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Chapter 16 - Rough
🕑 Added 2025-02-16 20:00:03 +0000 UTCThe impact of the quarterstaffs sent a stinging jolt up Archie’s arm. Even as the aggressor, each hit hurt. First he felt it in his knuckles, then his elbow, then his shoulder. Soon, his entire arm tingled with a thousand ant bites.
“Control the center line!” Picea barked. “Nori! Low guard! Archie! Rudder guard!”
Archie put the length of the quarterstaff low behind him like a rudder, waiting to twist and unleash his power. Nori countered by letting her quarterstaff wait in the space between them.
Archie used his hip as a pivot point as he unwound, swinging the quarterstaff near Nori’s face. It was a practice swing. Even if she didn’t block, she wouldn’t get hit. Still, Archie swung a little too fast. A little too rough.
Nori snapped her quarterstaff up to block. Archie’s overzealous swing sent her quarterstaff bouncing off. She pulled it back to rest against his weapon, the wood clattering against each other in an accelerating applause.
“Chill out,” Nori growled.
“Control the center line!” Picea repeated. “Nori, put it in his face.”
Nori winced and stepped forward an inch, barely extending the edge of her quarterstaff beyond Archie’s.
“In his face!” Picea yelled.
Nori swung her head around to push away one of the two strands of black hair that came out from under her leather helmet. She took another step in, putting her quarterstaff two feet from Archie’s face.
“The edge of the quarterstaff has the most speed in a swing,” Picea instructed. “But in a blocking state, the power is closer to your hands. Now push his quarterstaff down.”
Nori grimaced and grunted as she tried to push it down. Archie didn’t let her. He pushed back, forcing his quarterstaff on top of hers. The exertion displayed on Nori’s face helped to mask her frown.
“Alright, Archie,” Picea huffed. “Let her get the advantage.”
Archie relented, allowing Nori to reverse their position.
“There you go, Nori. Now see how with you having the inside track, you can attack his head and he has nothing to stop you.”
Archie started pushing again, moving them back to a neutral state.
Picea sighed. “Alright, do that again a few times.”
Archie’s eyes followed Picea as she walked over to Hawthorn and Barley. The two boys practiced with a different kind of intensity. They didn’t practice holding the center line. They didn’t take pauses to check their grips. The only time they stopped fighting was when one of them stopped their swing just short of a deadly blow.
The boys reset and started again, the thwacking sound of their quarterstaffs bouncing around the walls of the yard and echoing into the open air above.
On the other side of the training yard, a different kind of sparring occurred.
“Ow, Blanche!” Sutton whined. “Take it easy!”
“Take this!” Blanche cackled as she swung again and again at Sutton’s quarterstaff. As wild and unpredictable as their swings were, they only aimed for the very ends of the other person’s quarterstaffs. They didn’t trust themselves enough to swing close to the body. Rightfully so.
Archie returned his attention to his opponent. He twisted his body into the rudder guard and unleashed on Nori. She blocked, hissing through her teeth as the impact shook her body. Once they disengaged, she held the quarterstaff in one hand, shaking her other hand in pain.
“Take it easy,” she complained.
“Come on,” Archie commanded. He held his quarterstaff in low guard. “Swing.”
Nori twisted her body and swung—not as hard as she should have, and certainly not as hard as Archie had. The attack came so slowly that Archie had time to be angered by it. He didn’t have time to waste. They only had weeks. He needed to get stronger and he needed to do it now.
Instead of cutting up to block, he cut across at an angle, meeting Nori early. Their quarterstaffs collided with a sharp crack. Nori fell away to the side as she disengaged, her teeth clenched in pain. She took a long time to reset. Too long for Archie.
“Now me,” he said as he twisted around to prepare his next swing.
Nori took half a step back toward Archie and started adjusting her grip. Archie didn’t wait. He swung again, stepping into it to close some of the extra distance between them. Nori barely managed to get her quarterstaff up in time. It bounced off his quarterstaff, sending her stumbling again.
“Archie!” she whined.
As Picea watched Hawthorn and Barley, she yelled loud enough for everyone to hear. “Take it easy back there. Cool off. Grab a drink.” She lowered her voice and returned her attention to her two experts. “Good, Barley. Now try it again. Puffs between blows.”
“Sorry,” Archie said as he dropped his quarterstaff in the dirt.
