Tales Of Grimea (23 page)

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, “You
know I’m just playing. Ready for smithing practice today?”

Glint had completely forgotten about the
day’s schedule, and his face brightened up as the clangs of metal
against metal came from a few floors beneath them. Sung chuckled
again, and both raced against one another to get dressed and go
downstairs. The slightly slanted eyed boy, who was about to turn
seventeen and was hailed as a prodigy, managed to brush his teeth
first at the first rank’s shared station, but lost to Glint’s
tenacity: At almost twenty years old, the sandy haired warrior had
neglected his hair and a change of clothes. With a sigh, he
exchanged a burst of power with the slightly ornate bracers at his
arms. The metal spread, and in no time at all he was encased in
seamless plate armor and a helmet with a Y shaped hole to allow
breathing. His armor also boasted no fancy designs, other than the
outline of a helmet just like his own, a barbute, where his bracers
would have been. With that done, the race was practically over
because almost no one in the first circle, even amongst the first
rankers, could boost their armor like Glint Stryger could.

The youth was downstairs in no time at all,
standing before Lord Oubo with hands at his sides. The room was
still empty, fires still left unstoked. Oubo Snakeskin was working
armor over a cold anvil with the sheer fire in his body. It was a
sight to behold, for he was the only one in Quicksilver who could
do it that finely. It crackled, sputtered and thundered as flashes
flitted here and there, but staying mostly in a stream between his
right hand and the armor’s compressor. The more skilled you were,
the closer these tendrils of lightning stayed. When Glint tried it
once, he’d almost shot lightning across the room, and so could
truly respect the red caped man’s skill. Moreover, Oubo was named
for how often his armor was changed, like a snake shedding skin.
Many speculated at what the final form would look like and how it
could be used. “Good morning,” he said, looking up at the warrior.
Glint thought about mentioning to the man that his braided hair,
despite being united in a single ponytail at his shoulder, was
looming dangerously close to a stray tendril of lightning. Then the
man moved one of his shoulders and his hair fell back over his
back.

“Good morning, my Lord,” he greeted the man
instead.

Oubo frowned, easing the lightning at his
fingertips. The compressor, where liquid armor was kept while being
worked on, buzzed slightly. The roars turned into lowly sputters.
“Child, where are your colors?” asked Lord Oubo. Glint looked down
then groaned. By the time he raced out of the room, Sung burst in
with a wide smile.

“Hey there, Slowpoke,” he chuckled, before
turning serious and giving their instructor a salute. His green
tabard flapped almost with a will of its own, Quicksilver’s crest
of a ring with a drop beneath it flailing proud. Glint grumbled,
almost certain the boy had used some sort of trickery to hide his
own, but trudged along wordlessly before being prompted by a second
circle high ranker by the name of Maester Vlaire and breaking into
a sprint. The old man had been content to stay second circle, and
despite being an extremely well respected instructor at
Quicksilver, he’d never attempted the switch to third circle. None
doubted his bravery, for he’d fought valiantly in multiple guild
wars, and so there was much speculation regarding his stagnant
ranking.

When Glint came back, a place had been made
for him between Sung and another boy who was considered a shining
star amongst his peers, but one that Glint preferred to avoid. Ori
Kubwa promised to become every inch the ability user that his
father was, although his specialty in their art was different. Lord
Oubo had somehow neglected to right the twisted thorn that his son
seemed to be, however, and so young Ori considered himself superior
to others due to his lineage as well as his glistening skill. Of
course, he didn’t dare act thus before his sire, but Glint wished
he would, just to see him get that disappointed look Lord Oubu gave
from time to time. Noticing the youth’s look, Ori pulled himself to
that impressive height and gave him a condescending “Stryger,” by
way of greeting. His teeth shone like a starry sky. Glint gave him
a measured smile in turn, not wanting any trouble.

“Class? Are you all ready?” Lord Oubo’s
voice made its way across the brick room like butter. At the same
time, he pulled a lever by his side, sending a river of molten
metal flowing from a huge vat by his side into twin streams that
made their way towards where Glint and the other high rankers stood
in the back, allowing the weak precedence for instruction. They
answered in unison, Glint’s mind already beginning to wander as he
watched the red glow light up the room slowly. Then it reached him
and welcome heat took some of Mount Ash’s chill away.

