Rebound

As the days passed each of the three began to train and rehabilitate their bodies. They focused more on their non-physical aspect during this time as they waited for their bodies to be able to handle the strain of physical training. The days became weeks and soon they began sparing against each other and executing strength training. Kaltmund began to train with weapons as not to be reliant on magic alone. Raione explored her magical aspect to give herself a trump card. Eranor began to focus on range assault to allow himself a new avenue of attack. At this time the trial sleeve for Kaltmund arrived and was put to the test. Time and time again, it was sent back for improvements. It could not react quick enough or was too brittle, but the idea seemed to work. It reawakened the drive inside them all. The weeks turned into months and with all the odd jobs they ran, they reached the limit of their allowable debt.

Eranor sat with his legs crossed in the back garden of the chapel. After the incident, the priests allowed the three of them to move in and use it as their base of training and recuperation. He was busy meditating, searching for the strange skill he used against the dire wolf matron. He replayed the exact moment he felt it activated, over and over in his head. Yet even after all the time spent improving himself and pushing his limits, he never again was able to achieve this state. His meditation however was broken when he felt a shadow cast over him, blocking the high noon sun from warming his body against the cold wind.

“It’s here, so come on and see what the mountain of debt we all have taken upon ourselves achieved,” informed Raione. She remained standing in front of him, waiting for a response.

“Let’s hope this one holds for more than a few minutes under some strain,” he said and slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was her muscular frame standing before him. She wore her warrior outfit, with axes on her hips, a bow on her back and her new silver wrist guards.

“I don’t think Kal should push it too hard seeing as we don’t have any quarts to repair the damn thing,” she suggested and helped him to his feet.

“I agree but you know Kal, he’s been obsessed with this thing. He’ll want to see how far he can push it without feeling a hint of failure,” he answered and the two of them made their way to the chapel.

As they entered two of the priests gave them acknowledging bows while cleaning the floor. They returned the gestures and continued to the church pew Kaltmund was sitting on. He was busy adjusting the fit of the sleeve.

“Good day master Roland. Think this module might be the one?” Eranor asked the blacksmith.

“I do sure hope so, knowing you three you don’t have a quart left between you. But this is the most improvements we’ve done on it so maybe it’ll hold you till you get an order,” he replied as he tightened the last of the braces.

“It fits a lot better and feels lighter too, it seems that minitour leather we paid for did the trick, besides, it doesn’t look as ugly anymore,” critiqued Kaltmund as he went through the last few checks.

“Everything looking good Kal?” asked Raione.

“It seems like it is. Master Roland, would you mind doing the honours?” Kaltmund offered as he presented his shoulder to the blacksmith.

“It would be my pleasure,” he replied and took a waterskin from the backpack sitting next to the pew. He unscrewed the seal of the sleeve and poured in the water. “I asked the priests to give me holy water, that way if some creature does shatter the pipes open. It will have one hell of a burning surprise,” he informed them as he carefully finished his task.

“Surprised these uptight monks did that,” scoffed Raione.

“They have been more than generous with us Rai. Can you at least refrain from saying things like that?” Eranor reminded her.

“They did it because they felt guilty for not seeing the evil that Borjan was doing right under their noses. Guilt is a powerful emotion you know,” she argued and folded her arms. She gave a look to Eranor he was well acquainted with. She was waiting for him to say something back.

“Done and done,” said Roland as he tightened the seal with one final turn.

“Alright Kal, are you ready?” Eranor asked and watched with anticipation. Kaltmund closed his eyes and let out a single calm breath. Like before the drooping arm perked up. He rolled his shoulder, bent his elbow, and stretched his finger. He went through all the possible motions he could think of.

“Impressive, no limit in mobility. If I wasn’t actively focusing on manoeuvring the water, I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference,” he said and continued his evaluation.

“I have to agree, with the sleeve covering up the frostbite. It’s hard to see that your arm is being moved by water,” Eranor added.

