12: Man Of Many Talents (Patreon)

“Vir? Vir, wake up!” Maiya said, shaking her friend.

He awoke with a jolt, drenched in sweat.

“You were sleep talking…” Maiya murmured. “Sounded like a nightmare.”

Morning light  filtered in through the skylight. The burns on his back still throbbed,  but they hurt slightly less than the day before. Riyan’s salves and  healing orbs were working, albeit slowly.

“It’s alright now. You’re safe,” Maiya said, squeezing his arm. “Riyan wants us to get ready. Said we’re going out today.”

Vir blinked  away the cobwebs and got out of bed, almost tripping over Neel, who  bounded excitedly around the room. He stared at the overactive bandy  with envy. If only he had that kind of energy.

Some time  later, Vir, Maiya, and Neel assembled in the kitchen. Riyan had cooked  up some oat porridge, which, while somewhat bland, at least filled him  up. Maiya was less impressed. Vir figured Maiya would take charge of the  cooking from now on, judging by how much she grumbled while eating.

Riyan took his meal in the living room and returned after he was done.

“Allow me to  reintroduce myself as your instructor. I am Riyan, and I have known  combat for most of my life. I have lived through more battles than most  men would in several lifetimes. I am well versed in battlefield  strategy, tactics, and the arts of war.”

“So what’s your Balar Rank?” Maiya asked, thinking herself smart. “All warriors worth their salt have a Balar Rank, don’t they?”

“One Hundred and Fifty.”

Vir and Maiya’s jaws hit the floor.

“You can’t be serious…” Maiya whispered.

“It is no lie,  but words are cheap. The best way to convince you is to show you, and  that is the purpose of today’s lesson. Vir is still in no shape to  train, so instead, I shall demonstrate the heights one can achieve as a  warrior.”

“I didn’t even know the ranking went that high…” Maiya said.

Riyan gave her  a puzzled look. “What do you mean? There is no upper limit… It—girl, do  you even understand what the Balar Scale is?”

“I—I know it’s a way of gauging strength,” she squeaked. “I thought it went from one to one hundred?”

Riyan groaned.  “Gods above. I hadn’t expected villagers to be familiar with the  intricacies, but to think you don’t even know this much? Please tell me  you know of the Kin’jal Empire, at least?”

Maiya nodded vigorously. “They’re the most powerful nation in the Known World, right?”

“Hmm. What about you, boy? What do you know of the Kin’jal?”

Vir looked  away. This was all new to him. Like Maiya, he didn’t really understand  what the Balar Scale meant. “Just what my father told me,” he said.  “That they’re a nation of warmongers.”

“He wasn’t  wrong, but neither of you are entirely correct. The Kin’jal Empire is a  vast, prosperous nation. They possess the largest military in the Known  World, yes, but it is the Altani who are unequivocally the most  powerful.”

“The Altani?” Vir asked.

A country of  mejai to the north,” Riyan said with a sigh, “they possess the strongest  magic in the Known World, and while their military may not compare in  size to Kin’jals, they are far superior. Thankfully, they have no  interest in expanding their borders, but the Ash’s blight encroaches  upon their lands with each day. They may soon have no choice.”

The man  cleared his throat. “The Kin’jals invented the Balar Scale Ranking  system to gauge combat power. It considers martial skills, magic power,  knowledge of battlefield tactics, strategy, and cunning. It attempts to  capture a warrior’s capabilities as holistically as possible.”

Vir and Maiya listened with rapt interest. It wasn’t every day they learned from someone so knowledgeable.

“There is no  upper limit to the scale,” Riyan continued. “A Balar Rank of One means  that a warrior is as capable as one soldier in the Kin’jal Balarian  Infantry Corps.”

“So being  Balar One Hundred fifty means you’re as strong as a hundred fifty  soldiers?” Vir found that a little hard to believe. That was a tenth of  Brij’s population! How could one person possibly be that powerful?

“Not just any soldiers, Balarian Warriors,” Riyan corrected. “Kin’jal’s Balarian infantry are highly trained. They are easily among the best in the world.”