Barely breaking his stride, Lord Oubo began
to explain to his class of about fifty young warriors. “Today in
our purification class, we shall be speaking of a technique called
dueling lightning. As you all know, our qi –as well as our metal-
should be purified to the utmost limit.” There were hundreds of
instructors like him in the guild, many teaching at the same time.
This Glint wasn’t surprised to hear combat from the inner
court.

A young boy raised his hand, momentarily
catching Glint’s attention. Ori groaned audibly but was shushed by
Natalie Hearth, who was two rows ahead. The warrior thought it was
ironic, because she was the biggest chatterbox he’d ever had the
pleasure of encountering, a specific necromancer notwithstanding.
“Sir, when do you-“

“Lord,” Corrected someone and Ori, who was
about to say something, went quiet with a smirk.

“Let him finish, Thomas,” chided Lord Oubo
softly, his shadow looking a little like a slumbering panther. “You
were asking, child?”

“When do you stop purifying your qi?”

“Ah, an excellent question, although the
answer is never. Well done, boy. Your name?”

“Markas,” answered the boy, who Glint knew
couldn’t have been older than nine. Oubo was known to bring out the
best in people, but it was remarkable that the small boy could be
so confidant. Then Glint noticed that little Markas was missing an
arm, his right tonic sleeve being tied into a knot just above where
his elbow would have been, and a shiver went through him.

“Well done, Markas. The best comparison for
qi purification is water. Can someone explain-oh, what a surprise.
Our number one student, Glint Stryger!” Emboldened by the child,
Glint had lifted a shaky hand. His heart pumped hard and an
invisible hand clenched it, waiting for him to embarrass himself so
it could end his existance. Many students chuckled, for although
Glint was indeed the highest ranked first circle member at
Quicksilver, it was only in practice. His was not a mind for
energetic theory despite his affinity for other forms of knowledge,
and the warrior relied almost exclusively on instinct when using
his abilities. This, however, he’d been made to learn by heart. To
steady himself, he allowed a trickle of lightning to pass between
him and his bracers. Physical strength had a way of lending itself
to other forms of confidence.

“It’s like a water container with a filter
above it, and you improve both,” he said, and Oubo’s eyebrow curled
in pleased surprise. “First time you purify, you’re looking for
stones, my lord. The second, it’s pebbles, then dirt, and finally
the smallest pieces you can’t even see. It looks like the water’s
pure, but there’s infinite improvement, and for some reason you
actually can get more power out of these tiny improvements than
from those rocks at the start.”

“Very good. I hadn’t thought you could put
it that well. Do you know what that ‘some reason’ is?” Glint could
not, for Azrael had never explained it. All he knew was that it
felt like the smaller particles inside of him had more power.

“If we use the analogy young Glint has so
graciously provided,” said Lord Oubo as some students began to
sweat because of the heat, “then it’s because of surface. A handful
of sand has more exposed surface area than a rock of similar size,
and so will end up blocking more water. Naturally, Qi is a form of
energy and its impurities have no surface area, but the theory
stands. We filter metal and lightning qi with intent and the
following breath: Long inhale, short exhale, then short inhale
followed by a short exhale. This separates the yin and yang, then
purifies each, with the proper intent.” At that point, Glint was
thinking about lunch. “The metal in our armor has similar
impurities, and although the most prominent are filtered out by our
natural flow, there is a method to go deeper. With your metal in
liquid form, you separate the yin and yang within, then draw in the
two together with force….” For a while, the youth looked around to
see if anyone was as bored as him, then saw that all were focused
on the class. The youth got the idea when he heard the word
‘explosion’, and was pretty sure he could do something like it when
Lord Oubo finally got around to the practical part. He sighed as
quietly as possible, knowing that he didn’t have it in him to draw
away Sung’s attention from the class.

Suddenly, Lord Oubo’s voice trailed off.
“Yes, Ori?” he asked, still in his ever patient tone, drawing the
warrior’s attention once more. Glint wondered if for once, his
neighbor hadn’t understood something.

“I think Stryger already has it all figured
out and wants to demonstrate, Sir.”

Oubo looked at Glint, and the youth could
tell he was trying to keep himself from rolling his eyes. They both
knew he could do it, but Glint announced, “I said nothing, sir. No
reason to stop your lesson.”

