The next morning began with control exercises for Bors and combat exercises for me. The control exercises were at his request. He might not have had much in the way of techniques, but he could still shape the earth around him with the raw power of his glamour.

  So began a battle where the ground was my foe. Bors struggled at first, in part to avoid destroying me. Even his smallest attacks were the size of barrels. His other struggle was that, even when we were playing what was essentially cultivator tag, he refused to move. This was a problem, as my goal today was to practise my Levity techniques.

  Training over the last few days had shown me there was much to be said for cavorting, rolling, and otherwise bouncing around a battlefield. Not only was it unlike how most Knights fought—being more akin to Witch combat styles—but it also lent itself well to my Levity techniques. Levity was the broad name for the glamour technique accessible to all cultivators, responsible for their extreme speeds.

  Levity techniques were a trick mostly honed at high Bronze. They had a common base, where glamour ‘lifted’ the body and helped it move. This was how higher-level cultivators managed to fly. The actual execution and mental images that made Levity work, however, were developed by each cultivator.

  My Levity consisted of two images. The first focused on visualising wisps of smoke dancing around, dodging swipes, rising and falling like ash. I imagined myself as a coating of ash, waiting to be sent whirling, a being made only of grey, infinitesimally small feathers, ready to move at a moment’s notice.

  The other half was something I recalled being genuinely impressed by during my captivity. My captors had taken as many of us as they could to see a volcanic eruption in the balmy south, at the edge of the Thousand City Sea. I had been an afterthought, of course, this being a last-ditch attempt to push me to break through. Yet it remained a rare fond memory.

  It was there I watched a curtain of ash demolish an empty town, burying and burning it in seconds.

  It was during that event that my Levity technique came to me. Ash was Levity personified—until it wasn’t. There, it had become a dense wall, each piece of ash trapped by the other, like a sandstorm compressed and baked in a volcano.

  I’d had a mini-breakthrough there and then, which had been terrifying. I had come dangerously close to breaking through to Bronze.

  Since then, I had been refining the image in my mind, though I could only use it for a few seconds at most, each attempt consuming weeks of cultivation. Now? I could sustain it for minutes, and refilling my glamour took only hours.

  I was still shocked to be cultivating at all. My bellows-breath method was shockingly efficient, though it had been the work of the unseelie to master. I had learned of it because it allowed one to draw in huge amounts of glamour in a sharp burst. Even if only a fraction got through, it was still something—perfect for my ruined pathways.

  The technique involved a huge inhalation, followed by ‘squeezing’ the glamour across the hearth in a controlled stream. For me, this had always been a sharp press. I received so little glamour with each breath that I simply slammed the bellows closed before beginning the next breath.

  Just learning the bellows breath was considered difficult. Modifying it as I had done was madness. Yet it was that or remain without glamour. Now that work was paying off, delivering dividends I had never anticipated. I was gathering glamour at a rate far beyond the norm. I cursed that we didn’t have any runic tools. Though I didn’t know much rune work, I knew the basics of glamour-focusing spells.

  What it meant for our practice was simple. The fights were as laughably one-sided as our earlier weapon duels had been. Even if I restrained myself from soaring over the battlefield, I could reach Bors in seconds.

  We paused after the third match. As I opened my mouth, Bors held up a hand. The giant looked frustrated, the marble patterns creeping up under the dark tan, climbed his neck like a blush.

  “Look, you heard it last night. I’m immovable until I’m unstoppable. I don’t really do running away.”

  “But you’re always moving back and forth in battle. You’re always on about my positioning needing work.”

  “That’s different. It’s not retreating. Look, when you get an Intent, you’ll understand. It rewards you for some actions and restricts others. It’s like the fae—they can’t act against their nature.”

  “Alright, and this restriction is because of how it feels to you, right?” He nodded.

  I pondered how to help my friend. Words weren’t enough. Bors was a very visual thinker. “Grab a staff.”

  Bors grinned. That was why I liked him—he didn’t argue or ask why. He just went along with it. With a flick and a burst of glamour, the warhammer with its massive head disappeared into his storage ring. A moment later, he held a staff.

  I couldn’t help but feel intimidated as he performed some test manoeuvres. Armed with a polearm, the Knight’s reach was truly extraordinary. Compared to the hammer, though, it was clumsy in his hands—a fact that worked well for my plan. I undid the silk binding from my hair.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Right, I’m tying this silk around one end. I’m going to attack you. I’ll try to touch you. You must hit me with the silk to score a point. Hitting me with the staff or your body earns you nothing. Equally, I only score if I touch you—not the staff. I’m only using Levity, and you’re only using that staff. Oh, and don’t just beat me into the ground and tap me with the silk. That won’t count.” He frowned, thinking. I didn’t want that.

  “Isn’t this…” His half-formed question was cut off as I pushed glamour through me. Pushing off the ground, I came in low, rushing at his legs. He thrust the staff in my way, still gripping the middle for maximum control. I rapped his knuckles.

  “Point Taliesin.” I was already out of reach as the silk end scythed after me. He might have caught me if he had used a different grip.

  “You didn’t say go,” he yelled, but didn’t stop. Recognising how much faster I was, he shifted his grip to one like holding a spear, maximising his ability to deny me.

