Chương 21

Every fight is against yourself. Control, Harker. It's all control.

"This is idiotic, human," Stillwater growled. Harker ignored him and put his foot onto the fence.

"If you think I'm helping you, you're wrong!" The Gilken folded his arms and turned away.

"Those things can't hurt a refined body, even on the Surface." My body isn't refined. Not even a little. Not that you need to know that. Harker took a breath but didn't stop climbing into the ring. That wasn't news he was keen to hear. He kept an eye on the stickjak as he crunched across the hay. It stood in the center, half bent with its arms hanging loose by its knees, like a child's toy flung carelessly across the room.

"I've never fought one of these before," he admitted. The three Talented stood at the fence, a different shade of eagerness on all of their faces.

"How do I—?"

"Just get closer," Sven said with a grin.

"It'll wind up." Given no other option, Harker took several confident strides into the center. It was the part he had to play now; he couldn't allow the other Talents to see him sweat. On the last step, the stickjak glimmered with a wash of familiar blue-green. Water flowed into its limbs, tracing through the gaps between the bundled sticks of its arms and legs. It straightened with a snap, and it was all Harker could do not to jump.

Arms banded by leather and cloth straps lifted up, the "fists" just a bundle of leather and dangling ribbons. It turned toward Harker and tilted its empty head, moss dangling from the edge.

"Hello to you too," Harker muttered.

"So I just attack it?"

"Do your worst," Sven said, nudging Anita. She gave an eager smile. The stickjak advanced. Harker backed away in a circle, pulling his knives free. The others had used weapons. He couldn't see a reason why he shouldn't too. The stickjak rushed in. It stomped forward with powerful strides that scattered dirt and hay in its wake. Harker dove into a roll, evading its first jab before scrambling back from its sweeping kick. The stickjak followed. It's stronger and faster than me.

He barely evaded another swing, the ribbons from its leather mits slapping against his face. But that's nothing. I can handle this.

"Sovereign Sight." His Talent spread outward three feet before he stopped its expansion. It hovered there, feeding him dizzying information as the construct swung a jab toward his midsection. Harker moved backward, fighting to right his tilted vision. The world spun only slightly as the disorientation wore down, but every step was a gamble. The stickjak moved closer with every powerful stomp, and Harker got away by thinner and thinner margins. Details flared through him.

The rush of air from the stickjak's punches, the smell of hay, the gurgle of Water… Gurgle? The construct struck three times in quick succession. Harker took two hits straight to the chest, knocking him flat on the ground with a grunt.

"Oh no." Stillwater said, tone flat.

"Don't hurt him. Not my idiot human." Harker grunted, rolling out of the way of the stickjak's heavy stomp. Dirt cascaded over him, sliding off his cloak and sweater as he stood. Details danced all around him, vying for his attention, but there was only one thing worth focusing on. The gurgling. It's Water… He wanted to throw up, but held back. He ran, keeping just ahead of the stickjak's attacks—he could feel the air its leather mits pushed ahead of itself, like a soft warning against his weak flesh.

It was all a distraction, though. Water was bubbling. Not his, or any Talented—it came from the stickjack itself. From its chest! He twisted, retracing his steps back toward the construct. The thing didn't react like a person would—instead it swung both fists down like a hammer. Ribbons caught the air and bindings creaked, pulling his attention… Harker sliced with both knives. The leather along its elbows held for only a moment before they ripped free, sending dozens of sticks scattering in every direction.

"Hey! That's expensive!" Sven yelled. Harker didn't care. The stickjak reeled backward but Sovereign Sight was already piercing the stickjak's body. It peeled away its reinforced shell of cloth wrappings and treated wood, exposing its insides to every bit of Harker's awareness. It was a mesh of confusing parts, shapes and functions he'd never seen before. One, however, was obvious. An oblong vessel, connected to a series of tubes, and half-filled with refined Water.

The tubes extended outward and down, through its chest and belly toward its limbs, and it gurgled fiercely as the stickjak tried to recover from its broken arms. The join is chipped. With enough force, I could—"Faster!" Sven yelled, but this time, Harker was certain it was not to him. The stickjak sped up. It whipped its disjointed arms at him one after the other, lashing him across the back. But without elbow joints, it couldn't properly reach him, and they were no more than glancing blows.

Harker dropped low and spun around its body, angling toward the spot he'd seen. That he could still see. The construct's kicks and punches were fast, but its ability to turn was not. It creaked after him, only half facing his direction when Harker darted close, knife first. It kicked up, missing his chin by the barest of margins, and Harker stabbed straight for the chipped join between sticks. Glass shattered. Its leg froze half-way back to the earth, its heel only inches away from Harker's head.

