Spinning around, Tif saw that while both Teerog and Plumya had moved closer to Jer, neither was within striking distance. And though Jer could attack them, just as he had Tif, he wasn’t yet. Instead, the three were at a standstill--or in the case of Plumya, a low hover back and forth--all clearly waiting to see who would make the first big move.
However, with Tif’s ability to see Death ris, she discovered that someone already had made the first strike. There was a Death mark going from Jer to Teerog. He probably wanted to keep track of the cyclops due to her large size and wasn’t overly concerned with Plumya and Tif. Of course, he could just mark them all, but for whatever reason he didn’t. Perhaps he lacked the control or didn’t realize split marks were possible, which meant Tif might know more about Death ris than he did. If so, it was a good thing, because the only way Tif was going to defeat his multiple seals with her one would be to outmaneuver him.
“Come then,” Jer said, gesturing the three of them forward. “Let us speak using the tools the Aspects gave us, and we’ll see if you can do better than the squad of Death I faced this morning.”
“We’re not all going to fight you, Jer,” Tif said. Plumya made a disgusted sound from the side, but Tif ignored it. “Your problem is with me so that's where it stays.”
Jer recentered his attention on her and then asked something she hadn’t expected in the slightest.
“Who is tracking you?”
Tif blinked, needing a moment before realizing that he was using his own seal of Death to see the line of gray ris that extended out from her to the Shachon. Still, she didn’t much care for his assumption, especially not after everything.
“How do you know I’m not tracking someone, hmm?” Tif said to him.
If anything, his expression got colder. “You possessed not an inch of Death ris only a few weeks ago, and now you can track something out of sight? No, I do not believe it.” He cut the last words off with his sharp teeth. “Is it your master then? The one who sent you to kill my mother? I should have known Death was behind it, especially with them camping so close to Lercel.”
“What are you talking about?” Tif said, feeling her frustration with him rise. “I was born and raised in Lercel. I spent longer there than you I’d wager. Don’t tell me I’m from somewhere I’m not.”
“I’m glad I didn’t live my whole life in Lercel,” he growled. “If I had, I might have met you sooner.”
Tif had expected a barb or two from him, but still, she found this one painful to hear.
“Wow, you feel that?” a high voice said.
Tif turned to find Plumya hovering close by, the beginnings of a smile on her tiny face. Tif didn’t trust it in the slightest.
“What?”
“He hates you. I mean really hates you.” Plumya sat back, almost like she was sitting on her blurred wings. “Kind of impressive he cares that much.”
Tif was offended by the comment but also thought the fairy might actually be giving her a compliment. “I guess,” was all she could think to reply.
“We should probably kill him, yeah?”
“No,” Tif said, alarmed. “He’s just confused. Once we talk--”
“Like you are now?” Plumya interrupted. “Because if this is your idea of winning him over, I’m not seeing it working.”
Tif looked back at Jer. True, he didn’t look like he was going to change his mind. In fact, he looked ready to unleash whatever fury had been building up in him ever since she had escaped the prison.
“Hey, keshe boy!” Plumya called over the distance before Tif could decide what to say next. “You’re not taking her corpse right?”
Jer eyed the fairy a moment before deciding to reply. “I will take some things to prove that she has been disposed of.”
“Sure, sure,” Plumya said. “Just leave an ear, okay?”
Jer crossed his arms. “I’ll be taking both ears.”
“Bit much if you ask me,” Plumya groused but then said louder, “That’s fine. A toe works in a pinch.”
“I’ll be taking her hands and feet, too.”
“Come on now,” Plumya said, actually looking flustered. “You’re gonna make me go for a tooth or an eye. That’s just--”
“It’s non-negotiable.”
“Freakin’ keshe,” Plumya spat. “Always think they can have whatever they want.” The fairy turned to Tif. “We definitely need to kill him.”
“Are you quite done now?” Tif couldn’t believe the two of them were discussing dismembering her corpse right in front of her. She was not going to be dying!
“What?” Plumya said, looking innocent as could be. “Just some shop talk.”
“Jer,” Tif said, ignoring the fairy. “Your ma was a hero to me. I wanted to be her. Remember how you had to drag me away from her when the Challenges first began, and how after losing to her I said that I’d play her again in das? I’ll never be able to because Rof took her from us all, and that hurts me terribly. Not as much as I know it does you, but it does.”
He stared at her, unspeaking. Was she getting through to him? Just a bit more, and she might. “I swear by all five Aspects that I had no part in her murder. And I swear that I will help you find who did plan it. That’s why I’m on my way to Sah’Sah. To learn more of the truth.” She took a step closer to him, a step she hoped would bridge the ugly chasm that had formed between them. “Come with us. We can figure this out together.”
Jer stood there another moment, as if was counting out the time and then he spoke. “All condemned are allowed to have last words, and you have had yours now. You will have no more kindness from me.”
