by Unknown
Slate assessed the potential damage of a falling boulder. “I thought you said I should mitigate the risks of testing my hand.” Sana was unwavering. “Your hand now has stone in it. We need to find out if it is as strong as stone or not. The test is perfectly safe and controlled. We can place as much or as little weight as we need to on your hand by adding or subtracting small stones into the basket at Rainier’s end. I have triple checked my calculations for the strength of the vine rope that is needed and, as you can see, it holds the weight of the stone just fine.”
Logic and trust don’t always agree with each other. Even Sana’s arguments and his own observation did nothing to encourage his participation. In the end, he decided he needed to trust someone, and Lucus, Sana, and Rainier had been more helpful to him than anyone else in Ravinai. Slate knelt by the stump and laid his hand flat.
Sana consulted briefly with Lucus, who appeared content to let his apprentice take the lead on testing Slate’s hand. She then asked Slate, “May I probe your hand during the test to monitor what is going on?”
“Yes, if it will make the experiment safer…” Slate felt Sana begin to probe his hand. She signaled Rainier to remove stones, dropping the boulder toward Slate’s hand. The boulder applied slight pressure upon his hand, but no pain accompanied it. Sana spent a few minutes probing the bones, stone, and soft tissues of his hand before she was satisfied. She signaled additional stones to be removed. Slate’s hand began to go numb and Rainier added stones to raise the boulder.
“The stone embedded in your bones is supporting the weight of the boulder. The numbness occurred because the vasculature of your hand compressed, eliminating blood flow to your muscles and the soft tissues surrounding the bones. Once you regain the feeling in your hand, we can modify the test and begin again.” Slate flexed his hand a few times and placed it back on the stump. This testing wasn’t so bad after all.
“Rainier, do you remember how many stones were in the basket when we stopped the test?” Rainier nodded. “Lucus, can you pull down on the rope until Rainier gets the right number of stones in the basket?” The wizard played the part of apprentice and did as he was told, pulling down the rope until it raised a foot above Slate’s hand.
“Lucus, please let go of the rope.” The rope rubbed against the tree branch as the boulder descended.
“What?!” Slate managed to ask before the boulder fell onto his hand. The weight was immense, but his hand felt only slightly more pressure than during the previous test.
“It’s the same amount of weight as last time but with a dynamic load. I believe your hand can withstand a large load for a short period of time, and this is one way to test my theory.” They continued until the boulder was nearly at the height of the tree branch. Rainier had helped Lucus to pull it up that far and Sana signaled to let go of the rope. The noise of the rope sliding over the tree branch was interrupted with a loud “Snap!” The full weight of the boulder crashed down onto the stump, pinning Slate’s hand against the stump and popping his shoulder out of socket as his body dove away from the boulder and his arm stayed still. The boulder rolled off his hand and everyone rushed toward him.
Sana, already probing the hand, extended her search into his shoulder. “It’s dislocated.” Slate didn’t need magic to tell him that. He sat up and looked to Rainier. “Do you know how to do this?”
“I’ve seen it done before, but I’ve never done it myself.” Before a magical solution could be offered up, Slate responded. “Good enough for me. Go for it.” Rainier put one hand on Slate’s shoulder and pulled while applying pressure against his collarbone. The relief was immediate and left him with only soreness surrounding his shoulder.
Sana refused to acknowledge failure and turned defiant. “This test exceeded my expectations and proves my theory correct. Your hand can withstand a great amount of weight, but if the weight is applied for extended periods of time you stand the risk of damaging the soft tissues in your hand.” She left to repack her travel bag before anyone dared to contradict her stated results of the study.
Slate inspected the vine rope. It had frayed on the tree branch and finally snapped. Lucus explained, “Sana calculated how much force the vines could hold and created the rope accordingly. For the original test she planned that was sufficient, but when she altered her test plans to include dynamic loading, she failed to consider that friction from the tree branch would cause abrasion of the rope. It was a clever test, and it was an understandable mistake, a mistake I don’t think she’ll make again. Besides, she is right. We learned a lot about your hand today, and you’re walking away good as new.” The woodcutter clasped him on the shoulder and the soreness instantly melted away.
