Class Reptilia

90: An (Un)Friendly Spar



The first checkpoint was on the south side of a hill marked by a large maple tree. Blackstone's team arrived two hours after dawn, a little behind schedule, but there was no one around to notice them save a distant herd of bison.

"This bodes well for us," the commander said, pulling back on his stallion's reins to bring him to a halt. "The guardians of the plains will alert us if anyone comes near." He dismounted, leaving his horse to graze, and gestured for others to copy him.

Ember's horse picked up on the command and held still as she urged her stiff legs out of the saddle. The skin on her inner thighs stung, and she could feel a patch of dampness where it had chaffed enough to bleed. Blessedly, the others seemed too occupied with their own tasks—unloading bags, stretching out their legs—to pay any mind to her struggle.

As Ember tried to rub life back into her legs, Blackstone and Lilith walked up the hill, with Lilith's rat scurrying ahead of them. They surveyed the land for some time until the commander took a knee in the grass, pulling open a hatch that looked no different from the ground itself.

Although no one spoke, the curious party members joined Blackstone to gather around the newly revealed opening. A small chamber had been carved out of the hill, its earthen walls lined with neatly-ordered supplies: camping gear, medicine, food, firewood, a barrel of water, and weapons. Blackstone climbed inside, handing up tents and rations.

Ember pocketed her share of the food, eating nothing. Although a sort of nervous hunger gnawed at her belly, she needed only one meal a day to maintain her strength and would rather save the supplies for the return trip. She tried to memorize the location of the cache, but its hill was one of thousands north of Mendel, and her astronavigation was subpar at best.

Once everyone had collected their supplies, they set about making camp at the base of the hill. The tents were set up in a circular formation, ideal for defense, with a place for a fire at the center. For once, having taken Ophelia's class, Ember was just as competent as the others.

Blackstone rejoined them, inspecting their work. "We leave at sunset," he said. "Mainlanders—even bandits—do not often venture this far south, but still, we will set up watches." He pointed to the top of the hill. "Three shifts, for four hours each, and the rest of you may do as you please."

"I'll take first watch," Ember said before anyone else volunteered. She was exhausted but restless, and she knew that sleep would elude her. Besides, the idea of being confined to one of the small tents was unappealing, even if it would give her some semblance of privacy.

The others waited for Blackstone's reply, but Ember could feel their skepticism, and frustration welled up inside her chest. Not only was the area relatively safe, but with only four others—accounting for Callia's possible blindness—they would have to let her contribute if they wanted any rest.

"I have infrared vision, commander," she added.

"So be it," he agreed at last, although he turned a disapproving eye on her for speaking out of turn.

***

Ember sat nestled in the branches of the maple tree, looking out over the vast plains. It had taken some time for the others to settle, but eventually they had disappeared into their tents, and she had finally relaxed. She had not even minded overmuch when the sky darkened and a summer storm rolled overhead, the cold rain splattering against the tree and soaking into her clothes; she had only peeled off her outer layers and boots, setting them aside to dry by the fire later.

It was still drizzling when her infrared detected a presence approaching from behind. She turned around quickly, expecting that one of the others had come with a message, only to see Orthus at the base of the tree with his arms crossed and his expression disgruntled.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, glancing back to the camp through the haze of the rain to make sure no one was watching.

"I volunteered for the next shift," he grumbled, climbing next to her.

She steadied him as one of his mud-covered boots slipped off the branch. His brown hair was plastered to his face, and though he was diligently keeping most of his skin camouflaged, there was a smattering of black across his nose, a sign that he was annoyed. It struck her as endearing, and she was suddenly very, very glad not to be alone.

"Stop smiling," he chastised her. "We're in a bad situation."

"How so?"

"The others have been speaking ill of you," he explained. "They resent that you were cherrypicked by Corax for this mission—which is a rare opportunity for advancement—while they themselves went through Blackstone's selection process."

"It's all right," Ember said. "I can't blame them, not really."

Orthus huffed. "You need to endear yourself to them. The more carefully they're watching you, the more difficult it will be to leave the mission. And if Kairo or Blackstone catches you, we're ruined."

Ember picked at a scale. She could boast some skills, but relationships were not one of them. "I don't know if it's possible, but I can try."

"Good," the octopus nodded, looking over his shoulder. "We've been talking too long already. Rest well, Ember."

"See you later," she said, slipping from the tree. "I'm glad you're here."

***

When Ember returned to the bottom of the hill, the rain was stopping and the sun was coming out from behind the clouds. The others stirred inside their tents, and someone went back to the hatch for firewood for them to dry their clothes. The damp ground protested, but in the end Kairo managed to breathe life into the flame.

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Ember wanted to retreat to her tent, but instead she remembered Orthus's advice and joined Blackstone, Kairo, and Callia around the fire. The atmosphere was tense, the only sounds the popping of the wood and metal sliding against stone as Blackstone sharpened his knife.

"Commander, how about a spar?" Callia asked without warning, and Ember was taken aback to see the vermes' milky eyes fixed in her direction.

Blackstone looked up, his usual frown fixed on his face as he considered the request. "All right," he said. "If Ember agrees."

Although Ember was taken totally off guard, her answer was obvious: refusing would leave no chance of gaining their respect, and the fighter's spirit that had set up residence inside her wanted to test Callia. "Sure, I'll accept."

"So be it," Blackstone said, waving a hand. "No weapons, and no injuries she can't heal within a couple of days."

Ember narrowed her eyes, certain that he was referring to her and not Callia. Are they underestimating me, or is it something else?

She stood up and stretched out her legs, her wounds' complaints masked by mounting adrenaline. Callia tightened the veil over the bottom half of her face—peaking Ember's curiosity—and walked outside the circle of tents, where there were no obstacles to get in the way of their spar.

