10

The Dojo

"It was just around here." Jeshu led the insect through the hallways of the third or fourth floor of the tower. With the numerous split-levels and sloping hallways, it was not always easy to say precisely.

The druid peered into a few empty rooms while the insect followed him until he got his bearings. Soon they came upon the petrified remains of the imp.

"Where are his wings?" Cricket asked.

Jeshu walked closer to the statuesque remains, now crumbling, though still upright. He didn't respond.

"You said the gargoyle had Bale's wings, right?"

"He did... when I fought him, he did."

"So... we know one thing they took," Cricket concluded.

"I suppose so."

"Oh, well. Oydd said I couldn't use them anyway. You did this?" Cricket reached out to touch the calcified corpse, and a brittle claw broke off at his touch. He leaned over to look inside, where he saw discolored layers that must have once been muscle and bone.

"I did. Not intentionally, really. His skin had some magic making it more rocklike. I thought I might be able to make it grow. Maybe cover his eyes a bit, or stiffen his limbs to slow him down. Really, I think I was terribly lucky."

"Jesh, the Terrible." Cricket tested the sound of the title.

The druid bit his lip, uncomfortably.

"Well, he is definitely a gargoyle now," Cricket said. "I was tired of being corrected. Maybe we'll station him above the main gate. It's a pity, though, he didn't stiffen up in a cooler pose. I mean, if you know you're going out anyway... you might as well pose, right?"

"We're near the stables," the druid stated. "Do you mind if I check in on Orth?"

"Not at all. I wanted to see how Xacier is doing anyway."

"Xacier?"

"The, uh... axebeak."

"You named him Xacier?"

"It's not too much, is it? It means scissors in Rudran. Oydd said they didn't really have a word in his language for axes, so... I took some liberty."

"No... it's not too much. I'm only surprised because you're getting better at naming things."

"Oh, thanks. But my taste hasn't really changed. I just get less pushback. Plus, Oydd is always flattered if I use Rudran, so he ends up letting me name more things. It's just strategic."

Jeshu laughed. "Well, I think it's better than your one-syllable names, like Pit or Peck. And it's better than your descriptive names, like fluffy death chicken."

"I forgot about those!" Cricket said with a hint of longing. "He's more like an owl, though. A... flittering smash owl."

The insect seemed lost in thought for too long, so Jeshu interrupted him with a reproachful tone. "Yes. Better than names like that."

*****

Bax cautiously opened the door to Oydd's lower laboratory—the only laboratory of the two he actually used anymore—and crept along the wall, picking at his ear, until he came upon the rudra, mid-operation.

"Oh," he said, just loud enough that the rudra looked up. Oydd immediately returned to his work, and the gnome looked around for a place to sit and wait. He found a bench, but because of his short stature, rather than pulling himself up to sit on it, he plopped on the floor and used the seat as a headrest.

Bax almost immediately regretted his decision, as the bench began to dig into the back of his neck, and it held his head at an odd angle. But when he unconsciously let out a little groan, the rudra momentarily glared at him. And Bax, polite as he was, didn't want to imply the accommodations were uncomfortable. So he sat—quietly, so as not to disturb Oydd—for nearly an hour, his neck stiffening by the minute, until another sound—somewhere between a moan and a heavy sigh—again escaped his lips before he could stop it.

"I assume you're waiting for me," Oydd said, without looking up from his patient.

"Oh, yes. Sorry to be a bother. I know you're working, and I'm content to wait."

"I think it might be better for my own concentration if we talk while I work. I cannot give you..." Oydd cursed under his breath and cut a writhing piece of violet muscle free from the unconscious Scorpion's bone, while a second strand wrapped around his own pinky, cutting off the circulation. He switched the scalpel to Bale's claw and proceeded with his work. "I cannot give you my full attention. What did you need?"

"I heard you had a supply of magicite."

Oydd's brow wrinkled a moment. "I believe I know what you mean."

"Red stone," Bax replied, making a useless gesture with his hand that somehow indicated a stone.

