The Endless Solvent

Sweat poured off Ral’s back, the boulder strapped to his back painfully digging into his flesh despite the thick leather separating it from his skin. He remembered Nilda used to talk about training with rocks on her back, running laps along the beach by the Blood Ocean. If only he had the ability to bend rock to his will, maybe he can just… herd them into the cave instead of hauling them manually.

But abilities like that - the ability to bend things around you to your will - was nearly unheard of among the Somas. Rune knowledge was quite common in healing but everything else the Somas do is generally done by hand.

Panting from exertion, Ral hoisted the boulder further up his back more securely and made his way down the precarious path down the side of a canyon. There was a cave with a reliable source of water here and they were shoring up the reservoir in the hopes that the tribe can use it beyond one season. Ivassk had hotter and drier areas and the tribe stayed in the areas with the best access to water. Their location at the canyons meant access to several caves that contained what they needed.

“Over here,” a Somas said, his voice echoing through the cave. Two torches lit the area, reflecting off the slightly rippling surface of the water pool. It looked almost pitch black in the dim lighting. Ral laboriously set down the huge rock where the Somas indicated and shifted it in the dirt ground until the man was satisfied. Then he unwrapped the leather straps around it and flung them over his shoulder. “Thank you. Two more.”

Ral nodded and stretched his stiff shoulder while making the trek back to the surface. A line of young Somas, all of them at least five years younger than him, trailed in carrying smaller, head sized boulders for the reservoir. A few of them muttered rapidly to each other in Yscian - Ral could only understand a few words.

“…Blood head…. Show-off…”

He gave a sigh when he was out of earshot and hurried to the surface. The faster he could be done with this, the better. Ever since his one successful milyssk jor, he focused on helping the Somas and trying to understand more of their language and culture with the intention of being able to join a Trial when one showed up. However he found that no matter what he did, people didn’t like it.

Any show of effort was deemed a show of desperation. Any hesitation to help was immediately criticized as laziness. These were all things the Leaders were quick to point out - in turn, the other Somas around his age (with the exception of Mikol, of course) took every opportunity to highlight it. The behavior became infections and those younger than him even started to comment on his every move.

He made it outside again, the unrelenting heat of the peak of summer burning his bare shoulders. Ral squinted up at the sky, scowling at the violently bright sun. Another Somas called out to him and pointed at the next boulder he had to haul down. It was easily five times larger than the rocks the younger youths had to carry. He wrapped the leather straps around, laying the large thick side of it onto the flattest surface, then, using the straps as a grip, hauled it onto his back.

It was tiring, but it wasn’t impossible. Carrying a boulder was one of the few things he could do and not screw up. The ache in his arms and back eclipsed all the other worries in his head for a while. It made him feel better for a little while, even if the tribe just saw him as a big dumb Gain hauling rocks around.

Exhaustion burned at his lungs as he carried the boulder down into the canyon again. The leather straps were growing slick with his sweat. One more. Just one more. He returned to the surface for the final boulder, carrying it carefully and slowly down to the water cave. In all honesty, he probably would rather carry more rocks down into the canyon instead of going to his next engagement but there was no room for that kind of attitude. Not anymore.

The last boulder thudded into its spot. Ral patiently shifted it, then shifted again until it was in its spot properly, then nodded at the Somas who thanked him again. He returned the leather straps to him and briefly used a damp cloth to wipe off his sweat. At the height of summer, they were conservative about water usage - he would not be able to bathe until the next rainstorm rolled in. Then he left the canyons and headed to the training grounds just north of camp.

The leader Dalsk was already there, saying something harshly in Yscian to a group of trainees. The usual group of them stood or crouched in various poses on and around jagged rocks that stretched over a roughly round and flat piece of land. A single dead tree stood at the center.

Dalsk spotted him but didn’t acknowledge his presence as he made his saw to an empty spot next to Mikol. Calkin gave him a derisive snort. Nobody else paid him any heed.

The lesson being held there continued. Ral understood most of what was being said as he attended enough of these. Dalsk would start off with some exercises to focus on speed and strength, then they would move on to sparring. Those watching were required to do so in absolute stillness - observers were also subjected to passive training. Of course, the other Somas in training were able to do it, settling into poses and not even their breathing revealed movement. Ral did his best: he personally thought it was a marked improvement over his attempts when he first joined. But the disdainful looks cast his way from Dalsk would say otherwise.

Strength needed to be exerted to grasp control over the body to become still. The same control was needed to explode in speed and travel spaces in an instant. Ral didn’t think he was lacking in strength as he was one of the few people in the tribe able to lift oversized boulders. Or perhaps he was just the only one willing to do it. Regardless, he was able to do it, so he wasn’t lacking in strength.

Then why wasn’t he able to attain ‘stillness’?

Two Somas receiving training stood when called and they stood maybe ten paces from the dead tree. A rock the size of a child’s fist sat on the gray-brown branches, fairly accessible on either side of it. The two Somas grew very still until Dalsk barked out “go” in Yscian and they blinked out of view. One snatched the rock from the dead branches while the other appeared a pace behind him, shaking his head in dismay. They repeated the exercise, the session punctuated with Dalsk commenting on body control and muscle efficiency. Certain parts of your body had to be fully engaged and tense, others relaxed. The combination would yield the results of speed.

