Tif slept poorly. Not because of the cot on the floor--that was actually a delight, firm like the crate she was used to sleeping on but with a touch of softness that made her feel spoiled. No, it was the dreams, dreams of the armored man she had met the night before. In it, he asked her even more questions than the spidra mender had but never gave her a chance to reply, answering everything he asked--and correctly--while she was still trying to figure out how to respond. Even stranger, the gray cords of ris that floated behind his back were flipping tiles on a large das board, as big as the Archon’s in Lercel, and each time he did the opponent’s pieces fell, though Tif couldn’t tell who he was playing against. Of course, Death ris didn’t let you move things, but still, it was disconcerting, and Tif felt like she had barely slept when she awoke.
The sounds of other seekers moving around and talking some as they did were what roused her, but because of her fatigue, Tif laid there a few minutes, rubbing her temples with her Pep hand and collecting herself. She could still see the human warrior clearly in her mind, and it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sight, but that reaction just made her feel strange, not better. It was odd to Tif that she was thinking--and dreaming--of someone whose name she didn’t even know. He had actually been rather rude the night before to not volunteer it. Well, when next she saw him, she’d be sure to get it from him, as well as make sure that he knew her own.
Tif was certain she’d feel better once that was done.
That out of the way, Tif pushed the curtain that separated her bed-alcove from the main portion of the seeker tent aside. No one else was there anymore, and the opening cut into the top of the tent showed that it was still as gray outside as Death ris, so she probably had an hour or so until the sun rose. She didn’t bother closing her sleeping cubby, one of a dozen in the large tent, since no one else seemed to unless they were using it. None of them seemed to own much either, beyond what they wore on their person, which reminded Tif of the lows, but she doubted it was for the same reasons.
Exiting the tent, Tif discovered that there were cooks on both sides making delicious smelling food, and just like the seller the day before, they handed her whatever she wanted without asking for any payment. In fact, they thanked her.
“I could get used to this,” Tif said to Pep around the leg of something tasty she was eating. Of course, Pep was holding the leg in question, but Tif knew that didn’t stop Pep from hearing.
While on her third helping, Tif noticed that the sky was starting to lighten, and so she hurriedly departed. Oliak had told her to meet at the training spot by sunrise, and she couldn’t afford to make another mistake, not after failing to split her mark.
On the way, Tif got turned around a bit since she hadn’t really been paying attention when following Oliak the first time and the camp was big--it really did deserve the name ‘hold’ that the Death troops gave it. However, much like the seeker’s tent, people in the camp knew where the seekers trained and were perfectly willing to point her in the right direction, so it wasn’t long before Tif was outside the staked perimeter, searching for the path downward she did remember taking.
The sound of metal ringing off to her right, led to a shared, curious look between her and Pep, and then she was running toward it. It felt good to run--it had been so long since she sprinted up and down the mountain of Lercel to get to her das playing spot. Feeling the soles of her feet strike the flat earth was odd though, and she was much more comfortable when she found the dip and started angling down, almost like she was going back to the lows. Remembering home, Tif was so very glad that she didn’t need to worry about her parents like she had when traveling before. They had looked so comfy snuggling in the underground cell when she left, and she was sure that they were still enjoying themselves and the free food--just like she was!
The shallow angle didn’t last long, the ground leveling out, and that’s where she found three of the seekers. Tif had expected them all to be there, Oliak, too, but it was just snide Tredu, a girl named Ey-something, and a squarish boy Tif barely recalled.
Two of them, Tredu and Ey, had apparently been sparring, because they were in the center area, while the other boy stood off to the side, leaning on a silvery staff. But instead of anyone attacking each other, Tredu threw one of his hook swords to the ground with such vehemence it bounced back up with a hollow clang, the length of metal wobbling slightly in the air before falling back into the grass.
Apparently Tif had arrived at the end of the match, which was a shame because she really would have liked to see him take a hit from the fascinating rope weapon Ey was casually twirling. Checking Tredu, Tif didn’t notice any bruising on his hands or face, but he could have easily been hit anywhere else on the padded leather armor he wore.