Ember's focus sharpened to a needlepoint. She was aware of the tall grass brushing against her calves; the tendrils of wind licking her face; and the muddy ground soft beneath her still-damp boots. Blackstone was nearby, arms folded, and Kairo had found a rock from which to watch with detached amusement. Callia stood before her like a phantom, long hair blown out behind her like a cape and veins starkly visible against translucent skin. Even fully utilized, Ember's infrared revealed nothing but a faint red hue, although she had expected that: vermes, like insects, were ectotherms.

Ember and Callia bowed to each other, signaling the beginning of the fight. Ember watched her opponent's face closely, but it was impossible to tell if she was following Ember with her pale eyes or not. Either way, Ember knew better than to underestimate the vermes because of her poor vision—after all, she had seen Benjamin, the electric eel, win a Division One fight without any sight at all.

In a formal match, she would have held back, keeping her distance; but now, she sprang at the vermes with explosive power in a frontal attack. Callia shifted, and Ember's knee connected with the loose fabric of her robes, becoming entangled.

Although she had a split-second to break free, Ember decided to face Callia's counterattack. She was physically stronger and heavier than the vermes, with developed muscles well-suited for grappling, and she was eager to see how the other fighter would compensate.

In one smooth motion, Callia grabbed Ember's leg underneath the knee and pulled upwards, while simultaneously pushing Ember's chest backwards. It was a perfectly balanced attack, and if Ember had truly been caught off guard, it would've sent her flying onto her rear in the grass. Instead, she used the momentum to bend backwards, placing her hands on the ground and springing off them and onto her feet.

"Oh ho," Ember heard Kairo say, although she did not dare turn away from Callia.

The vermes' eyes were pinched. She darted at Ember, quickly, ducking her head sideways and striking at Ember's face with her elbow. Ember blocked with her right arm, but Callia reacted quickly, grabbing her by the armpit and forearm and twisting her body in an attempt to throw Ember to the ground. Rather than stopping the motion, Ember jumped into it. As she was mid-flip with her head by Callia's boots and her feet by Callia's head, she thrust her leg forward so that her boot collided with the vermes' face. It caught the fabric of her veil, and for a millisecond, Ember glimpsed something terrible—a black, toothless opening where Callia's mouth should have been, lined with endless rows of spines.

Ember rolled to her feet, turning to face the vermes. She had already replaced her veil, but her nose was bleeding profusely, and one eye was shut partway from the kick.

Ember looked at Blackstone for direction. The vermes' martial arts was different than anything Ember had seen before: it had grappling aspects, which made sense considering Callia's poor vision, but it was also fluid, like dancing. Ember wanted to test it further, but the injuries on the vermes' face would already draw unwanted attention to her in the human towns.

Blackstone said nothing, so Ember looked to Callia instead. "Do you want to continue?"

The vermes nodded, her expression darkening even further as though she resented Ember for even asking. I'll finish this quickly, then.

Ember sprang forward, aiming a kick at Callia's thigh. The vermes pivoted one-hundred-eighty degrees on her foot, not only avoiding the kick but also bringing Ember within arm's length. This time, instead of letting herself be grabbed, Ember swept Callia's foot out from under her. The moment she fell, Ember pinned her with her knees and transitioned to a leg-lock submission hold.

She deepened the hold gradually, applying more and more pressure to Callia's leg. Still, the vermes didn't tap out. Ember shifted to look at her face, thinking she was being stubborn, but her expression was one of intense concentration and not pain. Ember faltered—she had never had a submission fail—and in that second, Callia wriggled from her hold, clocking her under the chin with her heel in the process.

Ember scrambled to her feet, a little dazed, creating distance between her and the vermes. As pain bloomed underneath her chin, her predator's aura responded, leaking out from underneath the lid of her carefully-constructed mental vessel.

Callia took a half-step back and widened her stance, all traces of her previous smugness gone. Blood pounding in her ears, Ember launched herself into another attack, this time prepared to use her full power.

Then, miraculously, the world was tilting on its axis, and Ember's back slammed into the ground with enough force to rattle the teeth in her skull. When her vision cleared, Kairo was standing between her and Callia, who had also been knocked off of her feet.

I didn't see him move, Ember realized. The pressure from his predator's aura was incredible, rolling off of him in waves so thick she could picture them. "That's enough," he said. "If you want to keep going, you can go against me."

"Right," Ember said as he offered her a clawed hand to help her to her feet. Knowing that they needed to be in peak condition for the mission, she had been ready to push things too far. "I apologize. I suppose I still have a lot to learn."

Kairo inclined his head. "Hmm… well, you're more skilled than I thought." He pointed at her mouth, where her fangs had extended in self-defense when he'd thrown her. "Do those work?"

"Not reliably," she lied.

"A shame," he said. Then, losing interest, he walked back to his tent and disappeared through the flap.

Ember approached where Callia was speaking to Blackstone, intending to thank her for the spar, but something instinctual made her pause when she saw the vermes' face. It took her a moment to realize that not only had the wounds stopped bleeding—normal enough on its own—but instead of worsening, the swelling had begun to recede.

A super-healing mutation? she wondered, but before she could consider it further both Callia and Blackstone were turning to look at her. "Thank you for today's spar," Ember said, reaching out for a fighter's handshake. "Your style is very unique."

Although Callia did not look pleased, she clasped Ember's forearm anyway. "That was entertaining after all," Blackstone commented. "Good work to both of you."

"Thank you, sir," Ember said, and a little bit of pride flowered underneath her exhaustion. Now that she was less anxious, sleep seemed very appealing. "I'll retire now, if that's all right."


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