...no, this story does not have Gurren Lagann references in it. Why do you ask? (Idach doesn't even show up in this chapter...)
Anyway, this is my favorite scene so far, because we get some backstory on Jyuna. I also feel it's a little less densely written than part A.
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“Touch!” called Jyuna.
“Damn,” groaned Tey, as the flat of Jyuna’s wooden practice sword landed above his collarbone. It didn’t hurt—Jyuna had taken care to only tap—but disappointment surged through Tey’s stomach anyway.
A week after he’d joined Presulis and he’d only manage to get a touch on Jyuna once during their daily practice sparring sessions. Logically, Tey knew he was already doing quite well; Jyuna, the seasoned Ajyadi warrior, said as much every time he praised Tey’s progress. Still, in a childish way Tey was frustrated that all of his practice duels ended the same.
Jyuna turned and tossed the practice sword aside in a careless motion; it clattered on the courtyard tiles. They were in one of Presulis Palace’s many outer courtyards, one with a wide sandy lot suited for sparring. Every morning now, since Tey had first arrived in the palace, he went to the courtyard to learn sword craft under Jyuna; according to Jyuna, Idach was adamant that every member of Presulis knew how to fight. Tey thought he already knew—hadn’t he been in enough clashes with dockworkers and guards?—but soon realized that the sort of fighting Jyuna taught, based on discipline, forms, and strategy, was completely different from the instinctual and animalistic way most street kids fought.
It was difficult, and Tey often ended his practice sessions covered with bruises, but he felt it was worth it. And fun, too, especially when he became caught up in the heat of the fight and the world became nothing but him and Jyuna, clashing swords, feinting, and dodging blows in an effort to break through the other’s defenses.
Much more fun, certainly, than the other lessons in the afternoon. Jyuna would take him to Dr. Cadmus’s lab and Dr. Cadmus would scribble with erasable ink on a shiny white board, yammering at length about things like “anaphase” and “RNA” and drawing diagrams of circles and double helixes. Tey would get completely lost but felt it rude to interrupt the lecturing doctor, so he would just sit and nod and pretend to understand while Jyuna asked questions about “alleles” and “linkage disequilibrium” and whatnot. Tey didn’t understand the point of these lessons; he thought them far less practical than the sparring sessions with Jyuna.
After a torturous hour with Dr. Cadmus, Tey would head over to Idach’s quarters, where Idach taught him his letters and lectured in stentorian tones on the history of Aeta. These lessons, especially the writing ones, were difficult; to Tey, all the letters appeared the same, and he stared at them so long that their dark shapes cantered through his dreams. Still, he was determined to learn to write (a skill which Idach said was necessary for Presulis), and Idach’s history tales, many of them about the Protector’s travails, fascinated him.
In the strangest way, Tey thought that being with Presulis was almost like being at school. He’d never been to school before, but this was how he imagined it, full of lessons—some interesting, some utterly nonsensical. Still, he was learning, gaining knowledge that would lead to him becoming a full Presulis member and therefore able to find Nendo.
“You’re doing great, kid,” said Jyuna, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a cloth. “Especially for being at it for such a short time. Soon we might be able to fight with blunted swords. You’re well on your way to getting your own katal.”
“Really?” said Tey, fighting down a blush. A katal, he knew, was the traditional curved sword of the Ajyadi people; Jyuna had one and had shown it to Tey on his second day. They were expensive, elaborate, and reserved for only the most valorous warriors (at least according to Jyuna). To think Jyuna thought him good enough to wield one of his own…
Nendo had never praised him like that before, Tey thought distantly. Nendo would just say, “Good job,” after a successful heist and leave it at that.
Tey shook his head to clear it; what was he doing, thinking like that about his best friend? Anyway, Jyuna was waiting for him at the courtyard’s archway, his arms folded, looking expectant. Tey quickly dashed over to the Ajyadi, his heart thumping though he didn’t know why.
They started together down the walkway to Dr. Cadmus’s lab. Jyuna strode a little ahead of Tey, his long silk tunic—the kind favored by Ajyadi men—flapping behind him. Its bright orange shade clashed magnificently with his hair. Turning away from Jyuna, feeling embarrassed for some strange reason, Tey said:
“Why’re you with Presulis in the first place?”
The question had been gnawing at him for some time; the entire week, in fact. Tey couldn’t really see why Jyuna would want to join Presulis, an organization dedicated to the work of the Protector, a Mainlander deity. Jyuna also didn’t have that same intensity of purpose that characterized Idach, and the few soldiers with whom Tey had conversed.
