A sheath. Many people liked to think of a sheath as merely the place where you put your sword when you weren’t using it, as though the relationship were as simple as that between a book and a shelf. A sheath protects a sword from incidental damage to both itself and everything around it; guarding it so that when the sword is drawn to fulfill its sanguineous destiny, it is sharp and without rust. A sheath could also be a weapon itself if the occasion called for it. It had strength and beauty all its own, independent of, but collaborative with the blade.

Such was what he would try to create now.

The child below him, barely a quarter century of age, had had a rather easy time of things since the reintegration began. No one close to him had been consumed, and based on the Historian’s estimations no one whose death would impact him emotionally would be in danger until after the eighth Tolling.

He quite liked that name. Mortals could be so clever.

The child, Joel, was below him committing the crime that they now called training here. A Japanese style this time he believed. Martial arts, it hurt him to see them reduced to this, even more so as he had been the architect of their decline. But, the immutable truth of the universe was that what had been done could not be undone, and so he would make, what was the phrase? Ah yes, make lemonade from these lemons.

It was not, however, Joel’s martial prowess that interested him, but what Joel would call his “side project.” He called it this because the name in his heart seemed, to him, too pretentious.

The Dance of Dragons

The Historian thought the name was perfect. It may yet be incomplete, but it would undoubtedly give rise to dragons if pursued until its completion. The child had already discovered, on his own, six of the aspects. He could also tell that there were more and had even developed a rudimentary energy attack. It was quite remarkable. The Historian was genuinely unsure if this technique or the other would turn out to be more powerful. The uncertainty excited him.

Now, to begin his crafting.

Joel finished his form and stretched his arms above his head, attempting to control his breathing as he walked around. This one, despite its appearance of simplicity, was giving him quite a bit of trouble and he had been repeating it all morning, attempting to delve into it until it was truly understood. He didn’t allow himself to become frustrated with the lack of progress, however, the more time a form required to understand, the more knowledge he would gain from it. He was all about learning at the moment. There were new laws governing the universe, and they went right up his alley. He was determined to find out what they were.

His most recent achievement was a freaking Kamehameha wave or at least a paltry imitation of one. Still, he had shot an energy beam out of his hands and could not have been more stoked, even if it didn’t necessarily do much at the moment. Not much was a whole bunch better than nothing at all though. His family had never thought much of his passion for martial arts, but maybe if he showed them this, they would change their minds.

When he had finally caught his breath, he flopped down onto the ground leaning against a rock as he looked out at the view. This was his favorite training location. He was sitting on a promontory of rock that was prevented from being a spire only by a knife-back ridge that connected it to terra firma. Its summit was just barely large enough for him to practice most of his forms on and even required some creative short-stepping on occasion. He had chosen it mainly for its view, but also for the height and space limitations which forced him to actually process what he was doing instead of falling into the routine of just making the motions of the forms. In his experience, mindfulness and strength of will, determination, were far more critical to success in the martial arts than talent.

The view really was incredible though. The promontory was at the peak of a valley that ran between mountain peaks for few miles, filled with lush greens and granite ridges. The valley was relatively straight, so he had the good fortune to be able to see for quite a ways down the range. He breathed deep and slow as he took in the majestic sight.

Reaching behind him, he grabbed his water bottle from a shady spot beneath the rock and took a swig. The next part was his least favorite and also the most exciting portion of the day; the side project. He was happy to be creating something for himself and was excited by the concrete gains derived from it, but it hurt like hell. Imagine shoving a golf ball through your veins, and you’ll have a reasonable idea of what it felt like. The short answer is: not pleasant.

Still, his strength had doubled, his stamina had tripled, and his senses had sharpened above and beyond his baseline gains from the new energy. He also didn’t think the energy attack would have been possible without it.

Groaning, he stood and walked forward to the center of the summit. He started the form crouched down with his hands touching the ground on either side of his feet. He had found eighteen poses so far and had a distinct feeling that there were more to be discovered. Standing, he swung his hands forward along the ground until his middle fingertips touched with his palms up, then drug his hands, as if they were connected, up from his ankles to above his head, his palms flipping down at about chest level.

As he did so, a wave of pain began in his toe tips and rolled up through his entire body. Joel exhaled sharply, regulating the pain.

Every movement of the form he was creating induced an ache sharp enough to blur his vision. Each of the next two poses started higher than the last, ending with both of his arms extended at about the height of the crown of his head, palms up. The first three positions made him think of tectonic plate colliding, giving birth to mountains. The next three were loser, more free an reminded him of the way wind danced at the front of a storm. The following three were sharp and quick and brought to mind a crackling campfire. The three after that transitioned smoothly with a flow reminiscent the dancing of the surface of a fast river. The three after that called to mind the swaying of a tree in a strong wind. The final three were slow and rolling like a winter fog.

After he finished the sequence, Joel was spent. Exhaustion that had nothing to do with his previous training pervaded his mind. That tiredness was purely of the body, this was something else. Just one repetition made him want to lie down and never get up again, but he forced himself to stay standing, and, more than that, to complete the form one more time. No matter how many times he performed the form, it still felt incomplete. It was a feeling similar to that which one gets when one lover finishes before the other. There was still work to be done. Only, he did not know what remained, just that there was more to do. He had never been much of one for intuition, but this sensation was irrepressible. He felt so close to figuring it out it was maddening.

“Very interesting,” said a voice from behind him.

