Vir swiped at Maiya’s legs, but she jumped and slashed at his face, forcing him to retreat. From then on, both sides exchanged a flurry of thrusts, slashes, and blocks in quick succession.
One benefit of katars was that they could block as well as attack, thanks to the handguards, which protected everything up to their forearms.
Both Vir and Maiya extensively used this feature, blocking and deflecting strikes that would’ve otherwise ended the fight.
That didn’t mean their attacks were graceful. Even Vir could tell their exchange was amateurish and awkward, but that didn’t stop him from pressing on, pressuring Maiya with a relentless series of attacks.
She couldn’t keep defending forever—she’d eventually make a mistake, one that Vir could exploit. The only question was whether his stamina would run out first.
He was reluctant to leave the outcome of the battle to chance, and so he played his old trick again—throwing sand into Maiya’s eyes.
“Argh!” Maiya shrieked, instinctively raising her katar to shield herself from the sand.
That was a mistake. Vir closed the distance in an instant and launched an uppercut. He stopped the blade right as it touched her chin.
“The boy wins,” Riyan said, signaling the end of the fight.
Maiya stared at Vir with the same fury her mother had, forcing Vir to look away.
“Sorry,” he said. “Couldn’t let you prolong the fight.”
“Really, Vir? Sand? Again? How many times are you going to use that stupid trick?”
Riyan walked up to them, his arms crossed and his face stern. “Stupid trick or not, the boy’s tactics were effective. Actual battles are never forgiving enough for concepts like honor and dignity. Actual fights are brutal, dirty, and quick. You must use every advantage you can get. Failing to do so may well cost you your life.
“A superior warrior understands his advantages as well as he understands his enemy. He understands his surroundings can be made to work both for or against him. The boy recognizes his stamina is his weakness, and so he took measures to counter it. That is all.”
“I guess. It’s just frustrating,” she muttered under her breath. “I’m stronger than he is. I should be able to win. Just wait until I get my magic…”
“What was that?” Vir said, even though he’d heard every word.
“Oh, nothing. Good fight,” she replied with a tight smile. Vir couldn’t keep the smirk off his face.
“That said, the boy’s stamina is a problem. Malnourishment… should not cause this. Not with the diet you are both now eating. Could this be a ramification of your inability to use prana, I wonder?” The man stroked his beard in thought. He seemed more puzzled, rather than angry.
“I think it’s likely that,” Vir said. “I’ve always had issues with my stamina, but I won’t let that hinder me. I’ll work around it if I have to.”
“Hmm. Yes, you certainly have been, thus far. You are both making good progress,” the Ghost of Godshollow said, prompting Vir and Maiya to do a double take. Their instructor had never complimented them like that. “The training room will be barred for several days. Use this time to practice your flexibility and meditate on your own.”
“What’s going on?” Vir asked.
“You will see when it is ready.”
Maiya cleared her throat. “So, about that magic instructor you mentioned. Tanya, right? Any word from her?”
“Patience, girl. These things take time. For now, build your foundation. The time for magic will come soon enough.”
Vir narrowed his eyes. Kalari was truly an incredible martial art. Vir’s combat potential had already shot through the roof, and he hadn’t even begun to master the art. But Kalari and magic together? That would be downright unstoppable. That would almost be cheating.
“Boy, I want you to practice with these,” Riyan said, handing Vir a set of bladed disks. Some were the diameter of a bracelet, while the larger ones were about three times that.
“The big ones are called chakrams,” he explained. “The smaller ones are chakris. They are ancient throwing weapons said to hail from the Age of Gods.”
“These are real?” Vir asked, eyeing the disks’ deadly metal edges.
“Indeed. They are quite sharp, so take care not to cut yourself. Use these for now,” he said, handing Vir a pair of half-finger leather gloves. “They will help to reduce injuries while you learn, though you will come to learn how to use the weapons without protection.”
Vir took them, surprised by their weight. These disks were made of solid steel. “Most warriors I’ve heard of either specialize in short or long-range combat. You’re telling me to do both?”
Riyan scoffed. “Most warriors are part of an army. They have archer support. They have mejai support. You have none of these things. And even if you did, every warrior should know how to defend themselves against more distant threats. Practice with these until you can slice an apple at a hundred paces. Reliably.”
“What? That’s impossible! No way I could throw these that far!” Vir replied. A hundred paces was almost the entire width of the training dome. He had a hard time imagining these heavy disks flying that far, let alone being able to accurately hit anything with them.
Riyan took one of the larger ones—a Chakram—and threw it at the far wall of the dome. The disk sailed through the air, almost as if it was flying, and cut the wick perfectly off of a candle set into an alcove, dousing it.
“Badrak’s balls!” Maiya and Vir cried out in unison. Vir’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
Riyan turned toward Vir, his black cape fluttering proudly. “Nothing is impossible.”
21THE LOST CHAKRAM ARTS
Vir itched to test out his new weapons, but the training dome wasn’t exactly an ideal environment for an amateur to learn, Riyan insisted. His instructor forced him to practice outside, claiming he’d mar his beautiful room with chakram dents. In fact, the man had barred the room off entirely, doing something inside, but neither Vir nor Maiya had any idea what.
With great reluctance, Vir left the cool home to practice in the blazing midmorning heat.
The only target nearby was the tree above Riyan’s abode, at their spot. It was that, or a half hour’s journey to Maiya’s Oasis, which was far less convenient.
Vir worried the bladed disks would damage the tree but was relieved that Riyan had given him a blunted training set. It made him wonder why Riyan sent him outside in the first place. The balancing posts in the training dome would’ve been plenty durable. He figured Riyan just wanted everyone out so he could work in peace.
“He obviously wants us to suffer,” Maiya said. She’d been grumpy ever since she’d lost their duel, and the fact that Riyan had given the chakrams to Vir and not Maiya only soured her mood further.
“Vir? Ohhh, Viiiir?” Maiya said after several minutes. The heat was no fun for her, either. “Why do I even bother? You’re always like this. When something captures your interest, it’s like the rest of the realm doesn’t even exist. I’m going back inside. Buuut you probably didn’t hear a word I said anyway, so why am I even talking to myself?”
Maiya picked up one of Vir’s chakris, throwing it at the tree. It missed by several paces, landing with a soft thud in the sand.
“Sorry, what?” Vir said, finally registering she’d been talking to him. “What did you say?”
Maiya rolled her eyes. “Nothing at all. So? Feeling good about your progress?”
“I mean, I still suck, but can you imagine how strong I’ll be when I master this? Look at Riyan! I could lop off—”