by Jeramy Goble
Vischuno shot a fist into the air, causing the throng of his comrades-in-arms to explode into a new series of chanting and shouting. After stoking the crowd's fire, he reached back and drew a formidable greatsword from a scabbard strapped to his back. With his second arm, he drew a matching greatsword from a crossing scabbard, which left his third arm free for defense.
His third arm.
Vischuno’s lowest arm of the two on his left side—at about the level of his navel—was fitted through thick leather straps attached to an enormous pavise. The shield was made of vertical oak planks on the front, and reinforced by thin, horizontal strips of wrought iron in the back. It was almost as tall as Vischuno, and nearly three-and-a-half feet in width.
He walked towards the sparring square wearing a gaping, toothy smile. His solid legs and arms were massive, and though they showed no discernible definition, there was no jiggling of any loose flesh. Vischuno was pure mass and force.
Upon stepping into the sparring square equidistant from both Wona and Jularra, he stopped and sheathed his swords. He then refreshed his smile, and threw his gigantic shield into the air. As it came back down, he grabbed the shield with the higher of his two left arms and impaled the ground with it, where it remained standing. Vischuno wrapped his two sword hands and his now-empty fist around the shield, and began banging on it in rhythm with the chants. Jularra clapped politely with a slightly upturned nose.
Wona was no longer paying attention. Shortly after Vischuno appeared, Jularra saw her turn towards the nearest wall and close her eyes. She looked to withdraw into herself to focus and prepare. Jularra noticed she had allowed a slight grin to remain.
While Jularra took in the whole scene, she had a fairly good idea of what Wona was doing to prepare. She assumed it was the same practices she had been taught as a Spire. Before a battle or fight of any kind, a Spire should run her most important principles through her mind. Her training. Her mental conditioning. But as with any of her fights, in a training context or not, she should consciously make an effort to take prolonged, deep breaths. A Spire should focus on her best self; memories of her best fights, and the voices of her teachers.
***
Wona’s fight with the Cupilian from the southeastern coast projected in front of her. She opened her eyes and bounced gently from one foot to the other, replaying the movements that had given her the advantage over the Cupilian's relentless spear. Her light armor—mostly leather, with small sections of mail—allowed her and her similarly-armored Spire to remain nimble. They were unencumbered, unrestrained, free to sprint, dart and land a killing blow before their opponent could track them.
Another memory slipped in front of her. This time, it was the image of her scaling the walls of the Engritori castle from the Center Horn. The mortar in the old eastern castle walls had eroded and fallen away, leaving perfect handholds for Wona and a small group of Spire to climb and carry out their assassination of the corrupt King Lugreith.
Using only a fraction of the energy, Wona mimicked the moves she made on that night. She was reminding her muscles. She was stirring their memory, and summoning their experience and wisdom once again. To any onlookers, she was merely stretching, or psyching herself up. But it was so much more.
The braids of her hair—a rare blonde—jumped and whipped as she warmed up. She loved having long hair, but kept it braided for practicality. Feeling the weight of the braids swinging in combat helped her stay focused. It helped her keep a feel for her body’s momentum and kept her more in tune with her movements.
And, while not as advanced or deep as Jularra’s, Wona, like many others in the yard, knew a bit of magic.
Wona turned back to her opponents and, with a violent jerk, shoved her sword out in front of her. As she did, a sound like a large stone block sliding along gravel tore through the air. Once her arm was fully extended, she let go. The sword remained, floating in mid-air for only a moment, then began morphing.
***
Jularra didn’t have a chance to see what Wona’s sword originally was, but felt an impressed smile slide into place.
The weapon changed forms every half-second. Wona nonchalantly scratched her cheek as she waited for it to reach the one she wanted. After about seven changes, she reached out and grabbed a short sword. The energy surrounding the morphing blade dissipated, and Wona held her new sword out in front of her, tossing it between each hand to get a sense of the weight. She nodded at it and then brandished it properly with wild crosses, tosses, spins, stances, and tricks. Between her magical sword selection and dramatic display, she had wrestled the bulk of the yard’s attention away from Vischuno.