Joel instinctively dropped into a fighting stance as he turned around toward the source of the voice. It was some old man. At least, he thought the man was old. His hair was eggshell white, long and a bit wild, and his face deeply wrinkled. His eyes were so grey as to be almost silver, and he leaned casually against a boulder. The part that was really freaking Joel out though was that he was on the far side of the summit from the ridge. He was sure he would have noticed if anyone had come down the ridge while he was practicing, so how had this geezer gotten here?

“How did you get here? No one came down the ridge.”

“Would you believe me if I said I climbed?”

“You look a bit old to be free climbing, and I still would have heard you coming up.”

“Youth. You children never respect your elders no matter which realm I travel to. It must be a law of the multiverse. However, you are correct. I did not climb, I teleported.” As he was saying this, he took something that looked like it was probably a fruit out of somewhere.

“Yeah, right, dude come on. What kind of idiot do you take me for?”

The squelch of someone biting into something juicy came from behind him, along with a voice that sent chills down his spine.

“The kind that is entirely wrong at the current moment,” said the old man around the fruit in his mouth. Joel turned slowly, not quite believing his ears. It really was the same old man. The old man took a step and appeared directly in front of him, not covering the intervening space at all. “See?”

Joel had no idea what to say. That broke everything he knew. “Who are you?”

“The Historian.”

“The historian?”

“The Historian. Capital H.”

Joel decided this coot was a bit off and started making his way toward his gear. Anyone who could teleport was scary, but a crazy person who could teleport was terrifying. “Well, uh, Historian, it was nice to meet you. I think. I’ll be leaving now.”

“Sit down and talk with me for a bit.”

“No it’s getting late, and I really-“ Joel shifted, and suddenly he was standing back in front of the Historian.

“Sit.” This time Joel just nodded and sat.

“Why do you train?”

“What?” That had not been what he was expecting to come out of the man’s mouth at this point.

“Training. Why do you?”

“Uh, the mental and physical-“ before he could finish the Historian began waving his hand in front of his face annoyedly as though he was shooing away Joel’s words.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that vacuous nonsense. Why. Do. You. Train?” The Historian stared at him intently waiting for his reply.

“To be stronger,” Joel said. The Historian kept looking at him expectantly, so he elaborated. “Money, political office, property, all that stuff can be taken by someone else, but no one can take away your personal strength.”

“What if someone cuts off your limbs? Your personal strength won’t mean much anymore.”

“That’s why you keep getting stronger. Strong enough that no one can do that to you.”

“And how long do you plan to continue getting stronger?”

“Until I can’t get any stronger.”

“Hmm.” That was it. Joel had been getting progressively more passionate as he let out the motives he had kept locked away, and all this guy said was “hmm.” Joel felt quite let down.

“And if I told you that I was weak?”

“What do you mean?” this guy had just teleported around like it was nothing and he was saying he was weak?

“Where I come from, I am among the weakest. I cannot even describe to you the strength of the people at the top of my home, and there are people above them, and then people above that as well. You could spend eternity getting stronger and not necessarily hit your limit. What is your answer now?”

Now? As if that changed anything. It just made his decision firmer. Joel felt more excited than he had in years.

The Historian saw the answer in his eyes and clapped his hands together. “Good. I have an opportunity for you then.”

“I would be happy to take you as my teacher,” Joel said excitedly.

The Historian blinked at him before chuckling and shaking his head. “Not that kind of opportunity Joel. The path you need to follow to strength is not one of a disciple. Even if I wanted to teach you, I am limited in what I can do. The people I work for would not be happy if I interfered too much. No, there is another person like yourself who will seek strength to his limits. I believe the two of you will become much stronger together than either of you would apart.”

“Who is it?”

“Just a mortal like yourself. But there are some things you need to know. This man is currently under the thumb of my counterpart. My counterpart is not a gentle man and cares only for his own goals. He is on the lookout for people like you as well, but you would not enjoy his patronage. He has made the person I am telling you about hard in an unfortunate way. I can help you avoid my counterpart, but you will have to deal with the mortal on your own.”

Joel didn't really like the sound of this. Dodging some asshole to make friends with a jerk all based on a stranger’s word that this would help him get stronger. “This doesn’t sound like it’s worth it.”

“It will be.”

“No offense, but I only have your word for that, and I don’t know you.”

“You are a worm. You may think you have some strength now, or that you can become strong on your own, but I tell you the people where I come from would likely not even bother to wipe your guts from their boot after they killed you.”

“Your people aren’t here though right? Just you and that other dude. I can just avoid you two, and I’ll be fine.”

“My people are not the only ones you need to worry about. The realm is big. There are many worlds, some of which bear life. None of those worlds have been cut off from the energies. As it stands, a single person from those other worlds could enslave your planet. You and the other are the only two that currently have a chance at becoming strong quickly enough to make a difference, but only if you work together.” His tone lightened up a bit, and he continued, ”But if you would rather watch your world burn then I will take my leave.” He stood as if to go, dusting the soil from his clothes.

“Can I have some time to think?”

“Mortal, if it were important to me, I would force you. I do not really care what happens to your world. I am interested in what you can achieve, but it is not my life’s work. You can take the opportunity, or I will leave, and it will be gone.” His tone held none of the playfulness or seriousness of before. It wasn’t even angry, just annoyed which drove home how fragile this whole thing was. If there was even a chance this guy was right then, he felt like he needed to do something, and if he was honest, a tiny part of him hoped something would happen. This was a challenge he could pursue, a reason to not just get stronger, but to get strong now.

“Fine. What do we do?