A Hollow Mountain (The Brightest Shadow Book 2), page 57
"Slaten, are you really going to go talk to him? You've already taken their brute force, what can madness like this gain you?"
"I have several questions." He offered her an apologetic glance and continued, and after a heartbeat Tani followed, keeping him between her and the Bloodskins. They didn't get far before Hogowo walked to meet them, wiping his hands off on one of his outer cloths.
"These boys are the disgrace of the Bloodskin clan. But whether we fight for Bufogu or the Hero, we'll test ourselves soon enough. So I'd better find some way to turn a few of these fools into men, eh?"
"What did you mean about feeding their blood to wolves?"
Hogowo frowned at him, more out of reflex than any animosity. After looking over his shoulder and improbably insulting the manhood of another one of the boys, he stepped further away with them. Or rather, he stepped with Slaten, displaying no awareness of Tani's presence at all.
"Lowlanders don't understand blood. These errants... they may be men, but only steel runs in their veins." Hogowo regarded him seriously. "I do not know what runs in yours. Why ask these questions?"
"Since we joined your clan, I have sought to understand your strength. Now I feel both strong and weak at once. Do Bloodskin men ever feel such a thing?"
"Hnh. It might be the wolf wasting sickness."
"I am sorry, but I do not know what that is."
"The wolves are... a story for boys." Hogowo's face screwed up as if he needed to pass the explanation through his entire body. "Hot blood in your veins is good, but it is only the start of a man. You must feed that blood to the wolf within yourself. Beating that idea into the heads of boys is the hardest part. I think you understand this?"
Slaten nodded. It could only be a metaphor for sein, and though it was a crude image, he hoped that it might be an accurate one to understand Bloodskin techniques.
"The wasting occurs when a man feeds the wolf too much. His blood burns hot indeed for a time, but then his veins are empty. In boys, the only answer is to grow stronger. In men, it is a sign that they have strayed from the path. Some seek to feed many wolves, and though the pack grows, they are left with too little."
Wolves could only represent techniques, yet that raised more questions. Hogowo already appeared to be growing uncomfortable with the conversation, so Slaten sought another approach. "So a true man of the Bloodskin clan feeds only one wolf?"
"That's what we tell boys. It's mostly true." Hogowo slapped his chest. "Me, I have one Bloodskin wolf. One powerful wolf that you can see in my body. But that is not the only way. These errants from the north... they feed a wolf within themselves and a second wolf within their armor. It is the act of a coward, but they have the blood for it and they remain strong."
"And me?" Tani stepped closer, briefly baffling Hogowo. "What sort of wolf am I?"
"You are a bicorn that has sharpened its horns and believes it has teeth."
Though Hogowo looked to him to scorn her, and Tani hoped for defense, Slaten had nothing for either of them. Perhaps that spread was exactly the problem. "And when you look at me, do you see a man feeding too many wolves?"
"Aye." Hogowo struck him with violent encouragement. "Your blood burns hot, but you spread it too thin. It is not a wild pack, like foolish boys. But you try to feed a Bloodskin wolf, a lowlander wolf, and I know not what else. Any of them could be strong, but you must kill most of them first."
With that, Hogowo left them, shouting at another one of the training boys. The man immediately fell from Slaten's mind, which rapidly filled with the flow of his own sein. Perhaps this was the answer that he needed... yet Tani stabbed at the edges of his consciousness.
"Are you truly listening to his stories, Slaten? It may be admirable to open your mind to others, but even these barbarians?"
"They may be wrong about many things, but that does not mean they are wrong about violence." Slaten closed a fist, feeling his sein flex along with his muscles. "It's just as Olondris said: the Bloodskins have entirely subsumed their practice of sein into their bodies. The Bloodskin 'wolf' is meant to drink everything, yet I attempt to spread myself among several disciplines."
Though Tani shot the group another distasteful look, he could see his words trickling through her instinctive reaction. Eventually she nodded. "I suppose there may be some truth to that. My master always told me that it is wise to experience other arts, but not to practice all of them. Warriors cannot simply... gather up powers in both arms as if they were pretty baubles."