Granted, Tey wasn’t half as confused about Jyuna as he was about Dr. Cadmus, a Coalition doctor in an anti-Coalition group.
“Hmm…why?” said Jyuna, casting Tey a sidelong glance.
“Yeah,” said Tey. “I mean, it doesn’t seem like—like you would want to carry out the work of the Protector—”
“Kyata, no,” said Jyuna with a little laugh, shaking his head. “But I do have my reasons. Like I said before, I may hate this world’s government, but I hate the Coalition more.”
Tey remembered Jyuna saying that to the Ajyadi separatist group that had gathered in the Foreign Quarter; he hadn’t thought that Jyuna meant it, though—it was just part of his act. Jyuna had told Tey that he worked as a spy for Presulis, gathering news and potential recruits in the Foreign Quarter.
“Why’s that?” said Tey. Sure, he didn’t like the offworlders much either, but there was something else, a biting, vitriolic quality, in Jyuna’s voice that suggested more than mere dislike.
“Because…” Jyuna stopped walking, causing Tey almost to bump into him. He turned around, facing Tey, his face drawn, a strange, serious light burning in his dark eyes. Tey suppressed a shudder; he’d never seen Jyuna so intense before…
“Because the Coalition took away my people’s pride,” explained Jyuna, his words quiet and measured, filled with a darkness Tey couldn’t comprehend. “Before the first offworlders came to my village—Kashna Jyen, in the north of Ajyad—we were proud of being Ajyadi. Sure, the Mainlander government conducted raids periodically and tried to prevent us from worshipping our gods, but that just made us prouder in who we were. Our warriors were renowned, and every day you could hear the priests’ chants from the Temple of Hijyara, the mother goddess.”
Tey nodded, trying to picture what Jyuna was describing. He couldn’t, though: Tey knew nothing about Ajyad besides the drunkards, restaurant owners, and hookers in Theratolia’s Foreign Quarter.
“When I was ten, I was given the tattoos of my clan—” Jyuna tugged unconsciously on the front of his tunic “—and began training as a warrior in the arts of teya…what you people call ‘battle magic’, I guess. I was eager, so eager, to become as strong a warrior as my father and brothers, to take up the katal in honor of the village…but in that same year, the offworlders arrived.
“They were the first offworlders to ever come to Kashna Jyen. They came, pale-skinned and in their dark clothes, and set up a business at the edge of the village, selling their contraptions. Gadgets and technology—like Felipe’s microscopes and computers and such. We had never seen anything like them before. Soon, they attracted a booming business of curious villagers. They brought us good things, things we could never have dreamed of. Electricity, hoverbikes, air conditioning. Things started to change around the village.
“Everyone was so delighted that they didn’t notice how we started to change. Only I did. Even at ten, I could sense something was wrong. My people stopped being proud in being Ajyadi. They wanted to be like the offworlders.” A definite angry note had entered Jyuna’s words; Tey was reminded of what Idach had said on his first day. “The worst thing wasn’t that, though—it was what happened to our culture. It used to be that we were Ajyadi: it was in our blood. But after the offworlders came, being Ajyadi became like a game.”
They rounded a corner; Dr. Cadmus’s building came into view. Jyuna continued speaking: “The offworlders wanted to experience Kashna Jyen’s ‘local flavor’. So we gave it to them. Our women started selling golden jewelry, lovely charms to ward against illness and bad luck, like trinkets; our priests performed corrupted versions of religious dances for the enjoyment of the offworlders. And our warriors…” Jyuna clenched his hand into a white-knuckled fist. “Every day the village’s best warriors dressed up in elaborate costumes and performed mock sword fights with dull-bladed katals. They didn’t care anymore about fighting to preserve the honor of the village—all they cared about was making money from the offworlders who came to watch.”
“I…I see,” said Tey, because he couldn’t say anything else. What could he say when Jyuna was glaring at the walkway beneath, his hands clenched into fists and breathing hard from anger? He’d never seen the Ajyadi so angry before, except that one time when Jyuna had thought him a spy. But even then, his rage had held a different quality—the desperation of a cornered animal. Here, this rage was icier, more calculated. More dangerous.
“So I left,” said Jyuna, the sound of his voice startling Tey. “Four years ago, when I turned seventeen. I’d had it with my people…no, the foolish children the offworlders turned us into. Once, we were proud of being warriors. Then we became jokes. Toys. Amusements. I refused, so I left. Eventually, I found Idach and Presulis, and that’s why I’m here.”
“So you want the offworlders to leave,” said Tey.
