Tif dropped her arm, abashed but only somewhat disheartened. She had trained with Gold ris in mind, not Blood, so it was natural that it would give her some problems at first. In actuality, what disappointed her more was that even though she was standing in a field of people using Gold ris, all she could see were brief shimmers in the air to her right and left--still ris blind because she didn’t have a seal of Gold yet. She supposed that was good in some ways. That meant that probably no one could tell that she had done absolutely nothing with her Blood ris.

Tif was staring across the field while thinking these things and so did see and hear the candidate to the right of her target--a human boy she didn’t recognize--get knocked off his feet. The sound was a far off crack as his shroud shattered, but the strike managed to continue past the broken barrier, knocking the boy into the air where he soared for a handful of paces before landing on his back, well away from the disc he should have been standing on.

Her mouth fell open. A single shot doing that much against someone with a shroud? It shouldn’t be possible.

Tif looked to her right to check what the keshe boy beside her had done. His left arm, which moments ago had been wrapped in Gold ris, was now all but bare, as if that flesh had never had any tattoos. For all the duels she’d watched, Tif had never seen someone draw that amount of power from their ris so quickly--it usually went from shimmering to dull and then gone. And never so many inches of ris at once. What sort of form had that been?

“Right side, ready!” the administrator shouted.

Tif’s questions flew out of her head, and she squared her stance, preparing herself to be attacked. Even from a distance, she thought the keshe across from her looked smug as he raised his fists.

“I may not be able to knock you down,” Tif told him like he was standing just a few paces away and not a hundred, “but you’re not going to move me.”

“Strike!”

Tif’s attacker performed a standard straight punch. The form was one of the most basic, but she could tell he did it with precision, his hips twisting and his fist snapping into place. It was the same strike she had tried to use against him. Was he mocking her?

When the ris didn’t immediately hit her, Tif squinted, trying harder to spot the distortion in the air as it traveled the great length between them. Suddenly, her head snapped back like someone had socked her straight in the nose. She reeled, windmilling her arms to try and stay upright, and somehow managed to do just that.

Tif regained her balance and sucked in a shaky breath. Then she laughed. Someone had actually hit her with Gold ris--and not a little flick like Sur-Rak had done during their das match, but a full blown strike! She could feel the skin of her arm heating and then a similar sensation happened on her face. Tif let her Blood ris heal whatever damage her opponent had done, slipping from euphoria to contemplation. The truth was that the punch hadn’t been that hard, likely due to the absurd distance between them. If it had been, she’d be on her back right now, and the way she’d thrown her arms about, he likely knew that. So, his next attack would have more oomph, probably all he could throw at her.

“Left side, strike!” the administrator shouted.

Tif didn’t bother trying. Figuring out how to remain standing would be easier than discovering how to use Blood ris to hit from afar, if she even could, and she only had so much time to think.

The keshe boy beside her was sitting on his disc, having already won his match, which was no help, but the quiet keshe girl on her left twirled on one foot--the foot on the disc--to perform a spin kick.

“Now there’s a thought,” Tif said to Pep.

“Right side, strike!”

Tif squared herself, just as she had before, and her opponent threw the exact same type of punch--either that was how he fought, or he wanted to prove a point to her. As soon as his fist stopped moving she started to, stepping wide with her left foot which wasn’t on the disc, and once she had enough distance, dropping into a split. She couldn’t go all the way down because she wanted to keep her right foot flat on the disc, so she went as far as her ankles would allow, which was still half her normal height. She could have also laid her body flat against the ground to ensure his attack missed, but that to her would have gone against the spirit of the challenge. The administrator had said this was to test candidates who would defend Lercel’s wall, and while that wasn’t a division she wanted to join, or likely could with Blood seals, who would want a defender who prostrated themselves against their attacker? Instead, she wanted to show the division leaders her ability to dodge a telegraphed strike, as well as her flexibility. She wanted to appear in control. And barely any of her body was in the same spot it had originally been when her opponent had punched, so she should be safe as she was.

Though Tif couldn’t see the shot, she felt a bit of coolness brush past right side, directly over the disc her right foot was on. The keshe boy seemed furious across from her, jerking his limbs out, but say one thing for him: he was accurate.

