the problem with the medical staff by going to my acquaintance, so we won't have to give up the training fights."

He opened his mouth to argue, but checked himself. Going by her confidence in her acquaintance, she’d probably known him for a while. She wasn’t one to trust easily from what he’d seen; perhaps it was high time he put a little faith in her judgment.

“Which leaves another fight as our safest bet as far as Marcin and his underlings go,” he pondered aloud. “So… you up for another round? In a few days of course.”

"There's no reason for me to say no."

"All right," he nodded. "How about we have another session... You said you'd need a day? At least? Let's give it three and see how you're feeling then."

Getting up from his seat, he stretched his arms until he felt a pair of satisfying cracks and then swung them down to hang limp at his sides. “In the meantime… you said you had some combat oriented books we could use. That sounds like an excellent idea.” He delivered the last statement as more of a question.

She nodded, getting off the bed. Without a stumble, she made it the door, and turned around. "Well? Let's go."

He raised an eyebrow. "Right now?" he asked. "Ahhh well, no time like the present I guess." He shrugged. "Lead the way."

*           *           *

She unlocked the door, opening it and showing him in. "It's a bit of a mess," she apologized.

"I've seen worse," he chuckled, stopping just outside the door to unbuckle his greaves and remove his shoes. "In fact, I usually live in much worse. My house is probably a mess by now.” Carrying his equipment in, he propped the metal boots against the wall just behind the door. "So what should we start with first?" he asked, staying behind her

Walking over to her bookshelf, she tossed her pack on her bed. "Swordplay - Foundations, Hand Weapons - Staffs, Swords, and More," she muttered, pulling books out of the shelf as she did so. "Basic Strategy...Fighting Mages..."

His ears perked up. "'Fighting Mages'? Could I have a look at that one?"

Handing it to him, she smiled. "It's probably not going to be much help, but go ahead and take a look.”

“Ahhh, thanks!” he smiled as he accepted the book from her. Flipping the book open, he immediately scanned the index only to find, “Elemental counters, formation disruption, efficient use of surroundings, creation vs. manipulation…” he snapped the book shut again, frowning as he looked up at her. “It’s a book on how to fight mages, for mages, isn’t it? So that’s why you were smiling like that,” he huffed as he offered the tome back to her. “Get my hopes up why don’t you?”

Looking at the bookcase behind her, he tried to find something of interest, but none of the titles really jumped out at him. “I’ve already read that ‘Basic Strategies” guide, I’m afraid,” he admitted while he eyed up the book on melee weaponry the ice mage had pulled out, “though ‘read’ might be a bit of a misnomer. Had it beaten into my head more like. Quite literally sometimes. Stupid old goat…

“Maybe I’ll just stick to what I’ve got on hand. Would you mind passing me that book on hand weapons?”

"Yeah," she said, handing it to him. "Who's this 'stupid old goat' of yours?"

“Thanks,” he said as he accepted the book. “He’s just an old man. At least, that’s what he always says. Usually right before handing me my own rear.” He chuckled wryly. “Evidently age makes you tougher than nails.” He shook his head ruefully, remembering the numerous times he’d darn near broken his fist trying to punch the old instructor. “Anyways, he was the man that taught me how to fight. Very much a believer in the school of hard knocks.”

Taking advantage of the index, he quickly flipped through the book until he hit the section on polearms. Spears, more specifically. “Let’s see… defensive strategy, when to throw and when to refrain, making the most of the extra reach…” he frowned. “I already know most of this, though I’ll admit that their take on grips is interesting. Geez, I swear holding it like that’s begging to have your wrists broken, but if what they say’s true… Heheheh, close quarter combat indeed. Though it’d be better if I had a hasta…”

Blinking, he shook himself out of his reverie, returning his attention to the book. “But nothing on fighting mages… What is it with these books and their suspiciously specific lack of tactics? What? Does everyone just intrinsically know how to fight mages and I just got shafted when I was born?”

