Ranvir’s breath caught. It couldn’t be. Had someone come back? Or were they looking for the patrol? Maybe it was his friends, but they weren’t talking.
“I’m going to give you one chance to come out.” A voice called. It was unnaturally gruff and had a thick weird sounding accent. Ranvir couldn’t even place where the flesh-torn was except beyond the door.
Fuck. He yanked the bandages from his head, blinking his eyes open. They hurt, they really hurt, and he could barely make out anything in the dark room. He was little better than blind. A little. He could tell where the door was from the flickering light source coming in underneath the crack. It reflected off the pink tinged water his feet were still sitting in.
Ranvir eyes immediately started watering. Even before they did, the line of the door was hazy.
“Come in here and get me.” Ranvir called. He’d expected to find fear and nervousness in his voice, but as he spoke, that red and orange objection rose again. He didn’t sound afraid, he sounded angry. A part of him was a little scared of the way he sounded. He sounded like he wanted a fight.
He flexed the tether again, feeling the spiritual draft. Red and orange energy burned in him. Maybe he wanted to fight. He got to his feet as the door opened. He couldn’t make out the flesh-torn, the torch in his hand scorching his eyes with its light.
The Ralith let out a long sigh. He dropped the torch and lunged forwards.
Ranvir lifted his hand on instinct, trying to protect his face. No, the chest. The realization struck him just in time to get his hand between himself and his attacker’s blurry fist.
Ranvir was pushed back against the shelf, hitting the wooden construct hard enough to break planks. The flesh-torn knew how to fight and had somehow put enough weight behind the attack to rock him on his feet.
Red and orange burned with life and energy within Ranvir as he squinted at his enemy.
Head. He realized, lifting his sore palm to stop the next attack. This time, he flexed the purple network of space together, intertwining it to blunt the force of his blow.
The strike hit his manipulation early, breaking through it and losing most of its energy. The fist landed limply in Ranvir’s palm and he lurched forward on his bad leg, shoulder tackling the flesh-torn and throwing him to the ground with a scream.
Manipulating just a tiny amount of space for less than a second and his tether was already withering, he could barely move the space connected to his right hand properly.
The flesh-torn tried to get up and Ranvir shoved his head back onto the cold wet floor, settling on his hips to keep him still. He couldn’t really see in the torchlight. It offered just enough light for him to make out slashes of movements from his enemy’s limbs.
One fist caught him on the shoulder, but Ranvir had the leverage and shoved his head back down again, getting a finger into an eyehole. The other fist smashed him in the side, just under the ribs.
Ranvir moaned in pain, but he almost had him. His hand slid lower onto the throat. Aim with the left hand. He broke the space in his right hand, the fork landing in his hand with a pop. Strike with the right.
Ranvir hammered towards the area around his left hand, where he was holding the flesh-torn’s neck. The hips bucked and tried to throw him off, as another hit landed on his ribs. He heard this one more than he felt it, as the dull thud rang out through his own torso as the fist smashed into his ribs.
Screaming, Ranvir brought the fork down with all his weight and strength. It smashed into the stone, wrenching his hand painfully as he lost grip of the improvised weapon.
The Ralith caught him by the chin with his right hand, then slammed home a strike with his left.
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Ranvir woke up puking on to the grass outside of the administration building. He couldn’t see again. Someone had reapplied the bandages over his eyes. He was, oddly, thankful for that, since he couldn’t see how much the world felt like it was turning under him.
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Letting out a moan, he tried to push himself up, but fell down before getting very far. He spat once, then again, to clear his mouth. It tasted like last night’s dinner and copper. Something fell out when he spat a third time.
Stunned, he felt around his with mouth with his tongue. One of his molar was missing. Ranvir let out a moan and tried to search the grass for it, but he couldn’t see.
“Don’t bother.” The voice of the Ralith called, its accent odd and thick. Ranvir tried to glare in its direction, but turning his head that much made the world flip and he fell on his stomach, his chin dipping into his own vomit. “Not far to go, then we can get you under observation, and get you some water.”
Ranvir started to reply, but he was grabbed underneath the arm and pulled along. He had to stumble to keep up, but he somehow managed without landing on his face. He felt it when he got close to the bonfire. The air got drier and warmer, the smell of smoke lingering in the air, heard the quiet murmurings of the flesh-torn—it was nearly understandable to him—mixing with the worried whispers of the students.