“If it wasn’t anyone but Idach, I wouldn’t think it possible,” said Jyuna with a rueful laugh. “But he just—makes you believe, you know?”
Tey knew. He thought of the way Idach had spoken so purposefully about his cause, how all-consuming his calm gaze was. Illogical as he knew it was, he thought that Idach truly could do anything, even banish the Coalition from Aeta.
They reached the archway that opened into the building. Before they entered, though, Tey decided to ask the second question that had been gnawing at him: “Why is Dr. Cadmus with Presulis, then? Isn’t he an offworlder?”
“Enlightened self-interest,” said Jyuna, jerking his shoulder in a shrug. “That’s what he says, anyway.”
Tey had no idea what the words meant, and doubted Jyuna would clarify. He settled for following Jyuna silently across the beige flagstone, at least until another question wound its way through his mind.
“Um…are you and the doctor friends?” He didn’t know why the question made him so nervous—then again, Jyuna had been expounding on his hatred of offworlders only moments before. Maybe he wouldn’t like the insinuation…
Tey needn’t have worried; Jyuna just threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, you think I can’t be friends with him because he’s an offworlder? Now, that’s not true.”
“But you said…” protested Tey.
“Felipe’s a fun guy to hang around,” said Jyuna, flashing Tey a roguish smile. “And all that genetics stuff—it’s fascinating. It’s what we’re made of, you know? I can believe that we’re shaped from base pairs of four different elements. It’s just like the four heavenly attributes, in combinations of two, that the creator gods gave each human.”
Tey had heard nothing of “four heavenly attributes” or creator gods from his lessons with Idach; he assumed that Jyuna was talking about Ajyadi mythology. Anyway, since he didn’t understand any of Dr. Cadmus’s lessons, he didn’t know what these “base pairs” or whatnot were.
They crossed through another archway—just in time to see Kiri dashing down the hall, wearing two swords on her back, her mist-green robe flapping around her. The instant she saw them, she slowed to a walk and let loose an exaggerated sigh of relief.
Tey tensed; he still remembered Kiri insulting him on his first day, calling him “trash” and “cannon fodder”…
“Morning, Kiri,” said Jyuna. “I assume that you’ve just escaped the doctor?”
“Narrowly,” said Kiri, rolling her eyes. “He was being especially horrible today. He wanted a frenetic sample from me, of all people.”
“Genetic, Kiri,” said Jyuna, matching Kiri’s eye roll. “And it doesn’t hurt, you know.”
“I’m not letting that old creep anywhere near me,” was Kiri’s darkly muttered response. Then, looking up, she noticed Tey, setting gleaming dark eyes on his face. Tey fought against the urge to step backwards: he wasn’t afraid of her! She was much shorter than him, and a girl besides.
“How’s our little piece of cannon fodder doing, Jyuna?” she said.
Don’t get angry, Tey told himself, sucking in a deep breath before releasing it, controlling his breathing as Jyuna had taught him. You know you’re not “cannon fodder”, you’re a member of Presulis like she is…
“His name is Tey,” said Jyuna, still conversationally. “Or did you already forget?”
“I tend not to remember the names of cannon fodder,” said Kiri, surveying her fingernails.
“I’m not cannon fodder,” said Tey hotly, stepping forward in anger. Jyuna shot Tey a warning look, which Tey ignored.
Kiri unleashed an impatient laugh. “Oh, would you have a listen at that. He talks!”
A wild lick of rage rose in the hollow of Tey’s chest. He took another step forward, balling his hands into fists. “Why wouldn’t I talk?” he snapped.
Kiri arched an elegant eyebrow. “It’s nothing, just I didn’t know that rats could talk.”
Tey’s rage boiled over. He no longer saw an islander warrior woman bearing two swords—he saw instead the dockworker boys laughing at him, throwing clods of river mud on him; he saw the blue-uniformed guards swiping at him with the flats of their swords, hollering at the trash to get out; he saw vendors hurling curses at his retreating back and swinging fists at his head.
I’m not trash, I’m not cannon fodder. I’m Tey, Nendo’s Tey, and I won’t—I won’t let this girl insult me—
Just as Tey wildly charged toward Kiri, fist raised, a strong arm wrapped around his neck and caught him in a headlock, bearing him to his knees. Tey sputtered and struggled against the unforgiving muscular arm around his neck, to no avail. He felt Jyuna’s breath, hot and scented of spices, in his ear, hissing furious words:
“Stop it. What in jyaken are you doing?”