Because she was only in a half split, Tif was able to push off with her left foot and get back into a regular stance smoothly. She barely heard the administrator call out her row’s last chance to attack, wishing instead she was closer to her opponent, so she could read the particulars of his face like in a das match. If she was in his position, she’d go for a sweeping kick or punch, to cover as much space as possible.

And how would she defend against that?

She could do a split the other way but Tif didn’t like that idea. Since she wasn’t actively attacking, she needed each of her defenses to showcase her ability, and it wouldn’t add anything to the division leader’s perception of her to do the same thing again. Tif glanced at the curtain that hid the people she wanted to impress from view. But what would?

Wondering that made Tif think on the point of having them all stand on a small disc to begin with. It made it easy to see when someone lost, true, but the breaking of a Gold shroud would do the same. Surely a knight stationed on the wall could move back and forth some. So the purpose of having them stay still was probably…to see if they could take a hit.

“Right side, final strike!” the administrator called out, and Tif took a deep breath. Though her healing was wonderful, it was terribly suited for the situation.

Like she had predicted, the keshe boy she faced did an exaggerated hook punch and even bent his knees some as he threw the attack to give her as little room as possible to avoid it. Considering how his first attack had nearly knocked her over and how much added power he had probably put into this one since it was his last try, Tif had little hope she could stay upright against it if she took it full on.

That left her only one idea--something she had learned from running up Lercel against a stiff breeze countless times. But she would have to time it perfectly, or she would fall. His two strikes had taken about four heartbeats to reach her, and a sweeping attack would take slightly longer, which meant she had to do it…NOW!

Tif leaned forward, on the tiptoes of her front foot, so far she started to be out of balance.

“Oh no,” Tif said, feeling herself falling. She had gone too soon.

His Gold ris hit her in the chest, blowing her back. It rocked her from being angled toward the ground to upright to then falling back. But she had kept her left foot behind her and it connected with the ground in a deep stance, stabilizing her. Not enough though. The attack was powerful, and her body kept moving with its force, her right foot peeling off of the disc despite her best efforts to keep it in place: first her toes, next the ball of her foot, followed by the flat of it.

And then the pressure stopped, and her heel…her heel was still on the disc.

Tif whooped, pumping her arms in the air. She hadn’t lost the first challenge!

She heard shouts in the stands, maybe for her or because of others who had succeeded or fallen over, but she savored the sound either way. Her chest ached something fierce, like someone had just struck across it with a length of wood, but she felt absolutely giddy inside.

Tif dropped her arms and looked over at her opponent to give him a nod of respect, but he was stalking about, mouth opening and closing, swearing up a storm if she had to guess. Deciding not to worry about him, Tif gently touched her chest. It was tender, but then a stretch of ris on her back heated in a quick flare, using itself up, and the skin under her fingers was no longer sore in the slightest.

“Amazing,” she said to Pep. Her Blood ris may not have helped her much, but it was still an incredible power to have.

“Well done,” the administrator boomed. “You’ve made clear your skill in this particular arena, or the lack thereof.”

Tif thought the last part might be directed at her, but she knew she had made the best out of the choices she’d been given and that the right division leaders would respect her for it.

“There will now be a thirty minute recess,” he said, “after which the next challenge will commence. Candidates, we suggest you use this time rest, and spectators, enjoy some of Lercel’s finest music and food!”

Horns and flutes began playing, as if the cue had been rehearsed, along with a coterie of singers, on both sides of the field. While Tif’s ears listened, her eyes followed the administrator as he walked purposely toward where the division leaders were. Much to her disappointment, he slipped around the side of the white curtain, relieving nothing about what waited behind.

Looking around the field at the other candidates, Tif was surprised to see that they weren’t socializing with each other like they had before the challenges started. Instead, everyone was...still.

Tif had always heard that sleep restored ris and--because of her experience this morning with Torgath’s previously uncharged ris--knew that it was true. She had also heard that mediation was supposed to provide a similar benefit, but Tif hadn’t seen it in practice. When spying on schools in the mids, she could usually only hear the instruction not see it, and participants in duels never meditated beforehand--at least not the ones she had watched.