Rubbing his face tiredly, he peeked through his fingers at her. “How would you go about fighting a mage if you couldn’t use magic?”

"You've asked me that before, and I didn't really have an answer then. Truth is, it really depends on the type of mage. Fire mages have different techniques than earth mages. Even then, air mages will vary techniques among themselves.

"I guess I'd try to put them in a position where using magic is impossible, or will not give them the upper hand."

"Heh, Alreck always told me I had the memory of a goldfish with Alzheimer's. Guess you just proved him right." He chuckled, walking over to the nearest wall and leaning back on it. "Well, robbing them of their ability to use magic goes without saying, but it's the how I'm interested in. If only I knew how..."

He blinked. Then slapped him. And then three more times for good measure. "I am such an idiot!"

"Hey Kyari," he turned to her, excitement lighting his face, “what can you tell me about magic. Like, in general. How is it powered? Are there limitations? And runes, I’ve seen mages decked out from head to toe in them before, but I don’t really see any on you. Are they just for show, or do they actually do something? Or is it even some other brand of magic they use?”

Realizing that he was rambling, he blushed and shut his mouth, “Sorry about that,” he apologized bashfully, “but yeah. Magic. What can you tell me about it?”

She sighed, smiling. "You'd better sit down, because it's going to be a bit of an explanation. I surprised that you don't know much.

"As you know, there the five different "powers" one can wield: earth, air, fire, water, and healing. Like me, others can use more than one, but usually not more than two.

"Instead of being opposites, like on a compass, they are wound together." She slipped her bracelet off, showing it to him. "Healing is represented by white, and is in the very center, surrounded by blue for air, green for water, brown for earth, and red for fire.

"Not counting healing, the power to wield the magic comes from the elements themselves. That being said, one does not possess magic power, one possesses the ability to wield it. The runes are attempts by those less skilled to improve their ability, but it does not work that way. I'm not sure if it's even possible to increase one's ability to manipulate the elements.

"The more skilled you are, the less physical motion and exertion you need to use the power in the elements. You can get better at using it, and discovering the different tricks you can do, but there is a limitation to it.

"Magic is usually passed down through the family, but occasionally there are outliers besides the mage families.

"Anything I missed?"

“Yeah, it’s kind of an embarrassing oversight"not learning about magic"but come on, I was having enough problems with learning how to fight with a wooden stick as it was. Learning how mages did all those flashy tricks didn’t really seem all that important when Alreck was giving my bruises bruises.” He crossed his arms. “I guess I always thought I’d get around to it someday, but things happened and it kinda fell to the wayside.”

“Anyways, enough about the past. Let’s start with the elements’ colors. What’s the significance behind them? Are they only for… identification purposes? And When you said they’re wound together, does that mean they’re interdependent? Like… you can’t have one without the others? And healing, where does the power for that come from? Your body? The patient’s?”

Pausing, he thought on the latter section of her explanation. “Ok, so people don’t actually possess the power, just the ability to use it… But mages get exhausted when they use their magic, you’re a prime example,” he pointed out. “So there’s gotta be some kind of energy drain somewhere along the line. What energy are you using to use magic? You mentioned physical exertion, is it physical energy you use?

“So… magical abilities decided at birth? You either have it, or you don’t; you can’t ‘learn’ how to do it if you aren’t born with the spark in you, so to speak? Does anyone know why some people are born with magic, even though they don’t come from magical stock?

“I guess my final question is… what does it feel like, using magic.” He smiled ironically. “I know I’m probably asking the impossible, seeing as it’s probably one of those things you have to experience for yourself, but any description at all would be appreciated.”

“To start with:” she replied, “the colors are what you…feel when you use the magic. Like, water magic feels green. It’s kind of hard to explain, but that’s what it’s like. Of course, that also means that if you use fire and air, you’ll feel a purple color. Elementary color mixing, you could say. The being wound together is the symbol that magic is not divided. While you do have separate mages for each element, the elements are not enemies. You cannot have a world with only fire, and no water.