If that was  true, it made Maiya’s father even more formidable than he’d thought.  Apramor had never once shown off his combat power, claiming that magic  should be used for good and healing, and never for destruction.  Incidentally, he had a single lesser affinity… for fire magic. Maiya’s  obsession with magic came in part from there, with how much she idolized  her dad.

Riyan swept his eagle’s gaze across them both. “How much do you know of our kingdom?”

Maiya spoke  up. “I know Hiranya used to be one of the great powers of the Known  World, but times have been harsh, and our distance from the Ash Boundary  means Hiranyan land isn’t fertile. So the country’s suffered.”

Riyan nodded. “At least you know this much. But what about you, boy?”

Vir looked away. “I don’t know too much.”

“Then you will  learn. King Rayid rules our kingdom—a mediocre monarch at best. But  these times do not allow for mediocrity. He has shown weakness against  the Kin’jals time and time again, and Imperator Andros Kin’jal IV has  expertly exploited it. Corruption and partisanship fracture King Rayid’s  court, leaving him powerless to prevent the slow decay of his kingdom.  Truly a sad state for the mighty Hiranyan legacy.”

Vir wondered  how Riyan came across this information. He doubted even citizens of Daha  had access to this level of detail. There was a depth here that  couldn’t have come from merely being knowledgeable.

“You’re well informed,” Maiya said, echoing his thoughts.

“I had to be,” Riyan said, but neglected to elaborate. “First Prince Sanobar is a capable heir to the throne. He needs to succeed Rayid if this kingdom is to have any future. Unfortunately, that day may never come to pass. His youngest sister, Mina,” Riyan practically spat her name, his disgust obvious, “may very well have him removed. The girl is a blight.”

Riyan took a  deep breath. “Your training will comprise both combat and education  about matters of state. As they say, knowledge is power. To be ignorant  is to be played a fool. Come, let us depart.”

A half hour’s  ride on Riyan’s uncomfortable Ash’va—the beast seemed intent on  inflicting pain upon their bums at every step—put them on rolling,  grassy hills that gave way to sandy shores. They’d left Neel behind at  the home; Riyan’s Ash’va could barely handle the three as it was.

“Is this… the  Viridian Coast?” Maiya asked. Vir perked up; the coast had been their  original destination before their fateful encounter with the knight.

“No. The  Viridian Coast lies west of Brij. This is the Hansa Sea, north of there.  Follow the coastline north, and you’ll end up at Saran Bay, and the  port city of Saran.

“This will do,” Riyan said, surveying the surroundings.

The three  hopped off on top of a grassy hill a few hundred paces away from the  Hansa Sea. The breeze that blew in made the weather feel pleasantly  cool. Both Maiya and Vir stood transfixed at the endless expanse of  water.

“What? First time seeing the sea?”

“Yes!” Vir and Maiya replied in unison.

“I don’t understand… how?” Maiya said in awe. “How can it be so big?”

Riyan muttered under his breath. He did that a lot.

Vir ignored  him. He was just as stunned as Maiya, but he saw more than Maiya did. He  found an abundance of ‘blue’ and ‘white’ coloration coming from the  endless expanse of water. The colors still made no sense to him, but he  made a note of those colors.

There was another color too: ‘Green’, carried by the wind. The colors weren’t really blue,  white, or green, just that they were the closest match to the colors he  was familiar with. It was easier to see at night, and some places had  more of it than others, but he didn’t yet have enough information to  piece the puzzle together.

“We are not here to ogle at the sea,” Riyan barked. “Stand back. Observe. And learn.”

The Ghost of Godshollow strode thirty paces away from the two and took up a combat stance.

“What’s he going to do?” Maiya asked.

Vir shook his head. “No clue.”

The sea was an  enormous distraction. Through sheer force of will, he focused on Riyan  and not the impossibly large body of water.

The colors  coming from Riyan helped with that. Riyan was filled with a significant  amount of… ‘brownish’ and ‘white’, to a far lesser extent. His ‘brown’  exceeded Maiya’s, from what Vir could tell—his new sense had dimmed.  It’d been that way ever since the Godshollow.