Oydd ignored it. "The elves call it Godsblood. But I imagine it sounds better in elven. I prefer, simply, bloodstone because of the color."

"Yes, that's it. Have you tried moving it? With your mind, I mean."

At this, Oydd actually looked up. "I have. It was unusually difficult."

Bax nodded. "It has some... anti-magic properties."

"I am aware. I originally sought it to keep away the... curse of Sheol. I believe the darkness there is merely the fallout of a sizeable arcane event. The air is likely toxic with tainted mana. Though whether it is deadly, I can only surmise. I was, however, surprised to find the stone hampered my mental abilities, which function on different principles."

"I'm not," Bax said casually. "Not that I would have guessed it. But I've seen its effects before. Used the stuff to hunt a witch. A rudran witch at that!"

"Really? And you were successful?"

"Oh, my, yes! She wasn't a very good witch, mind you, but... it worked well enough. Mostly used her magic to survive above ground. Used her... uh..." he tapped the side of his head. "...mind to fight."

"You have me intrigued. What did you want?"

"A bit of it. Of your bloodstone. Do you have more than you need?"

"I do. But I require the purest, and most intact portions for my own needs. It is difficult to find a sufficient, flawless piece."

"That doesn't matter to me. The rougher the better."

"And what do you intend to do with it?"

"Well, two things," Bax continued. "I already wanted a thin bit to make a lens." He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger and peeked at Oydd through the hole. "If I get a bit thin enough it will be see-through, and then--"

"Then it would dispel any visual magic."

"Er... yes. Theoretically."

"Like illusions?" Oydd pressed.

"I hope so," Bax answered bashfully. "You know... just for... emergencies."

"I think that's perfectly reasonable."

"So first, I want to make a monocle..."

"Not spectacles?"

"Why would I need two?" Bax looked perplexed. "And then secondly, I want to make a weapon."

"A weapon? Out of the bloodstone?" Oydd had returned to operating on Scorpion's arm, though his tone conveyed a continued interest in the conversation. "You know how to do that?"

"Oh, yes. I studied with the best gnomish weaponsmiths, actually. I crafted the weapon that killed Es-she... the witch I mentioned. I thought it might serve us in a fight against the better rudra."

At this, Oydd flinched visibly, though Bax didn't seem to notice. "Very well then. Come by in a little over an hour, and I will show you the pieces I am unlikely to need. You may select whatever works best for you."

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

At this, Bax hopped to his feet excitedly, though his head still bent back at a weird angle.

"Ow, ow, ow!" He slowly—very slowly—adjust his head to an upright position, with a few audible pops, then walked toward the hall—stiff as a board.

A flash of green magical light burst behind him, from the rudra's direction, and Bax jerked to look, but winced and froze halfway, before letting out a long, pain-filled whine. Slowly—very slowly—he untwisted his shoulders, and continued on his way, looking even more rigid than before.

*****

Cricket dropped to the ground panting. He looked around for something to lean on, but in the end indulged himself by simply sprawling out on his back, looking up at the ceiling.

His shadow loomed over him, eager to resume the fight.

Cricket shook his head. "Sorry, that's about it for me. You can go back to teaching."

Though a look of disappointment flashed over the shadow's visage, the prospect of teaching was still a relatively new honor, and he ended up bounding off excitedly to work with the azaeri recruits.

"You sure you should be working out so hard with an open wound?" Jeshu's voice came from off to the side.

Cricket took a few more breaths before answering. "Yeah, it was actually Oydd's idea. He told me to let the yellow stuff come to the surface and gum up a little to help with reattaching it."

"How does exercising help?"

"Didn't ask. But I don't think it's harmful so long as I'm not bleeding."

Jeshu appeared, hovering above the insect—his face upside-down. "Cricket, I think that yellow stuff is your blood."

"What? No, I just don't bleed easy. Blood is always green or blue. Bax's blood is red!"

"You've seen Bax's blood."

"He gets a lot of nose bleeds. Though sometimes I think he's faking it."