“She—she—“” protested Tey, trying to yank free of Jyuna’s grip. Jyuna, however, held on tight, holding Tey back from Kiri, who was watching the proceedings with a grin. “She insulted me, dammit—”
“So what? Don’t go picking a fight with her. She could disembowel you in ten minutes if she wanted to,” snarled Jyuna, dragging Tey further back.
“Let go—” Tey’s heart was pounding so hard against his ribcage he thought it was going to burst, and his breaths came in short, furious pants. The rage still burned in his veins, setting them on fire: the rage of wanting to avenge an insult.
A jolt of surprise sliced through the red-hot rage clouding his mind. Though Tey had gotten this angry before, it had always been on Nendo’s behalf, not because he himself had been insulted…
“Ha ha ha ha!” Kiri unleashed a short, staccato laugh, before turning around, gathering her robe around her, and waving good-bye. “Well, see you later, Jyuna—Tey the talking rat. I’m going to train.”
With that, she tapped the hilt of one of her swords, before flouncing out of an open archway with steps dainty as a maiden’s, but arrogant as a warrior’s.
“Whew. Kidha. What a relief,” sighed Jyuna, releasing his lock on Tey’s neck. Tey stumbled forward, massaging his neck and breathing hard, struggling to calm the violent pounding of his heart.
“Sorry about that,” said Jyuna, approaching Tey. Tey straightened up and faced the Ajyadi.
“It’s…all right,” he said, and he realized it was. The animalistic rage that had previously been arresting his every nerve had died down, into something calmer and more manageable, though not completely gone. Like a fire that had died down from a roaring blaze into embers.
“You shouldn’t have tried to fight Kiri,” continued Jyuna, laughing. “Although I’ll have to admit you do have—what do you call it?—pluck.”
“I…” said Tey, remembering Kiri’s smirking face, remembering the insults she’d been raining on him, remembering his own wild fury. A realization was snaking through the crevasses of his mind, a strange one that he at first rebelled against, yet it made sense. Even more quietly, he said, “I…I really…”
“Yeah?” said Jyuna, who had started down the hall again. “Come on, Felipe will yell at us if we’re late…”
Tey, who had yet to see Dr. Cadmus raise his voice for anything, highly doubted this. He remained where he was, running his thoughts through his mind, until he’d cemented everything, his logic and feelings, into concrete words:
“I hate her.”
It was insane—him, Tey, hating anyone? Yet he was sure he did. He’d never felt so strongly about anyone before, had never really felt anything before except the desire to always follow Nendo. He still wanted to follow Nendo, but there was something else, now, something tugging in the depths of his heart he knew belonged only to him. He hated Kiri. Not because Kiri constantly mocked Nendo and called Nendo trash, but because she mocked Tey and called Tey trash.
“Oh, Kiri?” said Jyuna, who didn’t look perturbed at all by Tey’s declaration. “Well…she isn’t the most likeable person around, I’ll agree with that. She has too much…we call it itay kekado. Piss and vinegar?”
“I hate her, I—I wanna—I wanna stop her from saying those things—” stammered Tey, feeling his face flush and his hands begin to tremble. What was he saying, he didn’t know anymore, but his emotions had become too strong to control.
The next moment, to his surprise, he felt Jyuna’s heavy hand clap him on the shoulder. Tey looked up at the Ajyadi, confused. Jyuna just smiled.
“Don’t reject your hate,” he said, a strange bitterness at the edge of his smile, his coal-dark eyes hard. “Hate can make you strong.”
Tey stared into Jyuna’s eyes, seeing—and for the first time, understanding—the intent blazing in their dark depths, and jerked his head into a nod.
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I don't quite like the confrontation between Kiri and Tey quite as much as Jyuna's earlier discussion. A lot of it feels rather...stiff and contrived, for some reason. And gahh...what is up with my tendency to repeat until I start seeing double? I would particularly love shredding on repetition and redundancy.
I remember having a lot of fun with this section, though, in part because it has so much Jyuna in it. He's one of those characters who's just a delight to write. Otherwise, I don't have much to say on this chapter, probably because I actually like it (the first chapter I've written so far that I like! XD). I'd say the story definitely starts improving after this chapter.
The next chapter is a bit more mehh than this, in part because it's riddled with continuinty errors (which I'm unsure how to fix) and the conversation with Darian and Masudo at the end...erch. It does delve more in-depth into the world, though. But really, I'm just going through these chapters in anticipation of the amazingness that are chapters eight-to-ten.
All critiques are appreciated, but the more you can shred, the more I'll love you.