But Wona wasn’t done. After choosing a weapon, she decided she needed a shield as well. Naturally.
Jularra smiled again as Wona dropped to one knee, scooped up a handful of dirt from the yard, and threw it out just in front of her as she stood. Before it had a chance to fall back to the ground, Wona shoved her open hand towards the flying dirt and trapped it inside a sheet of energy. Wona closed her eyes and began to speak an enchantment. As more syllables passed over her lips, what looked to be a moderately-sized buckler began to take shape. The shield quickly filled out as the magical energy was replaced with a substance and texture resembling wood. Once the shield was complete, the only remnants of anything magical were faint threads of energy still attached to its edges. She was apparently dissatisfied with the resulting shield, however, and began to cycle through different sizes and shapes, as she had with her weapon.
The Spire surged with exhilaration. They praised and lauded each of Wona’s movements, each flicker of magic. The Bedrock were equally enthralled, though their reactions were somewhat stifled in support of Vischuno. Some from both disciplines had broken away from their formations and returned with smuggled drinks of various potency. Fights were always better with drink.
Jularra was enjoying herself more than she allowed herself to show. Her facade of indifference was part of the exhibition. She allowed Vischuno, and now Wona, to have a bit of fun with the crowd, but the time to begin was drawing near. She allowed the frenzy in the yard to grow. The volume swelled, and the hype clung to the air’s moderate humidity. Jularra’s skin throbbed with the suppressed desire to shout out, join in with the crowd, and applaud her comrades. Her vision pulsed with adrenaline and her heart pounded.
In a flash, Jularra launched herself at a full sprint towards Wona. By training yard rules, any match could begin once the combatants stepped inside the sparring area; now that she had given her fellow combatants enough time to show off, she seized the advantage of surprise and initiated the fight.
Wona didn’t see the queen at first. She faced her fellow Spire with flamboyant gestures, inviting their input as to the type of shield she should choose. But once Jularra struck out in her direction, many of the front row of Spire began pointing and shouting.
Wona turned just in time.
Jularra leaped into the air and slammed down at Wona with one slice and then another, making an "X". Wona had to abandon her cast to focus on defending; the shield evaporated into nothingness.
With not a second to spare, Wona swung her sword up and caught the first strike on the flat of her blade, then turned to the side as she deflected the crossing slice with a downward stroke.
Jularra flew by Wona, tucking into a perfectly executed tumble before jumping to her feet and spinning around. The moment she caught her footing, she noticed Vischuno approaching, leaning in as he strode with vicious enthusiasm. Jularra brought her arms together at the wrists and held her sword up to the sky. She spun the sword’s tip in a small circle before pointing it at Vischuno, unleashing a ribbon of concentrated wind.
It struck Vischuno. His skin rippled and his hair whipped as if walking into the headwind of a hurricane, but Jularra didn’t have the time to commit to the spell. Vischuno would soon be free of its restraint; she only needed to slow him down as she developed a strategy and found an advantageous cadence.
&nbs
p; Jularra turned her eyes back to Wona. In the few seconds she'd taken to slow Vischuno down, Wona had regrouped and now prepared to attack.
The two women vaulted at each other, meeting again in a clash of swords. As each blow was met and blocked, their next movement was already underway.
Blades slid and bashed against each other, propelled through the air by each wielder’s able technique. Their bodies ducked and swayed as their arms swung and their legs swept. The surrounding Spire and Bedrock grew quiet with awe as the absolute best examples of the Spire danced their perfect fight.
Jularra and Wona were in their own world. Both kept an occasional eye on Vischuno in their peripheral vision, but otherwise they focused entirely on each other. They moved smoothly in a swift yet calm rhythm, silent but for the occasional gasp or pant in response to an especially forceful attack.
But the crowd stirred again, and the movement in Jularra’s periphery shifted. The spell over Vischuno was beginning to wear off. His face flexed with the frustration of being restrained, and he slowly swung his massive blades, trying to speed up the magic’s dissipation. Within moments, the magic had completely worn off. The Bedrock detonated with joy as their champion was freed.
