Weight of Worlds

Smoke was a waste of Ranvir’s time. He was convinced of it. Sigurd may have a few bits of genius hidden away in his many years, but for the most part he was useless. Ranvir could do as good—if not a better—job on his own. He was sure of it.

Master Sigurd’s ‘approach’ was just make sure everyone was working. The ones with natural talent rose to the top and the rest sunk and fell away. It was all so... aimless. Sigurd barely provided any direction at all.

Ranvir shook his head angrily as he stomped towards weapon class. Sansir and Grev both immediately sensed his agitation when they arrived, but it only seemed to bolster them. They looked like predators catching the scent of blood, more so than friends worried about his anger.

It did cause a bubble of bright blue mirth to force it’s way through the thick network of angry black and red vines, that permeated him. Of course, he couldn’t let that show on his face, so he just doubled down acting even angrier.

The warm up—which was what the forms before sparring were beginning to feel like—were getting easier. Even from the start, Ranvir had already built the muscle necessary by swinging a hammer, for multiple hours a day. At this point he wasn’t so much worried about the strength needed as much as the forms themselves.

They weren’t getting more complicated, in fact, for the most part they were exactly the same. Sometimes the teachers made them carry shields, but the forms hadn’t changed in all the weeks since he transitioned from sword, to hammer.

At this point, he was pretty sure he could repeat them in his sleep, though at the same time the teachers were getting more nitpicky. Two weeks ago, they never changed his footwork, now that was all the teachers were doing.

Ranvir hoped it was just his upper body movements getting better to the point that it was worth it to change the focus, though he suspected there was more to it. At least it had gotten easier to repeat the forms, even if his feet needed work.

The three versus all had continued into this week to mixed results. When Ranvir’d first managed to wear his friend’s down he could then easily snatch victory from them at the end of the class, but not anymore.

Both of them had gotten more worried about over-extending themselves not just in the fight, but for the whole duration of the class. Grev could go all out and mop up the first few fights, either forcing Sansir to match him or take the loss. But then he would be exhausted and run out of energy, which then resulted in Sansir winning the vast majority of the fights.

Now both of them were cautious, not just of Ranvir and each other, but also of pacing themselves. If Ranvir was any judge it made them both far less aggressive, while also making them more dangerous. There was less showmanship and play in their combat.

If they exchanged anything more than testing strikes, it would be in an extreme burst of force. Less about crossing weapons and more about ending the fight. Sansir and Grevor weren’t the only ones benefiting, though. Ranvir was getting much better at keeping track of their movements even if he couldn’t keep up with them, yet.

The very strikes he was just starting to work into his body, they’d forcibly learned years ago. The speed they were working on improving every day, he was still struggling to follow.

He couldn’t make up the gap in speed, and wouldn’t for a while he feared, but if he knew where they were going to strike before they did… Well, then he didn’t need the speed, did he?

Yes, he did. But, he didn’t need to be as fast as them.

Despite no longer being able to pick up and win the last spars of the class, Ranvir was still feeling pretty good about their spars today. He needed the movement after the agitation of sitting in smoke class, and listening to Sigurd either spew up facts he’d been taught when he’d been at the academy, or heard on the front lines.

The man seemed wholly uninterested in widening his…

Ranvir was getting angry again, just thinking about it. Taking a deep breath, he readied his hammer, pacing along the edge of the ring as Sansir and Grevor stared each other down.

Something about Grev was off, though Ranvir couldn’t quite tell what. He seemed more on edge than usual. Ranvir watched as they exchanged a few tentative strikes, checking each other’s reaction and strength of the day.

It seemed to Ranvir that Sansir was having a particularly good day. He would have to press him harder, to even out the struggle. Just before their next exchange, as Sansir did the slight shuffle of his left foot before attacking, Ranvir jerked forwards toward him.

The bald student faltered, as his eyes were drawn by the movement. It was only for a moment, his posture faltering before continuing with his attack. Still, Grev was slow to catch it. He barely managed to slap the wooden axe away. Instead of backing away, however, he lunged forwards committing to an attack, as his left hand came up.

No. Ranvir thought, reflexively turning his head slightly. After so many times of getting blinded by standing too close and looking directly at Grev, he moved reflexively.

Light flashed, followed by a curse from Sansir and the smack of wood on flesh. Then he was on Ranvir. Sword coming down at him fast, the wind past the weapon. Ranvir tried to dodge out of the way, but he was already too late. Surprised by the use of abilities during the spar, he took the sword on his back and fell to ground.

Pain highlighted an insistent white line across his back from the shoulder blade down across to his ribs.

Sansir groaned at the other end of the arena. “When did you manage that?”

“I’ve been working on it for a while now, actually.” Grev’s stupid smug smirk could be heard in his stupid smug voice.

Ranvir pushed himself to his knees. He knew better than to rub at his back. Instinct told him to check, experience told him he was sore, but fine. Very sore.

“That was very impressive, Grevor.” Ranvir narrowed his eyes, at the new voice speaking up. Glancing in Dovar’s direction. The older student had suddenly appeared at the edge of their field. “I would like a spar.”