"Have you ever bled green, or blue, or red?"

"Just a few red specks when I lose a limb."

"Hmm..." Jeshu said, unconvinced.

"What do you mean, hmm?" Cricket fumed for a few seconds before continuing. "If the yellow stuff is blood, then I actually bleed really easy." As he spoke, his tone cooled from heated to somber, and he ended up lost in an epiphany.

Jeshu gave him time to sort his thoughts out. Meanwhile, Scorpion appeared in the hallway and approached.

Bale's arm replaced his missing limb, though the appendage hung awkwardly at his side. He held a plain iron sword from the armory—straight and single-sided.

"Cricket," he said, as a greeting.

Cricket gave him a nod. "Hey, what's up?"

Scorpion hesitated. His eye twitched and he looked away. "I came to ask you... how to use a sword."

"Oh, what? You want to learn swordsmanship?"

"I do. Well, not really. But because of my size, my daggers feel... too small now. I completely blunted the one I hold in my tail by scraping it against the wall as I slept."

"I figured you had to replace those now and then."

"In one night. It's ruined."

"Oh." Cricket sat up. "Well, okay." He looked around the room, where his scattered clones led groups of recruits, running them through basic drills, or demonstrating techniques.

"Okay," he pointed across the room. "See the Cricket over there? He's in charge of swords."

Scorpion grunted in annoyance.

"That one's in charge of spears, and that one's in charge of grappling." Cricket laughed. "I don't even know how to use a billhook, other than guesswork, but I put one of me in charge of billhooks. Where'd he go?"

"I don't want to train with a clone. I want to train with you."

"Uh... I was about to leave. Oydd told me to report as soon as he was done with you."

"Let him wait for ten minutes."

"Oh? Can you already use your new arm? It's kind of dangerous. I would want you to train with a shadow until you have control over it."

"Coward." Scorpion grinned.

"What?" Cricket sat up.

"I can use it. It has already mostly healed. But I'll just be working with my left today."

"All right," the insect stowed his daggers, with a smile, twirling an iron sword in his remaining upper arm. "One sword each?"

Scorpion took a fighting stance.

"It's been a while..."

As Cricket spoke, the ratling charged with a heavy overhead swing.

Cricket stepped aside and came in for a counter, but Scorpion stopped the blow mid-swing and turned it back toward the insect.

Cricket blocked at the last moment. But the force caused his hand to ring.

"Nice feint. And good control. I didn't think you could—" he stopped to block another swing, and then another, backing up as he parried.

"All right," Cricket said. "Good power too." He stepped aside to dodge a stab, then attacked with a flourish to disguise his own mark, landing the tip of his sword against the ratling's sternum.

Scorpion swatted it away in annoyance and attacked two more times. Cricket blocked the first swipe, ducked under the second and came in again, with his sword to the ratling's throat.

In a moment of frustration, Scorpion grabbed the blade with Bale's hand and crushed the metal. Cricket tried to withdraw, but the claw held his weapon motionless.

Scorpion stared into the insect's eyes until Cricket shook his head. "No. You don't get to train with me. I will tell you what I tell every new recruit. I run these classes on respect. If you don't respect me, then you don't respect my knowledge, and it is a waste of time."

He let go of his sword, leaving it in the ratling's grip. "I will be thrilled to train with you, if you get your attitude under control. Come with me. I need to do my rounds before I leave."

Cricket turned and started to walk toward the clone with a spear. Most of the spearmen held their weapons lazily, leaning against the shafts as they stood in a circle around the shadow. He demonstrated different blocks, while his assistant, an azaeri, struck at different areas of his body.

Cricket watched for a few moments, then moved on, having nothing important to add.

He turned to make sure Scorpion followed him to the next group. The ratling walked with a bit of sulk, but made no protest.