Water poured from the creature's chest like lifeblood, and its head slumped onto its chest before it collapsed.

"Sacred Depths," Anita whispered. Harker cut off his Talent. Swallowing, he mustered the strength to straighten up, sheath his blades, and face the trio. Johan and Anita clapped, the latter hooting with impressive volume. Sven, however, was a thunderhead. His face was red and his brows tried their best to meet above his narrow nose.

"What did you do?" He hopped over the fence, rushing to the side of the stickjack.

"You broke it!" With a few deft movements, the young man opened a near-invisible panel in the stickjak's side. Pieces of its innards fell out, knocked free by the tubes that had sprayed its interior with glowing Water. The glass vessel at its heart was shattered.

"You broke its reservoir? How…? I-I don't know if my dad can fix this."

"Calm down, Sven. Your father is a Talented man. He can figure out..."

"No! No. Maintaining this stickjak is—it uses so many resources. Father will be furious!" Harker looked between the three of them. He'd half expected an outcome like this. His hands never left his knives.

"I thought you wanted me to fight it?" Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"Yes, fight it. Use your weak Talent, hayseed!" Sven clutched pieces of glass, still wet with evaporating liquid.

"Not destroy it!" Maybe it was lack of sleep, or maybe it was the needling by a malicious Eidhrin all night, but Harker couldn't help himself.

"You said to do my worst. This was the clearest path to victory." Sven stood up, putting his red face inches from Harker's nose.

"So you don't care about anyone else, huh? I think it's time you use that trash Talent on a real opponent." Harker took a single step back, hands never moving from his knives.

"No. I have no interest in fighting you."

"You don't got a choice!" Sven swung. The strike was reckless and wild, telegraphed from a mile away, and Harker leaned away from it.

"Sven, stop that!" Anita shouted from the side, but her angry friend ignored her. Sven closed the distance—or rather, he tried to close it. Every step he took was another movement Harker made away, slipping from range and across the training pen in wide circles.

"Stop dodging and fight!" Sven spat. He wasn't like Kaz or Mert—Harker noticed that right away. If the boy had refined himself, it was likely just his skin. His muscles seemed to give him no great speed or strength, and unlike the stickjak, he was only human. Harker could handle this.

"As you wish." He ducked under the man's guard, tripping him before driving a fist into his solar plexus.

"Unf!" Sven grinned as Harker massaged his fist. Skin refinement confirmed. He sliced the flat of his other hand directly at Sven's throat. The boy choked, clutching his neck as he stumbled back. Skin refinement is almost always thinnest at the throat, eyes, and ears. Harker grinned. There's always a weakness.

"Gak! Fire—" Sven gasped.

"Firebreath!"

"Sven, no!" It was far too late. A stream of flames poured from Sven's mouth, bathing the ground and forcing Harker back against the fence. The hay immediately caught, raging up in a wild inferno in every direction. Wrack and ruin! Harker retreated into the cloying smoke.

"Not so fast now, are you?" Sven rushed in, but this time, he carried his spear. He thrust forward, but Harker wasn't going to stay still. He leapt over a stretch of flame, barely avoiding a slash acros his calves. Does he think I have refined skin too? Or is he trying to kill me? It didn't matter. It was the same story as always: one solid hit and he was dead. There was no escape from this place. He was locked into this duel until it ended, one way or another.

Harker jumped over another patch of fire, but it was getting harder to find places to land. Smoke choked the air, flowing around them like a black shawl. It was awful on his throat, but it obscured him. Sven was slashing somewhere off to the side, not yet sure where Harker had gone. It was time to stop messing around. Law 4D—Show No Mercy.

"Sovereign Sight!" It rolled through him to three feet circumference, where Harker held it firm. Dizziness assaulted him but it was distinctly less than before. Progress. He could see the field all around him. Feel the moisture evaporating from the dirt as the fire baked it. He could smell the char of hay, and feel the air shudder as someone moved through it. Sven. Left side. Spear thrust. The tip of the spear moved into Harker's awareness well before the rest of him.

He got low and it pierced the air above him as Sven fully extended himself for the attack. Harker stood back up, seizing the haft. The wood. Beneath the grain and polish, he could feel the overlapping fibers coursing down its entire length… and in its midst, a crack.

"A spear seems unfair, friend." Harker thrust his right hand up, palm striking the exact point of fracture. The spear shattered in two. Sven goggled.