“We’re already three.” Sansir got to his feet, as he spoke. Him and Ranvir moved to stand next to Grev. “This isn’t a four against all.”

“Still, I would like to fight Grevor, and you seem capable of wielding that axe perfectly well.” Dovar paused, looking at Ranvir. “I understand that we probably shouldn’t fight again, so I ask to spar with you two.”

“It’s fine.” Ranvir took a step back and out of the ring, before continuing. “Just make sure you beat him good.”

Dovar snorted. “So much for a free for all.”

“You knew what you were getting into.” Grev smiled, as he twirled his sword through the air.

“True.” Dovar acknowledged the comment with a slight nod.

Sansir stepped into the ring, rolling his shoulders and bringing his axe into a ready stance. “I’m good to go.”

Ranvir blinked as he looked at his friend. Sansir was tall, he’d been aware of that. So was Dovar. But he wasn’t Sansir tall. Standing opposite each other, he almost made Sansir look skinny, something Ranvir knew he wasn’t. At least, not when he was swinging that axe at him.

“Three…” Ranvir called, deciding to start the fight without more needless banter. He was eager to see this. To finally have Dovar get his due. Blue electric flashes were sparking through him, making him antsy.

“Two…” Dovar lowered into a ready stance, quickly followed by Grev. None of their faces showed any humor whatsoever. Even Grevor’s was completely devoid of anything but the purest concentration.

“One…” Dovar flicked his gaze between Sansir and Grev, as if deciding where to go first. Grev was the faster of the two, but Sansir had a reach advantage, it would be a tough call. Ranvir paused seeing the slight wiggle in Grev’s sword. He’d mentally dubbed it the anticipation wiggle. It wasn’t something he’d seen often. Mostly, when he was taking a risk in chess, one that was either sink, or swim.

“Go!”

They burst into motion. Ranvir knew from their spars, and the lead up to the fight, that Sansir and Grev were going to eliminate Dovar fast.

Grev moved like liquid lightning, dashing forwards and striking out at Dovar in an all out attack. In a normal fight, this would be a suicide attack as it left him completely open to retaliation. He was relying on Sansir to cover this weaknesses, without hold him accountable to the recovery.

He was also banking on being fastest in the arena.

Dovar dashed towards him just as fast, but with considerably more force. They knocked swords and Grev was forced into an awkward retreat, as he half-rolled towards Sansir. The tall student now had to deal with the obstacle around his legs. He could only watch as Dovar got to his feet from the roll he’d taken to get under Grev’s sword.

Dovar was just as fast as Grev. Ranvir swallowed, watching intently as Grev got to his feet.

“You’ve gotten faster.” Grev shrugged his shoulder, as if to limber it up. The fall hadn’t been bad, but it would likely hinder him for the rest of the fight.

“I’ve been practicing.” Dovar had a confident grin on his face as he advanced. Even though he was out numbered, he advanced.

Sansir tapped out a quick rhythm on the floor of the arena, with his foot. Ranvir noticed it moments before Grev did. Sansir was a very stoic fighter. He didn’t fidget, or play with his weapon. When he concentrated on the fight he became silent and dead-eyed.

In unison, they both lurched forwards, Grev going low and Sansir going high. Dovar smiled throwing his sword at Grevor, who instinctively knocked it out of the way with his weapon, pulling him out of sync with the attack.

Dovar dashed forwards, his hand locking around Sansir’s wrist, stopping the axe cold. He continue the move shoulder checking his taller opponent, unfortunately for Sansir, Dovar still outweighed him by quite a bit. He staggered back but somehow managed to keep hold of his axe. At least until Dovar swept his legs and knocked him to the ground and ripping the weapon out of his fingers.

He stepped on Sansir’s chest, even as he whirled swinging his newly acquired weapon. With a clatter of wood against wood, he knocked away Grev’s sword in the last moment. Grev tried to follow up, but Dovar managed to keep his foot on Sansir’s winded body and fend him off. If Grevor hadn’t taken that fall, Ranvir was willing to bet he could’ve managed to sneak past Dovar’s defense.

As it was he somehow managed to fend off all of Grev’s strikes without moving his foot from Sansir.

“Sansir’s out.” Ranvir grumbled, after counting to ten.

Grev heaved for breath as he fell back. Ranvir saw him trying to regain his regular breathing pattern, but that kind of all out assault didn’t come for free. Sansir growled pitifully, as Dovar stepped off him. Still he didn’t get up, his breath hadn’t yet recovered from the shoulder tackle and follow up landing.

Grev put in one last burst of effort, but he was fighting a blatantly superior foe. Dovar was bigger and stronger than him. And if Ranvir wasn’t wrong, a bit faster too.

“Grev’s out.” Ranvir called, not long after that. “Dovar won.”

“This one.” Sansir said. He’d regained most of his breath and had gotten to his feet by this point. He caught the axe Dovar tossed to him, giving it a perfunctory flourish. “He won this one. Not the next.”