“Hopefully right on his butt,” she giggled to Pep.
The other boy, who’s name Tif didn’t remember, lifted his staff to walk with it and for the first time she noticed that each end was capped with a smooth metal ball, big around as her two fists together. Tif wondered how Ey would deflect the weapon with her rope and dropped onto the ground nearby to find out. Tredu, meanwhile, fished his sword from the grass and stalked out of the center area.
The remaining seekers faced each other with weapons up, completely unlike the back-to-back starting positions of Gold ris duels in Lercel Tif was used to seeing. Ey was the first to move, but staff-boy wasn’t far behind, both predictably marking the other, gray lines of smoky ris snapping to life between them. Tif noticed that they did it in the way she was used to--sliding their thumb across their brow and then through the air toward each other. So, they couldn’t do it with just their eyes like the armored man she had met last night had. They also probably couldn’t know the truth about her in only a few moments, or--
Tif harrumphed at the unwanted distraction of the nameless man. “When I want you in my head, I’ll think of you.”
Focusing on the seekers, Tif saw staff-boy twirl his weapon around, perhaps hoping the silvery shine would distract his opponent, but Ey evaded the thrust that followed. Ey’s return attack, accomplished by whipping the rope around her body and then somehow flicking the weighted end out, like the head of a striking snake, was much faster and more impressive but also failed to land. Back and forth they went like this, and the longer they sparred, the more enthralled Tif became. The way the two quick-stepped, leaning their bodies just outside of each other's strikes or blocking at the last moment, not just once but again and again seemed too perfect, too precise, as if the fight had been planned in advance. The closest Tif could think of were the dances the Opera performers sometimes put on in the mids, which she knew they practiced for weeks before letting anyone see. It must be the marks that let the two move so, the Death ris telling them the direction the other was moving right before they did. This was predicting in action, and Tif found it beautiful to watch--the gray lines pulling this way and that with them--and also incredibly intimidating. Yet again, she was grateful that she had managed to defeat a spidra who had possessed such power. Tif knew it was because her reactive ‘stick and grab’ technique had been a good counter--no value in predicting if your opponent isn’t moving--but still, watching these two Death seekers flow back and forth, neither scoring a hit after multiple exchanges, Tif felt her gratitude shift to pride--she could equal them.
At least she could if she still had her Blood ris.
“Awt better be appreciating it,” she grumbled to Pep. She doubted he was, but that thought was too unpleasant for her taste, so she chose to believe that he was doing the right thing, studying everyday with Ssuran to protect the people of Blood from losing their ris.
"Come on Glaru!" the boy beside her shouted at the pair, conveniently revealing the name of the staff user to Tif.
Ey whipped her rope around her back and with a spin of her body sent the metal end flying toward her opponent. Glaru dodged by turning to the side, the rope shooting past him, but before he could recover and close the distance with his staff, she had snapped the rope back around her shoulder and the metal end was already swinging forward again in a curving slash that made him retreat two steps. With moves like that, Tif could see how Ey had beaten Tredu. A mark might let you know where a person would move and by extension their weapon, but Ey’s rope could strike from multiple angles and the position of her body didn’t always seem to indicate when the attack would come or from what direction.
That would also explain why Glaru looked so desperate to rush forward, leaning in but then away when it was clear the timing was off, like a runner in a foot race waiting eagerly for the call to start. He probably knew that the longer their fight went on, eventually he wouldn’t predict correctly where the snapping metal end would strike and he’d lose like Tredu had.
Ey leapt in the air like someone performing a spin kick, and Glaru dodged to the side clearing expecting the metal head to fly straight at him from the power of the move, and Tif expected the same. However, the rope and head whipped around Ey’s body instead, and when she landed, it curved against her raised knee--which this time Tif was sure would initiate the attack--but then it was a quick twist of Ey’s foot of all things that caught a section of rope and sent the head at Glaru, all the rope Ey had wrapped around herself uncoiling in a perfectly timed strike.
