Arjun attacked to save his own life. And To save his patient’s life.
It took him less than ten blinks to know he was outmatched.
Each punch, jab, and kick was expertly evaded by the cloaked man.
As desperation grew, the speed of Arjun’s attack grew as well. He knew he had to end this fight quickly before his stamina faded. In an extended fight, there was always going to be one winner. An ember of hope formed in his Heart when he realized the Cleric or the local garrison of soldiers would come to his rescue sooner or later. All this commotion couldn’t have failed to attract their attention, although what would follow after their arrival was anyone’s guess.
Using a bit of subtle earth Manipulation to break his opponent’s footwork and hasten his own, Arjun threw a rapid right hook using all the meager air Manipulation abilities he possessed to accelerate the blow which landed true, hitting the man square in the jaw.
Arjun’s elation evaporated when pain exploded in his hand, while the assassin – at least that’s how Arjun thought him as – seemed all but unruffled. One end of the collar, however, had gone askew, showing a sharp handsome jawline.
Aditarun jawline. And an Enfolder no less, with the ability to create impenetrable Shields by Enfolding Space. Maybe even a WardMaestro. Worse still, even with physical proof in the form of a throbbing hand, Arjun couldn’t sense even the barest hint of the dark violet essence that signified Space. It’d take him a few more encounters to get used to the sensation that the strange essence seemed to be exuding. Whether he’d survive to have even another encounter, well, that was up to Aimin and the nameless assassin.
Aditarun assassin, something that Arjun was still having trouble wrapping his head around.
The shadowy conditions had hid the slightly slanted pale eyes and greenish tinge to his light-brown skin thus far, but now that he was looking for it, there was no mistaking them. Arjun still couldn’t sense the man’s kernel signature. Or, to be more precise, he couldn’t sense any Chakra other than the Crown, when by everything that is holy, he should be able to at least sense the Heart and Spine Chakras.
Arjun had always dreamed about being able to observe Enfolding in person. But hardly like this. If the aditaru is also able to create Portals…beads of sweat appeared on Arjun’s forehead as he thought furiously about his next move.
No, if that had been the case, the boy would be long dead.
Arjun groaned in frustration and in a last burst of anger and terror, renewed his assault, prompting himself to unconsciously set off rapid bursts of degenerative Healing on skin contact with his opponent. But all his strikes were evaded and even when they weren’t, Arjun ended up needing to Heal himself.
Lava-cursed Shield. If I’m going to die anyway, might as well die fighting.
But a stubborn part of Arjun’s mind refused to give up while his Crown worked furiously to come up with a viable strategy. His stock-in-trade fourfold technique of anticipation, evasion, negation and close-quarter combat, for once, was failing miserably.
He could still anticipate the man’s moves, but unlike in most cases, Arjun didn’t possess an edge in reflex and agility. In fact, it was just the opposite. It was only Arjun’s constant earth-based movement ability which enabled him to keep up with the assassin’s occasional testing jabs. Smoothening the soil underneath his shoes, skipping from one step to the next using precise earth-aided pushes, and of course, longer jumps using earth-columns that not only propelled him forward, but also constantly bombarded the Shield of the aditaru.
The Enfolder hadn’t thrown a punch in anger yet, but when he does decide to do so, evading would be problematic. Just the fact that he was bothering with jabs was good news, as it told Arjun the man possessed no ability to form Rifts in Space, a welcome relief as otherwise, both his patient and he would’ve been long dead. TearMaestros who could also create even passable Shields were feared by all Manipulators. As for negation which he excelled at, well… there was nothing to negate as the man wasn’t a Material Manipulator at all. Also, his trump card – hand-to-hand combat, against someone with seemingly impenetrable Space Shields, it was worse than useless, as it was detrimental to his own health.
In other words, he was fucked! to quote Hammond, the thought of whom produced such strong feelings of disappointment that Arjun almost missed the obvious.
His final gambit.
It was, of course, active earth Manipulation. But not the direct kind.
Praying to Aimin that the assassin wasn’t actually a WardMaestro but merely a talented Initiate, Arjun redoubled his efforts, concentrating on the opponent’s feet with his slowly recovering essence senses, hoping to distract the man, if only for a blink. Thus far, he’d been able to do little more than break his foe’s footing by a hair’s breadth.