“I liked the foot thing.” Dovar said, picking up his own sword. “Very clever, you must’ve practiced that quite a bit.”

Sansir and Grev shared a smile. Ranvir knew for a fact that they hadn’t been practicing. “Two minute break.” Grev called, as he made his way over to Sansir and Ranvir.

“Sure.” Dovar said.

Ranvir watched as he started pacing the length of their arena. His eyes were mostly closed, but he kept the pacing up. Through the heavy-lidded eyes, Ranvir could see a vacant look on his face.

He’s in tether-space. He realized, watching the rote way Dovar was walking.

“I hope you have some good news.” Grev said quietly, as he reached them. “Because I’m not really sure how to handle him.”

“He’s got something up his sleeve.” Ranvir turned to look at his friends. “Something good. I think he might be faster than what he’s shown so far.”

Grev bit his lip, glancing at Sansir. “What do you think?”

“I think Ranvir had his unreserved attention focused on Dovar for the entirety of our match. If anyone knows, it’s him.”

“He’s not as confident in his left hand.” Ranvir continued, like they weren’t discussing him. “He could’ve caught your wrist with his off-hand, but he didn’t. Instead, he threw his only weapon away to catch your attack. Also, I think he’s expecting Grev to pull out the blinding trick again. We might be able to use it against him. You cannot come at him from the front at the same time. You gotta pincer him from the sides, at least. Otherwise, he overwhelms you.”

“What the fuck…” Grev muttered, staring at Ranvir with wide eyes. “How do you know that?”

“I explained the hand.” He began, scrunching his brow.

“That’s not what he meant.” Sansir interrupted, before he could go on. “He meant how do you know all that?”

“I look.”

“What do you know about us?” Grev asked.

“I don’t think there’s anything I can really tell you, that you’re not already aware of.”

“Do you use it against us?” Sansir looked more curious, than worried.

“I try, but I’m not always good enough to make use of your vulnerabilities.”

“Time’s up.” Dovar called. He was standing near the edge of the arena, opposite them.

“Remember, he has something up his sleeve.” Ranvir called, before they entered the arena themselves. He saw Dovar shoot him a curious glance, one eyebrow quirked.

Before they stepped in, Sansir leaned over and whispered something into Grev’s ear. Ranvir couldn’t see his face, only his head nodding before stepping into the arena.

They didn’t start on either side of Dovar, as close to flanking as they could come, this time. Instead, they stood close to each other, nearly interrupting their own reach by their closeness.

Ranvir stared intently trying to figure out what they were going to do. Grev’s wiggling sword was distracting and didn’t tell him much.

He called out the start of the fight, and Grev advanced slowly, Sansir taking the back. Grev exchanged a quick few attacks with Dovar, who looked as confused as Ranvir felt. It was only as Grev was forced into a retreat, that Ranvir had an inkling of what they were doing.

With the retreat of the enemy, came Dovar’s inevitable advance. Grev barely dodged back from the last strike. It wasn’t one that left his opponent wide open, so it was a weird risk to take, until he burst forwards in a roll.

As Grev lunged into the roll, Sansir advanced in literally the same step. He was less than a second away from stepping on his friend’s leg, as he swung at their tall adversary.

Dovar let out a grunt of surprise, as he was forced to defend himself from a perfectly timed strike from Sansir, instead of striking Grev down. And then Sansir retreated, as his ally got to his feet behind Dovar.

They had flanked him perfectly. Ranvir felt a smile creep onto his face, as they moved in for the kill. Blue and light red color rushed through him in an energetic and nervous dance.

A smile crept onto Dovar’s lips. “That was a damn impressive maneuver.”

“We know.” Grev said. They both moved to attack to the beat of Sansir’s foot, closing in on Dovar. Grev held his off hand ready to throw light. There was nothing Dovar could do. He might be able to defend himself from one of them, but not the other. He could attempt his previous tactic, but Ranvir knew they wouldn’t let it work on them twice.

He was fast, but he couldn’t be that fast. No one was.

Smoke leaked from Dovar’s body. He moved like a shadow walking the earth, blurring towards Sansir. Catching a hold on the chest of Sansir’s uniform, he threw the taller boy clea out of the arena with one hand. More blurring shadows, wood smashed together and a sword flew into the air above Grev and Dovar.

Dovar had laid his wooden weapon on Grev’s shoulder.

Ranvir blinked in disbelief. Smoke was still curling from Dovar’s body. The black air rose from him in thin drifts that gathered into trails of smoke a few inches off his skin. The smoke dissipated a foot away from his body. Ranvir almost hesitated to call it smoke, it wasn’t as thick as campfire, rysten, or even generated smoke. There was an ethereal, temporary sense to it and the smoke faded way too quickly to be real.

The ashen air faded away revealing Dovar’s grinning face and Grev’s stunned one.

Dovar burst into laughter. “Damn! You guys are good. Sorry about this. I just couldn’t help myself.”

“Body of Smoke.” Sansir had rolled onto his side on the sand, and was staring just as intently at Dovar. “Flesh…”