Aki

I remembered the phantom’s whispers. I replayed them in my mind and recalled the rage and pride I felt. None of it helped.

“Calm your mind,” Sil said.

“I’ve tried,” I said. “I’ve been trying since we started.”

“There’s no need to rush. It takes time to develop control.”

I shook my head. She didn’t understand. I had control. Once. And in that rush of sensus after the sourceless voice had spoken to me, I’d regained some measure of it. Now I had to figure out how to get more.

Sil took out another blade of grass from a jar filled with hundreds more. “Try again,” she said, before returning to her practice.

I closed my eyes. A deep breath pushed back my frustration and allowed me to concentrate. There was something else I could try.

The task was simple. In theory. Draw the base matrix for Herbalist extraction and use it. The matrix itself was easy—I’d long since committed it to memory. Drawing it with my sensus was another matter entirely.

I opened my eyes and let my memory visualize the lines I needed to trace around the blade of grass. My forefinger stretched out. I hoped it would give me what I sought. Sensus blinked out from my soul too fast for me to feel or see. I made no effort to stop its violent rush. For it to heed my control, I would need to embrace its nature. My nature.

I sketched the symbols of the matrix, trying to keep up with the flow of sensus. And it did, for a time. But my hand slowed and the lines grew wider, thicker, and brighter. When I knew it exceeded the matrix’s tolerance for error, I stopped. There was no point in completing it. The more inaccurate a matrix, the more unstable the construct, and the more likely it is to fail.

“Do not waste your time drawing the matrix by hand,” Master Royce drawled. I looked up. He stood across my worktable, eyes drowsy. “Such practice will not improve your control.”

“Yes, Master Royce,” I sighed.

He smiled at me. I’m sure he meant it as encouragement. “Time and effort are the only ways to improve. Persist and you will be rewarded.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Done,” Sil said, drawing our attention. I looked towards her worktable. Another success lay before her. That was her fourth. And from how rotten and brittle the lifeless blade of grass seemed, she’d done it well.

“Excellent,” Master Royce praised.

I was never one for envy. I think it was because I never came across an advantage I lacked that was worthy of praise. If anything, I held contempt, not envy for the advantages the godlings enjoyed. There was something deplorable about enjoying the fruits of another’s labor. It was difficult not to be envious of Sil. Still, it didn’t stop me from trying.

Except for Master Ackhart’s class—he’d decided to spend another lesson expanding on theory—the rest of the week’s classes went much the same way as Alchemy had. Worse even. Turned out the rest of the masters were more expressive of their disappointment than Master Royce. Especially Master Fuller. He was incensed.

And so it was that on our free day, I convinced Dako to spar with me, hoping to expend my frustrations. I should've known better.

I swung, aiming for just below his ribs. He slipped back, dashed in, and grabbed my throat. I slammed my forearm down on the inside of his elbow, hoping to bend his arm, weaken his grip, and pull his face within reaching distance. It did none of those things. Instead, he pulled my arm over his shoulder and wrapped me into a chokehold. I thrashed against him, flailing.

“Stop,” Dako said.

I stopped struggling. He let me go. I slumped to the ground, tired and breathless and more frustrated than when we started.

“You’re a better fighter than most,” Dako said.

I labored to my feet. “From how quickly and easily you put me down, I think not.”

“In terms of technique and instinct, you could well be a cousin of mine. A lack of speed and strength can’t hide your skill from me.”

“But it does hide me from being a good fighter.”

“You won’t always be so slow and weak.”

“Maybe,” I said, unconvinced.

“If I were the gambling sort, I’d bet on it.”

I forced a smile. “I don’t think I’m built for strength. It’s why I want to learn the Duros arts. Without augmenting my physical body…”

Dako watched me for a moment, an odd look on his face. “Aki?”

“Yes?”

“You’ve noticed, haven't you?”

“Noticed what?”

He looked me up and down.

“What?”

“Aki, you’ve grown half a head taller since we’ve met.”

“I…” I looked down at myself. Was I taller? I didn’t feel taller. I said as much to Dako.

“Trust me, you have. I guess it's still slow enough not to be obvious to you. Besides, a few extra inches doesn’t seem like much when you spend so much time standing next to me.”

I barked a laugh. “I’ve been spending as much time with you as I have with Sil.”

He smiled at me sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. Like seeing the aged face of someone you knew long ago, the move seemed both familiar and unfamiliar. “Then it should be easy enough to prove when next we see her.”