Impossibly, Glaru jerked his head to the side, dodging it. Ey didn’t seem ready for the miss because the metal head fell to the grass instead of being yanked back into motion. She started to pull at it, the rope slithering along the ground like a snake, but Glaru used the reprieve to take a few quick steps forward and then stabbed out with his staff, holding it near one end to get as much length from the weapon as possible. The other end caught Ey in the gut, likely because her attention had been divided, and she doubled over, coughing, the air having been knocked from her despite the armor she wore.
Tif saw Glaru sigh in apparent relief at the match being over and then went over to rub Ey’s back. Tif wasn’t sure how much good that would do through the leather Ey wore, but still, Pep and she agreed--if she was going to spend any time with her fellow trainees it would be with him, not Tredu or Mervel.
Speaking of, Tredu was already standing, clearly wanting his next go whether Ey was ready to leave or not.
Tif popped up from the ground, raising her Pep hand. “Can we try?”
“We?” she heard Tredu snap from the side, but Glaru said, “You don’t have a weapon.”
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That was true--she had left Dalia’s gift dagger in her alcove. “I don’t mind,” Tif said, and she really didn’t. All she wanted to practice was marking and predicting--she could worry about hitting him later.
Glaru still didn’t seem comfortable with the idea, and by that point Ey was upright, though she still held a hand to her belly.
“You don’t have armor either,” the Death girl said. “Look how it was for me even with it.”
Tif nodded to Pep. These two were definitely her people.
“Can I have yours?” she asked. They weren’t exactly the same size, but Ey was shorter than her, not taller, so Tif didn’t think it would be much of a problem.
“....I suppose,” Ey said, but she didn’t appear very certain. She even looked at the other two trainees, like she wanted to hear their thoughts on the request.
“If she’s going to go, get on with it,” Tredu said, with an annoyed wave of his arm.
Ey shrugged and started taking the pieces off. That done, she helped Tif put all five on: one for each arm, leg, and her chest. Tif did some experimental movements once they were finished, swinging her limbs around. The separation between each piece let her move her arms and legs freely, but the leather coverings did make bending at the knee or elbow harder. Nothing awful, but it definitely felt more restrictive than what Tif was used to wearing.
That done, she squared up in front of Glaru. He was still frowning deeply at her, his staff with its balled ends hanging loosely in his hands.
“Come on,” she said.
He gave her a shrug and then lifted his weapon like he had against Ey. They marked each other at nearly the same moments, lines appearing between them, and then Glaru came in, staff swinging. Tif wasn't all the way adjusted to the new sensation of him in her mind, but she was still able to get out of its path in time. His follow up strike was easier to dodge, and the next one after that took even less effort. She was getting into a rhythm with feeling which parts of his body were about to move and modifying her own movements accordingly.
Tif watched him try to adjust for this, changing his next step or swing partway in reaction to hers, but since was watching him so closely, it wasn’t difficult for her to adapt her defense on the fly. It got to the point that his swings were missing her by feet instead of inches.
“Could have kicked them there,” she said to Pep when he overextended on a direct thrust. Then, a few steps later, “Definitely could have punched him twice,” when he spun his staff around his back to get more power--power that didn’t matter when Tif ducked it well before it flashed over her head.
She missed her Blood ris it was true, but Death was an entirely different experience. With it, she felt…invincible, and found that she was smiling as she turned and twisted out of the path of his strikes.
“Is your plan to wear Glaru down?” Tif heard an overloud voice call, and she turned to see that Oliak had arrived along with pouting Mervel. “Well? Strike him!” the big man said.