"The Oken restrict everyone to a single path. I had always thought it was too limited... but what if there was truly a reason for it? Each path contains only a reasonable number of draws on their sein, thus preventing the problem I've stumbled into."
"Your people may have been right about that, but that doesn't mean they were right about everything. Given how regularly you've been draining your sein, your reserves have increased. If you only had a deeper understanding of yourself, your sein could be greater than mine."
"Perhaps. If I could learn to perceive sein with my eyes or ears, I would no longer tire so quickly. But I think that this would only stave off the problem. Eventually I will have to choose."
"That is the way of life, is it not? It would be strange if sein was any different." Tani gently placed a hand on his shoulder in the same place where Hogowo had struck him. "Take anything you need from these raiders, Slaten, but do not dwell with them. You must divide your time as well as your sein."
He nodded, accepting the truth of her words on the surface of his thoughts as he plumbed deeper into himself. Despite Hogowo's derision, Slaten thought that Tani's sein was a sleek wolf. By contrast, he divided himself between Oken swordsmanship, Coran strength, Estronese arts, and the Bloodskin body. Yet he needed every single wolf in that pack if he was to survive against all the opponents to come.
With his thoughts consumed by his dilemma and fables of wolves for the entire day, Slaten expected to dream of a pack tearing him to pieces. Yet when he woke in his dreams, he was surrounded by the corpses of wolves.
Chapter 41
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"The mansthein have no proper apprenticeship program, instead mixing soldiers and warriors in their lowest ranks. The majority of soldiers are untrained or Lesser Ironsquires, with Greater Ironsquires given no special treatment. Peak Ironsquires and beyond, however, are given a warrior's rank and treated better. Some work as officers while others are more independent akin to errants."
- Wahleenese treatise on mansthein ranks
-
Traveling across the nation of Wahleen had taken Celivia and her band only an instant. Traveling anywhere at all in the mountains seemed as though it would take a year.
This time, her band wasn't alone. The Fourth Northern Legion sprawled across several valleys, more than enough to fight the average raiding clan. That was before the Zeitai was even considered, though she heard contradictory rumors about whether or not Kreue would make a direct appearance. She wasn't sure if he feared to face the sage or simply had other priorities.
A tent was still prepared for Kreue, where his highest officers engaged in debauched revelry. Celivia sat rather far from that peak, among the raucous lesser bands. There, once the soldiers had finished their tasks, they began to bide time as soldiers did.
Celivia had traveled far from the usual camps for her training, climbing her way to a local peak. Now that she returned, she looked over the legion and saw the stirrings of something new. Mansthein constructed something near the center, but it didn't appear to be a war machine - not that she had any idea what machine might be useful in the mountains. Instead it looked to be some sort of shelter, which seemed a waste of time considering that they would leave within days.
As she descended, Celivia decided to simply ask her band about it. On her way, she saw soldiers engaging in eternally popular pursuits such as gambling over bones and testing arm strength. Several soldiers with Wahleenese mottling appeared to be playing a game that involved heavy circular tiles. Having never seen it before, Celivia wanted to draw closer, but she knew that it would attract the wrong kind of attention. Perhaps she could seek it out when she next visited Wahleen.
When she saw her band, she opened her mouth to speak, but Brifik's mouth was already open. "Kaen, look what Puga can do!"
Puga, the newest member of their band, started to raise something to his mouth. She had made an effort to get to know him, especially since her band had accepted him quickly. Instead of a traditional Feinan from Fein Karnak, Puga hailed from Sein Karnak, having been some sort of laborer before joining the army.
Otherwise, she didn't know him well. Which became a problem when he raised a curled reed to his mouth and aimed it at her.
Her hand went to her knife instantly and she only just prevented herself from striking first. She didn't see any anger on his face and the scenario seemed unlikely to be an attack. He might have been able to fit a small dart in the reed, but what flew through the air toward her appeared to be a seed. After checking to be sure it contained no trap, Celivia caught it on the flat of her knife as if that was what she had been intending to do all along.