The second clone attacked with a sword while a green recruit attempted to block. The shadow paused to correct the recruit's position, then stepped back to repeat the stroke. The recruit managed to block the second time, but ducked his head and squinted. The shadow, without words, pointed to his eyes and then back at the azaeri's. The recruit nodded, and this time kept his eyes on his instructor as he blocked, fighting every impulse in his body that told him to look away from a fast-moving object.

"They each have an assistant to help communicate if a concept is unclear, but it happens less than you'd think," Cricket said. He looked over at Scorpion, who pretended to be too interested in the demonstration to respond.

The insect continued. "He could hit him. Sword Cricket could. But that wouldn't help as much. And Spear Cricket, could have easily dodged some of his opponent's attacks. But he let the more effective ones land, to show the weaknesses of each position."

Scorpion scowled slightly, though Cricket couldn't tell if it were annoyance or embarrassment.

They continued on to the Cricket with the billhook.

"Oh, there he is." Cricket smiled.

The shadow demonstrated an effective block, then had his partner repeat the position. The shadow then demonstrated a counter, reaching behind his opponent's head with the hook as he took a step in past his opponent's blade. The azaeri took advantage of the demonstration to quickly flip the butt of his staff up under the shadow's chin. The shadow dodged by falling backward onto one knee, tripping the azaeri with a quick circular motion of the billhook.

Cricket stepped in. He helped the azaeri to his feet, first, and told him sternly, "It's not time to show off. He already has a better stance than you, and you've been using that weapon for a year. It's easy to score a hit on an instructor who is going slow to demonstrate a principle. But you missed anyway."

The azaeri shot him a dirty look, but bowed. Cricket, likewise, bowed to the instructor. The shadow twirled his weapon into a reverse grip and returned the gesture.

Cricket started toward the archers on the far side of the room, where his shadow learned from an azaeri instructor, when Scorpion finally spoke.

"Can we see the daggers?"

The insect turned with an understanding smile and led the ratling to a group practicing with long knives—a bit bigger than what Scorpion was used to.

Cricket said nothing, but let Scorpion observe for a few minutes. Finally the ratling grunted.

"That attack wouldn't work. It will just hit bone."

Cricket nodded. "Tell them. Or... show them, if you like."

Scorpion looked to the insect for confirmation before stepping forward. "Let me see those," he said under his breath.

The young azaeri, though startled for a moment, bowed and handed the knives, handle first, to the ratling.

Scorpion looked around the circle, considered his words, and said. "Don't aim for bone. This part of the chest is covered in too much bone. It's not worth attacking. You can kill with a stab here, but I've seen a man take a dozen stabs to the torso and survive. Daggers are more productive at severing and slicing."

He waved the azaeri's partner closer. "The tendon here, here, and under the arm disable that arm completely when cut. This bone," he twisted the azaeri's palm away from him, and drew a line from wrist to elbow with his knife, "I would actually use to block a knife if I had to. Don't aim for it."

The azaeri nodded, and chirped, "Hessu!"—a word showing both appreciation and regard.

Scorpion returned the knives and headed back toward Cricket.

But the insect shook his head. "You can stay. You have a lot you could teach them. Mostly just observe, but correct them if they're doing something dangerously wrong."

"Wrong with a weapon is always dangerously wrong."

"Well, remember most of them are beginners. So mostly observe. But pick one or two things to teach them, and you can harp on those things as much as you want."

Scorpion cocked his head slightly, weighing the offer.

"Go ahead. I have to leave. Have fun."

"Hessu," the ratling whispered, with a bit of a rushed and awkward bow. His grin returned.

"If you want to learn the sword, you can head over to that group. Really, I'm curious if you can hold a sword with your tail. But this is the only group you're allowed to teach in. Understood?"

Scorpion nodded.

"I want to do swords with you again after you get used to the way we run things. You have good instincts for attacking, but you never learned to parry. Your next fight with me will be blocking only. And when you can handle that, I'll come after you with two weapons. Then four."

This time, Scorpion gave only a curt nod, half-listening and paying more attention to the knife-fighting.

By the time Cricket reached the exit, and looked back, the ratling was already smiling and licking his teeth.