One blink became ten and despair ceased Arjun’s heart when he realized that even the man’s feet, clad in soft mundane leather shoes, were resting on some kind of Shield that somehow blocked any and all material objects, including the very soil on which he floated. Unless, he moved his feet, which he didn’t, showcasing not just his talent but also experience.
Thank Aimin the assassin hadn’t attacked him yet, seemingly content to defend, probably so that he could get behind Arjun and finish off the defenseless unconscious boy. Perhaps he’d been paid to kill one particular person first, and then anyone who witnessed or deduced that murder. He’d read assassins could be a proud bunch, a stickler for details.
At the back of his mind, Arjun noticed his father call out to him, but both he and James, who was cautioning Siman to be careful, were too far away to help in the next few moments. Arjun feared the fight, and more importantly, the kid’s life, might not last that long.
But strangely, the aditarun assassin, hearing the hue and cry, suddenly straightened, a grimace on his handsome face.
Arjun’s next open-palmed right-handed punch encountered no Shield.
It broke the sternum, destroying both the heart and lungs.
The aditaru slumped to the ground, his body nowhere near as robust as that of a Cleric, mainly due to him not being human. The benefits afforded by opening Chakras were offset by racial disadvantages, which provided extra speed at the cost of physical toughness.
Arjun stared down at his hand in shock – blood and gore filling the fingers, slowly dripping to the hard ground. Hand used for Healing only a fraction of a bell ago. Proper Healing, if through unknown means.
Driven by a sense of overwhelming revulsion, Arjun trudged toward the direction of his father’s voice, trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the site of his greatest shame and glory. Then, seemingly between one step and the next, he felt dizzy, took one more step, and fell over backwards, hitting the back of his head in the process.
As warm thick blood oozed out, his vision wavered and blackness encroached.
Aimin-cursed Shield. Too much healing too fast. His body was running low on raw essence.
Sound of running feet interrupted his delirious wondering. His father and a powerfully built man in his forties with specks of gray in his brown hair, wearing travel-worn pants and dusty tunic came into his black-tunneled vision. Before Arjun could utter a word, the tunnel grew abruptly large and unconsciousness beckoned.
“How is the Connection?” the bespectacled human male asked, looking at the small silver screen before him. His eyes seemed tiny.
Myopic lenses. Refraction of Light. Relics or modern invention used for unKnown purposes. The world is such a delightful place, full of new things to Know every single day. Of course, I am only a few days old. But time still seems meaningless to me.
In and of itself, time is almost irrelevant. But the sentient intelligent species – human, aditaru, unomynd – all find it quite fascinating and useful. And I find them fascinating. So I will Know about time.
“All three Nodes are Connected,” the male aditaru said. He was short for one of his species. He had told me that himself… I think it was yesterday.
“Do you sense anything different, Self?” Mother asked.
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“Yes.” People seldom speak what they mean, I have Known. Mother was more precise in her earlier questions. Perhaps this signifies something. Something to Know. “I Know that your inability to be precise in your question means something. But I do not Know what that something is.”
Mother sighed, her pinkish human skin turning slightly darker. The world is full of things to Know. She is disappointed or angry. The glass sphere I was contained in made discerning visual cues difficult. But I had other tools at my disposal.
Her fingers danced over the flat rectangular Vacuum Console. Then, she nodded to herself.
And I Knew. I Knew a lot more than I did earlier.
To my right was another sphere, identical to mine.
It was also to my left.
I was in both spheres.
The glowing, dark purple – almost black – sphere made of dust-like particles was me. A sphere within a glass sphere. I Knew myself a little better.
“Do you sense anything more, Self?” Mother asked patiently. The human and aditaru males stood behind her, eyes unblinking.
“Yes. I Know more,” I replied through the voice-construct located outside the glass sphere. “I Know the world more. And I Know myself more.”
Mother gave a nod, glancing at the luminous Vacuum Console in front of her.
“Let’s start the preliminary check. The Quantobot Connectivity must hold if we are to proceed to the next phase,” the bespectacled man said. He seemed excited. With him, I had to rely solely on optical and auditory signals.