“Also, the power from healing comes primarily from the patient, but only to a certain extent. Once that is reached, the healer starts drawing from his own body.

“The reason mages get exhausted is not because of physical exertion, but mental exertion. The energy comes from the elements. There’s power in the elements, and that’s what the skill does: manipulate the power in the elements.

“And you’re right. You either have magic…or you don’t. There’s no way to “learn it.” You just have it, and no one knows why it randomly pops up.

“Using magic,” she paused, “is hard to explain, but I’ll try for you. Being able to use magic is the comfort that another weapon is at hand and it can’t be destroyed, stolen, or lost. The feeling itself is magnificent"the power in your hands is waiting to be manipulated. It is something you’d have to experience yourself.”

He closed his eyes and tried to envision ‘feeling’ a color. He didn’t get very far.

Ugh, how do you feel a color?! He pinched the bridge of his nose. This is an exercise in futility. It’s like trying to explain the concept of music to someone who’s both blind and deaf…Surfacing from his frustration, he latched onto the tail end of one sentence.

“So besides bloodlines, there’s no other known way of charting the gift? Like, gender, place of birth, age of the parents, exposure of the mother to magic during pregnancy, exposure of the parents to magic period, anything?”

He looked at her curiously.

“When you say ‘the power in your hands’, do you mean that figuratively, or should I take that literally?” he asked her, “I mean, does it actually feel like the power is collecting in your hands? No, wait, I don’t even know if ‘collect’ is the correct word,” he laughed. “Ummm, how should I put it? Does the feeling of power feel stronger in your hands than other areas of your body?”

He paused for a moment, thinking, before adding another question. “And when you actually use magic, do you have to form a ‘connection’, as it were, with the power? Like, do you have to ‘grab’ it before you can use it? And if so, does your ‘hold’ on it ever change?”

"No, it appears completely random who has magic outside of those blood lines.

"'Power in your hands' is completely figurative. You do usually use your hands and mind to shape the magic into what you need it to do, within certain limits, of course.

"I'm not completely sure about your last question...I don't know if I have an answer for you."

He nodded his head slowly, processing the information. “Ok, let me try to rephrase my last question,” he said slowly as he tried to think of a way of explaining exactly what he was asking about. “All right, though first I think I might have to ask a different question. Is there a… I guess ‘safety catch’ would be appropriate… Is there some sort of safeguard while using magic? I mean, is there something specific you have to do, or a specific way you have to think to use magic?” He pursed his lips. “It’s just that… I’ve always been under the impression that there’s something that prevents you from using magic without thinking, mainly because I’ve never really heard of mages using magic by accident.” He chuckled, “Though I guess if they did end up doing something they didn’t mean to, it’s not something they’d be all that keen on sharing.”

“The thing is,” he continued, “I keep on thinking that you need to establish some kind of… connection with the magic before using it. Kind of the same way you have to draw you sword before swinging it around, the ‘connection’ being your hand. And that connection plays a certain factor in how well you can wield your weapon; in the sword case, you can’t wield a blade quite so well if you’re hand’s numb than you can when it’s perfectly fine.”

He laughed nervously. “I guess I’m probably overcomplicating things a bit,” he admitted, chagrined. “What I’m basically asking is what kind of factors decide how well one can wield magic?”

"I see what you're getting at with the "connection" thing. I guess you have to want to use it. It's not going to use itself. Well, there are exceptions where the elements want to be used, but that's a totally different scenario that doesn't happen to normal people.

"It's kind of like using a sword. You want the sword to do something specific, and so you train so your body understands what your mind wants to do. Same with magic.

"It really is about your mental capacity to hold the magic. It's not intelligence, really, but amount your mind can hold, or how much it can keep track of."

His brows knitted together. “So what you’re saying… is that magic is an almost entirely cerebral art, and the physical aspect is only there to… compensate for a lack of… ‘skill’?” the brunet asked tentatively.