“It’s impressive how easy you are doing this Kal,” praised Raione.

“Thank you, but the movement is one thing. I need now to do some physical tests,” he said and got up.

“Now don’t push it too hard. Remember, your main thing is spellcasting. With that mobility you can finally do it, so keep it easy alright,” warned Roland.

“Relax Roland, don’t you have faith in this design. Besides if this does break you can still patent it. Think of the renown your family will gain from it,” Eranor said, trying to calm his nerves.

“You’re right. The fact he can move it so easily is already good enough,” he mumbled to himself.

The four of them proceeded to go back to the garden. Kaltmund stood in the centre of the courtyard with the other three back on the steps. They watched eagerly to see if all their patients and funds were worth it.

“Repulse,” he shouted, and a wave of frost was unleashed from his hand. A smile crept upon his face. “Release,” he shouted and sent an ice spike flying into the training dummy. He began to chuckle slightly. “Rai come here. It’s time for the durability test,” he ordered and took his stance.

“Alright, here goes nothing,” she said and sprinted at him. She leapt up high and landed an axe kick square on his arm. He nearly buckled completely from the blow. As she took a few steps back, he immediately inspected the tubes.

“They’re fine, they survived,” he exclaimed with genuine excitement.

“Thank the mage, he conjured up this strange material. It's bendable and incredibly hard to tear or cut. Doesn’t offer that much in protection but it does hold the water nicely,” shouted Roland. Kal however, went dead serious. While Raione was making her way back he lifted his sleeve arm and concentrated.

“I call upon water, I call upon the cold of the north,” he began.

“Kal, what are you doing,” cried Eranor as he tried to make his way down the stairs. Raione, however, stopped him.

“Let him try,” was all she whispered.

“Hear my call and answer it. I summon you, element. Take form and grant me your power. See my foe before me, see the foe and smite it. Smite in all your glory,” he chanted and formed the ice spear. It was much larger than before. He aimed up high with his trembling arm, “Show my foe your rupture.”

The ice lance shot forth from his hand and in an instant disappeared into the blue sky. A moment of silence followed as they all had their heads turned up to the clouds, waiting for something to happen. Then an echoing boom filled the air as far off in the distance what seemed like the rain, fell from the sky. Kaltmund fell to his knees, exhausted and shaking. Yet he could still move his right arm.

“I did it,” he whispered before lifting his head with great strain, “I did it. I used Rupture and still have magic left.” With this declaration the other two rushed to his side, helping him to his feet.

“Well would you look at that, it seems you’ve got your drive back,” said Eranor as he steadied him.

“Yeah, we were starting to worry that you might never recover,” added Raione. Kaltmund remained silent as he steadied himself on his feet.

“Thank you both. You’ve gone through so much trouble for me. I am forever in your debt,” he thanked them bow and gave a small bow.

“No, you don’t owe us anything. It was our dream to be heroes together and we promised to do whatever it takes,” Eranor consoled him.

“Besides the only debt we have is to the guild,” added Raione and made her way to Roland. “Roland, it seems our investment and your effort has finally paid off,” she said.

“I’m just glad that it held up when I saw what he summoned I nearly swallowed my tongue,” he admitted as he gave a stupid grin.

“Well at least your job is done here, but you must be sad. Your best patrons are leaving town shortly,” she jested. He gave a little but seemed to be slightly worried by her words.

While Raione gave Roland a hard time Eranor helped Kaltmund sit down on a nearby bench.

“What’s going on. Normally you’re not this tired after casting rupture?” he asked and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I figured out a temporary fix to the magical demand of rupture. If I substitute the magic needed to keep it on target and balanced with stamina, then it is almost ten per cent more efficient,” he explained and leaned back, taking in a lungful.

“Then what is the stamina demand, you look like you sprinted a marathon?” he joked and sat down next to him.

