Sansir shivered as a particularly strong gust cut through his clothes and knifed ice into his body. I really need to get Flesh up and running soon, he thought. At least, I wouldn’t be so vulnerable.
It had seemed like a fine idea at the time. He’d needed the break from Grevor and traveling to Ranvir’s school took a fair few hours. Sansir would have all the time he’d need to get his head back on straight before meeting with any of his friends.
He’d gotten his head back alright.
Traveling with ice was never comfortable, but there were tricks to it. Generating his material, he would control it to throw himself forward. Then immediately create more ice to make a sort of continual toss.
It was far easier to control a block of ice than this elaborate nonsense way of travel. Except moving at these speeds threw up enough wind that if the air was above freezing, the block would be continuously melting and pelting his pants with ice water.
Either you could create ice so cold, it wouldn’t melt even after prolonged exposure to sun and air, but then you ran into the problem of freezing through your boots. He knew at least one of the Sleeping Sons, who’d arrived at a fight only for his boots to tear mere steps after disembarking. His body had been tempered by Flesh, but the leather was no stronger than normal.
The second option would be to create as warm material as you could. Sansir had reached a point where his slushy-watery-ice-mix was solid enough to carry him for short bursts. It was technically too warm to form ice, at least a few measures above the regular freezing temperature. However, it couldn’t maintain structural rigidity, so he was forced to create new ones all the time.
This wasn’t really an issue. With two second-stages he had the strength and control to maintain the technique for days. He still didn’t like it, though. Even with the third Discipline, he couldn’t have traveled like Grevor.
A bit of light’s intangibility seemed to infuse him when he worked. Light on foot and though he didn’t start off as fast as Sansir, he could almost continually build up speed. Part of Sansir was a little jealous of Grev for his power.
A larger part of him was jealous for other reasons. If only things didn’t always end like this, Sansir cursed internally. His chest felt clenched in a blacksmith’s vice, squeezing until he couldn’t catch a breath for all the air rushing past him.
For the first hour of travel, he’d just hurt. It had just been hurting. I gave Ranvir a lot of shit for his perspective, but there might be value in his argument. Sometimes relationships are just big injuries left to fester.
Sansir shook his head and turned his face into the wind. Out with those notions, out with those ideas, out with Grevor and all of his emotions.
He didn’t understand, but how could he? He’d grown up with a healthy and happy family. Sansir had grown up with a weak and often ill mother, and a man who’d been old before Sansir was born. He didn’t. He couldn’t understand the experiences that Sansir had lived through.
Just like Sansir couldn’t understand him. There’d never been much merit in sacrificing yourself for your family, but especially not when that self-same family won’t stand by you. What is he even thinking? Sansir tossed his head and banged a palm against his forehead to drive the thoughts away.
It hadn’t worked for the last two hours. Why would it suddenly start working now?
Part of Sansir was actually excited to get back to the school and all the strange people Ranvir had surrounded himself with. Sansir included Esmund and Kirs on that list.
The progress he’d made in the last two months was unspeakable. Incomparable to the previous six months with the Sleeping Sons. Not that he’d been training nearly as intensely nor as vehemently as he had surrounded by thirty other tethered driven by ambition and a genuine sense of mortal danger.
No, Sansir didn’t think his strengths had increased that much over the last two months, certainly not compared to his usual regimen. It was a smaller thing. The way Ranvir talked about mana, the energy of his tether. His approach to understanding his power.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Sansir had made some powerful strides on his own over the last five years. Taking what he’d learned from Ranvir, combining with what he’d found out from the Sleeping Sons. Together, he and Esmund had been developing it into an alternative approach to Concepts. He didn’t quite have Es’ natural talent, so he hadn’t shaped his Discipline like the warp-tethered. Still, his Concept was stronger and more effective than most others he’d met.
Even compared to some of the higher-ranked masters of the Sleeping Sons, people with more decades of expertise than he’d been alive. Yet, they weren’t a match for him.
Despite all of that, somehow Ranvir had reached further. His understanding exceeded so much that Sansir couldn’t figure out how he got there, or even where to start. Yes, it was based on this other plane’s knowledge, but Sansir had spoken with Kasos and Amalia.
