The sun beat down fiercely, casting a thousand sparkling diamonds over the undulating surface of the sea. Voices called in excitement, interspersed with laughter and yells and calling out. There was quite a crowd gathered. Watching this training, which was something of a spectacle, was almost as much fun as attending a festival. The bulk of those in attendance were males, exclusively Akalak, for what few non-Akalak males there were in Riverfall had no business being here. But there was a smattering of females – human, kelvic, konti – mothers and sisters, nakivak and those perhaps considering becoming one – for the right price. Cugacon, arms crossed across an already impressively hard, muscled chest, stood impassively, seeing and hearing but not really paying much attention to the crowd slightly below and off to his left. His entire mind was focused on the water – his body absorbing and assimilating the motion of the waves below. He watched the way each one came in and broke and sucked back out again, letting their rhythm soak through his skin into his heart. The pattern was the key. The beat was the source – of success, or failure. Even though he knew Elantok was over there, somewhere, watching him watch the waves, he didn’t try to locate him. By his side was Djan, but his friend, too, was thinking only of the waves. Or, at least, he should have been. Hopefully he was.
They and seven other boys about their same age stood on the lip of the natural bowl. All of them had passed their rite of trial. All of them were skilled fighters, athletes, swimmers. Even Djan, with his now useless arm, had re-taught his body how to navigate the waters of this harbor on the Suvan Sea. The Bluevein fell 3,000 feet to tumble onto the rocks below, some quarter mile to the east. Here, where the boys stood, the tumult of the Valterrian had cast rocks up and thrust them down and in the aftermath a jagged bowl had remained. The surf here surged with the ferocity of an enraged glassbeak, leaping at the rocks and trying to pull them back into the sea. Wave after wave would rush towards them, crash about their toes and the ten meter drop below them, and then drag itself back to join with its mother ocean. Wave after wave after wave. At high tide, for a period of about an hour, the water rose just enough that, if a boy timed his leap exactly right, he could join with those raging, rushing foaming waters, and avoid the rocks below its surface - rocks that would rip and tear and chew a boy to pieces if he timed his leap badly. He could launch himself outward, into the air, and meet with the cold shock of liquid, and pull himself strongly and quickly, to ride out with the receding wave, over the lip of the bowl – over another ridge of sharp, inanimate, merciless evil. Out onto the deep water beyond. Swimming strongly to evade the next wave’s clutches. Swimming out and around and to the calmer water beyond, back to the shelving rocks that ran more gently down to the sea, where the onlookers stood to cheer the boys on. If a boy timed his leap exactly right, he would survive.
The time for arguing was over. Cugacon had tried, his very best. The Akalak who was in charge of this fun little activity – one deemed to hone a boy’s mind and body both – had tried. Djan’s father had tried, as had everyone who knew the boy. All to no avail. And it wasn’t the Akalak way to tell a boy No – you are forbidden to try!. A year ago, give or take, Cuagcan and Djan and two other boys had gone out onto the plain and brought down a huge, mature Glassbeak, without incident. They had been welcomed by their fathers, their families, the entire city as men in training, worthy to choose a profession. Cugacon and Djan had chosen together, as they had frequently done for many of their growing up years – hunters. Both boys were set on living their life out on the plains, hunting for food and for Zith – doing their part to provide for their city. A month after the celebration of their accomplishment, as Djan knelt down in the street to retrieve a dropped miza, a horse five paces away spooked, stung by an insect. It kicked viciously while crow hopping right beside the boy. The hoof missed his head by a hair, and landed squarely on his shoulder. The healer’s said the bone was not broken, but some evil had entered Djan’s bones. His arm hung limp, like a rag. No matter what they tried, so it remained.
Cuga was baffled by this twist of life. Many said Djan was simply marked by the gods – he had been too slow to react – he had no business being a hunter. Djan himself accepted his altered state with stoicism. As best he could, he tried to re-learn all the skills he would need. And he was actually doing quite well – for only having one arm. Compared to those with two, though . . .
