Chapter 23

Five days after Mato’s trial they donned their packs and set out to catch up with their cohort. Mato’s back still had mild twinges, and it would take some time for his skin to get used to rubbing on pack straps and things. Nevertheless, he felt great.

His glyph was called sanctuary, and the version in their secret scrolls had two errors. Ezhno corrected the mistakes, and they put everything away, then blocked off the little access hole at the top of the room.

The shield rune did what it said by allowing him to form shimmering shields around himself. Or one great big one like an upside-down bowl.

The sanctuary glyph was more difficult. It seemed to deflect flying objects, like arrows. They didn’t bounce off, like they did with the shield, they just changed course enough to miss him. Barely.

The thing Mato enjoyed the most was pulling through the pair. This created a hardening effect in his skin. He could take Ezhno’s hardest punches with scarcely a hint of discomfort. They didn’t experiment with swords too much, because the cost of failure could be high, but it gave him at least some protection from being cut.

Water of life now worked better on him than it did on Ezhno. He could drink a cup and heal faster, maintain his stamina throughout the day, or even boost his physical strength to some degree.

Ezhno wondered if he was now a spirit person, and whether he would have a natural ability like spirit blades did. Perhaps it was synergy with healing abilities. If not, they hadn’t identified it yet.

He paused at the top of the next rise and looked back. He’d gotten most of a clip ahead of Ezhno, so he stopped and waited.

“You’re a beast,” Ezhno said as he panted his way to the top.

It was insane what a boost he’d gotten. Before his trial he was nowhere near the athlete Ezhno was. Now he could out-everything his teacher, and his warrior rune was accelerating the process. Ezhno was digging deep into his bag of tricks to stay ahead of Mato in sparring matches, because once Mato saw something, it wouldn’t work anymore.

What was even better, while he didn’t have the same analytical abilities without the warrior and essence pair, he remembered everything he learned while using them. This was helpful as they worked on knife fighting, wrestling, spear combat, and archery.

“It’s the water,” Mato said. “If I don’t get a sip to start the day, I’m nowhere near as energetic.”

“Doesn’t matter a great deal where it comes from,” Ezhno said. “The point is, you’ve taken a gigantic leap forward. I wonder how far you can go.”

“Maybe I should try to hide the body pairing after all,” Mato said. “Sotsona may feel threatened by it.”

“You can’t hide it. The first thing the wisdoms are going to do is demand to look at your back. If you refuse to show them, they’ll just force you. You might be able to hold them off until we reach Abo, but once we’re in the city, they’ll go straight to Sotsona. Then he will demand to see your back.”

“I know. You’ve said all of that before, and I believe you. I’m just worried.”

Ezhno patted his knee. “It’s going to be okay. The Great Lady gave you the heart to do what needs to be done.”

Mato forced himself to nod, but he didn’t know if the ladies could see the future. Maybe this was just one of the best gifts she had to offer. That didn’t mean it would be good enough.

* * *

Mato’s early runes, earned for killing the cave snail and the earth shaker worm, were both weak. The first was chill. The priests recommended pairing it with ice, or possibly spear. Both of those offered ways to attack an opponent and reduce their effectiveness. The second rune was warm. It was essentially the opposite of chill, and the recommended pairing was fire or spear.

Ezhno argued that having chill and warm was a huge opportunity. By pairing them with the life glyph, Mato would be able to keep himself warm or cool as circumstances demanded, and he would be able to apply those benefits to nearby people as well.

He needed some offensive abilities, but these runes were far from ideal. It definitely made more sense to have good utility effects over poor quality attacks.

“Ezhno, what happens if I earn another chill rune?”

“There’s some debate over that. I think the power simply stacks, and you get a stronger chill rune, not two runes. Others think swords just grow more powerful over time, and that accounts for the stronger chill effect. Essentially they think that if you would have earned a rune you already have, the essence is wasted, and you start building up again.”

Mato shot him a sly grin. “Well, maybe I’ll just earn another powerful rune, like a second shield. Then we’ll know for sure.”

“Haha, kid. You’re lucky to see a shield rune in your whole life, let alone have one.”

They found their cohort on the near side of the stream with the hidden pincer monsters in it. Mato ran his eyes over the group and realized one of the finders was missing. He clamped his mouth shut and forced himself to wait for Ezhno and the wisdoms to discuss it.

“Where have you been?” Poplar demanded, as he strode up to Ezhno.

“Taking care of Mato, as I said I would.”

“I gave you three days. This is the sixth day.”

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Ezhno paused. Usually he said something to deflect the wisdom’s anger, and the pause caught Mato’s attention and held it.

“Mato,” Ezhno snapped, and pointed to the ground beside him. Mato promptly stood where he was directed.

“I recall,” Ezhno said, “that Wisdom Poplar desired a demonstration of your sword technique. Now is the time.” He turned to Poplar and leaned into his personal space. “And remember, Wisdom, this is my student, not me.”

Mato pulled through the warrior pair, studying Poplar. While he did that he backed up until he was in the bushes at the edge of the creek bank. Poplar went and retrieved the set of practice swords the cohort carried, and Mato put his pack down.

“Sword too, Mato,” Ezhno said.

This wasn’t a scenario they had discussed. Ezhno always advocated for placating the priests, and this was a very aggressive move. Should he throw the match? That felt like something Ezhno might do, just to settle things down again. But Poplar was already furious. Giving him even more prestige would not change that, it would only make him more aggresive.

