Jansu's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Morning came too fast. The duel would start at midday, in the training yard beneath the floating citadel. Jansu practiced at the shrine steps while dew still clung to the flowers. He pressed his scythe into the soil and pulled. Light climbed the shaft, then flickered and died. His hands shook. The earth-drawing came, but it came slow and thin. If it failed in the yard, the whole academy would call him a fraud. He tried again. The power stuttered like a dying candle. "You're pulling with your arms," a voice said. "Not your gut." He turned. His sister stood at the garden gate, a basket of cut herbs on her hip. Hana wore the sash of an official, one rank below archon. She had left home years ago to earn it, and she had never once returned to watch him train. Now she set the basket down and walked toward him without a smile. "You heard," Jansu said. "The whole city heard. A senior disciple challenging an initiate." She circled him. "They want you broken today. So show me why they should be scared instead." She knelt and pressed her palm flat to the ground. The soil hummed. "You beg the earth. Don't. Command it. The land answers strength, not need." She looked up, sharp. "You want to rule Skylian someday? Start with the dirt under your feet." Jansu gripped his scythe. He stopped reaching outward. He reached down instead, into his own chest, and let the pull start there. The blade bit the soil. This time the light rose steady and white. It held. It did not flicker. Hana stood. "Again. Faster." He drew again, and again, until the power came the moment he willed it. Sweat ran down his jaw. But the earth-drawing no longer stuttered. It obeyed. Midday. The training yard filled with students and robed council members. The senior disciple waited, taller and broader, a stone talisman glowing at his throat. He grinned at the sight of a fourteen-year-old. They began. The disciple hurled a lance of force. Jansu drove his scythe into the ground and pulled. Power answered at once, clean and strong. He raised a wall of packed earth. The lance shattered against it. The disciple struck again. Jansu did not flinch. He commanded the ground to buckle beneath his opponent's feet. The older student stumbled. Jansu swept his scythe up, and a ridge of stone slammed into the disciple's ribs. The man dropped his talisman and fell. Silence filled the yard. Jansu stood over him, breathing hard, blade steady in his grip. The council members did not clap. They watched him with white faces and drew their heads together, whispering fast. Hana caught his eye from the edge of the crowd. She did not smile, but she nodded once. Jansu had proven he was no fraud. But the fear on the council's faces told him the true fight had only just begun.