Tif’s jaw twitched. “Fine,” she said, pulling the leather cords of the zumai from her belt. She hadn’t gotten to wear them before and now felt like the perfect time. After all, the lows had taught her that some people could only hear things one way, and if that’s how Jer was going to be, she’d make sure he listened loud and clear.
He was walking toward her now, in measured steps, talking as he did. “You think you’ll beat my seals with some gloves? With your Blood ris you might have had a chance, but this…” He gestured at her. “Is pitiful.”
Tif was far enough along with her right cestus, she started walking, too. “They’re not gloves. They are my zumai.”
The look he gave her made it clear that she could have said any made up word and his reaction would have been the same.
“You don’t know?” Tif said as she wrapped the leather tight. “I thought you spent time with Death? Weren’t you the one who said that Lercel was more barbaric than them?”
Jer narrowed his eyes. “So I thought from my observations.”
He said the words with confidence, but after all of these years, Tif could feel it when someone was hedging their bets.
“Do you even know what upo is or Sha versus Shu? Do you know what Menders do, or Seekers?”
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A frown took hold of his brow and his steps slowed. “None of those have anything to do with your guilt. All you’ve proven is that you really are from Death.”
“How many times will you act as if you know something when all you possess is a half truth or none at all? This pride won’t serve you, Jer, now or ever.”
“The time for talking is at an end,” Jer said, suddenly sprinting forward.
Tif flexed both hands in agreement. The leather straps dug into her skin a bit, but she’d rather it be tight than loose. The weight of the metal discs also felt good, running along the joint before her knuckles and down the top of her hand. She didn’t know any backhanded strikes with Gold forms, but those discs in front were surely about to get some use.
However, before they could engage, Teerog stepped in-between them.
“Teerog is owed a blood debt by Tif. None may have her until it is resolved.”
Tif thought Jer would attack the cyclops but instead he said. “I claim honor rights.”
Tif didn’t know what that was, but the phrase got Teerog’s full attention. It made sense that Jer would know something of Blood Tribe custom since, unlike Tif, he had actually lived among them to get the Blood ris on his body.
“Family or friend?” Teerog asked. Tif didn’t think she sounded happy about either potential answer.
“Family,” Jer said, and Teerog soured further.
Tif decided to use the opportunity to mark Jer. He surely saw the gray line of ris snap into being, but he didn’t seem to care, waiting as he was for Teerog to move her wide frame out of the way. Focusing on the sensation of him, Tif let her own awareness fall into his, like she was submerging herself in a mountain stream. From him, she sensed coolness, heat, and even some numbness. If not for her experience with different ris types and seeing him without a shirt on during the Challenges, she might have been confused by the mix of sensations. As it was, she knew the cool feeling was Gold, the warm was Blood, and the numbness was Death. What struck her as odd though was that he felt as numb as he did cool. But to her memory, he should have had two seals of Gold to only one of Death, so much more coolness.
He had mentioned Death troops though. Even if they hadn’t managed to land a blow on him--and surely they would have once or twice--they would have used their third seal to strip him of at least some ris. And if he didn’t have his shroud of Gold anymore, that meant they could have a real conversation.
“One way to find out,” Tif said to Pep, just as Teerog grumbled that she would step aside for now.
By the time the cyclops had moved, Tif was already running straight at Jer.
His eyes widened, clearly surprised to see her so much closer, but he recovered in a blink, sending a series of Gold powered kicks her way. Tif had expected nothing less. He had, after all, been accepted by most knight divisions for a reason--he was incredibly skilled. However, now that he was marked, Tif could feel where he was going to move, just as she had practiced with the Death seekers, which made it only passingly hard to slip and slide out of the way of his invisible attacks.
He did manage to surprise her with his next strike though by kicking twice with the same leg, first with a standard side kick, but then immediately back as a hook kick. However, Tif simply raised her numb, Death ris covered arm to block the attack she hadn’t expected. Her limb shook against the strike but she didn’t feel a thing and so only lost a fraction of her momentum. She’d have to be careful of not overusing the arm since she didn’t know when it was near breaking, but for a single instance of defense, Tif wasn’t worried.
And then she was close enough to Jer to start throwing attacks of her own. Tif began with a straight punch, and sure enough, no shimmering shroud appeared to block her strike. Just as she had sensed through her Mark, his fight with the Death troops had weakened him, putting them on nearly even footing.
Jer quick-stepped away from her punch and the one that followed. Backpedaling, he did a wide swing with his right fist. It was an attack obviously meant to push her back because the ris behind it would let it cover a large area. But with her ability to sense his movements a split second before they happened, Tif found that it was even easier to dodge him up close than it had been from a distance. She ducked under the strike and moved even closer, a feeling of coolness from the Gold ris tickling her forehead. She barely registered it though, focusing on connecting with a body blow of her own, which he grunted from, and then an uppercut that just missed his chin.
“Tcch!” Tif said in annoyance to Pep. She had missed because she had been worried about touching his skin. The leather and metal of her zumai should protect her some, but the cestus had gaps, and while it was true that Jer couldn’t stick their skin together with only one seal of Blood, even a brief connection could lose her ris she didn’t have to spare. Still though, she wasn’t going to beat him by fanning him with her punches, so needed to commit no matter where on his body she was hitting him.