"What?" Harker seized the sharpened spear tip and got close as the boy threw several desperate strikes. Harker dodged the first, too, but the third caught him glancing across the shoulder. Savage pain assaulted him, numbing his left arm. Sven pulled back, breathing deep as he abandoned his broken weapon. Harker didn't need Sovereign Sight to tell he was manifesting his Talent, but with it he felt a rush of clarity. Harker could see through him.

Sven's half-full reservoir pumped at his center, and his tributaries spread like streams within him. Water roiled through, coiling into a complex pattern across his entire body. I can see his Current.

"FIREBREATH!" Harker closed the gap, ducking into his guard as fire raged overhead. Sven kept breathing, a raging flow of flame and heat that cut into Harker just by proximity—but he didn't so much as turn his head. Harker could see it, a flaw in his technique. He can't move when he's exhaling! A slew of anatomical knowledge fluttered through his mind as he considered and tossed away possibilities. Joints, tendons, pressure points were all useless against someone with refined skin and him with only his bare hands.

If he had a proper blunt weapon, he could do some real damage, but he couldn't use the spear, not on the off chance it killed the boy. Fists it is. Harker punched up into Sven's jaw, snapping his mouth closed. His fire Talent scorched Harker's knuckles but did far worse to Sven. The Water sprayed from within, too much trapped behind teeth and lips. The pressure burst, exploding outward and upward. Sven screamed, and Harker chopped him in the throat before crashing his fist sideways into his temple.

Dizzy and drooling blood, the boy stumbled back. Sven fell, and he didn't get up.

"Eruption!" Hot rain fell atop both of them, soaking Harker until he pulled his oil cloak tight around his shoulders. The water pelted Sven and the dirt alike, splashing him with mud as the fires snuffed out. Johan popped through the smoke, feet glowing as they struck glowing platforms mid-air. He landed with a splash, putting himself between the two of them, his slighter body looking even smaller as he stared in wide-eyed amazement.

"He's alive," Harker rasped, throat abused by smoke and heat. Sovereign Sight ran out of Water in the same instant. His vision swam, tipping in all directions, but he stood as firm as he could manage, and threw the spear tip into the mud. Johan leaned in, putting his fingers to Sven's throat.

"Yes, he's still breathing." Harker frowned.

"Like I said."

"You beat him," Anita said, charging through the mud her Talent had made. She stopped at Sven's side before staring at Harker.

"How?"

"I just hit him in the right spot." Her eyes widened.

"Accuracy." Harker gave her a smile and turned. It was time to get out. He made it over the fence and almost to the inn before a gust of air cut him off.

"Wait!" Johan got close, and Harker put his hands near the knives at his waist.

"Yes?"

"Are you going to travel with us?" That hadn't been the question Harker was expecting.

"Why?"

"You beat Sven, even when he went all out. A Talent like yours could help very much on the way to Vodaten." Vodaten? That must have been where the Travelspire was located. Good to know.

"I'll consider it." Harker offered the kid a smile. For some reason, Johan flinched.

"Let's talk about it when I return."

"All right." Johan clasped his hand and gave it a firm squeeze.

"Be seeing you soon, then." Anita was waiting for him at the side of the pen when Johan made his way back. She stared off past his shoulder.

"Is he coming back?"

"I don't think so."

"Ugh. Sven, what did you do that for?" Johan looked at their hot-headed companion. He was still out cold amidst the mud and charred hay, his mouth a bit scorched but otherwise fine. He hadn't managed to see all of what Harker had done, but what he had witnessed was curious. He was so fast, like Sven couldn't touch him, not 'til the end. But his shoulder got hurt in this fight. That means he hasn't refined his skin yet. That's… strange. Outside in.

That was the rule hammered into all of them by their teachers, parents, and anyone who could get a word in edgewise about how to develop their Talents. Johan sighed.

"Depths, but I wish I could have seen the action." By the time he had taken to the air above the fight, it was already over. Sven had refined his skin. He should have been impervious to the strikes from someone without a refined body. That meant Harker had refined his muscles and bones already. Skipping the skin… Is he mad? Or a genius?

"Do you think we can change his mind?" Anita asked, chewing her lip.

"Doubtful."

"Just like the other one," Anita sighed.

"Why'd you say she was going with us too?"

"Because I believe we can convince her to. We're stronger together." Johan stared at the back of the inn as if he could see through it. Beyond, Harker was strolling with the casual confidence of the mighty.

"With them, we could handle anything coming our way."