I stretched my shoulder. “Well, until then, let’s go again.”

“Why? It seems a waste to use the chamber for sparing.”

“Is it not meant for sparing?”

“Not exactly. It’s meant to help you practice Duros arts, which does, admittedly, often involve sparing.”

“So how does it work?”

“The chamber? Well, it allows those without soulsight to see the matrixes you cast. All the other arts have similar chambers, though they work differently. Come, I’ll show you.”

He shrugged the upper part of his tunic off his shoulders to let it hang from his belt, exposing his barrel of a chest. “Watch.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, then explained as he demonstrated. “The matrixes of the chamber permeate the air with sensus. All you have to do is let it in.” His body glowed. Slowly, the brightness dimmed, leaving behind dull, vaguely translucent skin. “And when you cast a Duros matrix…” Gold lines ran down from his neck like streams of honey. Channels broke away to build complex matrixes that weaved throughout his torso and arms.

“A-amazing,” I said, awestruck.

My friend opened his eyes, grinning. “You mean me, right? The chamber isn't all that impressive.” He was always hungry for compliments.

I chuckled. “Let me give it a try.”

Sitting cross-legged, I mirrored his actions, letting the ambient sensus enter my body. If we were anywhere else, or if someone other than Dako were here—excepting Sil—I would’ve never done so. Protecting yourself from foreign sensus was second nature to those who practiced the arts.

The sensus soothed my aches and hardened my flesh, the whole of me attaining a toughness that promised to make less of injuries. I let out a contented sigh.

“Pleasant, isn't it?” Dako asked. “It does more than make visible your Duros arts. Now come, let’s begin our practice in earnest.”

Our practice didn’t change much. Finding I was too unskilled to form the matrixes directly, especially while maintaining the concentration needed to simultaneously contend with his attacks, we returned to sparing without sensus. In the end, Dako bested me a dozen more times before Sil arrived.

“I see you’re trouncing poor Aki,” she said, her amusement clear. She was leaning against the door, her legs and arms crossed.

Dako grinned. “What better way to learn how to win than by learning how to lose.”

I pushed into a sitting position. His last victory put me on my back after he’d rolled me over his shoulder. “At best, losing can teach you how not to lose, and that isn't the same thing as winning.”

Dako kissed his teeth. “And here I thought I’d finally said something profound enough to avoid you correcting me.”

“It isn't without some truth,” Sil said. “Not losing is the foundation victory is built upon.”

Dako looked at me expectantly.

I pushed to my feet. “Sil, do you mind coming over? There’s something I want to check.”

Dako threw his hands up, blowing out a breath. “Nothing? Really? Nothing at all?”

Sil sauntered over to me. I pulled her closer. There was no denying it then. Where I used to be half a head shorter than Sil, we now stood eye to eye. I’d been reluctant to believe it. Being small was a constant in my life, a part of who I was. Matching Sil was nothing of note—she was one of the shortest godlings I’d ever seen—but if I kept growing…

“I told you,” Dako said.

I nodded. “And so it is. It’s just…I don’t feel any stronger. Doesn’t bigger usually mean stronger?”

Dako shrugged. “Usually, but you’ve also grown thinner and it has likely offset any weight you might’ve gained.”

I looked down, untucked my sweat-soaked tunic, lifted it to my chest, and rubbed a hand up and down my stomach. “Have I? Seems to me I’m as thin as ever.”

“Your height is the only explanation for where all that food you eat has been going,” Sil said. Some of the Roots in the refectory who I’d become friendly with—after they’d acclimated to my politeness—frequently joked about my forcing them to restock their pantry twice as often.

“Anyway, where have you been all day?” I asked Sil.

She began walking to the outer edge of the chamber, making it clear she had no intention of answering. “Let’s see what the prestigious preparatory academy of Evergreen has taught you. I only caught the tail end of your last match.”

I looked at Dako, a quizzical brow raised. He just shrugged and went about readying himself for our next bout.

I lasted longer than any of our previous clashes. Much longer. Dako seemed determined to stay on the defensive, forgoing several opportunities to finish the bout—and those were just the ones I noticed. After a quarter turn, his triumph came by forfeit. My stamina could only sustain me for so long.

I dropped to my rear, the first time that day I did so voluntarily. “You were going easy on me,” I said between labored breaths, the hints of an accusation in my tone conspicuous despite the distortion of fatigue.

