Weight of Worlds

Esmund and Sansir sat silently for a few long moments. If not for Esmund’s deliberately long and slow breaths Ranvir wouldn’t have known anything was going on.

Not that, that something seemed to be exercise related.

“What’s going on?” Ranvir whispered, leaning over to Teacher Svenar.

“You’re about to find out why the test doesn’t work.” He replied, flatly.

With a slightly shaking hand, Esmund reached over grabbing the half-moon knife, polished edge glinting off the actual Eyes of the Goddess. Slowly, he placed it against his outer forearm.

At first, nothing happened. Then Esmund put slightly more pressure on the blade and it visibly moved.

Ranvir jerked forwards as his brother pulled the weapon away from his arm. He was only stopped by Svenar’s strong arm catching him around the waist and pulling him back.

“Esmund!” He exclaimed, trying to pry at the metal wire muscle of the Master’s arm.

“It’s okay.” He replied, but blood was bubbling up from the wound.

“Just stop this now, it’s stupid to continue.” Svenar said. “There’s putting yourself at risk to better simulate combat, and then there’s deliberately hurting yourself for vague, uncertain gain.” His voice was almost commanding, but didn’t quite have that edge to it.

Esmund just shook his head putting the blade down on the ground next to him, and grabbed the curved dagger. Closing his eyes, Esmund placed it a little higher up on his forearm. He adjusted the position, before a frown crossed his face.

Esmund kept changing the angle slightly, then moving the dagger back and forth, before finally committing. Pushing the weapon down, his skin bent under the slightly duller blade. Then he stopped, the white knuckle grip he had on the dagger faded into a more relaxed hold as he relaxed the tension.

“Is it not working?” Ranvir asked, quietly.

“Don’t be silly, he’s not a manipulator. Even then I doubt he could actually pull the edge away. He’s just getting cold feet. It needs more tension than he’s giving it.”

Ranvir saw his brother’s jaw set, his teeth grit as Svenar spoke loud enough for him to hear. Those had been the wrong words for Es to overhear. Svenar just told him he wasn’t good enough, that he wasn’t trying hard enough.

He pushed the knife against his skin, once more. After a second it slid slightly to the right and the knife bit into his forearm. It visibly cut deeper than the first, and Esmund hissed in pain at the wound.

Ranvir clenched his hands into fists by his side, venomous and angry greens and yellow filling him as he glared at Esmund. But he somehow kept his mouth shut. There was nothing he could say. Trying to make him stop would just have Es digging his heels in. He wouldn’t believe for a second that he’d done enough, so it wasn’t even worth an attempt.

All he could do was sit and watch.

The curved dagger’s wet blade was thrown to the grass by a shaky hand, blood flashing against the moons’ silver light. The sight caused a flush of red anger and anxiety to wash through Ranvir.

There were visible tears on the cusp of falling in Esmund’s eyes, as he took the last knife in hand. The dull kitchen knife. This one he placed the highest one his forearm. He ran it along the line he intended to cut a few times, before closing his eyes.

Ranvir felt the need to close them too, but couldn’t tear his eyes away from his best friend. He could barely breathe as Esmund kept running the blade along his forearm. From the very base of the blade, it rasped along his skin until the tip ran along the very same track. He would then reset and do it again, on the same spot, despite his eyes being closed.

“What are you doing?” Ranvir asked, cautiously.

Esmund didn’t answer immediately, running the knife across a few times. “There was a flash of something, when I… After the last knife.” He swallowed visibly. His right hand, the one holding the knife was steady, but his left was shaking where it was stretched out before him. “I’m trying to understand.”

“See it’s working.” Ranvir hissed at Svenar, more feeling like he needed the struggle to be worth it than actual proof.

“That is no great revelation. He could’ve had a similar reaction while cutting vegetables. There’s nothing anyone’s ever gained from this exercise, that cannot be gained by other safer exercises. Ones where the tethered does not have to mutilate themselves.” Svenar growled, the noise low in his chest.

Ranvir finally noticed the teacher’s body was just as tense as theirs, but from something else. Ranvir was tight with worry, and there was clear fear in the hesitation Esmund was showing running the knife along his skin rather than moving on.

Svenar however wasn’t just tense, he was shaking. At first Ranvir would’ve called him angry, but that wasn’t accurate. He was furious, absolutely livid. Spitting mad. Yet, he was restraining himself. He too must’ve realized this was a lesson Esmund had to learn on his own.

Even if he thought it would be a lesson on pain, and staying within the lanes of acceptable training.

Esmund took in a deep breath and pressed the knife against his arm. The skin bent and the closest cut peeled open slightly, causing both Esmund and Ranvir to let out a hiss.

The blade wasn’t cutting through, though. He kept pressing, but the blade was simply too dull to sink through his skin. Tears slipped through Esmund’s squeezed shut eyes and the hand holding the knife fell to the ground, as he leaned over his crossed legs.

The venomous angry green faded to pale blue relief. Ranvir leapt up, wrapping an arm around his brother’s shoulder. He was trembling underneath his touch. Hand shaking visibly.

“I can’t.” Esmund whispered quietly. “I can’t do it. I’m this close, but I can’t do it.”

Ranvir rubbed his hand across his brother’s shoulders as he hummed a low rhythm. It wasn’t one he was particularly familiar with. His mother could hold neither rhythm or tone, his father had a decent ear but nothing special.