“No, no,” countered the ebony skinned man,
brushing something off the front of his light brown tunic. His
armor, held as a green metal belt shaped like snake eating its own
tail, glistened in the red light. “Might as well do it and get on
with your training.”

Glint looked to his right and Sung gave him
an encouraging whoop. Keeping his heart silent, the warrior turned
his attention to the compressor directly before him. It was
essentially a suspended black iron box. It was well supported by
many metal arms, and could be adjusted for height, even so far so
as to place it upon the anvil beneath it for strikes at full force.
It had a hole on top, and Glint placed his arms there. His bracers
melted, bidden by his mind, and the silvery liquid filled the
compressor. A knob was turned, sealing the thing, and the youth
placed his hand beneath the object, allowing lightning to crackle
within the thing. When another lever was pulled and molten fire ran
onto his anvil, the youth removed his left hand and lowered his
device halfway into the small stream. A small amount of light shone
through a hole in the box as Glint took a hammer in his right hand.
He could hear Sung cheer and felt Ori’s ire rise as if it were
grating on his own skin.

The warrior, as he had been shown, allowed a
lightning ball to form within the liquid. So far so good. That was
the basic method for purifying metal using a compressor.
Now
onto the new part.
He split the ball of lightning into what he
could only perceive as hard and soft lightning, like two small
sparks of different natures, struggling to be one. As he swung his
hammer, a command went through his mind.
Explode!

A crack resounded from the blow and a
shudder went through Glint as the two sparks collided into what
must have been the tiniest lightning storm. Again and again he
struck, each time increasing the number of lightning balls until he
had five splitting and combining again like stars in his mind’s
eye. Of course, the others could barely see anything, for the scale
of what he did was small indeed, but he bet that had it been dark,
there would have been the hint of a spark coming from his
compressor. As he worked, tiny traces of impurities left his metal,
joining the molten metal flowing away towards the other end of
class and back towards the large container behind Oubo. Just as
imperceptibly, other traces of metals matching his lightning and
armor seeped into the liquid from that river, replenishing what
he’d lost and making the armor better.

“Well done, Glint!” announced Lord Oubo.
“You may keep on purifying while I explain the technique you’ve
just preformed to the others. Do you happen to have any
questions?”

“No, sir.” Glint didn’t mention that he was
curious about what would happen if he flipped the process by
placing hard and hard lightning together rather than hard and soft,
for he could feel the class’s impatience, and behind him he had a
dark skinned young man fumed.

When class was over, Glint and Sung as well
as another girl called Éclair went over to where Natalie’s room
was. Those in the first rank, like Glint and the younger youth from
Shöno’s southeastern reaches, lived in two man rooms outfitted with
restrooms and had shared bath facilities with the rest. Natalie,
being in the third rank, lived with four others, but luckily she
was a well liked individual and had managed to get herself
excellent roommates. Thus they found her playing cards with Emilia
Klough, a rather big girl who had an abnormal fascination with
dresses. It was extreme enough that she added a skirt-like finish
to her armour, which Glint had thought did nothing but waste
valuable metal until he saw her on action one day.

Quicksilver, under Alfjötr Christon’s rule,
had adopted a slightly abnormal approach to teaching. It was a
coupling of extreme care with providing the tools for survival, as
well as savageness with making sure these tools were employed. When
Glint and Emilia were both still fifth rankers, they had been sent
alone into one of Mount Ash’s canyons with the goal of hunting
greybears. Glint, who had fought mutated wolverines and even one of
Sklaver’s Trials once (albeit with aid) had anticipated an easy
fight, but that was not the case. Even though greybears were
naturally occurring beasts, they were still far larger than normal
ones, and lived in a much harsher climate. It had taken the support
of his companion, who reached down and grabbed her flowing metal
skirt, pulling and transforming as she did until there was a blade
whip in her hand. She used the weapon to great effect, distracting
and eventually blinding their foe in a display that was more like a
twirling dance than anything else. Glint had then darted in and
stabbed the beast through the heart with a long sword pulled from
his armor’s chest plate. He’d learnt later that many in their guild
preferred to specialize in one weapon, and that hers was that whip.
When asked about it, the girl had said her frame didn’t really
leave much space for dancing around all graceful. She’d also shown
Glint that her infamous high heels, which everyone had thought
useless in armor but happened to hide projectiles.