Laufa, the Trial-Tearer Barrier-Bearer

The manra buzzed in Laufa’s lungs. The throbbing behind her eyes was still there, but weeks of practice had taught her to tune it out. The glow from her manra made her sweat shine. Snowflakes hissed where they met her shimmering barrier. It shone steadily. Finally.

She heard the crackle of a barrier dissolving nearby. “Konets, eliminated!” Instructor Pruatt jabbed the disciple with his sword’s hilt.

Their first real trial, and a quarter of them were already eliminated. Fail two trials, and you had a one-way ticket to the frontlines. That was the prize. Earning a post here, in the capital. But there’s really two more of these!? We might all be gone by then!

Her gaze flicked across the training yard. The adept bearers, Mordhun, Eralia and the others, patrolled the trial alongside their instructor. The other disciples’ faces twisted in concentration. One girl chewed her lip until blood smeared her chin.

The noble boy next to her was especially struggling. He looked tiny, and his hunched-over posture made him seem even tinier. His heaving face reminded her of Fiann’s.

She saw the barrier in front of him start to splinter. His mouth dropped, his dark eyes flying open in terror. It’s about to break.

Laufa moved without thinking. Her hand shot forward. She channeled manra to her palm and aimed right in front of him. A barrier snapped into place directly behind his.

She clenched her jaw. Her vision blurred, the training yard felt like it had tipped sideways. His barrier vanished, but hers remained. It looked as if his hadn’t failed in the first place.

The boy’s eyes shot across the yard before locking onto hers. He stared at Laufa in disbelief. She gave him a small smile. His eyes flickered with understanding, then a shaky nod. He turned his gaze forward and created a new barrier.

Laufa willed the barrier away and let out a deep breath. God, I actually did it.

Across the yard, Mordhun stirred. He brushed a single snowflake from his shoulder, his eyes narrowed on the boy beside her. Spoke too soon…

“Instructor, I believe there’s been a violation,” he barked.

Snitch. Her fingers twitched. This is bad, This is so bad. That was cheating, I helped him cheat. They’ll eliminate me for this, won’t they!?

The boy’s eyes darted between Mordhun and Laufa; frantic, and then suddenly still. He looked down at the snow and sighed, then dispelled his barrier. Laufa flinched as he shot down to one knee. His fist slammed into the ground, tossing up snow.

The instructor’s head snapped towards the sound. “Nachkt Pasaulis, eliminated.”

Mordhun scoffed and returned to his patrol. Snow clung to Nachkt’s knuckles as he rose, a stray tan hair fell across his forehead. Laufa’s gaze followed his back as he left the training ground.

She turned back to the empty space beside her. The snow had been strewn aside to reveal gravel underneath. A month ago, that would’ve been her.

For the first time all morning, her own barrier wavered. One by one, the other disciples were eliminated. She had gotten stronger. Stronger than most of them, but she still wasn’t strong enough.

* * *

“A decisive blow, and you’re out. Drop your weapon, you’re out. Yield,” Instructor Pruatt paced the dueling arena. “Of course, you’re out.”

The winter air stung at Eralia’s cheeks. She stood among a crowd of disciples. They shared nervous whispers with breathy puffs, the sunlight glinting off their stena gems. Far below, Pruatt recited the rules for the second trial, half-hidden in the mountain’s shadow. His voice echoed through the stone amphitheatre.

“Lose, you leave the arena. Win, and you keep fighting.” Pruatt’s eyes lifted to the nobles in the stands. “Prove to them you’re worth more than a family name. Prove you’re worth even the stena on your chest. Eidar, Nachkt—“

He gestured with the tip of his blade. “Centre. You’re first.”

The two boys met each other’s gaze, then descended to the arena floor. Nachkt’s hand trembled as he was offered a blunt piercer. They faced off, just a body’s length apart. Eidar smirked.

Pruatt lifted his arm. “BEGIN!”

Eidar led with his entire body in an aggressive lunge. Nachkt managed to cast a barrier just in time. He staggered back from the impact, barely dispelling his manra before being struck again. Eidar unleashed a flurry of blows. His piercer sparked against hasty fractals of light one after another. It was an onslaught of attacks, Nachkt’s own were few and far between.

To the cheering audience, it seemed to be an overwhelming performance from Eidar, though Eralia rolled her eyes.

She saw Eidar’s entire shoulder swing with each strike. His technique was amateurish, really. A piercer’s stena-alloy was meant to concentrate a bearer’s manra to a fine point, to find perforations in an opponent’s barrier. It required precision. Not his wild flailing that was, frankly, a waste of manra. Eidar was gambling on shattering Nachkt’s barriers before his own manra reserves ran dry.

Nachkt stumbled back, again and again, until he finally found himself cornered at the edge of the arena. Eidar raised his sword for a final overhead swing as Nachkt’s palm shot out, casting a desperate shield. The blade met his barrier and splintered into pieces.

“What—?”

For a moment, Eidar’s eyes widened. His blade bounced off as Nachkt’s gemstone flared. There was a second barrier. Smaller and weaker, hidden underneath the first. It would’ve been a simple matter for an opponent at full strength. But Eidar had run out of the manra.

His body lurched forward, his piercer flailed uselessly through the air. Nachkt squeezed his eyes shut and swung. His weapon slammed into Eidar’s ribs.

“Halt!” Pruatt’s arm shot down. “Congratulations, Nachkt Pasaulis.”

Eidar’s sword-arm went limp. “That’s… How did you…?”

How unfortunate. Scattered applause trickled from the stands. Eralia’s expression was unchanged. Nachkt didn’t win, Eidar had simply lost.

“Ottro, next to the arena!”