Bako smirked at me. “And you say not losing can't be the same as winning.”

I waved him away. “I said it wasn’t the same thing, not that one couldn’t lead to the other.”

Sil walked over. “Dako?”

“I know,” he said. “I let it go on so you could see.”

“See what?” I asked.

Sil looked me up and down. “Are you sure you’ve only been trained in the preparatory academy? You’ve had no other masters?”

I shrugged. “All I did was learn from the basic manual. Nothing—” An image of an elderly woman came to mind, cutting off and refuting my claim. I shook my head to dislodge her from my thoughts.

Dako kissed his teeth. “Who’d believe that? Yes, your style is limited to the basic martial forms, but the skill in which you execute the movements and all the small nuances you’ve adopted speaks of a mastery that can’t be explained unless you’ve had further instruction.”

“Mind if I cut in?” Sil asked.

Dako nodded. “Be my guest.”

Sil turned a rascal of a smile my way. “Care to dance?”

“It would be a pleasure.”

Once my breathing evened, I stood and gave her an exaggerated bow. “With or without sensus?”

“Without,” she said. “It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.” I held my tongue. Arguing against the truth was a liar’s chore or a fool’s errand. I’ve always tried my best not to be either.

Dako walked off to the side. Sil came to stand across me, still wearing a mischievous smile. On another godling, it might’ve seemed cruel. Somehow, her’s was endearing.

“Go!” Dako said, and we did.

She came in fast. Not as fast as Dako—with his size, she should’ve been—but faster than me. I stayed where I was, taking a neutral stance. Her left shoulder nudged forward. I raised a forearm to block the punch I expected. It was a feint. She used the momentum to turn and go low, her leg sweeping towards my shins. I barely had enough time to step away. Lithe and graceful, she went into another turn, rising like a tornado.

Her punch almost connected. Even blocked, it still hurt. It needn’t have. This was a spar, not a fight. A spark of anger, a minuscule flash of rage, and I attacked. My palm struck her chest. The strike was weak. As were the elbow to her temple and leg kick to her calf and the five other strikes I got in before the barrage caused her to stumble back. I dashed after her, not wanting to let her breathe. Five more strikes followed, the last one a low kick where the sole of my foot struck her shin and pushed it free from under her. She dropped to a knee. I rushed onwards, arm raised to deliver a blow.

“Stop!” Dako said, but it was already too late.

A wave of wind flung me across the chamber. I landed on my back, hard, the force pushing air from my lungs. I gasped until I stole a lungful back. Stars danced in my eyes.

Dako’s face came into view, hovering over me. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” I said, trying to blink away the sparks hounding my sight. Dako helped me sit up.

Sil ran over, worry written all over her face. “Injuries?”

“None,” Dako said.

“What happened?” I asked, uncomprehending.

Dako lifted me to stand. “You both got rather overzealous.”

I turned to Sil. “You did that?”

“Who else?” Dako forced a smile. “You thought it was an act of nature?” I ignored him and his attempt to lighten the mood. My eyes were fixed on Sil.

“Why?” I asked.

She shrugged. I might’ve attacked her there and then but for the guilt that kept her from meeting my glare.

“No one’s at fault,” Dako said, his arm around my shoulders to keep me steady. “Both of you got a little overzealous, is all.”

I shrugged out of Dako’s hold and stepped towards Sil. I stumbled a little, but my anger kept me from falling. “Why?”

“I’m not used to holding back,” she said. “And when you stood over me, hand raised…”

“Finish your damn sentence, Sil! There was no need to put so much force into your first attack. There was no need to break our agreement and use sensus, nor to use so much of it that you nearly caused me injury.” I knew my anger was justified. I also knew its scale wasn't. But the pain reminded me of what I’d escaped, of who I was, and of who she was in comparison.

Sil’s face twitched. One edge of her lips jerked up and one eye briefly narrowed. I recognized the expression, half a wince, somewhere between sadness and pain.

“Aki, calm—” Dako went quiet when he noticed my rage flee.

“Sil,” I said, my voice bereft of anger. At last, she looked up at me, searching my eyes. “I understand.”

A look of puzzlement crossed her face, then a smile of relief. She sighed. “I’m not sure what exactly you understood, but if you’ve forgiven my misstep, I’m glad for it.”

I nodded. “I have.” There was no need to speak on it further. I knew how the memory of violence could rankle one’s emotions long after the body had healed.