“Most impressive.”
“Raaaaah!” Vir roared, going on the offensive. He attacked Riyan with everything he had, launching haphazard slices and thrusts.
Even a layman like Maiya could tell his form was gods-awful. But she could also tell that in the course of their short duel, Vir had already begun to improve. His movements grew slightly more fluid, his attacks a bit more coherent. She could hardly believe the pace of his development.
Apparently, Riyan felt similarly, as he blocked Vir’s attacks.
“Good. Good! Show me more! Show me your potential, boy!”
Tragically, that was when Vir’s luck ran out. He took Riyan’s talwar to the shoulder, sending him reeling in pain. Riyan’s barrage continued, battering and bruising Vir until her dear friend dropped his katar and fell to his knees. His eyes rolled up, and he slumped to the ground, unconscious.
Maiya was at his side in seconds with the bucket of water and cloth she’d retrieved earlier.
Neel followed, standing his ground in front of Riyan, growling fiercely.
Maiya wetted the cloth and dabbed it against his bruises, gently washing away the kernels of sand that were embedded within his torn skin. But there was only so much she could do without magic.
She stared at Riyan with pure undisguised hatred. “Heal him. Now!”
The man smirked. “Fear not. Your friend has earned the right to stay. Though I am quite certain he will come to regret it.”
17ART OF THE GODS
Vir startled awake, drenched in something cold. Shivering, he looked around to regain his bearings. Neel licked his face, staring at him with those big beady eyes of his.
What happened? He thought, pushing the bandy back. Badrak’s balls! The duel!
Panicking, he sat up, katar in hand, ready to defend against Riyan’s impending attack.
Instead, he found Maiya holding a half empty bucket of water, looking at him with a forlorn expression.
“It’s over, Vir. You lost,” she said. “Riyan knocked you unconscious. I’m so sorry.”
Vir’s panic turned into dread. “What? No… NO!”
Maiya emptied the rest of the bucket on his head. “It’s okay. It’s all over now… for better or worse.”
“That’s cold, Maiya! The heck are you doing?”
“Oh, sorry. Reacted before I thought. Ha!”
Vir stripped off his shirt. If he’d lost, then… then that meant he’d failed, hadn’t he? He’d be banished from Riyan’s abode! What would happen to Maiya?
It can’t be!
Just when he’d found a golden opportunity to learn how to fight, he’d lost it?
“I refuse to accept that. I’ll fight again. I-I’ll fight him as many times as I have to!”
Unable to contain herself, Maiya burst out laughing. “You lost the duel. But Riyan’s happy with your performance. You passed his test, Vir!”
Vir looked around and, to his immense surprise, found the bearded man on his knees right behind him, holding his case full of healing orbs.
Riyan returned his gaze.
“I never said I was happy. But it will suffice.”
The tension flowed out of Vir’s body as Maiya embraced him in a deep hug. “Congratulations! And sorry for teasing you. Consider it payback for all the chores you brought upon me this past week.”
Vir chuckled, returning her hug. “I suppose I deserved that. And, y’know, the bucket of water. We even?”
“Even,” she said with a nod, then looked Riyan in the eye. “I hope you don’t expect me to pick up a sword as well?”
Riyan grinned. “Would you like to?”
“No, thanks!” Maiya replied.
“Too bad. You will train alongside the boy. At the very least, you will learn the basics of combat.”
Maiya took Vir’s katar, then threw it on the sand. “I surrender,” she announced with her hands on her hips.
Riyan blinked at her for a moment before bursting into uproarious laughter. “I was not going to test you, girl! I have no interest in bullying a child. Not when there is nothing to be gained from it.”
“O-oh,” Maiya said, looking down at the sand, her cheeks flushing red. “W-well, that’s good, then. But why do I need to learn how to fight when I have magic? Not like I’m ever gonna venture off to the Voidlands or something.”
“Truly? Can you guarantee you will always find yourself in situations where magic functions? What if your enemy has an Artifact that drains the prana out of the very air?”
Vir’s eyes bulged. “Those exist?”
“Indeed, they do,” Riyan said as he circled them. “And what will you do when your body is saturated with prana, preventing you from casting even a single spell?”
Prana saturation? That was new to Vir. He wanted to ask Riyan to clarify, but interrupting the man would only anger him. He made a mental note to follow up on that later.
“Each and every mejai of the Order of Mejai Sorcar is a battlemejai, trained in both magic and the art of physical combat. The Mejai Sorcar fully understand that magic is not all-powerful. It is merely a tool. And placing all of your faith on a single tool, places you at risk when it inevitably breaks.”
Maiya and Vir both fell silent in thought as they sat on the dome’s sandy floor. Riyan’s words made sense—it was dangerous to rely on only one strength, especially if it only worked in certain parts of the world.
If Vir had a choice, he’d love to learn every imaginable form of combat to maximize his options. The knowledge might very well save his life one day. Or the life of someone I care about, he thought, locking eyes with Maiya. Maybe she felt the same way, because she argued no further.
“There are many combat art forms in this world. The Kin’jal Balarian Arts are famous for their brutal efficiency, while the Saian martial arts are tuned for the unique requirements of cold weather mountain warfare. The Matali style is exquisite and refined, but ill suited against fighting multiple opponents.”
“Which one are we gonna learn?” Maiya asked, staring up at their instructor, who loomed over them like a giant.
“The art form I practice is said to hail from the Age of Gods—from a time when the gods walked upon this realm. I speak of the sacred Kalari, an art that encompasses both unarmed and armed combat. It is effective both against lone opponents and entire hordes of enemies. Few have heard of it, and even fewer are proficient enough to teach it. You should both rejoice at your luck. Master these arts, and you will have no equal in this world.”
That sounded good to Vir. In fact, that sounded perfect. It was as if Janak himself had intervened in Vir’s life. Maybe all those years of being spited by the gods had accrued some debt on his behalf.
“You will train with each other. You will support each other when one of you falters. And together, you will grow.”
Vir couldn’t wipe the grin that crept onto his face. He’d come so close to being cast aside, but he’d endured. He’d proven his worth, and now he would reap the benefits.
Riyan met Vir’s gaze. “As for you, boy, you show potential, yes,” Riyan said, “but that is all. Potential is nothing if it goes untapped, though it is good that you haven’t had any prior training.”
“Isn’t that a bad thing?” Vir asked, gingerly standing up. Surprisingly, most of the pain he’d endured from the battle was gone. His ribs still hurt, but not nearly as much as before.
“Do not move overly much for the next day or two,” said his healer and instructor. “My Set Bone and Mend Flesh orbs are only of B Grade. They have undone the worst of the damage, but your body will still need time to recover.”
Riyan spun on his heel and loped across the sand to the weapon racks at the edge of the room. Vir slowly followed, stowing his katar in its proper place.