Nori threw hers down with attitude and huffed.
“I’m sorry!” he repeated.
Nori shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Come on, let’s get some water.”
They walked through the large open sliding door and poured from one of the many pitchers of water that adorned the tables. Around them, people watched Barley and Hawthorn with awe or Blanche and Sutton with laughter.
“Archie, we’re close, right?” Nori asked as she poured herself a cup.
Archie pulled his head back and scoffed. “I mean, yeah. You’re my best friend.”
“Okay. Okay.” Nori took a sip. “That gives me some leeway in how I talk to you, right?”
A little ball of fear formed in the back of Archie’s mind. “Uh…yeah?”
“Okay.” Nori took a long drink. “You’re being an ass, and you need to chill out.”
Archie recoiled for real this time. “Oh.”
“Look, I know you, Archie! Particularly when we first met, you got so fixated on things. You’re doing it again. This morning you told me—not asked me, told me—that we’d be going north and probably going into yeti territory and maybe even having to defend ourselves.”
Archie opened his mouth to explain, but Nori raised her hand to cut him off.
“Uh-buh-buh. Of course, I am going to do it. Of course I am going to do whatever I can to help you and your family and Sain and all of that. But you didn’t ask. Now, I know something about that. I didn’t ask you much when I made you…”
Nori closed her eyes and winced. She swallowed and took a deep breath. “We can both get that way. When we really want something, we get single-minded. We stop considering others.”
Archie squinted to try to see if it was really Nori he was looking at. When did she become so enlightened?
“Are you saying we shouldn’t do it?” Archie asked.
“Of course not! It’s a great idea, and no matter how hard it is, I think it’s worth doing. But! I think you need to chill out. You’re out here trying to take my head off, and did you even ask anyone if they wanted to do this when you recruited them?”
Archie frowned. “No…”
“Alright. Well, you know we’ll all do it because you’re important to us, but you gotta relax a little. You’re a better Chef—and a better person—when you don’t let your desire consume you.”
Archie looked at his feet. Being a good Chef was a Kent trait. But so was being consumed by desire.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” When Archie didn’t pick his head back up, Nori socked him in the arm. “I caught it early, so you’re fine. Thanks to me.”
Archie laughed. The punch was as good as a hug. “So, since we’ve established that we can say things to each other…”
“What is it?” Nori hid half her face behind her cup.
“You…” Archie clenched his teeth and reconsidered whether he should say something at all. “You might need to shower.”
Nori snorted. “It’s that bad, isn’t it?”
Archie laughed, relieved that she hadn’t clawed his face off. “Honestly you reek of fish.”
Nori hid the top half of her face with a hand. “Ahhhh, I…I worked so late last night and I just didn’t have the energy to bathe and…I didn’t want to bathe right before we trained!”
“You could have joined Picea!”
Nori’s jaw hung open. “I heard about that! Was she really naked?”
“And proud of it.”
“Wow…” Nori smiled in awe and watched Picea as the Head Chef wrapped her body around Sutton, guiding his arms into different swings and guards. “What a woman.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Archie said before downing the rest of his water. He wiped a bit off his lip. “So…we haven’t really talked much. Things are good with you?”
“Yeah!” Nori finished her drink. “Yeah. I feel like…I understand Rowan now. The Gift. The…it’s not just charity? It’s…an obligation. But not in a bad way.” She laughed. “Apparently I can’t put it into words, but I think I understand it now.”
“Yeah, I—uh, had that moment not too long ago.” Archie thought back to the dinner he had made for Chrysanth. “Saved my life, come to think of it.”
“Well, hopefully I don’t need it. But if it comes down to it, next time, it’s my turn to be in a life or death situation, okay?”
“No argument from me.”
Nori tried to punch him again, but he shifted out of the way.
“Oh, now you’re ready to fight?” he teased. “Pick up the stick then and let’s go.”
“Okay. But don’t swing so hard! I’m just a girl, you know?”
They practiced for a while, Archie focusing on getting better without overdoing it. After half an hour, Picea gave them permission to leave. Sutton was the first out, dashing away to get out of the sun. Blanche wandered over the garden. Nori went to take a much needed bath. But Barley and Hawthorn stuck around, still practicing.
Archie walked up next to Picea to watch.