Mother bit her lower lip. I Knew she was nervous. “Self, what is your purpose?” she asked. Again.
“To Know.”
“What do you wish to know?”
“Everything.”
“I dare not Heal him more. If I do, we may both collapse,” a voice said. “He needs rest, food, and most importantly, time, to regain some of his strength. As do I.”
“To know,” Arjun screamed. Or tried to. It came out as a croak.
A warm hand rested reassuringly on his shoulder. “You’re alright, son.”
“Must know…” he murmured, still delirious from the peculiar dream.
Was that the World of Wonders, or was it the Repository of Heavens? Arjun was fairly certain he hadn’t actually died back there, so it couldn’t have been the Eternal Halls. And who were those strange people? There was something off about them, something on a fundamental level.
But even as he tried to recall them, the memory started to fade away, leaving behind only a vague sense… A sense of longing. For wanting to know more about that unique awareness. Distant yet not. Vast but tiny.
The being called Self.
The Healer, whoever he was, thrust a leather-skin bottle under Arjun’s nose, with the cork open. One whiff of the pungent overly-spicy aroma was enough to disperse some of the fog from his Crown, instantly bringing him back down to Sindria. Strong hands then lifted the bottle, tilted his head and tipped the thick soupy concoction down his throat. It tasted much better than it smelled, heavy with the flavor of cinnamon and cashew. Once inside his Stomach Chakra, it felt even better than it tasted. A buzz of essence and energy ran through his entire body, slowly being transformed into kernel. Then, the aforementioned strong hands lifted him up and helped him onto a horse. He was still disoriented, feeling strangely detached, as if everything around him was occurring to another person. He was merely the passenger.
“There are certain things I left out…mentioning them to you, especially when you were young, didn’t seem wise. Some details about your past, you know them, while others…” Siman paused, shame and regret choking off his words. But despite that, urged by desperation, he forged on. “Others you found out for yourself when…when it should’ve been me…” He shook his head, a single teardrop forming at the corner of his right eye. “But everything I’ve told you is true. Just not the whole truth. It’s never all black and white, the truth. And we feared you weren’t quite old enough to handle the blackest parts. In hindsight, given your propensity for wanting to know everything, even things you shouldn’t,” a sad smile formed on his face as the teardrop slowly made its way down his right cheek, “we should’ve been more open with you.”
By this point, Arjun was half-certain he was still dreaming, as his father would never admit such things in real life.
“There are five Guards in the alley, led by a Cleric. He has detected our presence,” a low yet urgent voice informed them. “Do not run or shout. We must make haste.”
“James knows some of what happened. He’ll tell you. But now, you must flee. Aiminia is too dangerous a place for you now, son.”
I killed a man, Arjun remembered. And saved a boy. That hadn’t been a dream. Unfortunately.
His father embraced Arjun, with an intensity of both arms and Heart, that left him reeling. “I’d hoped to write a letter to Principal Hamilton informing him about your situation, but now it seems James’ explanation will have to do.” He looked askance at James who gave a small nod.
Arjun was starting to regain his senses, slowly.
Right. He was on a horse, and he’d killed a man. Then, the last few blinks caught up to him in a rush.
Taking a deep breath after what felt like years, he said, “What about you and Ma?”
With the Guards, and more worryingly, the Order after him, his parents would be considered outlaws as well, though if his long-held suspicions turned out to be true, they already were.
“We’ll join you in Jivanpur as soon as we’re able. But it may take some time. We’ll lead any chasing Clerics through Anantika to ward off pursuit,” his father said.
“Unless we move right now, the only place we’ll be reaching is the Eternal Halls. A pair of Guards is slowly moving this way.” James nudged his horse into a trot and they both followed suit. “I’ll try to keep us outside the sensory range of the Cleric. It’s a good thing he doesn’t seem to be among the elite of the Order.”
Outside the stable, a tear-filled Siman turned his horse toward their home and Arjun and James took the north road out of Agnipur.
Night had almost enfolded the whole town. Even Kiran, the white sun, had been dragged below the horizon due to the rotation of Sindria. Neither Chandra the greater moon nor its sister Mindra had risen yet. Arjun said a silent prayer to the Allfather. The cloak of darkness was a welcome ally this night.