“If that was successful, I’d hate to be a part of a test that went wrong,” Rainier commented with a shake of his head.
“I think I prefer fighting…it’s a lot less dangerous.”
The two returned to camp and found Lucus packing next to a silent Sana. They took their cue from the wizard, packed their travel sacks and resumed the morning march without further agitating the temperamental apprentice. The silent walk eased Sana’s tensions and by the time their empty stomachs forced them to stop for lunch, she broke the silence in the group. “Slate, tell us about Pillar. I have never been to that part of the kingdom and prefer to know something of a place before I visit.”
Rainier and Lucus lean forward to listen. There weren’t many reasons to talk about Pillar and even fewer to be interested. “As we get closer, the forest floor will turn rocky. Eventually the dense forest will lose the battle with the hard earth and only the hardiest trees will remain. The only thing tougher than the trees of Pillar are the people who live there. The town sits in the foothills of a small mountain range. The winters, when the winds change course and blow to the west, are fierce, as the mountains tend to increase the snowfall. The warming spring temperatures cause flooding of the rocky ground and make farming difficult. The people in Pillar mine iron ore, which is sent to King Darik’s refineries to the east. It was said the King wanted to build the refineries in Pillar, but he couldn’t find enough people willing to live there.” Slate finished with a prideful smile. Most people could not understand why anyone would live in Pillar. For the people that chose to make Pillar their home, it came with a strong and innate sense of community pride. They lived where most people could not, and there was honor in that.
“Does your family work the mines?” Sana asked.
“No, my father does some basic iron working for the townspeople and makes trips to the forest to gather wood and hunt in preparation for winter. My mother repairs the machinery in the mines when something breaks down and salts the meat of any animal that can be caught. I live on my own now, but I am learning the trades of both my parents. Everyone in Pillar has several jobs within the community. There aren’t enough people for it to be any other way.”
“How did you learn to fight?” Lucus, the pacifist, asked to Slate’s surprise.
“My father served in King Darik’s army during the Twice-Broken Wars. In my younger years, I collected wood with my father and would always be swinging a stick at something. He tired of watching me flail around and decided to teach me proper technique. Fighting was discouraged in Pillar because training took time away from more essential tasks, but my father reasoned if we completed our obligations to the community, then our time was our own. We sparred on a regular basis without anyone in town knowing.”
“Do you know much about the Twice-Broken Wars?” Lucus asked.
“No one talked about them.”
“The people of Malethya often speak of the Twice-Broken Wars as one war because the fighting never stopped. Ships arrived on the southern shores of Malethya bearing strangers called Disenites. They landed and awed the citizens with technology that couldn’t be understood in terms of the link and spark of magic. The Disenites took offense to the use of magic and the peaceful encounter turned violent, with the Disenites quickly capturing the port cities. Th
e independent nobles fell one-by-one to the invaders, losing their land to weapons they could not match. Except for one group. Villifor led a small group of soldiers that stemmed the tide, attacking the Disenites quickly and then disbanding into the countryside before a counterstrike could be coordinated. The villagers of Malethya welcomed and hid his soldiers and with his success in defying the Disenites, the name Villifor became legend. Villifor’s success gave Darik time to band the remaining nobility and form an army, but more ships arrived and it became clear that they were fighting a losing battle. Darik ordered the wizards in his command to attack the invading army directly, spewing fire and roiling the earth beneath their feet, leaving death and scorched earth in their wake.”
“The success of the wizards against the Disenites caused much relief and controversy in Malethya. Darik believed magic should be used in the protection of Malethya and support was widespread due to the recent attacks. A smaller group of wizards and soldiers who saw the destruction firsthand tried everything within their power to prevent the use of magic in battle again. They saw a distinct difference between enchanting weapons or armor and using magic directly as a weapon. Factions broke away from the King’s army and the Civil War erupted in an attempt to supplant King Darik. The fighting was the most brutal the kingdom had ever seen, but in the end, the use of magic in battle gave King Darik an advantage that proved insurmountable for ordinary soldiers. The war ended, but it has not changed the beliefs of everyone in Malethya. Ispirtu and the Wizard Council were established after the Civil War as a place of study for wizards that either agreed or disagreed with the use of magic in battle. Since that time, other disagreements have arisen between the two groups, but that is the main difference.”