Up close, their blows seemed even more fierce. They fought according to their size—Barley striking with power and the smaller Hawthorn keeping his feet moving. Each time Hawthorn blocked, he used that momentum to launch an attack. Barley had the power, but Hawthorn had the technique.
“So Archie,” Picea said as she watched the spar. “What kind of fighter do you want to be?”
The question puzzled Archie. “A good one?”
“No, I mean…Why fight? What do you want to accomplish?”
“I don’t…” Archie scratched his head. Fighting was fighting. “Why do you fight?”
Picea shrugged, sparing a glance at Archie before looking back at Barley and Hawthorn. “Because I like to. I’d love to say I have some noble cause…”
Her tone and expression bordered on shame. “...that I fight to protect the weak. To restore order in the world. I mean, I guess I do…somewhat. But really it’s just…it’s just that thrill.”
“Why’d you fight in the Unification War?” Archie asked. “Wasn’t Khala neutral?”
Picea laughed. “Yeah, neutral. When you have a spear pointed at you from two sides, you better be careful which way you lean. Of course, Uroko’s spear is always grazing our skin. We sent some of our best soldiers to appease them. I volunteered. I didn’t have a particular passion for either side, so it was just…a good fight and a good bit of money.”
Picea picked a piece of gunk out of the corner of her eye. “So, Archie…you clearly have a fire inside of you. How are you going to use it?”
Archie chewed on the corner of his lip and zoned out, his gaze drifting down to the ground.
“For good,” he said.
“Hm,” Picea responded, some deep meaning hidden in that single syllable. “And while you’re doing your version of good…are you going to need to kill?”
Archie thought of the yetis. He held no animosity for them, but he wouldn’t let them stop him. He thought of the licertes. Swinging their claws at him. And then he thought of a faceless man, some soldier, maybe a Chef, who for whatever reason wanted to hurt the people Archie loved.
Archi’s mind split and fractured. He could imagine himself performing a fatal blow. He could imagine himself standing over a dead body. But he couldn’t imagine that moment in between. The feeling of the blow landing. Seeing death. Flashing anguish disappearing into a blank, lifeless stare. It seemed too abstract to him.
“If I had to,” he muttered. He didn’t look at Picea and she didn’t look at him. Their speech reflected the profoundness of their conversation, putting little pauses between their exchanges and making each word feel heavier and harder to get out.
“So you are a fighter, then. Good,” she stated. “Mercy will always have its place in this world. But not every life can be spared.”
A silence hung heavy in the air.
“Do you think the Bhantla will help us?” Archie asked.
Picea ran her hand over her braids. “She’ll consider it. She’s currently in the east. Toward the end of summer, she’ll be working her way through the north. You can meet her in Jakha—I know you planned on going there at some point.”
Archie nodded. “I’ll be ready. I’ll train as hard as I need to. And then some.”
“Hm. Well I got you for over a month. Just need to figure out a good plan. You can get as big as Hawthorn,” Picea said. “Bigger maybe. You have the frame for it. But you’ll never be Barley. You can’t rely on strength of body. You’ll need to rely on essence.”
Archie frowned. “I feel like what I have isn’t enough. It’s not…” He didn’t want to say lethal. “What I can do is too weak.”
Picea chuckled to herself. “Archie. Think of all of your classmates. Have any of them been able to perform a conjuration technique in two different types of food?”
Archie went through the list and found two. “Nori can do blueberries. But not as good as me. And then there’s Julienne.”
Picea finally looked at Archie. “Julienne. Like a Julienne?”
Archie nodded.
Picea laughed and shook her head. “A Harper and a Julienne in the same class.”
And a Kent.
“What can he do?” Picea asked.
“Well, we’re…” Archie thought back to their friendly rivalry. While the other students of Tarragon’s class focused on one thing, Archie and Julienne had turned every thinkable category into a competition. “He really has pasta and cheese down. And he can kinda do a lot of things, but we’re about equal on most things.”
Picea laughed again. “So a Harper can do half as many things as you and a Julienne is your equal? And you’re not satisfied with yourself?”
Picea’s laughter infused Archie with energy as he argued with exaggerated hand gestures. “Well! It’s not like…like acid! Noodles don’t exactly inspire fear, do they? What can I do that really would do damage?”
“Ah, you have everything you need. You’re just a little rough around the edges. You can already do more as an Orange Jacket than a lot of Green Jackets I’ve seen.”
I should be a Yellow Jacket.