The wanderer pursed his lips and gnawed on that tidbit of information for a bit. “So if magic is primarily a mental weapon, does it respond in different ways to different emotions? And if so, would that make diversionary and psychological warfare the most effective method of combating a mage?”

"The physical aspect just helps with concentration." She paused and smiled. "Yes, you're right, that would be extremely effective. Go ahead and try next time we fight..."

“You wouldn’t happen to know what effects each emotion have on your ability to use magic, would you?” The improvisationalist looked up at Kyari. “Oh, and a final question about magic. Well, maybe final,” he chuckled. “Can one use magic to affect the body in ways other than healing? Like, make themselves stronger, or faster or somesuch?”

"As for both your questions, the answer is no."

The wanderer sighed. “Oh well, it was worth a try,” he chuckled wryly. “Well, I suppose we’ve kind of hit a dead end on that route, so maybe we should shift to something else.” The brunet started. “Something I wanted to ask you, do you have a certain style of… errrrm, ‘moving’?” He grimaced. “I didn’t really phrase that well. What I’m saying is that you seem to conserve your movement a lot. You usually react rather than act, let your opponent come to you, use efficient slashes and simple if effective air blades… I could probably name a few more things, but what I’m getting at is, is there a certain way of moving that you practice?”

"I don't know that there's a certain way I train based on how I fight. I've always tried to stay on the defensive, because eventually, the opponent will tire of attacking. It takes less energy to defend. Now, if you have extremely low stamina...then I'd suggest building that up. Stamina is one of the most important things."

"So what you're saying is that the best defense... is a good defense." Seth chuckled. "Stamina isn't one of the things I have to worry about," the boy continued, "more the... application of said stamina. But while I have a fair deal of stamina, speed is something I sadly lack, though I doubt I could build it up to the level I'd prefer in the timeframe I have, which was why I was asking whether you used a certain a style of movement. If I don't have much speed on my side, then I'd better use what I have to the fullest extent I can." The teen explained. "Well, I guess I'll move onto another subject for the moment, but I'll probably come back tot this one again. Now, the weapons you use, your sword, your bow, and your knives," he ticked each tiem off on his fingers, "why do you use them? I mean, out of all the weaponry in the world, why did you choose those ones in particular?"

"The sword was my father's, so it was something he wanted to pass down to me. The daggers were also a technique I inherited from my father, and they all were gifts from him. My bow came from the realization that I needed a ranged weapon, and that was the weapon that fit me best.

“Why do you use your staff? Or the cards?"

"Because they're... inconspicuous,” the improvisationalist said at length. “The staff I can pass off as a walking stick, the cards are, well, cards. Even my bonsai could easily be considered as a small eccentricity. I’d… rather not stir up trouble if I can help it,” he admitted. “It’s all there if I need it, but I’d really much rather be a ‘harmless traveler’, just passing through whatever town I find myself in.”

Stretching his arms, Seth gave a small sigh. He really should have known better to stay in one position for a prolonged length of time. “Out of curiosity though, why do you choose to wield a bow when it seems as if your wind magic would be just as, if not more effective? And I’m fairly sure it’s not just a back-up as I’ve seen you use them both in equal measure.”

"I didn't discover I had magic until after I had been trained with the bow. It was about a year before my father was killed that I figured out how to use it."

“And you kept with it?” Seth asked curiously. “My apologies if this sounds insulting, but I find that humans tend to drop everything to the wayside the moment they get their hands on something new and ‘shiny’. I’m just surprised that you were able to… errr, keep your head on your shoulders so well, as it were.”

"Blame that on my father. He saw no reason for me to discontinue using conventional weapons: I put too much training into my weapons before I discovered magic."