“Is that why you chose not to fight in Ravinai the other night?” Rainier asked.
“Yes, but without any training in its use during battle I would have been as likely to kill you as hurt your opponents.”
“Does the Wizard Council want to see King Darik supplanted?” Rainier asked.
“He has kept the peace for decades, as your father said. For me, that is enough. We have enjoyed a peaceful, if not altogether pleasant, relationship with Ispirtu and it is because of King Darik.”
“Slate, I’m confused about part of your story. If no one in Pillar was supposed to know you could fight, how did you end up in the tournament?” Rainier asked.
“I traveled to a neighboring, albeit distant, village to trade for some gears to replace a few that had chipped teeth. I took my staff in case I ran into a bandit in my travels. When I got to the town, they were hosting the preliminary matches. I thought it would be fun, but then I kept winning. I returned home with an invitation to fight in the arena. I packed my things and told the townspeople the news. I knew fighting was against Pillar tradition, but they seemed even more irate than I’d expected. Even my father remained reserved at the news of the arena, despite his obvious pride. As he sent me on my way toward Ravinai, his only advice was to remember the lessons learned in Pillar and to remain true to my beliefs.”
Lucus eased Slate’s concerns. “Time eases tensions and everyone will be excited for your return. There will be time for more stories on the road ahead.” The subtle hint cued the group to resume their travels.
After a long afternoon and a hearty dinner, Rainier told Slate it was time for sparring. They found some open space and donned leather armor. Each brought their short swords, but Slate wanted to hear Rainier’s plan before starting. If it involved boulders he was going right back to camp.
“Well, Teacher, I’ve been thinking the entire day’s march about how your stonehand could help you in combat. I don’t believe it is any benefit while wielding short swords.”
“There must be something I can use it for…”
“I also realize I will not convince you this is true without devoting our first session to proving my point. Let’s fight. No heavy blows or head shots. Stop at the loss of a weapon or an open blow.”
Slate couldn’t think of anything better. He had come to Ravinai to fight, but since the tournament ended, everything he knew had been turned upside down. It was oddly comforting to get back to something he knew he was good at.
They touched swords, and the comforting feeling disappeared as Rainier proved his proficiency with his preferred weapon. Time after time, Rainier disarmed Slate or ended the match with a light touch of his armor.
Slate tried to figure out ways of incorporating his hand into his technique, but punching or catching a sword were the only options. He tried punching once or twice, but the motion was much slower than the wrist flick it took to defend it with a short sword. Catching a moving sword seemed like the definition of idiocy, but it did give him an idea.
When Rainier swung from his right side, Slate dropped his sword and caught Rainier’s incoming blade. The sharp blade snapped in two, but Slate looked down and saw blood dripping from his enclosed fist.
“What were you thinking?!?” Rainier dropped his weapons and rushed over to Slate and inspected his cut hand.
Rainier bent over to examine the wound, and Slate’s plan came to fruition. He brought the pommel of the short sword in his left hand down lightly on the back of Rainier’s neck…just enough of a blow to knock him out. Slate bent down and extracted the Stratego medallion from Rainier’s care. Rainier woke up a few seconds later with a headache fueled by angst. Slate flipped the medallion in the air. “Sorry about the knock to the head. I saw an opportunity and after all, it is within the rules of Stratego.”
“You’re right. It is within the rules.” Rainier’s tone left no doubt about his feelings concerning Stratego’s rules.
Slate then walked over to Sana, who had quietly watched match after match. “Would you heal my hand?”
“I am not some bar wench who brings you drinks after you have already proven yourself inebriated. You continue to hurt yourself in idiotic ways. This display was the worst of all; you betrayed the trust of your friend to get some stupid medallion. Well, you’ve damaged Rainier’s trust and hurt your hand for the sake of possessing the Sicarius toy. Heal yourself.” She got up and left.