"Isn't that amazing?" Brifik laughed and slapped Puga on the back, though Celivia noted that no one else seemed to find it nearly as amusing. "He says he could shoot one halfway across the camp!"
"I need a better reed." Puga crumpled his in one hand and dropped the pieces to the ground. "These let too much air out."
"But the important thing is, he can win us the seed trial for sure!"
"Seed trial?" Even as Celivia asked the question, she realized that it was a trap. The rest of her band looked far too eager to explain.
Big Ragh, Krafan, and Brifik all talked over one another, describing some sort of contest, until she raised a hand to shut them up. Ghalia sat back with a smug look on her face, but Celivia thought it best not to ask her instead of her own band. Once they went quiet, she glanced at Ghasfik instead.
"What are these trials?"
"Friendly competitions between bands." Ghasfik shrugged, but he had a slight smile on his face. "Just a bit of fun to keep up morale while we wait."
"And... one of these competitions involves spitting seeds?"
"Yes!" Brifik pumped a fist into the air and then brought it down on Puga's shoulder. "Puga will win us that one, make no mistake!"
The competitions appeared to be completely harmless, so Celivia nodded for them to continue. Instead she gestured for Ghasfik to follow her a short distance away and spoke softly. "I trust none of these competitions are actively dangerous?"
"No, Kaen. There may be a few informal trials, but the rest were approved by the captains."
"Then let the band participate as they like. It wouldn't hurt to earn us some respect." She paused, watching Puga spit another seed. "Is there something I don't understand about this? Brifik seems very excited."
"No one knows why, Kaen." There was a slight smile on Ghasfik's face, but not directed toward her.
"Where the fuck is Huthur?" Splinters asked the others. "I thought he was building with the others."
Big Ragh shook his head. "No, he left. About the same time as Reina... wait... you don't think? Maybe Huthur isn't as bent as we thought!"
Ghalia's laughter exploded so forcefully it nearly put out the fire. "That's not likely, boys! Now, you're lucky you have me to help, but if you want to prove you're the toughest band in the company, I need all of you to pull your weight too. Let's practice more than spitting!"
She rose and the others joined her without needing to be ordered. Celivia watched briefly as Ghalia began testing their strength, as even several of them combined couldn't budge the tree trunks she had for arms. It all came so easily to her... Celivia turned away to find Reina. The other woman usually kept her distance among soldiers, but it had been an unusually long time.
"Celivia?" Krafan appeared behind her with a broad smile. "We were hoping that you'd represent the band in something too. The other bands in our company are mostly from Wahleen, and they've been eyeing us from the beginning. We need to prove ourselves."
"I don't have any special talents like Puga and Ghalia can win contests of strength. What would I enter?"
"If there was a beauty contest, you'd surely win."
Celivia regarded him with a flat gaze and did her best to cut him off before it could go any further. "Nin, is there, in fact, any beauty contest?"
"No, Kaen." Krafan wilted back, sulking when he started to make eye contact. She sighed and gave him a polite smile to soften the blow.
"I'll ask about the available competitions, Krafan. If there are any tests of skill, I'll do the best I can for our band."
He nodded silently and Celivia wondered if she should say more, but at that moment a roar erupted from the others. When Celivia turned to look, she discovered that the band had cleared a space to wrestle one another. Several had been struggling, but all their attention fell on a surprise:
Fijn crouched atop Ghalia with one arm around her neck. He had his arms tightly locked in position around her neck so that even Ghalia struggled to pull apart his arms. When she reached back to grab his head, he dipped aside and kept applying pressure to her throat.
It was a good strategy, but not against a Catai. Everyone else realized that as Ghalia stopped struggling and began to chuckle.
"That's a good hold."
"No matter how thick your neck is..." Fijn grunted as he tried to squeeze even tighter. "It should cut off the blood to your head..."