Kasos, especially, seemed impressed. Ranvir had a natural talent for seeing to the heart of these matters. A talent he’d been honing long before they found each other. Yes, he hadn’t done nearly as much work with his Concept, but Sansir still felt it radiate from him as strongly as it ever did from Esmund.
Continuity or something to that effect. Inexhaustible and inescapable. Sansir wouldn’t have believed something so simple could carry that much weight. Yet, Ranvir excelled just as much in other fields.
Sansir had made little progress in terms of raw power over the last two months, nor had he increased his control by any noticeable margin. Yet, he’d been thinking he was seeing the peaks of power. He thought he’d found the route that would make him an equal of someone like Saleema.
Something that would allow him his goal.
Then Ranvir had talked with him, showed him a few exercises, and helped him approach his powers differently. Ranvir, without ever lifting a finger, never so much as a pull on his power, he hadn’t even raised his voice, yet he’d torn the horizon asunder before Sansir’s eyes.
He’d looked at hills and called them mountains…
He had missed his friends. Staying with them, shooting the shit and messing about. The training was a part of it; he was certain it would always be with these guys, but… Grev had said he been happier in the last couple months than he’d been for past few years.
Perhaps that was true, but Sansir had been pursuing a goal, and he’d achieved it. He didn’t think he would have to wait much longer. Already, situations were lining up. A familiar emptiness opened inside at the thoughts now flying through his head. A sort of mental preparation for times to come.
For what he must do. What he has to do. As he’d promised mother so many years ago. The dark thoughts loomed over his mood, alternately drawing him down into the shadows of the forests he crossed above or alienating him from yellow-green grasslands.
The others would never understand him. Grev had certainly proved that. They simply couldn’t. It was too far outside of their experiences. They didn’t have the drives required. Even Ranvir only achieved as much as he had because of his insatiable lust to understand and learn more.
They didn’t have it in them. They wouldn’t, couldn’t, go as far as he needed to.
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When Sansir landed down at the school, dark had come some hours ago. In his mood, he was more than happy to avoid—
“Oh!” Esmund’s bright voice said, landing in a sparking flash next to him. “You’re back.” His short friend threw an arm around him in a side-hug that seared him with pleasant heat. “You’re chilly! Come on, let’s hurry inside.”
Es let the way the last bit towards the school. “I was just out getting some materials for another of Kirs’ projects.” He held up a leather pouch of mysterious ingredients. Sansir heard something squelching about inside, so he assumed some of it must be liquid. “What about you? How did your thing go? Asking the Sleeping Sons to keep any armed force from moving into the country, right?”
Sansir paused, frowning at Es. “It… it went fine. I met with a representative in the Capital and he got the message across. Honestly, with how diligently we’d been watching the border, he was horrified that they had gotten enough weapons and armor to outfit two-hundred men.”
Es nodded sagely. “Makes sense. Though, I didn’t think it was your job watching the border? Isn’t that the Queen’s army?”
Sansir sighed and nodded. “We’re overseeing it, though. We don’t have enough people to do it ourselves, but we have more experience with this sort of thing than any of the Queen’s men do. At least any that can be spared.”
“Well, it went well,” Es smiled at him. “It’s good to have you back. I know Ranvir has thought up a few more questions for us, but I move a little too much on instinct for his taste, so he’s been dying to ask you.”
“Oh?” Sansir was taken aback. He’d thought that well had run dry weeks ago. Apparently, Ranvir’s curiosity was more insatiable than he’d thought. “I’ll have to talk with him.”
“Good, I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear that. Anyway, goodnight Sansir!” Es pulled him into another fuller hug this time. “I’m sure you’re dying to get out of those wet clothes and get some sleep, so I’ll let you go now. Night!”
Sansir snorted a quiet laugh as Es darted out of sight down the hall and disappeared around the corner. He shook his head, walking to his own room. It wasn’t until he’d closed the door and saw himself in the mirror that he noticed the small smile on his lips.