Later that evening, the group huddled around their small campfire, with contention all around. Slate didn’t completely understand why he was no longer in Sana’s good graces, but he understood why Rainier was sore with him. Rainier gave him a quick glare as he left to get firewood.
Slate contemplated the Stratego incident. His life had taken a very serious turn since the tournament, and he needed every advantage afforded him to survive in the world of the Crimson Guard. Right now, the Stratego medallion, and the help of the Sicarius headmaster, fell into that category. He wouldn’t apologize. He did what he had to do. Rainier would understand in time.
Crack! The world went dim as he rolled forward, coming to rest just outside the fire ring.
Heavy eyelids opened and Slate picked himself up from the ground. He felt the back of his head and found his hair matted with blood from where Rainier had struck him with a piece of firewood. Rainier stoked the fire and tossed the Stratego medallion in the air. “Like you said, rules are rules.”
Slate reconsidered his position. He had enough people trying to bash his head in to add Rainier to the list. “I’m sorry for my actions during training. I took advantage of your willingness to help me…worse, I took advantage of our friendship. Fractal’s grace to you.”
Rainier sat back down across the fire. “If I would have known that swinging a piece of firewood at the back of your head would knock some sense into you, I would have done it earlier. Apology accepted.” The tribesman smiled. “Now that we’ve had a little bit of practice at Stratego, maybe it makes sense to add a few rules of our own. Neither one of us will make it out of these woods alive if we knock each other senseless every chance we get.”
“I agree, but how do you think the headmaster will view your change in the game’s rules?” Slate was silent for a moment before answering his own question. “The purpos
e of Stratego is to be aware of your surroundings and develop skills to infiltrate your opponent’s guard, even when it is up. How about this? If either of us can sneak up and tap the back of the neck, we agree that counts as incapacitation. We can maintain the spirit of the game without inflicting permanent damage.”
“My head thinks that is a very good idea…in more ways than one. Since you will be the one explaining our version of the rules to the headmaster, I am in full agreement.”
“It’s about time you two came to your senses,” Sana admonished. With the Stratego understanding, order was restored amongst his traveling companions and the good-natured telling of tales began once again. Tonight, it was Slate who picked the topic and he addressed Lucus.
“Why weren’t you able to maintain the camouflage spell during the attack in Ravinai? Could you tell the spell was fading?”
Lucus answered after a moment of reflection. “I ran out of spark. It is similar to running a long distance and finally collapsing. The runner can endure a lot of pain, and it can be difficult to know when to stop. Similarly, a wizard can feel the energy draining, but there aren’t any other indications of when you will run out.”
“What about the probing of my wounds? You must have felt something in order to know how to heal me properly.”
“Do you remember that spells need both a pattern and the spark to work? Probing allows a wizard to search for patterns. A trained wizard can sense where changes in patterns occur. In the case of healing, your injury altered your body’s normal patterns and the wizard restores them.”
“Then what about the investigation that Brannon made you perform?” That spell had certainly felt different to Slate than a probing spell.
Lucus frowned. “That spell is based on the pattern of sharing experiences with another, sitting down and discussing events in your life, much as we are doing now. However, the spell is only loosely related to that pattern. It allows the spellcaster to not only share experiences but to relive the actions and thoughts of the person who experienced them.” Lucus elaborated as he noticed their questioning looks. “That spell requires a lot of spark because it relies upon a pattern that is loosely tied to it. It is why I needed to borrow some energy from Brannon and why I was hesitant to use the spell. The Wizard Council teaches that spells loosely tied to their original patterns should only be used if other options are not available. The Crimson Guard and Ispirtu originated from the need to use magic in combat. They teach that the best spell is the one that works the quickest and most efficiently, the two attributes needed most during combat. In your instance, I conducted the spell because I felt there were no other options. I apologize for the intrusion of your memories, and I tried to speak only what was necessary to Brannon in order to close the investigation.”