Staff-boy, or Glaru Tif now knew, had taken the moment to breathe--he had been swinging a weapon around she was sure was heavy and had sweat beading his face. Tif shrugged and quickly dashed forward, aiming a side kick at his midsection. The way she figured, if he tried to counter, she’d sense it and move. He did, sweeping his staff at her grounded leg, which she felt coming, but because she was only on one foot, she couldn’t move like she had before. The metal ball caught her ankle and then she was tipped up, landing hard on her back.
“Up!” Oliak demanded, and Tif quickly got her feet underneath her and popped upright. She wasn’t hurt; she wanted to go again. But Oliak was motioning her over, so she dashed to where he stood, stopping before him.
“You made two mistakes,” he said while looking exceptionally serious. “Do you know what they are?”
Tif thought back over her fight. “I used a kick because I thought it would reach farther but that stopped me from being able to react to him. If I had punched instead that wouldn’t have happened, and he wouldn’t have been able to swing his staff well with me so close.”
“No,” he said, firmly shaking his head. Tif frowned. She was sure what she had said was true. “Mark me and try to dodge,” he ordered.
Oliak hadn’t said to drop her other mark, so Tif kept it up as she placed one on him, too. The embers of a headache sparked to life the moment she did, but Tif ignored it. Avoidance wasn’t the best plan, but with less than a day to prepare, she hadn’t known what else to try.
To help distract her from the already growing pain, Tif focused on the feeling of Oliak in her mind as deeply as she could. There was twinge, maybe his shoulder, but before she could be sure, her face was slapped to the side, pushing it and all other sensations away--including both marks, which was a blessing. The slap wasn’t overly painful--at least not much, Tif amended while rubbing her cheek one handed--but the shock of it had certainly been jarring.
“How did you stop me from feeling you move?” she asked him.
Oliak crossed his arms before answering. “I didn’t. You avoided Glaru’s strikes by sensing them, so all I had to do was move faster than your ability to feel the mark.”
‘Faster’ Tif mouthed to Pep. It seemed like that would have to be extremely fast, but Oliak had done it and he was a large man, so she supposed she could, too.
“You have been using your eyes much longer than the mark,” he continued, and Tif tried her best not to give away how true that statement was in her case, “so do not forget about them or your other senses. All of them should serve you in a fight. If you had been watching me with your eyes as well as your mind you would have had a greater chance of avoiding my hand.”
“And the second?” she asked, bouncing on her toes.
Oliak seemed surprised by her eagerness to hear about her failings, but she wasn’t sure why. This was exactly what she'd always wanted, someone to train her, and Tif wasn’t going to waste a moment of it.
Oliak's small shock was there and gone as his expression hardened. “You faced an adversary unarmed.”
Tif was a bit letdown. His first reason had been so good, something she had never considered and would certainly be mindful of in the future. But this? “Weapons can be dropped or lost though,” she said. “Sometimes you may need to fight without one.”
“Lost?” Oliak hissed. The sound was not pleasant, and a crazed light seemed to enter his eyes. “Lost?”
“Um,” Tif said. She knew something was wrong but had no idea what. “sometimes…?”
“What are your zumai?” Oliak barked so loudly Tif jumped.
“They are our life and death!” the four trainees called out around her.
Oliak leaned closer to her, his face the angriest she had seen by far. “I have given you leeway because of your injury and the scope of the war we wage, but if I thought you had purposely left your weapon behind, I would have you stripped of your ris and banished from this hold before the sun touches the first cloud in the sky. Is that what you are saying? Is that what you did?”
Tif was suddenly reminded of how the spidra mender had taken her not remembering the name of her bond-mate--not well. Both reactions just went to show that Tif was wading in waters much deeper and unknown to her than she could ever imagine. Thankfully in this case though Oliak had made the right answer extremely easy to spot.
“No,” Tif said, shaking her head vehemently, “no, I wouldn’t do that. I just meant, when fighting, you might, maybe, temporarily, lose your weapon, and have to keep going without it.”
He straightened, looming over her like a mountain. “To lose your weapon, even for a moment, is to lose your life. And now that you are in my care, I will make sure that your fingers learn that lesson in their bones. This, I promise you, Tif’Sha.”