  I went on the offensive again, ducking and weaving as I approached. My technique made my body of ash float with me. I thanked my body refinement—I was moving so rapidly that my old reflexes and senses would have been overwhelmed. This gave me the confidence to attempt my next move.

  Bors might have been able to move that spear point quickly, the tiniest shift of his hands causing it to swing into my path. But he was too accustomed to his hammer, to his overwhelming power.

  The staff tracked me, and Bors struck. The silk tip aimed straight for my chest. I batted it away. My leverage and speed outmatched even his immense strength.

  I rushed down the spear, vaulting over him and using his head as a stepping stone. “Another point to Taliesin.”

  “Damnation!” Bors spun and charged. His grip shifted again, balancing for more control. I had to focus on avoiding the frenzy of attacks. I dodged or deflected them all. I even found a third way to avoid them, which annoyed him to no end.

  “Stay still, will you!” he roared as he caught me with the side of the staff. I floated with the blow. My Levity made me as insubstantial as smoke. It didn’t earn him a point but nudged my course enough for me to clip his shoulder.

  “One more point and I win!” I called, watching Bors’ footwork closely. We were near a breakthrough.

  “Faeries take you, Bard.” He took a stance, preparing for an attack. I made my move, darting close. His staff moved to block me, and—there—almost imperceptibly, his foot shifted back to give the staff the space it needed.

  I harried him, the fox before the bear. I stayed underfoot, always out of reach of the clumsy paws. Finally, our little play reached its climax. Bors blocked me, but he couldn’t score the point. As I stepped back to avoid a sweep of the staff’s butt, he took a full step back, aligning the silk perfectly. The blow launched me across the arena.

  “POINT BORS! Oh, shit.” His triumphant bellow was cut off as I struggled to escape a nest of broken branches. I had carved myself into an innocent tree.

  “All is forgiven if you tell me what you just did to get that strike on me.”

  “You mean the step? That’s just positioning.”

  “I take it back. I don’t forgive you. I have branches in places that would make you blush, and all you can say is ‘just positioning’? You moved backwards to attack.” I worked free, dropping to the ground. Levity slowed my fall.

  “I—wait. Hmm.” Bors stroked his chin. He rubbed his shiny marble-like skin. I had never seen so much as a dot of stubble upon it—was that a side effect of his shift? Possibly, who had ever heard of stubbly marble?

  “Look, think of your glamour-control attacks as the spear. You wouldn’t want me within your reach, right?”

  He nodded, holding up a hand for a pause, clearly thinking it through. “Let’s go again. Not the spear—techniques.”

  Bors leaned into the learning. I could sense the earth glamour working, redefining how the ground moved around his feet. I ran closer, dodging boulders and thin stone walls that sought to trip me. Still, I closed the distance. As I approached within a few sword-lengths, one foot pushed out, and his whole body skated left.

  Earth Stride. An iconic earth cultivator technique—and one I had never seen him use before. It totally redefined our battle. Bors moved serenely around the arena, forcing me to dash after him. Somehow, using the technique refined his attacks. No longer were there massive boulders; now there were blunt spires of stone. The walls were thinner but rose faster.

  We both wore grins. The battle was finally even. I kept getting close, but he always skated away, using his retreat to fuel his attacks.

  The round ended when I took a rock spire to the codpiece. Bors came over laughing, helping me off the ground where I lay wheezing. I had to thank my glamour-reinforced clothes for saving me from the life of a eunuch.

  “I’m sorry, my friend. That was a harsh blow, especially for one who has inspired me so. To think I’ve only ever used that technique to get up close and personal! What a waste!” Bors was grinning like a fool. I would have joined him once I felt certain I could keep breakfast down.

  Being called a friend made it all worth it. Maybe.

  “It’s incredible. I’d always felt my unstoppable nature came during an attack, but the idea of just being on the move, like a landslide gaining momentum! I have so many ideas. If I master this, I might even keep up with Gring.” Gring was the name of his steed. Even mortally bruised as I was, I couldn’t help but notice that Bors implied he was running after his mount.

  “Is it normal for you to run alongside your steed?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it.” Marbling spread up his neck and even to his cheeks. A flush of embarrassment! I decided to probe further.

  “I still find it odd I’ve never seen your steed.”

  “Look, he’s my bonded spirit. Kind of an accident, really. We don’t work well together—not least because… well, you’ll see, I’m sure.” He waved it off. “Look, let’s do another round.”

  “My plums are bruised. I don’t want them mashed, thank you.” I waved him off, cycling energy through my hearth to aid the healing. I really needed to get my hands on some alchemy gear. A brew would be a great help right now.

  As I rested and cultivated, I reflected. My Levity was coming along nicely. Still, I had more to think about. My death gift, in particular, needed better understanding. Why was it thrumming in my hearth?

  I felt my smoke gift twitching. I caught a whiff of glamour on the wind. If I were honest, it had been there for some time, but we had been too busy. My head jerked to look down the road. The sense built, and with it, so did my confidence in what I was detecting. Smoke and death carried on the wind.

  “Bors, there’s smoke—oily smoke—something down the road.” I expected questions, but Bors’ face turned serious at once. He grabbed the rest of his gear. Gone was the laughing earth cultivator. Now, there stood a Knight arming himself.

  “You stay here. I’ll check it out.”