Jularra and Wona had been fighting to a stalemate to that point, and there wasn’t enough time to develop an edge before Vischuno joined the mix. Wona was the first to change tactics. She spun under one of Jularra’s attacks and headed for Vischuno.
Whatever Wona’s motivation for peeling off to attack Vischuno, Jularra didn’t care. Having the other two focus on each other, if only for a second, was a second Jularra could use to think. And very rarely would any foe benefit from Jularra having time to think.
Vischuno and Wona were each focused on the other, and Jularra sought to take advantage. It would take Vischuno just one blow to knock Jularra out and make her a loser, or worse, so she decided to make the most of the opportunity and focus on him. She moved, low to the ground in anticipation of any quick moves she might need to make.
As Jularra approached, Wona came within striking distance of Vischuno. He held his shield in front of him as she approached, but at the last moment he swung it out of the way. In a surprisingly swift move, he kicked at Wona, extending his leg fully through the attack. His foot came up to the level of her face, but she brought her forearms up in time to protect herself from most of the initial violence of the blow. The force of the kick was still such that she flew back several feet. She landed and slid a few feet further until her head smacked against the ground. It was a substantial blow, but Wona immediately propped herself up on an elbow to blink and shake the shock out of her head.
With Vischuno’s back to Jularra, she crept closer, taking further advantage of his focus on Wona. She brought her sword up in a roof guard over her shoulder and increased her pace.
She jogged silently, elbows raising as she prepared to slice at the back of his legs and force his submission. Her body flexed in preparation for the attack. Her elbows rose further; Vischuno’s back still faced her. In a final lurch, she swung the blade down, ducking slightly with the plan of running on towards Wona.
At the last second, Vischuno spun around, and with his third arm brought his enormous shield around in a perfectly-timed defense. Jularra’s eyes widened in shock, but her attack was too far along to be withdrawn. Her sword cut deep into the shield’s wood, but her momentum freed the blade as she ran by. She spun and jogged backwards, evaluating the status of both her combatants.
Vischuno and Wona walked towards Jularra. Each fighter traded glances with the others.
Then, without a word or gesture, Wona and Jularra took off towards Vischuno. Being fairly fresh, and only recently freed of the magic restraint, both women knew he was their biggest threat. No discussion was required. It was simply sound combat logic.
Vischuno squatted slightly, preparing. He brought his shield to the front, perhaps a foot off the ground, with one sword over his shoulder and the other out by his waist. Jularra and Wona, initially far apart, came closer together as they approached before suddenly splitting off again—one to each side of Vischuno.
He was ready.
Wona’s attack came first. He blocked her blade and shoved her away, rendering an immediate counter-attack impossible. As Jularra prepared for her own attack, Vischuno withdrew behind his shield and sliced at her. She slid to a stop and skipped backwards, barely avoiding the hit as she deflected the tip of his blade away. She was then in perfect position for a counter-attack.
Jularra jumped towards Vischuno and landed a solid hit on his pauldron, but the strike had no effect; the blow just bounced off the substantial plate armor. On Vischuno’s other side, Wona had returned to the fight, dodging Vischuno’s slow but devastating attacks. He held his shield tightly to the front while engaging Wona with one sword and Jularra with the other.
As the fight became more competitive, the crowd grew even more raucous. The fight was a perfectly executed piece of martial entertainment. Vischuno’s power and intimidation made the crowd swoon. Wona’s speed was intoxicating, inspiring men and women all around with lust and admiration. Jularra’s advanced swordsmanship, interspersed with pops and pokes of magical distraction, humbled the yard and reaffirmed her ceremonial, yet rightful position as Commander of the Spire.
The fighters kicked dust up from the ground as they maneuvered. Distract. Attack. Deflect. Wait. Status quo. Wait for an opening. Wait for the one blunder someone could take advantage of. But there was no sign of anyone faltering. This was combat excellence in action.