Now though, there were more than a dozen practitioners all around her, and Tif could tell that, just like attacking with Gold ris, different styles abounded. Most sat, like her opponent across from her who had stopped swearing and the quiet girl beside her, but the way they sat varied--she had her legs crossed and her hands resting upturned on her knees, while his legs were underneath him and his hands were palm down on his thighs. In stark contrast to those two, on the far left, Tif saw the wealthy human, Tad, standing. He had the sole of one foot against the knee of his other, his hands together above his bald head, and his face upturned to the sky--perhaps a style from the Life territories like some of his ris?

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Turning to the right, Tif saw both Sur-Rak and Jer sitting in the distance, but more interesting and a bit closer was the tall keshe who had demanded a duel with her. Unlike everyone else, she was punching and kicking the air, working her way through a series of forms in a tight circle. And even closer, Tif discovered that the keshe boy directly next to her was stretched out...sleeping? His snoring certainly seemed to indicate as much.

Tif laughed. Different styles indeed.

“What do you think, Pep? Should we take a nap?”

She certainly needed to do something. Tif wasn’t sure if her Blood ris would stop healing her at some point like Gold shrouds eventually broke when ris was low, but she wasn’t sure how to test that out. Also, if the next challenge was at a forced distance again, she wasn’t sure how she could win, and Tif didn’t think another tie would serve her.

“Alright,” she said to Pep, “let’s figure this out.”

Tif quickly stretched and then worked through every Gold form she’d ever seen: punches, chops, palm strikes, and various kicks. She tried different angles of attack, spinning her body before striking, and her favorites with jumps.

After ten minutes or so, she was covered in sweat and hadn’t produced so much as a hint of Blood ris in the air. This was despite her attempts with every strike to will the ris to move beyond her skin. Either none of her seals could be used at range or she was doing something terribly wrong.

“I think….” she took a series of long breaths, “we need help.” Tif considered the keshe boy on her right, but he was sleeping, and she’d never even met him before, so she walked a few steps closer to the quiet keshe who had been with Sur-Rak.

“Sorry to bother you,” Tif said, “but is there something special you do to throw your ris?”

The girl’s eyes popped open, meeting Tif’s and then quickly moving off to the side.

Not even wanting to look at her. That wasn’t a good sign.

“D-do you...” the keshe started, eyes still angled away. Her voice was high and airy, and Tif had to strain to hear it over the music from the stands. “Can you f-feel the ris?”

Tif expected that would be the heat she kept feeling, either when taking from others or when her ris healed her, but since she had consistently failed to do more with it than that, she figured she might as well check.

“What is it supposed to feel like?”

“A b-bit cool,” the keshe girl answered in her halting way of talking.

That matched Tif’s limited experience of being near Gold ris, so that tracked. And considering how different the effects were that Blood seals produced compared to Gold, it made sense that the sensation each created would be different. Just to be sure, Tif focused on her right forearm, where some dots and lines of glistening red ris sat. That part of her body definitely felt warm--not hot like when she used her power, but warmer than her upper arm, which was currently bare of ris.

“Let’s say I can feel it. What do I do next?”

“Imagine that f-feeling moving away from you and t-toward what you want.”

It was the longest thing the quiet keshe had said, and when she finished, she quickly closed her mouth as if she had used up all the words she was allowed for the day.

“Thank you,” Tif said, dipping her head in a show of respect. And then before leaving, she added, “I think you have a beautiful voice.”

The keshe finally looked at her again, eyes widening. She glanced away almost immediately, but Tif also saw the keshe smile just a touch to herself, the tops of her sharp teeth showing between her lips.

Walking back to her place by the disc, Tif took stock of every part of her body that felt warmer. It was kind of like the sewer rash she had gotten a few years back when she and her fa had tried to catch muck lizards. For weeks her skin had been red and itched fiercely from just below her knees down. Her Blood ris wasn’t all in one spot like that, but the act of letting herself feel it instead of ignoring its constant presence was similar. Tif figured the ris was probably patchy because she’d used some of it to heal herself, then her fa, and then her again. In fact, she was impressed she had so much left over after all of that, but Tif remembered Awt saying something about the energy she had taken being used for fuel, so that was probably how.