"Heh, smart man," Seth sighed. "The more I hear about him, the more I wish I'd met him, at least once. Out of curiousity, are there any other gems of knowledge he passed down to you that you'd be willing to share? Of course, if you don't have to if you don't want to," he waved his hands hasitly, "but it's just that... Well, if his instruction had even a tenth to do with shaping you into the warrior you are today, then it'd probably be in my best interest to take whatever he found important to heart."

She shrugged. "They come up when they're important. It makes sense to share something about magic when magic comes up." She smiled. "If I told you even a quarter of what he taught me, we'd be here all day."

Seth chuckled at Kyari’s response and tilted his head to the left.

“I was under the impression that that was the general idea,” the boy grinned quirkily. “And it isn’t as if I need to learn everything in one sitting. Words of wisdom take time to digest; I’m starting to appreciate that.”

“So, if you are indeed willing to share, I was wondering if there was anything he considered absolutely paramount to being a fighter. Things that he thought everyone who even considered stepping on a battlefield should know, whether they be bowman, or warrior, or mage.”

She sat silent for a moment. "'Losing is an option. However, it's not an option you should easily accept.'

"He also said, 'You will get hurt. You will feel pain. There is a point when it's too much to stand, but fight your hardest until you reach that point.'"

“Heh, another place, another time and I would’ve latched onto those maxims as if they’d come from Einar’s own mouth, but the former…” he chuckled ironically, “Funny. I asked for words to live by, and yet the one’s I receive are the one’s I’ve promised myself I’d never listen to, at least not right now. Guess I should be more careful about what I ask for.” The teen shot Kyari a lopsided grin. “But I suppose it was a poorly worded request on my part.” Seth admitted. “What I was asking after were skills he might have valued highly, similar to my earlier enquiry about movement. Not that I don’t appreciate the ideas you’ve passed on,” the brunet said hurriedly, “it’s just that… Well, I said it earlier, but they aren’t words I can follow, not just yet.”

"My apologies. I misunderstood your request," she replied. "Endurance, skill itself, reflex, those were all things he believed would be the most important, and in that order. He believed if you should at least be able to outlast an opponent. Skill would be necessary to be able to shorten that time, and reflex would allow you to form a strategy while you automatically react to the situation."

“All three of which require time to build up,” the teen chuckled. “Time I don’t have in abundance. It seems I have a habit of asking for advice I can’t follow.” Seth shook his head. “Truly, life has little place for short-cuts”

The brunet turned and gave Kyari a short bow. “Thank you for the advice, even though it seems I am not ready to follow it just yet. I look forward to the day I can truly take those words to heart. In the meantime,” he raised his head, “are there any books here that you hold in particularly high in regard?”

She shook her head ruefully, "I don't know that's there's much that book learning can help you with. The best I can do is train you the way my father trained me. I wish there was advice I could give you that was pertinent to your goal."

“If there’s nothing that jumps to mind, then don’t worry about it,” Seth assured the battlemage. “Forcing it probably won’t do much good.

“So… the way your father taught you. Is that the way you’ve taken thus far? Learn by doing?” The mahogany headed teen chuckled. “I’ll admit, that method has always held more allure to it for me than sitting in a dusty old library, but advantages are advantages. Gotta get them where you can!”

"Would you like to train the way my father trained me?" she asked, standing up. "At least for a couple of days?"

“Just so long as neither of us ends up in the hospital again,” Seth chuckled. The apprentice warrior stretched his arms. Looks like book knowledge was a dead end. Again. Thank the spirits that Alreck wasn’t here or he’d never have heard the end of it.

‘Heh, point to you, old man. For the four hundred and twenty seventh time…’ the teen thought nostalgically.  Oh well, the past was the past. New day, new opportunities; keep looking forward and all that. Another point there. Stupid goat had all his bases covered, it seemed. ‘Well, it’s not like the gloating rights are valid anymore…’

Author's Note

Much less edited than previous chapters and also missing a quote. Don't expect much more for a little bit...this is the accumulation of nearly a year now.

If you've made it this far, I'd like to know what you think...What does it need? What are you enjoying? Etc...