“It depletes my stamina but doesn’t drain my core, so I just need a bit of a breather then I’ll be as good as new,” he reassured him. He paused as he wanted to add to his thanks of earlier but Eranor gave him a look that he knew well. The look of being happy that his friend has returned to normal. He always gave away what he was thinking. It is one of his biggest flaws and a blessing in disguise.

“How much magic have you got left since you can still move your arm?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“About a quatre but if I continue my studies then maybe I can lower the cost even more,” he said and began to feel the urge to ramble on about the mechanics behind his magic.

“Kal, please don’t start. Let me enjoy this moment without being bombarded by complex theories,” he pleaded mockingly. Kaltmund’s face shifted to one of surprise.

“I don’t ramble about complex theories. I simply explain and inform those who wish to listen. Nothing more, nothing less,” he defended his rambling.

“Oh please. Kal, I’ve known you for more than ten years now. You ramble a lot. If they had a competition for rambling, they wouldn’t be able to give you the trophy. Because you’d be too busy rambling to come and collect it,” he jested and started to chuckle when he saw his reaction. But before the teasing could continue, the doors of the church burst open. All their heads turned to the door. In the archway stood five warriors. A small woman stood in the centre with a brutish man to her right. The other three seemed no different from the city guard. The tiny woman walked towards Raione with her red cloak blowing in the soft wind. The three armoured guards stood to the side. The hulking man wearing a tattered faded green jacket followed.

“You must be the three younglings that took on Borjan?” she asked in a high pitched, almost childlike voice.

“What do you want,” Raione asked, getting straight to the choice.

“Oh, a non-exhibitionist. I like it when a youngling gets straight to the point,” she began before the hulking man stepped in front of her.

“You have been cordially invited to the annual recruitment tournament in Belhaven as a reward for exposing Borjan,” he said in a dry monotone voice. The little woman pushed him aside with great effort.

“Honestly, you have no showmanship when it comes to delivering messages you oversized lug-head,” she reprimanded him in an almost cute display of anger. While she was scowling her compatriot, the other three were stunned. Raione’s eyes were stretched as wide as they possibly could. Kaltmund sat stammering as he was lost for words. Eranor sprang up to his feet but was instantly frozen in place. His mind was in shock from what he heard being announced so casually.

“Excuse me,” he mumbled as he sprinted towards the two that were bickering in front of Raione. “Excuse me,” he finally cried out. The two immediately stopped their argument and watched puzzle as he came sprinting towards them. “Excuse me,” he repeated but this time even louder.

“Yes?” asked the small woman.

“Did you say we are invited to take part in the annual recruitment tournament? The tournament where only the most exciting prospects in the entire south compete each year?” he continued to shout as loudly as he possibly could.

“Yes,” answered the man.

“Unbelievable,” was all that Raione could mumble while Eranor was at the point of hyperventilating.

“It came at the decree of King Sairam. He and a few order leaders were impressed that you managed to even survive your encounter with Borjan. He was the top-ranked youngling of the entire floor last year, and that was added to the fact he entered the grand tournament a year earlier than allowed,” explained the woman.

“Grand tournament?” asked Raione who seemed to be slowly gathering her wits.

“Yes, the grand tournament. It is held once every four years and all the heroes of the entire floor compete in their groups to see where they are ranked. How did you three not know of this competition? It is only the largest-scale fighting tournament on the entire floor,” she enquired.

“We are from a rural small-town madam,” interjected Kaltmund who managed to free himself from his stupor. “We only ever hear of the recruitment tournament because Belhaven is so close to home,” he explained.

“How small and rural are talking here?” asked the brute.

“We never had a hero from our town, in fact, we only had one youngling in our entire history,” admitted Eranor with a tinge of embarrassment as he also gathered his wits.

“That is rural,” stated the man.

“None the matter. Now, we came from Belhaven to give you this message personally. Thus, I need an answer. Are you three going to partake in the recruitment tournament in three weeks?” Demanded the woman. The three of them gave each other approving glances before Eranor took a step closer.

“It would be an honour,” he declared.