37th Day of Spring, 514AV
Riverside Isle Park
14th Bell
Riverside Isle Park
14th Bell
"You... You're sure about this?"
"Drevin, for the last time, yes, I am sure-"
"Only I-I wouldn't w-want to hurt you-"
"I understand your concern, and you won't, so go ahead."
"Fine, fine..." Of course, it wasn't so the boy spluttered out: "But if by s-some chance you do get hurt-"
"Drevin?!"
That settled whatever other argument the young Denvai - no, wait, you're Svefra now, remember? - might have tried to bring to bear. The youth licked dry lips and tried to figure out some other-
"No more talking, lad. Let's just do this, shall we?"
The... Svefra youth scratched behind his head and his eyes flitted around for something, anything to stall this. But while the clearing at the edge of the Park was certainly blooming with the promise of an early Spring, it didn't do him much good for the moment.
Not facing an imperturbable Myrian apparently determined to set himself on fire.
No, try again: have you set him on fire.
Razkar understood the boy's apprehension. Drevin had been one of a dozen males he'd trained on the trip from Zeltiva to Sunberth. A dabbler in the wyrd arts, the long-haired boy was still young enough to have some martial knowledge drummed into him, too. Razkar was happy for that: it was never good to rely on one thing for your survival.
Hence us being here today.
"So... how big do you want it?"
Razkar shrugged under his cloak (early Spring, yes; warm enough for him to go bare-chested, no), frowning as he thought about the size of his usual Shields. Eventually he held up his hands about shoulder-width apart... then tilted them to one side, framing himself from crotch to forehead.
"That's how big I can make 'em, so... we'll say fist-sized? Can you do that?"
It was comical, watching the boy draw himself up and nod firmly like a hero asked to a sacred task by his lord. Razkar nodded his reassurance, putting up a finger beforehand.
"Like they say in my trade, lad: close your eyes, hold your nose and think of the mizas."
"Yes, well... those twenty gold-rimmed certainly will come in handy," Drevin said reluctantly, patting the little purse laden with his "fee" for the day, "But how soon do you want it?"
"When I say, lad. Just... give me a few..."
Which was putting it mildly, as it turned out. Chimes past. Many of them. Syna moved across the sky and still, when Drevin looked over his shoulder and ceased toeing at the grass, the Myrian was still on the ground, legs crossed, still as stone save for the swell and ebb of his tanned chest.
Drevin grimaced again... and stuck his tongue out-
-before snapping it back in just as fast. Ha! That showed him...
Razkar wouldn't have cared less (well, of course he could have, but you get the idea) any other time; as it was now... yes, it was quite a bit less. The restless youth, the burgeoning and returning animal life around them, the sounds and stink of Sunberth, it was all falling away as he sat there, burrowing deeper and deeper into his own mind.
Just like The Flux. You let the world go... and find something within you.
When he did, he put his hands almost together... and grinned. Drevin frowned, sensing something was about to happen, and like a reverse mirror to the mirror, he put his hand palm up, about to will-
Wait, check first!
Oh, yeah, he did that first. Skinny neck rubbernecking around, lank hair flapping, peering and squinting through the foliage surrounding the clearing. But only foxes and a handful of curious squirrels were there to watch them. Drevin checked again anyway.
The locals here... they don't like djed, or those that use it. Best to make sure you don't get a reputation. After all, you can't just frighten them away like Raz would.
"Raz". It felt so odd calling him that, though most of the time he stuck to "sir". The sellsword was a gruff and stern teacher in the martial arts, but he'd proved to Drevin, his cousins and his friends that he was loyal beyond just his pay. He'd shown concern for them, he and his red-haired partner that even a blind man could see he was in love with.
Drevin noticed she did not return with him from the Isle of Sahova. Part of him - the part that learned djed in the first place and rapaciously practiced it - wanted to ask him, question him... but he dared not. Not when Raz had turned to him with those broken, glassy eyes and he had turned away.
"Task at hand, lad."
The Denvali - damnit, Svefra! - snapped out of his and with a quick shake of his head, turned back to the Myrian-
-who had been slowly drawing his hands out until they were now just past shoulder-width. Drevin frowned as he saw those dark hands with their splayed fingers move up and down in front of the Myrian, like he was smoothing down cloth of... patching up holes.
Razkar grinned at his progress. It had taken him less time, for one, and now the Shield had come easier. He'd will a fat little ball between his hands and simply expanded it, drawing more and more djed from that skeleton under his own bones into it, made it wider, taller... and patched up the holes as he found them.
His brow crushed his eyes abruptly, critical of some detail oblivious to Drevin.
Hmm. Well. Not all of them. But enough for now...
"When you're ready, boy..."
He watched as the sweating Denvali refugee started to will a flickering ball of djed into his hand like an orb of rainwater flowing from his fingers. Not a bad sort, he'd always thought. Just another barbarian youth who had found some wyrd he practiced at times and provided for his mother, sisters and cousins the rest of it. He'd been a quick study on the Claypso, learning Razkar's primary lesson very quickly,
The Three F's: Fuck Fighting Fair.
He'd adapted to Sunberth, too: when Razkar approached him about using his Reimancy to aid in his own training, he'd offered twenty gold-rims, and Drevin curtly asked for it in advance. The Myrian didn't know whether to be proud or horrified that studious young Drevin had absorbed the anarchic city's spirit so readily.
But now he looked across the clearing and saw the Denvali mutter to himself, fingers twitching, sparking-
-and the ball of water lit up and became a miniature Syna; yellow flame that burned but would not melt flickered here and there, Drevin sweating to control it-
"Now, boy!"
Razkar braced himself as the boy hurled the ball at him, pushing out towards the Myrian and the Shield before him-
-flaming ball rocketing towards him, leaving a trail of yellow scorched across their retinas-
Razkar breathed deep and willed more djed into the shield in a rough rectangle in front of himself, feeling rather than seeing the gaps still left, the thinness in one corner, the tiny crack in the edge-
-gritted his teeth as the ball got bigger, brighter, hotter-
Goddess watch me-
-then exploded against the Shield as if against a brick wall, spreading out like a massive rain drop would on the ground, flame splashing around the surface of it, eating at the sides for the front left it nowhere to go-
"Shyke!"
-save the crack in the corner that got fatter, widening-
-and a tendril of flame spurted through and licked against the Myrian's face, shock and heat of it making him yelp and jerk his hands away-
-Shield vanishing before his horrified eyes-
-but the fireball had burned itself against it already; nothing left save for heat singeing the empty air and smoke drifting lazily from his forehead until he frowned and felt up there... feeling... missing something...
"Er... sir?"
"Yes, Drevin?"
"Your eyebrows, they're... ah..."
Razkar sighed and tried to muster some dignity in a way that only a man lacking an eyebrow, burned clean off, can do so laughably.
"I am well away, lad. Now... let's try again..."
One bell. Two, at the most, and the whole fucking lot of 'em will be laughing about it.
