Continued from here
He read and waited and prepared his meal for the evening as he waited for the bleeding to stop, and the fresh bandages to do their job. Breaks went by, yet he was not so restless as he once was. The impatience of youth had long since passed him by: now he knew the virtues of just sitting down and letting time work for you. Etzos rolled and yammered and endured beyond his window, and he ignored it. He was a still, unsmiling figure, seating at the table and devouring a book he'd already read many times before.
Absorbing it, really. Kasoria was grateful he was of a mind that could transport itself into scrawled words and fantasy. After the first few pages, the prose and dialogue became more than just etchings. He could see the people in them, feel the heat of their words, the passion and desperation of their adventures. He was there, hovering over all, subject and observer to the tapestry of their deeds. Of the war that had come so close to setting them all free.
A bell tolled in the world he sat in and yet seemed not part of. In the time it took for him to blink and flick a glance at the window, he was there again, in that time, in that place, leaving the heroes and martyrs of the ancient times behind. Until he picked up the book again, anyway. Five times it sounded, taken up by a multitude of others, each booming out the same chime, five times, so all in Etzos and likely beyond would know the passage of the breaks.
Five breaks in the evening. Long enough.
"Lets try that again, hmm?" The cat, of course, had little to contribute. Its belly was full and its hide was warm: what else did a cat care for the world? Kasoria sighed as he rose, opening the back door and ah, yes, that motivated it. "Hm. Thought you'd be getting bored."
The cat sauntered out into the cold and jumped up on the high wall, easily as Kasoria would take a couple of steps. He'd always marveled at the energy contained in such tiny bodies. He'd have to strain and pull himself over a wall a cat could clear, lightly and without any apparent worry. It marched along the top bricks with a bored look, then found a spot where the sun had not yet vanished.
But it was coming. Soon night would fall and the cold would become biting, as it always did. Kasoria judged he had a break, maybe less. Then he would not be so fool as to let pneumonia do what a knife-wielding ganger could not.
The knife in question was in his hand again, karambit gripped securely in his right hand. The sheath at the small of his back... yes, that was the place for it. Easy to hide, not visible from the front, like his gladius was. By design, of course. A potential enemy would mayhap see the sword and judge that all Kasoria carried; be distracted by it, chasing away other doubts of other weapons... which he carried, of course.
The dummy was ripped in dozens of place, yet did not require repairs just yet. A new coat. A few more yards of cloth, and rope to go with it. But it sufficed for now, and as Kasoria sunk into his stance... there he was again. A faceless enemy before him, carrying an ax this time, intent to do what so many others had tried, and failed.
This was Kasoria's own fiction. Not written but lived. Imagined and made real. All Etzos, all Idalos, shrunken to the space between them and the possibilities that could ensue. He lunged forward and the figure swung-
-Kasoria ducking low beneath the blow-
SKRRRT
-slashing sideways at the man's thigh as he went down, laying it open just like Semyon had did trials before-
-then the backhand came for him, anger overriding pain as his attacker plowed on, determined to end him-
-his free arm came up as he twisted towards the blow, open hand jutting out-
-striking the swinging arm at the elbow, blocking it, stalling it in mid-air-
One blocks, another strikes. Prepare the second before the first is even done.
Old words from a craggy face, shrouded in memory. For an instant, Kasoria was young again. Barely into manhood, fire in his eyes and something to prove. Enrolled with distrusting youths from the Inner Rings of Etzos who sneered at his urchin upbringing. But he proved them wrong, every time they stepped out into the practice yard. When he got a sword in his hand or wraps around his knuckles, Tantos bellowing commands and lessons as they sweated for breaks.
His karambit jabbed out with his fist a trill after he blocked with his arm, striking under it and nailing his enemy in the stomach, karambit sinking into it, slicing into guts and sinew-
-and he ripped it out, sideways and up, scraping the planks underneath as he did-
-hopping away as the blade came free, imagining innards tumbling from that ragged hole. The phantom dropped, down to his knees, back down to his height for once and he lunged-
-left arm cocked in, fist touching his chest-
-all the momentum and force packed into his elbow instead, crashing into the downed man's face, enough to snap his head around, maybe break something important, send him slumping down into the dark, never to wake again.