"A Catai's blood doesn't lie so close to the surface." As she spoke, Ghalia rose to her feet, lifting Fijn like he was no more than a backpack. He tried to grapple her legs with his own, but the height difference made it impossible. "And even if you could, you don't have the strength to apply enough pressure."
"Says... you..." Fijn appeared to be struggling to maintain his grip as Ghalia flexed her neck.
"Oh, but I can tell that you see the truth now. Are you carrying a knife, or does that idea excite you?"
"It's a knife." Fijn let go with one hand and drew it from his belt.
Celivia immediately moved to defend Ghalia, though she hesitated, wondering if Fijn would actually attack her. It never mattered, because Ghalia threw herself backward, slamming him between her body and the ground. Had she propelled herself with her sein, she could have crushed him, but even without it Fijn groaned as the weight of four men struck his chest.
"Hah!" Ghalia leapt back to her feet, leaving Fijn and his knife crumpled on the ground. "That's a good knife you have, but it's not enough for me. Who's next?"
No one else rushed to test her, as she'd planned. Celivia didn't understand how pitting soldiers against a Catai proved anything, but Ghalia seemed to enjoy it. Since the band was only in awe of her, nothing more venomous except for Splinters, she set the matter aside and turned her attention to the upcoming trials.
The friendly competition between factions was actually unfamiliar to her, since her life had largely been filled by close allies and true enemies. But it wasn't difficult to understand: each group maintained a rivalry with everyone outside their circle. Soldiers in a band might compete, but the band united against another band, the company cheered other bands within their company, on to cohorts. She'd even heard there was some manner of longstanding rivalry between the Third and Fifth Northern Legions.
None of the rivalries held any real meaning for her, so as she watched the growing competitions over the next day, Celivia just wondered how the humans would fit. The legion had a few human allies serving as scouts and support, though none were present at the camp. Had there been humans capable of competing, she suspected the competition would turn brutal.
As it was, they were clearly just the games of soldiers. Celivia saw Big Ragh enter a contest that appeared to be eating boval pies with hands tied behind the back. His participation seemed pointless, since the only real competition was between the Catai involved. In the end he lay back with his face covered in pie, smiling as if he'd never intended to win.
That, she could understand. The more trivial of contests, such as Puga and Brifik's seed spitting, left her baffled. Celivia ignored them and searched through the camp for Reina, hoping to find someone to enjoy the day with. Failing to find her, she advanced to her own trial, a test of skill she'd learned of the night before.
In the center of a ring, someone had placed several pine cones inside a wooden board with multiple pegs sticking up from it. Soldiers stood outside the ring, given three chances to throw a weapon and dislodge a pine cone while avoiding the pegs. She had never heard of any game like it, but the Wahleenese mansthein seemed interested.
After the current competitor failed to knock down even a single pine cone, Celivia walked up to the man running the trial and uncoiled her whip. "Is this weapon allowed?"
"I suppose, Naena." He looked over the bladed whip and frowned. "But if you intend to just cut through all the wood, that will disqualify you."
"I won't touch them." Celivia smiled as she realized that the trial would be easy.
Once the targets had been set up again, Celivia paced outside the circle, chose her angle, and struck. Her whip lashed out in a nearly straight line, impacting the bottom of one of the pine cones and knocking it into the air. Before her whip retracted, she let her sein pulse down her arm and through the whip, sending it curling around one of the pegs to strike a second target before she pulled it back.
Several soldiers watched, shouted, and clapped. Celivia looked for Krafan, since he would have appreciated the show, but didn't see him. Instead she lashed out a second and third time, in total removing six of the ten pine cones on the board. It was a better score than anyone else had received and the soldier running the trial gave her a ribbon of silk to indicate her victory.
As Celivia turned away, fixing the ribbon around her arm, she saw a lean man sitting on the side of a barrel. He held what appeared to be an over-sized caltrop in his hand, and as she watched, he made the weapon spin back and forth between his fingers.
