A Day in Hastar - New WIP Short Story

short story about my new book (wip).

Useful vocabulary:

- ren: equivalent to a gender neutral "Mr." or "Ms."

- level: measure of how powerful a magician is, 1st level is the lowest, 5th level is the highest

- artifact: magical object

- residue of creation: energy that enchants the object

about 1300 words

A D A Y I N H A S T A R

With a single kick, Safiya sent the little boy on his knees, lifting a single hand to ask for mercy.

She smirked, shaking her pink hair, proudly contrasting with her dark skin.

“Keita!” professor Cel Tradat hurried to lift the kid up again. If she had an artifact for it, she would have beaten Safiya’s ass with it. “How many times -- They’re not trained like you!”

Safiya raised her eyebrows, taking in a deep breath. “I’m sorry, professor?” she tried.

Cel Tradat accepted that and walked away, the kid grimacing in pain in her arms.

“That was one of the special kicks,” Jade said, appearing in her visual field with hir golden hair in a mullet, linen shirt damp with sweat on hir little shoulders, and the sun of the afternoon on hir brown skin. “And you’re seriously using it on a boy and not on me? I’m starting to feel like we’re not best friends anymore.”

Safiya raised a hand, elegant fingers stretching, calling artifacts to fly next to her in her little personal fleet. “It would be a pleasure.”

The rest of the kids training in the gym with them stopped fighting, whispering.

“They want to see our new fifth level using artifacts only sie can wield,” she teased hir. “Let’s give them a taste.”

Jade’s eyes shone with the thrill that she had seen since they were children, far before sie had been given the golden irises, symbol of the highest level among Heka magicians.

“After you, Safiya Keita.”

She couldn’t help but smile. Her hands felt the residue of creation come alive in the artifacts at her service, the artifact material solid black with violet reflexes catching all the colors of the sun and turning them into nothing.

Safiya’s wrist flicked, and two artifacts flew towards Jade, blocking hir feet on the ground by melting around them.

Before she could attack again, though, sie had already extended an arm, and two little black spheres came hissing, opened in enchanted ropes, and closed her wrists together. No longer than a moment after, sie was crouching, touching the artifacts at hir feet to turn the energy inside of them to hir favor. The veins on hir arms were evident, sweat beading hir temples.

Finally, sie broke free.

Safiya didn’t, but her fingers were mobile enough to send another treat to hir. The net opened mid air, pure residue of creation threatening to trap Jade in a deadly grip, but sie didn’t. Still holding Safiya’s wrists together and the other artifact still at hir feet, sie turned to the net right before sie could be hit by it and froze it.

The residue trembled, contracted, went back into its original form.

Finally, Jade let everything down.

As the pressure eased from Safiya’s wrists, their schoolmates snapped back to reality again.

“Are you serious? Using three combat artifacts at the same time?”

Jade smiled and giggled. “Oh, come on, it’s nothing”

She let her arm circle hir shoulders. “Well, being so powerful must have some perks. Had we fought with our bare hands, you’d be bleeding.”

“I’m literally a level higher than you,” sie said, shaking hir head.

“Yeah, and I can’t wait to see how well you’ll treat me when you’ll be Grand Master.”

At this, a shadow passed on hir face, but only briefly. Hir smile was there again, shiny as ever, like the sun itself.

Not far from them, Cillian and Eli had just pushed each other away to finish their technique.

Eli walked back into position, his little chest filling and emptying fast, ginger hair sticking to his temples. “Let me attack, this time,” he said, raising his fists.

Cillian shook his head, silver eyes of his fourth level almost inexpressive until he noticed a little red drop on Eli’s shirt. “You’re bleeding.”

Eli looked down, then shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

But the other, with a single giant step closed the distance between them, taking his shoulder in his hands. “I wouldn’t have punched you there. Why didn’t you tell me you had a cut? ”

“Because it doesn’t hurt.”

Cillian’s eyes widened.

“What are you doing?”

He had lifted Eli’s short sleeve to his shoulder, looking for the origin of that blood. Instead, he had found the boy’s skin covered with bruises. “Eli,” he croaked, “how did you get them?”

“Training,” the boy muttered, looking away.

Cillian put it back neatly, softly, careful not to hurt him. “You should stop training with the artifacts that simulate fights. At least don’t do it all the time. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I’m not,” Eli said, feet planted on the ground.

Cillian straightened, looking down at Eli like he was observing an embodied riddle. “You’re free to do whatever you want, but please, be safe. That’s all I’m saying.”

The boy’s eyes became shiny. “Yeah,” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “Must be easy for you, son of Kakimura ren, literal strongest Heka soldier in the entire fucking Lodge,” he spit out, choking on the last words.

Cillian knelt before him, taking his arm.

Eli cleaned his face with the back of his hand. “I hate having to do this, but I have no choice.”

“You know that not being the son of a famous family and not having a high level doesn’t make you any less deserving than me, right?”

“You’re a god, Cillian.”

“And I’m kneeling in front of you.” He tilted his head. “How important does this make you feel?”

Eli smiled through the tears. “I hate you.”

“As you should,” Cillian groaned, getting back up.

“You know I don’t mean it.”

“I know.”

They smiled at each other, and walked out of the gym to get some rosemary tea before going to the infirmary for the third time that week.

Jun watched her friend Eli leave and let out a bored sigh. Everybody had been paired with someone, but not her. That day, she was supposed to observe the others, apparently, until someone decided to kindly leave their companion for her.

Achea Adrianakis was dodging a kid’s fists not far from her. The girl was faster than them, but they were stronger, their grips like steel, their kicks as painful as a shot.

Then, the girl did the only thing she shouldn’t have done. Her hand aimed at Achea's throat, almost gripping it.

Achea caught their wrist and squeezed it so hard the girl let out a little painful cry.

“What did I say?” Achea growled. “No choke holds on me.”

She swallowed, massaging her arm. Then she ran away, calling professor Cel Tradat.

Achea stood there, looking at the floor. They were wearing their usual collar up with long sleeves, pushing them up just a little while the rest of them trained in light shirts.

“Are you okay?” Jun asked them, keeping at the right distance to give them room to breathe. Their blonde hair had fallen from their bun, and now strands of gold framed their forehead, red and beaded with sweat. They tugged at their collar, there where Jun had seen the scars.

“I’m okay, thank you.” They put up a little smile that made their harsh features look gentler. “You looked pretty bored there.”

“And you didn’t do anything about it.” Achea opened their mouth to reply, but Jun lifted a hand. “Only one way to make up for it.”

Their eyebrows drew together.

“Fight me.”

Achea nodded. “Okay. Just --”

“I won’t,” she assured, and fell into her best attack position.

END