The Magi were nothing but legends . . . until she became one.
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Pria is a fighter-in-training for the resistance against the empire. After years of being held back by injuries and illness, Pria finally has her chance to shine as the skilled Mo...
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"Pria! I believe there is an abandoned faerprin in the Jartüles!" said Jayla, scampering to my side in procession on the training field. The next morning saw the return of rainfall. It was not uncommon to experience a single day of sunshine between a storm's recurring hysterics, but I believed it to be a callous omen nevertheless.
"What of it?" I asked loudly, trying to sound above the downpour.
"Well, it will surely starve if its mother does not return." Rain streamed over her pouting lips. "And now, the cloudbursts have returned. Whatever shall we do?"
"We shall do nothing. You, on the other hand, are welcome to do whatever you may please."
"And so I shall," she announced with vigor. Her shoulder brushed mine. "You know, he is truly versatile. Is he not?"
She was, of course, referring to our mavren. He trekked through the mud, carving grace into the earth with every footfall. Using Baruke Adeirta as his sparring example, Frayne Shiel executed demonstrations fit for both sword and spear-wielders alike.
No other tyr had cross-trained in weaponry quite as diligently as Baruke. Due to his colossal physique, the islander refused to carry two ūthran. Truthfully, he was wise not to. The challenge was not within his own abilities, but within the advantage of a smaller opponent. Pit him against someone light and nimble like Jayla Nayal, and Baruke's movements would have been far too sluggish by comparison. No amount of training could have altered that. Not without an amended diet, and more importantly, a trade of heritage. Prioskans were notorious for their stocky structures, both in architecture and physical body. Thus, Baruke often trained with a broadsword and shield, just as our mavren did. In addition, Baruke also trained with spear, axe, and mace as well. These frequent changes were the only reason Baruke had not yet risen to Ren's level of skill.
"What do you fear, Prioskan?" the mavren questioned, heavy rain sloshing down his face.
Baruke snarled, "I fear nothing."
"Wrong." The mavren rushed the spear-wielder, using both his shield and evasive skill to direct the pole over his shoulder as he cut to the islander's center. The sharpened head of the spear was so far behind the mavren, and too far beyond the islander's reach of control. Rather than slash, Mavren Frayne chose to invert his grip on the handle of his sword and drive a fist into the islander's ribs.