Ral understood all of this. He swayed slightly and he reprimanded himself and forced himself to return to stillness. The Somas went up in pairs to try to take the stone from the dead tree the fastest. When it was Mikol’s turn, he effortlessly took the stone much faster than his opponent.

Slightly annoyed, Ral observed Mikol’s movements. The Somas was much leaner than himself and definitely unable to carry large boulders without aid but yet he was able to muster up so much speed. Was there nothing that could make up for his lack of experience and talent?

They finished the exercise in pairs, but as there was an odd number of Somas, one of them either repeated the exercise or the last remaining one did the exercise with Dalsk. Ral wished he could point out that he could join to even out the number, but not once has Dalsk accepted his participation. It was obvious that Ral was only able to attend as an observer. Calkin was the last one out and he was permitted to choose someone to do the exercise with him.

“Mikol,” he said, getting up from his spot.

All observing were still motionless like stone but a ripple of unease went through the observers. It took all of Ral’s self control to not turn to glance at Mikol. He had once asked Mikol what was going on between him and Calkin, but his Somas friend had always insisted there wasn’t any ‘bad air’ between them. Perhaps it was simply the fact that Calkin was the most talented fighter/hunter among the trainees and Mikol the most talented scout. Competition was second nature to the tribe, it was only natural two rising stars would end up being rivals.

Mikol and Calkin stood at the designated starting point with the stone reset at the branch ten paces ahead of them. Calkin then turned to Dalsk and said something rapidly in Yscian with an unpleasant smile on his face. Mikol shot him a dirty look, but didn’t say anything. Dalsk nodded and the two of them took five steps further back from the original starting line. It seemed like Calkin had requested to further the distance for the exercise.

Ral struggled to remain still. It wasn’t that his friend wasn’t capable of crossing that distance with his speed. Mikol was the fastest among them. But he didn’t like the cocky look on Calkin’s face. Of all the Somas his age, Calkin disliked Ral the most and so probably disliked Mikol by extension. Even a year later, Mikol was still his only friend.

Dalsk shouted the signal and Ral saw both young men coil in tension then blink out of sight to reappear by the tree. Mikol was closer to the tree, his hand reaching out to grasp the stone, Calkin’s bulkier body showing up a pace behind him. A muscular leg braced against the dirt and Calkin seemed to blink out of sight again and suddenly Mikol was thrown to the side.

Calkin had knocked Mikol clear out of the way of the dead tree. The stone tumbled out of the tree from the impact and Calkin caught it and held it triumphantly at the onlookers, then turned to Ral with a gloating smile on his face. Ral didn’t even notice he had moved to a standing position before he saw Dalsk’s look of utter disgust. His brain churned at the right Yscian words to shout at the transgression, but Mikol had gotten to his feet and gave him a sharp look. Hands rolled into fists as he stared at his friend.

Mikol slowly shook his head. Gritting his teeth, Ral sank back down to his haunches and tried to still himself again. Dalsk ignored it and continued on like what had happened was perfectly normal. Ral was seething so much he didn’t notice people arranging themselves for the next part of training: the sparring portion. It didn’t matter because Dalsk never included him for this part either. Mikol returned to his spot and only spared him a glance. They would not be able to speak to one another until after the session.

They sat in silence and stillness as more pairs of Somas trainees entered the dirt area to spar. Unlike the Freerunner style of fighting that Rask uses which uses a rune inscribed staff, the Somas only used their hands and feet to strike, grapple or throw. Speed, of course, was utilized to find an opening and to land a strike before your opponent could react. Conversely, speed was used to evade attacks. The back and forth of attacking and evading ends up looking like rapid steps to a dance.

Normally Ral would watch with rapt attention, trying to soak up every move, every technique he could from his peers. Even if he wasn’t allowed to be in training, at the very least he could watch. Perhaps he could try it on Bette or Mikol when they had the time. But today he boiled inside at how Mikol was treated and found it hard to concentrate. How could Mikol not demand justice for what just happened? Why was it that the Somas could let something like that go? Calkin had purposely done it to push him aside.

Each duo sparred lightly, trying to land practice strikes at each other. Dalsk made several comments on footing, grip and technique. The whole time, Ral thought of the right Yscian words in his head, carefully sounding them out and stringing them together. He was still bad at the language so it took up all his mental energy and he couldn’t concentrate on the fights. The odd Somas out sparred with Dalsk at the end and the Leader had the young man pinned to the ground in mere moments. After a few more comments seemingly on grappling and pinning down an opponent, Dalsk ended the lesson.

Ral stood before everyone started heading back to camp. “I want spar,” he said in Yscian, loudly and clearly. “Calkin spar. Please.”

Everyone turned to stare at him. Dalsk frowned at him and said something harshly that sounded like an incredulous “What did you say?”

“I want spar Calkin,” Ral repeated in Yscian. “Grant me this wish, Leader.”