Yerin stepped between two of the mannequins, tucking her sword-arm closer to her shoulder so it didn't catch on a wooden head. “I just have to hit them when they light up?”
“In the correct timing. If you miss one, the target will go dark again, and you'll have to start over.”
She nodded, approaching a dummy. “How do I start?”
When she stepped closer, a green circle of runes lit on the wooden plank it used as an arm. Before Lindon had fully registered the light, Yerin had already struck it dead-center. The arm swiveled back from the force...
...and the other arm came to life, swinging at the back of her head.
She caught the blow with her left hand, striking at the dummy's torso with her right in the instant the blue circle appeared. The wooden man bowed in the middle to deliver a headbutt, but she sidestepped as though she could see it coming, her sword-arm whipping forward to strike the white circle.
Before the chime sounded, signaling that she'd beaten the first dummy, she was already stepping up to the second.
If Lindon hadn't attained the Iron body, he wouldn't be able to catch her movements. The three strikes would have looked like one motion. He'd seen his clansmen punch through walls and dodge arrows, but he'd never seen anyone move so quickly, so easily.
Not up close, anyway. He'd watched Yerin fight before, but when she was in an actual battle, her movement seemed...rougher. More natural, somehow. This was smooth and practiced, like she was executing a routine for the hundredth time.
“This is her first try?” Lindon asked, as Yerin stopped a separate strike with each hand while delivering a kick that lit up a green circle. She'd taken down three dummies already.
“This much is expected,” Eithan said, examining his fingernails. “Jai Long could clear this course with his eyes closed.”
Lindon slipped his hand into the pocket where Suriel's marble rested—a transparent orb about the size of his thumbnail with a single blue candleflame burning within. Its warmth comforted him, reassured him.
Eithan flashed him a smile. “Don’t worry,” he said. “The heavens are on your side.”
Lindon started. Did Eithan know about Suriel? Lindon wasn’t particularly afraid of the story getting out, since no one would believe it anyway, but how had Eithan found out? Had Yerin told him?
Could the Underlord read minds?
“…because the heavens sent you to me,” Eithan went on. “That’s nothing if not a miracle.”
Slowly, Lindon let out a breath.
The eighteenth chime sounded, and all the dummies glowed softly. Yerin slid backwards and came to a stop in the center, her breathing a little ragged.
“Fifteen seconds,” Eithan announced. “Not bad for your first time. The dummies are set to delay you more than injure you, but after a week or two, you'll go through this like wind through a forest.”
“What's the fastest I can get?” Yerin asked.
“Twelve seconds is the minimum the script can handle. When you reach that, I'll have a better one built.”
Yerin crossed her arms. “How fast is yours?”
“An excellent question. As I said, I grew up on a course very similar to this one, but recently I had the Arelius Soulsmiths build me a course set for two seconds.”
She waved a hand at the surrounding dummies. “You could clear this in two seconds, if the script let you?”
Lindon's eyes widened as he tried to picture that, but Yerin looked skeptical.
Eithan laughed. “Couldn't your master do as much?”
“You are not my master,” she said with confidence.
He'd already moved over to the controls, and the colored circles on the dummies died down as the circle reset. “I am not, and I'm sorry I never got the chance to meet him. There aren't many who know him in the Blackflame Empire, but he has quite the reputation in the outside world.”
The outside world. Lindon hadn’t even seen the Empire yet, and he was already impatient to reach beyond it. The world Suriel had shown him was impossibly vast, and Eithan had seen more of it than anyone else Lindon had met. That alone was enough to make him thankful he’d joined the Arelius family.
The Underlord gestured to the circle. “Lindon. Pretend that I have given you this task to prove yourself as a new member of my family. Act as though these are not training dummies, but enemies, and I have tasked you with our defense.”
Lindon looked past Eithan's smile. There was something hidden in those words, though he wasn't sure what. Nonetheless, he shifted the way he thought about the training circle.
If this were a real life-or-death scenario, he’d need more information.
He walked around the edge, glancing at the dummies. As he'd expected, the target circles weren't invisible; they were simply sketched lightly in the surface of the wood and difficult to make out at a distance. The dummy was ringed with other such scripts, carrying instructions and power from the circle on the floor. He'd have liked to look at the constructs within—even if he couldn’t understand how such advanced devices worked, he at least might learn something.
Finally, his steps carried him next to Eithan. “Let me clarify, if you don’t mind. As long as I light up the circles on a dummy, I have defeated the enemy?”
“Just so.”
Lindon nodded. Then he reached a hand out over the controls and sent madra flowing into a command circle.
There were nine circles engraved on the wooden podium, and it took him a moment to find the one he wanted. The first made some dummies spin around, the second darkened the circle, the third had no reaction he could see, but the fourth worked. Eighteen chimes sounded at once, and all the targets on all the dummies lit up.
“Victory,” Lindon said, “for the Arelius family.”
He bowed so that Eithan wouldn't hear any disrespect in his words, but Eithan only nodded. “Five seconds. He seems to have beaten you by ten, Yerin.”
Yerin's ears reddened noticeably, but her tone was dry. “Well, cheers and celebration for him. Let's have him try it the right way, see if he lasts more than a breath.”
Lindon kept the proud smile off his face—this was no time for gloating. “No, that’s not necessary, I know I could never keep up with you. And it seems like all the enemies are dead.”
A smile did touch his face then, as he glanced at Eithan for signs of approval. Eithan’s gaze had gone distant, and he stared into the wall of the barn for a moment before waking with a start.
“Ah, I’m sorry. It seems company is on its way, so we’ll have to work faster than I’d planned. Why don’t you do as Yerin suggests, Lindon?”
Lindon's smile withered as though it had never been.
Moving hesitantly, his mind working for an escape, Lindon slid his pack to the ground and stepped into the ring. He calmed himself with reason—there was nothing to be nervous about. Of course he wouldn't be able to match Yerin's time, but no one expected him to. She was Lowgold, and he was only Iron. They wanted to see him perform a training exercise, that was all.
A few moments ago he had been excited to give it a try; with a little effort, he called some of that feeling back.
The wide circle of runes on the ground glowed white, giving the dummies a somewhat ghostly cast. He stood in the center of the circle, taking a deep breath. He cycled his madra faster in preparation for battle, running his madra to his limbs, readying the Empty Palm technique.
“Begin,” Eithan called, and Lindon stepped forward.
A green circle lit up on the inside of its wooden arm, and he struck it immediately with a low-powered version of the Empty Palm. The full use of the technique would exhaust him quickly, but this was enough to inject madra into a script. The target brightened as he hit it.