It was over in trills. It had taken arcs to move that fast... and he knew he could move still faster. He hissed and flexed his left arm, feeling the blood pump angrily underneath the bandage covering half of it. Not enough to bleed, but close. He paced, quick steps that made for short, furious back-and-forth journeys across the tiny backyard.
Twirling the karambit around his finger. Finding some measure of balance, of timing, from the steady slap-slap-slap of it returning to his grip after each twirl. Without realizing it, the beat was that of his heart. Blade moving in time. Steadying him. Letting his mind drift as he pondered what to do next. What else was possible?
Everything. You've just not got there yet.
30th Trial, Z'da, Arc 716
Civilian Housing, Outer Perimeter, Northeast
17th break
Kasoria made it a point not to be bleeding from several places when he was training. Call him over-cautious. Civilian Housing, Outer Perimeter, Northeast
17th break
He read and waited and prepared his meal for the evening as he waited for the bleeding to stop, and the fresh bandages to do their job. Breaks went by, yet he was not so restless as he once was. The impatience of youth had long since passed him by: now he knew the virtues of just sitting down and letting time work for you. Etzos rolled and yammered and endured beyond his window, and he ignored it. He was a still, unsmiling figure, seating at the table and devouring a book he'd already read many times before.
Absorbing it, really. Kasoria was grateful he was of a mind that could transport itself into scrawled words and fantasy. After the first few pages, the prose and dialogue became more than just etchings. He could see the people in them, feel the heat of their words, the passion and desperation of their adventures. He was there, hovering over all, subject and observer to the tapestry of their deeds. Of the war that had come so close to setting them all free.
"... and yet the steel and courage of Men faltered beneath the fell energies of the Immortals' pet mages. Ranks of men were immolated by fire blasting from hands twisted to dark purpose. Others were thrown into the air, fierce winds conjured as easily as a man would blow on his soup to cool it. Throughout the battlefield raged monstrous creatures, slaves to the Immortals transformed to towering nightmares of bone and muscle and claws long as a man's arm. The dead slouched in great numbers towards the defenders of the city, an unliving tide of puppets, bearing rusted swords and faded armor over rotting chests.
All the horrors of those that sought dominance over Mankind were hurled against the Unity. Death was dealt in such numbers that the crying of widows and orphans would not cease for arcs.
Yet they did not break. The lines of mortal Men, seeking only their freedom, held strong. Though magicks and monsters and twisted servants did hurl themselves into the maelstrom, it was Men who endured. Without magic or sorcery to rely on, with only their swords and spears and shields and arrows and their hope for the future, their love for their fellows, the Unity stumbled through an ocean of blood... but it did not fall.
At the center, the Captain raised his sword to the skies, and his men rallied at his defiance. The priest felt his heart bellow in his ears with every beat of his heart, but he did not run. His terror pleaded with him, but he would not leave his comrade's side. He had seen now what awaited them if they were to fail. Survival for a day, and bondage forever. He raised his mace and with a cry he-"
All the horrors of those that sought dominance over Mankind were hurled against the Unity. Death was dealt in such numbers that the crying of widows and orphans would not cease for arcs.
Yet they did not break. The lines of mortal Men, seeking only their freedom, held strong. Though magicks and monsters and twisted servants did hurl themselves into the maelstrom, it was Men who endured. Without magic or sorcery to rely on, with only their swords and spears and shields and arrows and their hope for the future, their love for their fellows, the Unity stumbled through an ocean of blood... but it did not fall.
At the center, the Captain raised his sword to the skies, and his men rallied at his defiance. The priest felt his heart bellow in his ears with every beat of his heart, but he did not run. His terror pleaded with him, but he would not leave his comrade's side. He had seen now what awaited them if they were to fail. Survival for a day, and bondage forever. He raised his mace and with a cry he-"
A bell tolled in the world he sat in and yet seemed not part of. In the time it took for him to blink and flick a glance at the window, he was there again, in that time, in that place, leaving the heroes and martyrs of the ancient times behind. Until he picked up the book again, anyway. Five times it sounded, taken up by a multitude of others, each booming out the same chime, five times, so all in Etzos and likely beyond would know the passage of the breaks.