However, the times he’d stayed over at Esmund’s place, when they’d been younger, Gjitta—his mother—would sing for all her kids before they went to sleep.

Ranvir was now doing his best to imitate the rhythm. He picked the knife out of Esmund’s limp finger, throwing it to the others where Svenar was already packing them away. The teacher looked just as exhausted as Esmund did.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Master Svenar had two scars across his forearm, hidden underneath the sleeve of his uniform. Or did he have the third? Or maybe just one?

A roll of white cloth appeared in his vision. Ranvir blinked, realizing Master Svenar had pulled out the roll of bandages.

“He’s not getting it healed?” Ranvir asked, looking worriedly at Svenar.

“The second cut is bad, but it’s not crippling. If he went to weapons, maybe he could get it healed. As it stands I think this lesson works better like this.” Ranvir’s gaze flicked to Esmund at the teacher’s words, but he barely seemed to register them at all. “Deliberately hurting yourself like that isn’t good for you. It doesn’t come from, nor lead to, a good place.”

Ranvir took the bandage. Before he could pull them away, Svenar’s grip tightened. “I’ve had friends go down similar roads. Tell me if he tries this again.” The student nodded back, and he let go of the roll. He rolled the leather up, hiding the knives away once more. “Good night students. Sleep well.” Then he was off.

Ranvir adjusted the bright-torch, so he could get a proper look at Esmund’s arm.

“Es.” His friend didn’t react to his voice. “Brother… Esmund!” Ranvir grabbed him around the jaw in a firm grip, being careful not squeeze too tight. It felt eerily familiar. “Look me in the eye.” His voice didn’t waiver at he spoke. “Look at me when I’m talking.”

Esmund blinked, his eyes focusing on him. Though he didn’t speak, Ranvir could tell from the difference in posture that he was listening.

“I’m going to wrap your wound. I need to make sure it’s tight. It’s gonna hurt and you cannot fiddle with it. You need to tell me if it’s too tight, okay?”

Esmund didn’t react at first, but slowly he nodded blinking a few times. Good, that’s good. A little flutter of relief breezed through Ranvir like a gust of green life, through the heavy black memories.

He started above the second cut, getting a few rolls around the forearm before progressing down over the cut. He was a little rusty but after a false start, he felt good enough to actually bandage the wounds.

It quickly became like old times, as he wrapped with ease and speed. He wasn’t used to wrapping around a forearm and didn’t know if the tightness should be different, but otherwise it was much simpler than what he’d been used to.

“I’m gonna drop off the torch then we’re going back to the dorms, okay?” Esmund nodded, but didn’t reply.

Ranvir rubbed his shoulder before taking off in a light jog. A small part of him marveled at how easy the jog felt. He let the distracting thought take him away, with the practiced ease of a long time expert.

Svenar had left the door ajar so he could easily slip in, drop the torch off, close the door behind him, and return to Esmund.

His brother seemed a little more together, when he returned, though he still wasn’t speaking. “Come, let’s get back to the dorm. I think we could both do with some sleep.”

He weakly pulled Esmund along. He only needed a little pressure to get moving, something Ranvir took as a good sign.

Esmund paused as they entered the first years’ dorm building, shaking his head. He reached up to rub at his forehead, only to pause as he registered the bandage wrapped around it.

“What happened?”

“You went ahead with something Master Svenar told you was a bad idea.” Ranvir told him.

There was a long moment of silence, before Esmund spoke again. His words filled Ranvir with a black spreading infestation of fear.

“There was something. The warp reacted.” There was surprise in those words, a little fear, too. But that wasn’t what set Ranvir’s teeth on edge. It was the hunger in them. “I almost got it. I could even sense it on the knife.” They locked eyes. “I- I think I want to try again.”

“No!” Ranvir grabbed Esmund’s shoulder. “Absolutely not! You don’t even remember what happened to you! You don’t need this, you’re already talented.”

“That wasn’t the exercise, not really.” Esmund tried to wave him off with his right hand, the one he’d held the knife with. “It was just the burst of understanding. It was too much information to take in at once.”

“Esmund.” Crimson desperation tinted Ranvir’s words, a need to be heard, creeping into his voice. “You were crying. You hurt yourself worse than you understand. Don’t do this. Please. Drop it. Please brother.”

They stared at each other for a long time, before Esmund nodded minutely. “Okay, yeah.” His nods grew. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Some of the fear faded away, the color fading to gray less than it disappeared entirely, as they embraced.

“You’re my best friend, Esmund. My brother in all but blood. I couldn’t watch you go down that road.”

“Thank you, Ranvir.” They stood like that for long moments, before separating and returning to their dorm.

It had gotten later than either of them realized, and only a few students were still up. Sansir and Grev among them. They were pretending to play a game of chess, but the ease with which they abandoned the game told Ranvir neither were engaged in it.

“What happened?” Grev asked, noticing Esmund’s arm. “Where did you go? What took you so long?”

“An exercise that didn’t go well.” Ranvir explained, as Esmund still looked a little out of it. He was beginning to fiddle with the bandages, which Ranvir had already told him to stop doing, multiple times.

Esmund was always easily distractible, even at the best of times, but it was worse then, than at any point before that Ranvir could remember. Soon, they all headed to bed, the other two sensing that something wasn’t quite right.