Tif gulped. She was new to being trained, but she didn’t think she liked this ominous approach he was taking.
“Come,” Oliak said, motioning for her to follow like he had the day before. “Rotating Hunter while I’m gone!” he called out to the others.
“Where are we going? And what about Ey’s armor?” Tif asked, scurrying after.
Oliak didn’t answer, his long strides eating up the distance, and they soon found themselves back in the hold. There were more people out now than before, but they took a sharp left on the first crossing path, named Hilt, and then stopped in front of a long building made entirely of wood. Oliak had to duck through the door, due to the top of his oversized sword, and Tif followed close on his heels, immensely curious where he was taking her.
Surprisingly, no one was in the lengthy space, but what the room lacked in people it made up for in weapons of all shapes and sizes. Tif stood stock still for a moment and then rushed over to inspect the closest wall. There were so many of them, mounted from the bottom of the ten foot wall nearly all the way to the top. She also spotted groupings: axes, swords, spears, and so on, down the line, but there were so many variations of each Tif was sure she could spend an hour just looking through one type. She’d never seen so much of anything all together like this!
“Pick one to train in,” Oliak pronounced.
Tif couldn’t take her eyes off the multitude of fascinating objects in front of her. She didn’t know much about weapons, but each had clearly been crafted with care, whether it was an embossed handle or wavy patterns on the side of a blade. Had the Death troops brought so many unused weapons with them? Or made them here with their various smithies?
“You know how to fight with all of these?”
“Of course,” Oliak answered, sounding incredulous, “how could I prepare you if I did not?” He followed her farther into the armory and gestured around. “Remember, this weapon will be a part of you for the rest of your life, an extension of your body, your zumai. It--”
Tif turned to see why Oliak had stopped, and found him looking pensive of all things--not an expression she would have expected on the tattooed man.
“What’s wrong?”
“It is odd saying these things to you when you must have heard them before. No seeker goes into the night without first being wed to a zumai. You truly don’t remember?”
“Not at all,” Tif said, shaking her head.
“I see…perhaps you chose poorly your first time, and the Aspect is giving you a chance to set things aright. If so, this is a blessing, and you should treat it as such.”
The gaze he leveled at her was expectant, and Tif bowed her head slightly. “Thank you, Aspect.” Of course, she was thinking of the Gold Aspect as she said it, but it appeased him enough to continue.
“Or, maybe your body will remember what part it is missing. After all, living without your zumai is worse than losing a limb, for you can survive without an arm but not a weapon. You must not forget again though, whatever injury you might sustain. Even if you lose all else, who you are and what this world is, you will remember this moment, this choosing. Is that clear?”
It took Tif a moment to realize that she hadn’t answered, and she quickly ‘yesed’ in reply. His seriousness and reverence were distracting to her, but in a way she didn’t expect--they were familiar. It was like he viewed the weapons as sacred, almost as if it was…ris. Oliak said a few more things, but now that she’d found the connection, Tif couldn’t let it go. As far as she knew, all other first seals gave their user a way to attack, but not so for Death. That lack had probably turned to this need. She looked up at the huge sword hilt behind Oliak’s shoulder, thinking about how important that moment had likely been for him when he first chose and then held the enormous weapon.
“I feel like you are forgetting by the moment as I watch you,” he growled. “Perhaps your ris was given to you prematurely and should return to where it came.”
“No, no,” Tif said, fluttering her hands at him. “I’m listening. You were saying that a zumai should reflect how we fight and…how we view ourselves.” Pep had helped with the last one.
“Hrmm,” he said, looking less than satisfied. Even so, he waved around the space. “Choose then. And choose wisely, for this day forward it will be your undying partner.”
Tif looked side-to-side, eager and yet unsure--there were just so many to pick from. And then she spotted it. Tif didn’t even need to confirm with Pep; she could feel the rightness of her choice as she lifted a finger to point.
“That one.”