Such thoughts drove her next punch right at his face, but Jer avoided her by doing a back handspring, a move that seemed purely defensive but was anything but. While he flipped back, he kicked his legs up, expending Gold ris as he did. Of course, Tif didn’t know that until a great force slammed into her body, knocking her back onto her rear. She was more shocked than hurt and quickly scrambled up. As she did, Tif was reminded of how Jer had fought in the Challenges using similar unconventional attacks, like kicking out while falling to the ground. With that and this, it was clear he didn’t confine himself to the traditional forms taught in most of Lercel’s schools, which meant Tif needed to be more vigilant in watching for strikes from any of his movements.
He finished the handspring with a perfect landing, his hair swinging behind him from the momentum of the flip, and a cool grin spread on his face. He knew he had gotten her.
Tif took two running steps and then launched herself into the air, doing a spinning side kick. She didn’t have any zumai on her feet, but Tif was confident in the force such an attack would generate. For all its power, its weakness was that it was a very obvious attack, and Jer dodged it with a single step back. However, as Tif’s right leg passed him by, she kept twisting her body, fast as she could, and brought her other leg around. She was still airborne, back to him now, but Tif felt her left foot connect with the side of his face in a very satisfying way.
Invigorated from the hit but falling to the ground, Tif found herself in a precarious position. In order to get the extra extension for the second kick, Tif had needed to spread her legs almost as wide as a split, which meant that she couldn’t bring them together fast enough to land standing. Instead, she hit the ground splayed wide, hands and feet bracing her. From that position, Tif used the extra footing to push herself up, shooting toward Jer like an arrow. He was just recovering from the kick when she plowed into him with a flurry of punches and knees.
Jer growled at the assault, giving ground for a few steps before retaliating with two wild punches of his own, followed by a straight kick. Tif felt each attack coming from the sensation of Jer in her mind and so avoided both of his fists. Then, as Jer was raising his leg for the kick, she punched his knee with her zumai, forcing the limb back down.
He looked shocked to be stopped so completely and then shouted loudly at her. Parts of his body lit up in Tif’s mind, but not in a way that made any sense. Suddenly, Jer was upside down, hands balancing him on the ground while his legs spun like a top. They crashed into her, one after the next, and he expended Gold ris as each foot connected, giving the unexpected kicks even more force. The power of the blows knocked Tif to the side so hard she tripped, falling to her knees.
Jer followed the surprise attack with something equally bizarre: no sooner had his feet touched the ground then they were back in the air, his entire body flipping end over end. Tif saw he had one leg raised above the other, and she realized that he was using the fully-body flip to get as much power for his kick as possible. He wasn’t going to land on his feet; he was going to land with his heel on her head, breaking her skull like an egg.
She didn’t know any faster way to dodge than to roll, so that’s what she did, throwing herself sideways. No sooner had she moved than she felt an impact behind her, air pushing against her body, and she heard a deep groan from the ground. She looked over her shoulder and saw that where Jer’s foot had struck, there was a fissure in the earth, at least five feet long.
Tif couldn’t help but be impressed. That was truly the strength of Jer’s style, using the momentum of his whole body to fuel his attacks. It was also how he lived, taking himself to places he wished to go.
But the technique also had a downside.
“Not much he can do from there,” Tif said to Pep. Despite the pain in her shoulder and neck, Tif picked herself up and threw herself at Jer with as much abandon as he had just used on her.
From the ground, Jer whipped his legs around, but Tif had seen him do the same in the Challenges and so found the attack easy to read. She jumped over the ris force his twirling legs created and then swung a wide left punch at him. He was on the ground, so she had leverage over him and plenty of strength behind the attack. Understandably, he tried to get an arm up to block and pull away from the strike, which put his face right where Tif wanted it.
Her other fist crunched into his nose, the metal discs woven into the leather cestus easily breaking the bone. To his credit, Jer didn’t cry out, but he did reel from the strike, reflexively bringing a hand up to cover his face. He shook his head tightly and then brought the hand away, revealing blood running from his twisted nose down to his chin.
Tif had hated to do it, she really liked his nose, but she also thought that in the end he might be the better for it.
His eyes flashed to hers and flared, as if he could read her thoughts like she could his movements. “You believe you’ve beaten me because you’ve broken my nose? I’ll break every bone in your body! Twice, so you can know the pain of it, true pain. The same as--”
Jer had been rising to his feet as he ranted, but he stopped talking when he came into contact with Teerog’s large hand on the back of his neck. His eyes got wide and distant, and then he slumped back to the ground, looking up at Tif with a decidedly confused expression on his face.
“What…did you do?” Tif said to Teerog. He wasn’t knocked out, of that she could be sure, but he also wasn’t himself anymore.
The cyclops looked back at her with a placid expression. “Teerog took his anger. He has carried it long enough.”