And so it had come to this particular test of a boy’s abilities – one of thousands any Akalak that wished to be a fighter of any sort had to face. Failure didn’t automatically spell death. A badly timed jump would result in injuries, sometimes serious ones, but generally there were more than enough men and boys to make sure the jumper didn’t actually drown. But really, with only one arm, though Djan had taught himself to swim, after a fashion, there was just no way. No way.
Everyone seemed to know this but Djan. And so, Cugacon cleared his mind, resolved to jump in just as soon as Djan’s feet left the ledge. Knowing that his friend would hate him for it did not deter Cuga. One way or another – whether they dragged themselves up on the sloping rocks down the way bitter enemies from that moment forth - he was not going to let Djan drown.
There was another mind that was entirely focused on his friend as well. A pale face, with flowing white hair like an aura, a slim body, and two huge, pale blue eyes – Jale. The young Konti’s brother stood on the rock ledge with Cuga and Djan as well. But her brother had no intention of helping Djan survive. Quite the opposite, in fact. Jale’s brother – Telikal – would be overjoyed to see his sister’s admirer drown, or be ripped to shreds on the rocks. That his sister was as fond of Djan as Djan was of her mattered not to Telikal. Once the two had been friends. Since Djan’s injury, Telikal had insisted that Djan was no longer worthy to be looking at his sister in the way that he did. He had told both of them that, despite his father’s warning to calm down and not stick his nose in where it didn’t belong. Jale was far too young to be thinking about a partner, in any case. Time would surely see the two drift apart. Be patient, he counseled his son. Your sister will see for herself that a one armed man is no man at all. She will see. She will abandon her admiration for Djan.
Well, that might in fact have come to pass, eventually. But Jale was a hard headed little thing and the more her brother berated her, the deafer she became to his lecturing. So, as the boys readied themselves, she stood quietly though her heart was beating so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest. She too had argued with Djan. Though she might not have realized it, she was probably the main reason he had refused to listen even to her.
There was no pre-set order. Each boy would choose to step forward when he wished. There was no valor in being first, no shame in being last. A true warrior did not seek to glorify himself nor to denigrate his brothers. Cuga waited, the rhythm of the waves now as familiar as his breathing. When Djan stepped forward, he would edge closer. When his friend leapt, he would be by his side.
The crowd had quieted, a sign that all present were watching the pounding surf, knowing the time was now. It didn’t take long for the first boy to step up, eyes riveted, and within five heartbeats, he was gone, flying through space, his body an arrow, arms cleaving into the surface of the man eating wave. The onlookers had held their breaths, and exhaled as one, as the boys dark body skimmed up through the water, meters away, riding expertly on the very crest of the wave as it retreated back into the sea. A roar went up and cheers broke out from every throat. All except the one who was concentrating so very hard on just one individual in the entire universe. Jale refused to take her eyes from the form of Djan, her breath catching in her throat as she thought she saw his foot move. No, another boy had quickly come forward. Djan remained where he was, steady and unmoving, his expression, though she could barely see his features from her vantage point, still and calm.
The second boy did well enough, as did the third. Six remained, and Telikal hung back furthest, waiting. As the crowd cheered a third time, Djan moved, his feet bringing him right to the lip of the slippery rock. One wave broke at his feet, the spray reaching to his thighs. As it receded, Cuagcon slipped forward – only a matter of one step. But Telikal did as well. Cuga looked in surprise at Telikal. This never happened. Boys did not jostle to be next – for obvious reasons. To lose focus was to lose any chance of succeeding – of surviving. He eyes flashed to Djan, who was slightly in front of him. Had Djan seen? Did he know Telikal was there?
There was no time. The incoming wave crashed up, wetting all three boys. An arm flashed out, and one boy went flying – then a second. Then a third. The crowd gasped. Three boys in that treacherous bowl at once? What was going on? How had this happened? Would any of them be able to ride to safety? All eyes were focused on the water, already sucking back out to sea.