The status quo portion of a fight, if it reached that point, was only an advantage for those skilled enough to seize it. When an opponent's moves reached a certain level of predictability, Jularra knew, it freed the mind up to consider other things. The mind could then process strategy, experience, and history, to shift away from the status quo and towards an opportunity. To break the repetitiveness of a fight, one must anticipate properly, develop the ideal action to take, and create the ideal time to take it. Jularra was renowned for being an expert at such strategy.
The fight catered to Vischuno for the moment. Inside the confined sparring area, he could inflict the most damage at any given time. And while Wona and Jularra made worthy attacks, they spent most of their energy having to dodge and defend against his overwhelming swings while he stood still, alternating between attacks and blocks with his shield.
Jularra disengaged. She jogged backwards in a curve, making it obvious she was trying to circle back around behind Wona. Vischuno and Wona traded a few more attacks before Wona backed away as well.
Status quo, broken.
Wona’s chest and shoulders rose as she took a massive breath to clear her mind and focus. But Vischuno wasn’t interested in slowing the fight down. He began to march back towards Wona—and that was exactly what Jularra wanted.
Jularra sheathed her sword and closed her eyes. With Vischuno and Wona focusing on each other, she should have enough time to invoke the enchantment. She uttered the words of her spell in the ancient language of Acorilan. When she finished speaking, she opened her eyes and looked at the magical sphere she'd created. Straining against an incredible resistance, Jularra rotated her hands, moving the sphere of energy she was working to manipulate. Turning the sphere caused the sky to slide along and the sun to set. She rotated her hands even more; darkness took the sky as the moon rose. The rapid shift from day to night was only visible to Jularra, however.
But as Jularra looked up at her own personal night, she called upon the impressions of the billions of brotherly and sisterly stars to assist her in her fight. She closed her eyes once more, and even though they were closed, she could see the sparring area bathed in moonlight. She brought the ball of energy closer to her chest and compressed it slightly. Her eyes remained closed.
Just as Vischuno was preparing to unleash his two massive blades upon Wona, streams of energy shot out from Jularra’s sphere to various points within the sparring area. As each
one reached its destination, it would pop and recede and then spawn a cloned image of either Jularra, Wona, or Vischuno. It didn’t take long for Wona and Vischuno to lose track of their legitimate foe. As soon as each one spawned, it would engage in combat with its neighbors. Spire and Bedrock alike roared with awe at Jularra’s display of magic.
Jularra, unlike Wona and Vischuno, could see perfectly who her real opponents were. With her eyes still closed, the moonlight of her magical dimension shone differently on her real opponents. All the cloned images were mostly transparent, while the true Wona and Vischuno appeared solid when lit by the transcendental moon.
Jularra walked towards Vischuno with amused confidence, occasionally entertaining an attack from one of the fake fighters so as not to let on that she was the real queen. She weaved her way through the chaos until she was within a few feet of the true Vischuno. He was fighting against a clone of himself, and two clones each of Wona and Jularra. Once Jularra saw an opening, she lashed out.
With a sprint of a few feet and a blazing sidestep, Jularra ran to the side of Vischuno’s gigantic shield and cut the leather straps holding it to the giant's third arm. Jularra didn’t stop, running around Vischuno, deflecting two of his attacks over her head. As she circled back around to his front, she kicked the shield to the ground and continued using her momentum for a step or two before spinning around with an attack. Her sword slid down one of Vischuno’s now-exposed sword arms, gouging and cutting his flesh as she followed through. Her blade found the crossguard of Vischuno’s sword and knocked it out of his hand as she made contact. Vicschuno followed quickly with an attack from his remaining sword, but before it found its target, a clone of the queen came down with a vicious slice, cutting off Vischuno’s arm at the elbow.
Without missing a beat, Jularra’s impulsive but trained subconscious took over. She immediately spun with an arching fan move and beheaded the cloned image of herself that had maimed Vischuno. The Bedrock champion fell onto his back, clutching at the bloody end of his partial arm with his remaining two hands. The Bedrock bristled with disapproval.