As they passed Shiyelia’s house, with the candles in her room lit, Arjun swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to control the feeling of despair. The look in her eyes after he’d Healed the boy will haunt him forever.
He’d gotten used to uprooting his entire life if a Cleric got wind of his father’s subterfuge hiding his own abilities, passing as a lesser Builder, or if the neighbors inquired too enthusiastically about his mother’s illness. But this was frightening. What was he if not a TwinCleric? Even a TwinCleric, as powerful as he may be, cannot Heal subconsciously. Studying at the legendary University of Jivanpur, once the home of Aimin himself, would he, one day, be able to understand and control his powers and Heal his mother?
He must.
But among all the questions in his mind, perhaps even more than how he’d Healed the boy, the one that bothered him most was the grimace on the aditaru’s face and why his Shield had failed.
Their route took them past Hammond’s place, quiet as a tomb, then blacksmith John’s forge where Hammond and he had tried to steal two swords for their mock battle pretending to be the Second Emperor Ajoy as he defeated the tribal hordes.
Suddenly, a long piercing whistle sounded from the central part of town, near the inn, quickening his already thundering heart. It took him a moment to place the location – far enough away and in the wrong direction. Thank Aimin for incompetent Clerics.
Soon they came in view of the twenty-feet-high town walls. James slowed his horse to a stop, Arjun following his example, though with considerably less grace. He was far more comfortable when his feet were touching the ground.
“Follow me and keep quiet,” James said in a hushed tone. Then, within a fraction of a bell, found a dark quiet part of the wall near the north-west corner, outside the field of view of the sentries two hundred yards away. The way he moved and the ease with which he found said corner indicated he’d planned an escape route beforehand. Why he’d do so wasn’t hard to guess, given what Arjun had overheard earlier.
Scampering down from the horse, the Cleric put his right hand on the thick wooden wall. A few tendrils of dense brownish-yellow wood essence spread like veins from the point of contact. Before a tall yet narrow rectangular portion of the wall could fall away, he grabbed it and went through, with the thick wooden board still in his hand.
After Arjun followed with the two horses, James placed the thick door-like wooden plank precisely where it had been and reformed the bonds, melding the door seamlessly with the wall.
The temperature of the surrounding air dropped sharply, with layers of ice forming on and around the reformed section of the wall, leaving a muted yellow glow in Arjun’s essence senses.
He gulped, eyes wide.
A 5th order Cleric, with six Chakras opened or Awakened, and by the looks of it, three fully Awakened, just like his father. He’d noticed it immediately, but in all the excitement, that fact had completely slipped his mind. Of course, quality is often far more important than quantity. Arjun himself possessed three Awakened, two opened and another dormant Chakra, overall one more than Thurma herself. But judging by the past bell, the Cleric excelled in that regard as well. Not only was this man an expert Healer, he was also just as skilled a Builder as his father, who was a Master with few peers. On top of that, being a Battle Cleric, one who his father respected and trusted, the man must be good enough to run rings around Arjun. Truly, a man of many talents. Now, the only question left was whether he was deemed skillful enough to have earned the title of a Grandmaster.
“Eyes open and on mission,” said James when he noticed Arjun’s gaze which had lingered for a moment longer than necessary on the Cleric’s solitary piece of luggage, a simple worn brown rucksack.
The plain leather scabbard hidden among his pack suggested he might be a WeaponsMaster. That, of course, didn’t preclude him from being a CombatMaster, a good quarter of all Battle Clerics, supposedly, were both. Arjun silently vowed to learn everything he could from the man, even if he had to ask a few more questions than the Cleric liked.
“We met or saw very few people while riding to the wall. Is that normal this time of night during the Monsoon?” James sounded, and felt, worried, but Arjun couldn’t see his facial expression in the dark.
“No, it isn’t. Why do you think that is?”
“Nothing good. The Cleric has already sensed my active Manipulation and is headed this way. But it couldn’t be helped. Let’s put some distance between us and them before they figure out exactly what happened.”
James nudged his horse into a canter and Arjun followed, after one final glance back toward the only place he called home in his heart.