Tif looked over at the sleeping keshe beside her. Too bad she couldn’t take from him or one of the other candidates to recharge, but she doubted the division leaders would like that.

So, keeping her focus on those warm parts, Tif went back through all the same forms but this time with each punch and kick she snapped into place she thought of that heat flying from her body to strike air before her.

When the administrator reappeared from behind the white curtain calling for the end of break, Tif still had yet to produce a single attack with ris.

She flopped down on the ground, sweat dripping from her nose. “Guess we should have waited for the next recruitment, eh, Pep?” While having longer than a few hours to learn about her ris would have been great, Tif knew that hadn’t been an option. The only reason she felt comfortable with her parents hiding in the sewers was because she was planning to collect them as soon as she became a knight and because anyone in the lows or mids could tell Vak-Lav where the girl with Blood tattoos had been heading. It wouldn’t have worked if she had gone with her parents.

“The next challenge is upon us!” the administrator said to the cheers of those in the stands. He walked in between the two rows of candidates stopping in what seemed to Tif to be the middle of the field. “This one will be group matches of five to six candidates each.”

“Teams,” Tif said, thinking of the conversation between the Archon’s son Jer and Tad.

“When your name is called, join me. The first group will be Jer, Yoa, Dax, Vytel, and Lus. Everyone who was not called, clear the area.”

Tif wasn’t exactly sure where she was supposed to go, so she followed the quiet keshe who apparently hadn’t been among those named.

After a few dozen paces, the keshe sat back down, and Tif saw other candidates not too far off doing the same. A few had already turned back to watch the fight, like the tall keshe girl, but most returned to their poses, Sur-Rak included Tif saw.

Tif had no idea how to meditate right, but maybe one of the five would use a form she didn’t know that would work for Blood. It was a long shot, but she didn’t know what else to do.

“Wish he was up there,” Tif said to Pep. The sleepy boy was lying on the ground again not too far off. His forceful way of attacking had definitely been new to her. Maybe he’d be in the next group, and she’d be in third.

Movement in the middle of the field caught Tif’s attention, and she looked over to see the administrator positioning the five candidates with shouted commands into a loose circle around him, each about ten paces apart. Among them Tif recognized the Archon’s son, Sur-Rak’s friend with the long nails, the keshe boy she had been paired against in the previous challenge, and the human girl who had some Life ris. The last was a keshe boy she didn’t recognize.

Once the administrator was satisfied with how far apart they were, he walked away until he stood about as far from them as those who weren’t participating.

“The challenge lasts until one, or none, of these candidates can remain standing. Begin!”

All five of them moved at once, as if they were connected by a single string. Tif was focused on Jer since Sur-Rak had said he was good, so she got to see him leap up in the air and perform a split kick. His opponents both to the left and right were instantly knocked over, and he landed in a puff of dust, untouched by an attack the unknown keshe threw at almost the same moment--it had probably sailed under Jer while he was airborne.

Tif whistled. Few people she had seen were as flexible as her, and even fewer could have performed that attack as well as he had: using it for both offense and defense. He was good.

“Guess they didn’t have their shrouds back yet,” Tif said to Pep when neither of the two got up.

To the right of the Archon’s son, Tif saw that the air around Sur-Rak’s friend and the keshe boy she had fought had grown quite hazy; Tif almost thought she could see brief sparks of Gold when thrown ris collided with their shrouds. It made sense that Tif’s opponent still had enough ris for a barrier since she hadn’t managed to attack him, and Sur-Rak’s friend had somehow avoided damage up until now, too. Neither tried to dodge as they hammered at each other--him with straight punches and even some straight kicks, while she used slashing, claw attacks.

Tif hadn’t seen that style before, so she tried a claw strike, imagining the heat on her arm flying through her fingers to create five slashing lines.

Predictably, nothing happened.