Five breaks in the evening. Long enough.
"Lets try that again, hmm?" The cat, of course, had little to contribute. Its belly was full and its hide was warm: what else did a cat care for the world? Kasoria sighed as he rose, opening the back door and ah, yes, that motivated it. "Hm. Thought you'd be getting bored."
The cat sauntered out into the cold and jumped up on the high wall, easily as Kasoria would take a couple of steps. He'd always marveled at the energy contained in such tiny bodies. He'd have to strain and pull himself over a wall a cat could clear, lightly and without any apparent worry. It marched along the top bricks with a bored look, then found a spot where the sun had not yet vanished.
But it was coming. Soon night would fall and the cold would become biting, as it always did. Kasoria judged he had a break, maybe less. Then he would not be so fool as to let pneumonia do what a knife-wielding ganger could not.
The knife in question was in his hand again, karambit gripped securely in his right hand. The sheath at the small of his back... yes, that was the place for it. Easy to hide, not visible from the front, like his gladius was. By design, of course. A potential enemy would mayhap see the sword and judge that all Kasoria carried; be distracted by it, chasing away other doubts of other weapons... which he carried, of course.
The dummy was ripped in dozens of place, yet did not require repairs just yet. A new coat. A few more yards of cloth, and rope to go with it. But it sufficed for now, and as Kasoria sunk into his stance... there he was again. A faceless enemy before him, carrying an ax this time, intent to do what so many others had tried, and failed.
This was Kasoria's own fiction. Not written but lived. Imagined and made real. All Etzos, all Idalos, shrunken to the space between them and the possibilities that could ensue. He lunged forward and the figure swung-
-Kasoria ducking low beneath the blow-
SKRRRT
-slashing sideways at the man's thigh as he went down, laying it open just like Semyon had did trials before-
-then the backhand came for him, anger overriding pain as his attacker plowed on, determined to end him-
-his free arm came up as he twisted towards the blow, open hand jutting out-
-striking the swinging arm at the elbow, blocking it, stalling it in mid-air-
One blocks, another strikes. Prepare the second before the first is even done.
Old words from a craggy face, shrouded in memory. For an instant, Kasoria was young again. Barely into manhood, fire in his eyes and something to prove. Enrolled with distrusting youths from the Inner Rings of Etzos who sneered at his urchin upbringing. But he proved them wrong, every time they stepped out into the practice yard. When he got a sword in his hand or wraps around his knuckles, Tantos bellowing commands and lessons as they sweated for breaks.
His karambit jabbed out with his fist a trill after he blocked with his arm, striking under it and nailing his enemy in the stomach, karambit sinking into it, slicing into guts and sinew-
-and he ripped it out, sideways and up, scraping the planks underneath as he did-
-hopping away as the blade came free, imagining innards tumbling from that ragged hole. The phantom dropped, down to his knees, back down to his height for once and he lunged-
-left arm cocked in, fist touching his chest-
-all the momentum and force packed into his elbow instead, crashing into the downed man's face, enough to snap his head around, maybe break something important, send him slumping down into the dark, never to wake again.
It was over in trills. It had taken arcs to move that fast... and he knew he could move still faster. He hissed and flexed his left arm, feeling the blood pump angrily underneath the bandage covering half of it. Not enough to bleed, but close. He paced, quick steps that made for short, furious back-and-forth journeys across the tiny backyard.
Twirling the karambit around his finger. Finding some measure of balance, of timing, from the steady slap-slap-slap of it returning to his grip after each twirl. Without realizing it, the beat was that of his heart. Blade moving in time. Steadying him. Letting his mind drift as he pondered what to do next. What else was possible?
Everything. You've just not got there yet.
Thanks to Rumor for the template
