them respect you for being plucky.
Plucky? I’m a
moron
.
Cruxer looked up and made the triangle: thumb to right eye, middle finger to left eye, forefinger to forehead. Then he touched the three to his mouth, heart, and hands. The three and the four, perfect seven. A religious young man. Hopefully he’d remember the virtue of mercy.
Cruxer turned and saluted Kip, fists touching over his heart and bowing slightly. Kip returned the salute.
“Begin,” Ironfist said.
The tall youth moved—fast. He was on top of Kip before Kip could react. He shot into Kip and locked a leg behind Kip’s, blocking Kip’s punch and throwing his hips into Kip’s. Kip went down hard, grabbing to try to pull Cruxer with him.
The slender boy let himself fall. His long limbs wrapped aroundKip. Kip threw an elbow, but Cruxer was so close, he barely got any force into it.
Then, somehow, the young man had control of Kip’s arm and rolled him over. Cruxer’s legs scissored around Kip’s head. Tightened and—darkness.
Kip had no idea how long he was out. He blinked rapidly. Not long, he thought. Everyone was still standing around.
“That’s one loss,” Ironfist said. “You’ve got ten seconds until your next bout.”
Kip struggled to his feet. A number of classmates were slapping Cruxer on the back, congratulating him on his effortless victory. Kip couldn’t summon any ill feeling for the boy. He’d destroyed Kip without malice and without causing any unnecessary pain.
The second boy was stocky, blue-eyed like Kip, maybe only half Parian, because his skin wasn’t much darker than Kip’s. He bowed to Kip. Kip returned the bow, wondering what fresh pain was coming his way.
Kip and Number Two circled each other warily, but the boy kept looking up and away from Kip. At first, Kip didn’t know why. Then he saw the boy’s eyes. There were little wisps of blue appearing and disappearing in the whites of his eyes. Down, into his body. Gathering in his fists. If the boy hadn’t been lighter-skinned, Kip wouldn’t have been able to see it. It was one of the disadvantages the lighter-skinned had. It was why, nominally, the Blackguard were black.
But because they weren’t wearing spectacles, the boy could only draft tiny sips of blue light at a time. He had to take his eyes off of Kip, look at one of the blue crystals overhead, take what he could, and look back to Kip. Without blue spectacles, it made for a slow process.
And Kip circling slowly was giving the boy all the time he needed.
“Ah hell,” Kip said. He charged.
Kip threw a punch. It was blocked. The second punch hit the boy’s shoulder—but Kip had thrown the punch with his left hand. He felt cuts rip open. It was like he’d dipped his palm in fire.
A fist caught him in the stomach, and another grazed his arm as he hunched forward. Kip staggered back, his motion taking most of the force out of a punch that caught his nose.
It still made his eyes water, though. He blinked and lurched, surprised the boy had let him go rather than press his advantage.
Then Kip realized the reason why the boy would do such a thing.
A blue staff was forming in the boy’s hands, slowly stretching out like molten glass.
Kip darted in and grabbed at the unfinished staff. He caught it, and as his fingertips sank into the crystallizing structure, he felt suddenly as connected to it as if he’d drafted it himself.
He could feel the other boy through the open luxin, his will, so focused a moment before, now scattered and confused by Kip’s invasion. Kip tore the staff away from the boy and sealed it.
The blue luxin staff was bent from where the boys had grappled for it, but it was still as tall as either of them and as big around as Kip could comfortably hold in his hand. Ignoring the pain as he grabbed it with his bandaged left hand, Kip swung the bottom of the staff for the boy’s knees.
It connected with a crack, and the still-stunned boy dropped. He hadn’t even tried to move.
Plucky? I’m a
moron
.
Cruxer looked up and made the triangle: thumb to right eye, middle finger to left eye, forefinger to forehead. Then he touched the three to his mouth, heart, and hands. The three and the four, perfect seven. A religious young man. Hopefully he’d remember the virtue of mercy.
Cruxer turned and saluted Kip, fists touching over his heart and bowing slightly. Kip returned the salute.
“Begin,” Ironfist said.
The tall youth moved—fast. He was on top of Kip before Kip could react. He shot into Kip and locked a leg behind Kip’s, blocking Kip’s punch and throwing his hips into Kip’s. Kip went down hard, grabbing to try to pull Cruxer with him.
The slender boy let himself fall. His long limbs wrapped aroundKip. Kip threw an elbow, but Cruxer was so close, he barely got any force into it.
Then, somehow, the young man had control of Kip’s arm and rolled him over. Cruxer’s legs scissored around Kip’s head. Tightened and—darkness.
Kip had no idea how long he was out. He blinked rapidly. Not long, he thought. Everyone was still standing around.
“That’s one loss,” Ironfist said. “You’ve got ten seconds until your next bout.”
Kip struggled to his feet. A number of classmates were slapping Cruxer on the back, congratulating him on his effortless victory. Kip couldn’t summon any ill feeling for the boy. He’d destroyed Kip without malice and without causing any unnecessary pain.
The second boy was stocky, blue-eyed like Kip, maybe only half Parian, because his skin wasn’t much darker than Kip’s. He bowed to Kip. Kip returned the bow, wondering what fresh pain was coming his way.
Kip and Number Two circled each other warily, but the boy kept looking up and away from Kip. At first, Kip didn’t know why. Then he saw the boy’s eyes. There were little wisps of blue appearing and disappearing in the whites of his eyes. Down, into his body. Gathering in his fists. If the boy hadn’t been lighter-skinned, Kip wouldn’t have been able to see it. It was one of the disadvantages the lighter-skinned had. It was why, nominally, the Blackguard were black.
But because they weren’t wearing spectacles, the boy could only draft tiny sips of blue light at a time. He had to take his eyes off of Kip, look at one of the blue crystals overhead, take what he could, and look back to Kip. Without blue spectacles, it made for a slow process.
And Kip circling slowly was giving the boy all the time he needed.
“Ah hell,” Kip said. He charged.
Kip threw a punch. It was blocked. The second punch hit the boy’s shoulder—but Kip had thrown the punch with his left hand. He felt cuts rip open. It was like he’d dipped his palm in fire.
A fist caught him in the stomach, and another grazed his arm as he hunched forward. Kip staggered back, his motion taking most of the force out of a punch that caught his nose.
It still made his eyes water, though. He blinked and lurched, surprised the boy had let him go rather than press his advantage.
Then Kip realized the reason why the boy would do such a thing.
A blue staff was forming in the boy’s hands, slowly stretching out like molten glass.
Kip darted in and grabbed at the unfinished staff. He caught it, and as his fingertips sank into the crystallizing structure, he felt suddenly as connected to it as if he’d drafted it himself.
He could feel the other boy through the open luxin, his will, so focused a moment before, now scattered and confused by Kip’s invasion. Kip tore the staff away from the boy and sealed it.
The blue luxin staff was bent from where the boys had grappled for it, but it was still as tall as either of them and as big around as Kip could comfortably hold in his hand. Ignoring the pain as he grabbed it with his bandaged left hand, Kip swung the bottom of the staff for the boy’s knees.
It connected with a crack, and the still-stunned boy dropped. He hadn’t even tried to move.
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