starting to move. Sara and Ursala stared at them both. Like they’d gone mad. Or at least were acting strange.
“Um…” The Countess muttered gesturing at their odd clothing choices.
“Oh, this, well, you know the Kolb is starting a school for elite warriors out back right? So, we two are the first students.” Rolph gestured between the two of them. “As unlikely as it seems. I think he’s trying for some high profile people to start with to drum up business. Want to come? I mean I know you’re still recovering right now, but he really is good, and even Count Thomson learned a lot from him…”
A few minutes later they were all, much to Tor’s surprise, walking towards the back wall with the heavy wooden crate floating behind them about a foot off the ground. Sara was wearing a pair of her oldest blacks, like she either expected really hard work or didn’t want to show up Tor too much. Either way she looked pretty hard and lean, the loose clothing draping just right on her frame.
Ursala had put on a light brown leather outfit that actually had pads at elbows and knees. The Countess also carried a blunt practice sword and a long well worn blond wood stick that she pulled from the back of her luggage. She walked smoothly, her hips still a little wide, but Tor noticed, most of the fat that had originally been on her when they met was gone. So had that all been baby weight back then? How pregnant had she been? He didn’t want to ask, he decided. Worse… he probably didn’t want to know. It would be sad if any baby died, but to have one killed like that if she was close to delivery, that would be… He didn’t have words for it. Her will power must be immense to keep her from declaring war on County Ward with every breath during the day.
Tor wondered if she’d been sent to his house in order to delay her or… Did the King and Queen understand that if she did go to war that her forces would be going in with the best he could outfit them with? He didn’t want innocent people hurt, but a fast battle with overwhelming force used by one side was about the best resolution that such things ever got, outside of good diplomacy.
That being the case, was he supposed to be making sure he had things ready for her? He’d have to sneak some more work in, then. The military would have to wait a bit, or at least be willing to take things at a slightly slower rate. Of course copy work wasn’t that hard, not with good templates, so maybe, if he was careful he could get it all done?
Kolb and a giant young man walked over, one that stood a head taller than the weapons master did. It took a moment before Tor recognized him at all; the boy just looked so different. David Derring. The puppy fat was gone and he was stripped lean, nearly skinny. Under the flesh hard muscle stood out in corded bands. Tor wasn’t sure, but thought he might have been able to make out a hint of abs hiding under the leather the kid was wearing, if someone that could destroy you without trying could be referred to as a kid any more.
Kolb smiled and waved at all the people and the box, but didn’t say anything.
Tor got it.
“Um, the box is what we talked about the other day? If you could see to it as discussed? The people are new students. There may be more if you’ll take them, perhaps some of the ladies of industry or military personnel? I figured that if the criteria allowed for a couple people like me here, then these others would easily make the grade.” He meant it to be a joke but Kolb just nodded instead.
Sigh.
The man didn’t even grin as he looked at everyone else, just regarding them coolly.
“Alright. Testing then, for everyone but Alphonse and Tor. Tor, run the outer wall five times at best speed. Everyone else with me.”
Running. God, he hated running.
Especially now that anything over a fast walk was leaving him breathless and tired. Dropping into a trance he made himself move and then started working on what he needed for the shield on the palace. He could make combined fields… that’s really what the rivers were in a way. The shield itself wasn’t hard, just big, he knew field type pretty well now. So all he really needed was to figure out blast forces in the air.
Normally air was a good thing, but a sudden burst of it could do a lot of damage he’d been told. How could that be stopped? It was hard to figure out, but if a “shock wave” as Kolb called it, was really like he said, a vast and organized sound of incredible force, then could he form a shield that would stop sound, but not air flow? If he could do that, then a stronger version should keep out a sudden blast of it, stealing its force away. At least he knew what to do there, just tuck that force deep into the ground and direct it away from the shielded space.
The problem was distracting, but he thought he might have it figured out as he kept pounding away. On the sixth lap he realized that he was done running… and that the river floating in the air behind the structure barely cast a shadow at all. It was well placed, hidden a few hundred yards back from the wall, just peaking above a low rise. He had to jog over to actually see it. He’d found it by sensing the water itself, along with the organizing structure of the magic. Without trying, due to the light trance he was in, probably.
Very well done indeed. Now he just had to get some pumps in place so that they could use the water easily. The other base would need some too. The long distance ones he’d made up in Ross during the fire would work, until he got something better.
When he got back Kolb looked at him with concern at his long absence, so he shrugged.
“Sorry, worked on a problem while I ran and ended up doing extra. The river looks good, through here at least. I have some pumps that will reach… Can your people hook up the flight school too? Maybe without them knowing about it? That will be harder…” He almost said that Karen could make them work, but stopped himself just in time.
Without warning his eyes got damp and a sob caught in his throat. She was dead and he’d never see her again. He wiped at a tear and shook his head when Kolb gave him a questioning look.
“A moment. I… put off grieving for some of my lost friends, and this is the first time I’ve really come to a fight practice since…”
As hard and scarred as the bald man was, Kolb understood. Tor didn’t want to say too much, because almost everyone else in the yard had lost her too. Her own brother stood not fifty paces away even. It wouldn’t help for him to stir up all the old memories for them.
It didn’t get him out of practice, but it did get him a minute to collect himself. Luckily, due to his pitiful state of conditioning he got to start slow, lifting and swinging stones, which had been made of focus stone, and ranged from about ten pounds up to weights that he honestly didn’t think anyone could lift alone, rounded things bigger than he could have wrapped both arms around. Hundreds of pounds or more at least. Davie worked with him on it, starting him on exercises with the heaviest weight Tor could manage and then working each one until he couldn’t move any more. Then he got a brief break, long enough to suck down some water but not really rest, and was put directly to sparing with people.
He’d watched them all practice while he worked harder than he had in months, trying to catch a sense of how good they were. Everyone was better than he was Tor decided. Even Ursala used her practice sword and stick like a pro. Not as good as the others, but Tor didn’t doubt she could kick his sorry little butt. When he was up for practice Kolb called over one of the other combat giants, his new instructors, a guy that Tor had worked with before, but not for half a year or more. No doubt the man had gotten even better, pushing harder because a war was on.
The man didn’t cut Tor any slack, apparently as punishment for him having missed too many work outs in a row. He got it, really he did. When that man had “killed” him five times, another new opponent was called in. Several of them had gathered around to take their own turn apparently, since there favorite target was back in the game. He stuck with it as best he could. When the second round of him being beaten with a practice sword was over, he was “rewarded” by being allowed to fight the remaining giants with his bare hands.
Because that made sense. If any of these people ever came at him to fight, he’d just take off and run away. Like he was supposed to.
Apparently in this new troop or whatever the name ended up being, practice rules were harder than at school, it now being fair to hit or kick to the arms, legs, middle and back full force as well as use full force throws and joint locks. At least when people were working with him. He did the best he could, fighting, kicking and even pretending to bite and gauge eyes.
Tor would have run away, but he was already too tired. Anyone would catch him instantly now, most likely. That was part of the plan, no doubt.
The last person he faced wasn’t as big as the others, thankfully, but hit nearly as hard. They wore a full helm, so that he could practice blows to the face as well. The person was lean, but obviously a woman, Tor felt her breasts through her leather training outfit. They ended up locked on the ground, both struggling to try and lock a joint, to distract the other, or throw a punch that would have ended things. The woman writhed under him, her hips