The Archon’s son didn’t engage the pair, apparently content to let them drain each other. Actually, he was doing something, but Tif didn’t think it could be called any sort of attack. He brought a thumb to his forehead, swiping it across as if he was painting himself. He then repeated the motion, but in the air, toward Tif’s previous opponent.

“What do you think that was, Pep?”

Not long after, Sur-Rak’s friend’s claw attacks broke through the keshe boy’s shroud in a crack that Tif could hear from across the field. He fell to the ground, and though he was still clearly conscious, didn’t try to rise. Sur-Rak’s friend didn’t waste a moment, turning on Jer with her arms held wide and then swinging them across each other in a double slash attack.

Even thought she couldn’t see it, Tif knew Jer wouldn’t be able to dodge that, not ten lines of power spreading out as they had to be.

He dropped to the ground, and Tif thought he was hit, but then she saw him kick out with his feet. Sur-Rak’s friend was blown back, a second crack reverberating through the field.

Her body slid to a halt, and she squirmed as if she might rise but then flopped back to the ground.

Some in the crowd behind Tif made a surprised sound, and Tif quickly saw what it was: the human girl who Jer had knocked over at the start was back up. She wasn’t moving unsteadily, so must have been waiting for there to be less people on the field. Tif supposed it was a smart plan, but what sort of knight division would want someone like that?

The human girl rushed toward the Archon’s son who was still on the ground, her hands held together, though there was nothing in them that Tif could see.

Jer must have heard or seen her coming, because he put the flats of his hands on the ground and whipped his legs around his body, lifting one hand then the next, so we could swing both legs in an entire circle.

The charging girl's feet were suddenly swept out from under her, and her head hit the ground hard. Tif thought that would be it, but the human girl gave a shouted growl as she got up, and Tif felt like she was watching a kindred spirit.

The Archon’s son arched his back, flipping into a standing position without using his hands while the human girl dashing forward again, her arms held low. Despite the distance, Tif could see something cutting the ground underneath the girl as she ran. Was her Life ris creating some sort of weapon? Was that what she held?

It certainly seemed that way the girl slashed upward with her hands, a shimmer seeming to follow, but Jer sidestepped the attack. He didn’t kick or punch in retaliation as Tif expected but instead caught the girl’s exposed wrist in his hand.

And then Tif saw it. Something more than a distortion in the air: there was a red glow underneath Jer’s tunic that hadn’t been there a moment before. The girl struggled against him, bringing her free arm down, and the red burned stronger, brighter than even charged ris. Whatever weapon the girl had possessed seemed no longer there, as the swish of her hand near Jer caused him no harm. The girl jerked her held arm to the side, causing them both to move, but then the struggle went out of her, and she slipped from his grasp, falling limply to the ground.

The crowd thundered their applause, and Tif spotted a gold-robed servant rushing to the girl’s aid, only now noticing that different servants were already helping the other three losing candidates.

Jer paid them no mind as he left the field unscathed, waving to the crowds, and walked toward Tif of all things.

“I was hoping to make a bigger splash with that last reveal,” he said as he neared her. Tif didn’t see the glow anymore, but the exposed Gold ris on his arms shimmered as if it hadn’t been used at all and there was a bounce to his step. “But with you being as you are,” he gestured at her tattoos, “I’m sure people expected to see something similar before the day was out.”

“You have Blood ris?” she asked him. “You’ve been to the Blood Plains?”

“Yes, and of course.” Jer passed her but turned, walking backwards so he could continue the conversation. “It’s only fair you make the disappointment up to me,” he said with a slight pout. “Tea in my tent after?”

Tif had been planning to ask him what other Blood moves he knew, but his question stopped her. He wanted her to do what now with him?

Jer smiled at her lack of response and then spun to face the direction he was walking, apparently on his way to the stands to talk to some of the people who seemed so pleased by his performance.

“Wait,” Tif called after him, “tell me about--”

“Next group,” she heard, and it took all of her effort to look over her shoulder instead of chasing the Archon’s son down. The administrator was returning to the middle of the field and when he got there, he said. “Rof”

Tif saw the napping boy beside her get up.

“Opa.”

The tall keshe girl was moving into the field as well.

“Tif.”

And she lost the rest.

It was her turn.