“Triplet Goddess.” One youthful voice whispered in horror as Ranvir felt the light through the poorly applied bandages. Ranvir was stopped and seated on something, a log it felt like, and the bandages were pulled off again.
Firelight exploded into his eyes. Ranvir recoiled with a groan of pain that hurt his head as much as his eyes pained him. The world spun too rapidly, and the log fell underneath him. Two firm hands stopped him from falling entirely.
“Look wide boy.” The flesh-torn who’d captured him said. “I need to look at your eyes.” His voice sounded almost familiar through his confused haze.
“What’s going on?” Someone else asked. Ranvir couldn’t identify the tone of voice. If he didn’t know better, he’d say worried.
“I had to hit him pretty hard.”
“Yeah, I can tell. Why?”
“The boy nearly killed me.”
“…Really? He’s blind, right? And crippled? Nearly killed you? How?”
“Pulled a fork out of nothing and stabbed my neck. Look.”
Ranvir frowned as he listened. “No, I didn’t, I hit the floor.”
“You sure did, kid.”
Ranvir flailed for one of the hands holding him upright. As he tried to think, but his mind just wouldn’t do the work. He kept trying, as they kept him for observation for a few hours. He heard more people join them, students only.
At one point, he heard a loud struggle, and someone was deposited next to him.
“Ranvir! You okay?” Esmund asked, grabbing his shoulder. “Your chin!”
Ranvir tried to speak, but as the fog from his head injury had faded, so had the swelling in his jaw. Though he could think more clearly now, he couldn’t articulate it through the swollen wound on his face, even if the sore ribs would’ve let him.
“They captured me but Sansir and Grev got away.” Es started explaining after he realized Ranvir couldn’t speak. “They got enough together to oppress my power, and then they basically just carried me off. Though, I didn’t just let them take me, of course.” He sounded proud of that last remark, and Ranvir remembered the noise raised when Es had arrived.
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Ranvir stirred as the next disturbance arrived. This one muted all the students. Es grabbed his forearm. “It’s Dovar.” He murmured. “He’s unconscious.”
Ranvir wanted to rip the bandages—which had been reapplied much more carefully—off and witness Dovar’s arrival. “How’s he looking?” He asked Esmund. “Injured?”
“Not really. He’s bleeding a little from his temple, but other than that he looks fine.”
Ranvir bit his lip. He really needed to follow up on his idea to research the Ralith. From what little he knew, they weren’t extremely talented fighters. For them to outmaneuver, outnumber, and the best Dovar in what Ranvir assumed to have been hand-to-hand combat was extreme. Just his size should’ve made it difficult, though, especially while avoiding any noticeable injuries.
Ranvir let out a long breath as he tried to calm himself. They still hadn’t seen the masters, so he knew there was hope.
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Dawn broke and brought with it murmurs and cries. But first, it brought with it an announcement.
They were among the last of the first-year students left, and by the break of dawn, their entire year was gathered in front of the Master’s Tower.
Ranvir heard the whispering students quiet down, to the point where he could hear the bonfire’s crackle and somebody’s footsteps.
“It looks like it’s time for an announcement.” The man who’d captured Ranvir sounded different, and it took him a moment to place it. Once the unfamiliar accent and oddly gruff tone was gone, it was a familiar voice.
Gasps started around the students as he continued speaking. “As you’re probably realizing, the exam—the test—was not postponed.” Master Vigo said. “We needed to catch you off guard, to test you in a real-life situation and, most importantly, give you a taste of what it’s really like when you step beyond the limits of the academy.”
His voice grew hard as he continued speaking. “And don’t get me wrong, this is nothing. You were just captured and held. When the Ralith captures one of us, we never see them again. Though if they’ve been an especially difficult nemesis to them, we do see little bits of them from time to time. A finger here, a toe there. This isn’t for fun. This is your life, and it is your death. I think we can all agree that it’s in your best interest to never forget it.”
Ranvir felt a weird shock of emotions. Part of him felt betrayed that he’d been ready to fight, to kill one of his Masters, that they would even push things so far. Another part of him knew it was for the best. He’d be the better soldier for it.
Still, the riot of emotions in him couldn’t be quantified by easy words, nor could it, he thought, be quantified by him. Betrayal was a big one. Relief was another one. Anger. Hope. Excitement. But most of all, he felt fear. He’d been captured. He’d lost, no matter how he turned it. All of his friends had done better than him, staying free for longer. They were still ahead of him.
It’s because of my injuries. He told himself. Intellectually, he was well aware of that, not that his emotions seemed to listen.