Maiya was  mostly ‘Transparent’, with a bit of ‘Green’ and a smattering of a bunch  of other colors. As for Vir himself, he saw nothingness within him. Not  empty, just that his color was as black as midnight. It felt like he was  staring into a deep abyss. He hadn’t seen that color anywhere else.

Riyan jumped… and Maiya and Vir gasped.

His jump could have reached the rooftops of most buildings in Brij, Vir thought with awe. But that wasn’t all. When Riyan had jumped, Vir could’ve sworn he saw something move  inside the man’s body. The ‘brown’ color that filled him seemed to  flare for a brief instant. But his sight was too dim and muddled to make  out anything more.

The Ghost of  Godshollow didn’t stop there. He touched the ground with a cat’s grace  before disappearing in front of their very eyes. A moment later, Vir  found him, fifteen paces away.

Riyan roared and swung his talwar. Its force was such that it blew away the sand near Riyan, kicking up a mini sandstorm.

Vir blinked, and Riyan had reappeared next to them, his sword already back in its sheath.

Maiya fell onto her bum. Vir somehow maintained his balance.

These were not the acts of a human. They were…

“The Ghost of Godshollow…” Maiya breathed.

“What are you?” Vir asked in awe.

Riyan dusted off his clothing. “Merely human. But I wield the power of Talents.”

“Talents?” Vir asked. “Is that a sort of magic?”

“Not magic.  Martial prowess. Not every warrior can learn them, and even the ones who  can often spend years mastering these abilities. But those who learn  its secrets can stand toe to toe with even a Mejai of Realms. Talents  can be used anywhere, so long as the warrior’s boots touch earth.

“A-are there many warriors who can do what you just did?” Vir asked, hoping the man would say ‘no’. He didn’t know if his mind could take it if there were monsters like him running around the world.

“There are,” he said, dashing Vir’s hopes. “Talents are not common, but neither are they rare. What I have shown you are merely the weakest, most widely found Talents. With a sweep of my Talent-empowered blade, I can kill ten soldiers. But others can project their blades, bisecting entire trees in one slice. I can jump and fall from heights that would end most men. I can cover a dozen paces in a single instant. And yet, compared to some out there, I am nothing. There are genuine forces of nature in this world, boy. Beings that transcend reason. And if you believe the tales, demons rule the top of that pyramid.”

“Demons!?” Vir asked, remembering the four armed giant.

“They exist,  though they are rare. You certainly won’t see any walking around. They  are usually used as laborers in mines on account of their strength. And  yet, the strongest recorded warrior in this realm is a human—Andros  Kin’jal IV, the Imperator of Kin’jal, with a Balar Rank of 650.”

Maiya gulped. “Then who wields the strongest magic?”

Riyan thought  for a moment. “Most probably the Prime Mejai of the Order of Mejai  Sorcar—the headmaster of the Altani Magical Academy. He has never shown  the true extent of his power, but some suspect his Balar Rank is well  over a thousand. Altani cities are full of such monsters.”

Vir thought it  best not to dwell on his own insignificance. “You said that not all  warriors could learn Talents, right? Why’s that?”

“No one knows  for certain. Perhaps it is a lack of dedication. Perhaps some just lack  the blessing of the gods, if you believe those tales.”

Perfect, Vir thought bitterly. From everything he’d seen, he was likely the least ‘blessed’ person in the entire world.

Two hooded  figures observed the man and the two teens with spyglasses from a dune  some distance away. They lay prone upon the sand, their tan robes  camouflaging them.

“Never thought tailing that monster would be so simple…” one of them said.

“Keep your  guard up. The moment you underestimate that man is the moment you die.  I’ve seen him butcher entire squads without even blinking.”

“Hmm. I  believe it. The man’s reputation precedes him.I can scarcely believe the  Butcher would take in two teens, though. Did he get bored, or what? And  a prana scorned Ashborn, of all things.”

“Indeed.  Curious, though not our place to question. I believe we’ve accomplished  all we can here. Lingering would only put us in jeopardy. Her Highness  will surely find this development entertaining.”

Next time: 13 - Prana Scorned