Mato unbuckled his belt and laid his sword beside his pack. Ezhno handed him a practice sword, and Poplar took his stance a few paces away.

“Begin,” Ezhno said.

Mato blinked. Sparring wasn’t terribly formal, but there was usually a handshake, a touch of blades, or a bow to begin. Something to remind both contestants that the match was friendly. That must mean Ezhno wanted him to win, and as convincingly as possible.

Poplar had closed with a rush while Mato thought, and Mato took a half-step and leaned to the side to avoid his first wild slash. The return slash allowed Mato to step around the outside of the blade and begin backing toward Poplar’s starting position.

He took a step back, lifted one leg to avoid a low swipe, stepped back and to the side to avoid an upward cut.

“This is not what you teach your pupils, Wisdom. This is just flailing. Any beginner could defend these attacks,” Mato said.

There were gasps from the seekers. Poplar roared, but his next attack flowed out of a passable flicker stance, chaining into sun on the doorstep.

Mato responded with frog leaps over the dragonfly, blades cracking together for an instant, and then they had changed places again.

Poplar clenched his jaw, looked at Mato’s stance, and switched to the fisherman. This chained into a rushing attempt at defense of the gate, an odd choice because it was not an offensive move.

Mato defended with the giggling bridesmaid, a joke form taught to young guardsman as an amusing training exercise. Once again their blades clashed, and Poplar dashed past Mato, unbalancing himself for a moment. Mato opted to ignore the misstep.

He spoke again, “The lesson I learned while daydreaming was that Ezhno explains complicated techniques in complicated ways. This can be hard for a student to learn at first.”

He used one foot on a papaya to slip around another charge, then continued.

“Fortunately, I have been able to observe the simple instructions you give to your pupils. Hearing clear instruction on simple techniques opened my thinking, and allowed me to understand what Ezhno was trying to teach.”

He parried Poplar’s blade, then bowled him over with three legged bear and stepped away.

“I think we of Abo have made a mistake in our training, Wisdom. It is clear to me that you and Tupi have superior methods for new students, and it is equally clear that Ezhno has superior methods for advanced students. Perhaps other trail masters have additional contributions, but I have not had time to study with them yet.”

Poplar hurled a handful of rocks at Mato’s face and followed with skewer the cavi. Mato closed his eyes, ignored the rocks, and defended with shoo the fly. His blade cracked into the side of Poplar’s head, and the wisdom staggered back.

“We should bring the priests, the trail masters, and the guards together and review all of our training. I suspect we could make something truly beautiful together.”

Poplar shook his head, then tossed his sword aside. It was an admission of defeat, but Poplar clearly didn’t want them to see it that way.

“How are you able to fight and carry a pack, Mato Stone Foot? Let me see your back.”

Mato set his practice sword aside, turned his back, and pulled his shirt over his head. Tupi hissed. Several of the seekers gasped. Poplar ran his fingers over the rune.

“This is a shield rune. Very rare. How did you get it?” Poplar asked.

“From my trial, Wisdom.”

“What?” It was the first time he’d heard Poplar sound truly surprised.

“The Great Lady gave it to me.”

Footsteps crunched over the rocks. “The ladies do not give runes, Mato Stone Foot. They give spirit blades.”

Mato turned around, and Poplar jerked his hand back from the glowing glyph on Mato’s chest. “That is not true, Wisdom. We only ask for spirit blades. I asked for the heart to do what must be done.”

“But… that is not possible,” Tupi said. “The words to begin the trial are prescribed.”

“The lady commented on the change. She called it a variance, but she seemed pleased, not offended,” Mato said.

“This is an unknown glyph,” Poplar said. “Not simply unapproved, but unknown. Where did you find it?”

Ezhno stepped to Mato’s side. “It was painted on his chest. All he had to do was cut it with a knife.”

“Heresy,” Tupi said.

“You accuse one of the Great Ladies of heresy?” Ezhno asked. His hand went to his sword hilt.

Tupi’s eyes flickered to Ezhno’s hand, and he backed up a step and put his hand on his own hilt.

“It was not one of the ladies,” Poplar said.

“You saw her carry Mato out of the cave,” Ezhno said.

“And you told us she had punished him for trespassing,” Poplar said.

“Mato wasn’t able to speak at that time. I assumed what had happened, and I was mistaken.”

Poplar motioned for Mato to turn around again, so he did. “His skin is barely scarred. When we saw him outside the cave, we could see the bones in his back. The muscle had been flayed away. How is he so miraculously healed?”

Ezhno drew his sword, and both of the wisdoms stepped away.

“Do not be alarmed,” Ezhno said. “Hold out your hand.”

Poplar did as requested, and Ezhno put the point of his sword over the wisdom’s hand. Then drops of water began to run down the sword blade and drip off of the end, puddling in Poplar’s palm.

“This is the water of life, from the water rune and life glyph. It has healing properties. This is why my medicine is always stronger than expected.”

“May I examine your blade?” Poplar asked.

Ezhno passed him the sword. Mato saw Tupi beginning to draw, and also saw Ezhno shift to counter. He held his place. Tupi lunged. Ezhno faded a half-step, then seized Tupi’s wrist and turned. One second he was under attack, the next second he had Tupi’s sword in his hand.

“Perhaps you did not think Mato’s teacher was as skilled as Mato,” Ezhno said, and tossed Tupi’s sword up the beach.