Archie held his complaint.
“First of all,” Picea said, “as I said before, sugarskin can be deadly. Especially if you learn how to do a sugar rush.”
“Sugar rush?”
“You ever seen a kid after a bar of chocolate? You can turn the essence in your body into sugar that feeds your muscles. It’ll make you faster. Stronger. The tricky part is combining it with sugarskin. You mess up and your muscles will eat your skin.”
Archie’s arms prickled with goosebumps.
“And aside from that, pasta and blueberries could be a deadly combination. Here, put your hand in front of you in a V.”
Picea demonstrated, extending her arm and making a V with her thumb and forefinger. Archie mimicked her.
“Now summon a noodle around the V and tie it up.”
Archie used his other hand to conjure a noodle, wrapping it around his finger. He pulled it tight and pinched the ends of the noodle together. Picea reached over and plucked it like a guitar string, making it wobble back and forth by half an inch.
“A benefit of pasta is how easy it is to make it elastic,” Picea said. “Make it stretchy.”
Archie focused his essence up into the V of his fingers. He had learned how to extend and contract pasta, but had never tried to make it more elastic. But with his familiarity with pasta, it only took a few seconds to figure out a serviceable change.
He nodded to Picea, who plucked the noodle again, pulling it back six inches before it threatened to snap. She let go. The noodle twanged back, drooping an inch from its original position.
“A slingshot,” Picea said. “Get better at the elasticity. You want to command the noodle to shrink with your essence as it fires. Add a hardened blueberry…you’d be surprised how much damage you could do.”
“Wow.” Something unlocked in Archie’s brain. As is often the case with young adults, Archie’s limited understanding of a topic—in this case, combat—made him think that he had already reached the pinnacle of possibility. He had prescribed limits to himself that Picea had now opened up to new possibilities.
He realized how little he knew.
“I asked Sutton about all of you,” Picea said. “You know what he said about you? You’re frustratingly smart.”
“Frustrating?” Archie asked with a grin.
Picea nodded. “He said you lack book smarts but you have a knack for figuring things out. A creative problem-solver. I think he called it frustrating because he’s a methodical problem-solver.”
They shared a laugh.
“So let’s put that creative problem-solving to the test,” Picea said. “Take Hawthorn. A master of the quarterstaff. Capable of summoning bamboo through the ground. But he has to touch his hand to the ground to do it. Why’s that a problem?”
An easy question, an easy answer. “He makes himself vulnerable when he bends down. And it’s slow.”
“Right. One day he’ll be skilled enough to summon it by putting a foot to the ground. But as you know, it’s easier to expel essence through your hands. He’s just not there yet. So how can he stay upright and summon bamboo?”
Archie considered the question as he watched Hawthorn and Barley. Each attack had a follow-up, each block a way of transitioning to a counter. For every ten seconds of engagement, there was only one second of disengagement that lasted just long enough for one of them to find a new angle to attack. If Hawthorn bent to the ground, Barley could take his head off.
“Through the staff,” Archie answered. “He sends the command through the staff and strikes the ground.”
“Very good,” Picea commended. “Boys! Barley, just defend. Hawthorn, weave in some bamboo.”
They confirmed her instructions with a nod. Barley took an extra step back and held his quarterstaff in a high guard. Hawthorn swung once to shake Barley’s stance, then a second time, harder, to really displace Barley’s quarterstaff. While Barley regained his posture, Hawthorn took a step back and slammed the bottom of his quarterstaff into the ground.
When Hawthorn had summoned directly with his hand, it had been near instantaneous to Archie—even if Picea said it was slow. But with the staff, it took a full second—nearly a lifetime in battle—for the bamboo to sprout beneath Barley’s feet. It rose slower, giving Barley plenty of time to adjust his footing and dodge.
Hawthorn didn’t bother following up with another attack. Instead, he took a deep, heaving breath. “Still slow,” he stated.
“Just keep working on it,” Picea responded. “Barley, how’s the breath?”
Barley took a break from his training-induced huffing and puffing and took a deep breath in. He released it all at once with a little cloud of fog that washed over Hawthorn.
“Still can’t hold it,” Barley admitted.
“That’s alright. I have an idea on how you can build up some endurance.” Picea looked up at the sky and let her voice ring through the Monastery. “Hey Sutton!” she yelled. “Want to see a fridge get made?”
