Blacklight Born by Alexander Darwin

Author:Alexander Darwin [Darwin, Alexander]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-13T16:00:00+00:00

XII

THE LINGERING SHADOW

The inferior fighter is frustrated when recovering from injury or loss, unable to claim the strength they once possessed. A master understands that the path to recovery will reveal new techniques previously hidden by habit. A Grievar must always be ready to rebuild from nothing.

Sixtieth Precept of the Combat Codes

Commander Albion Jonquil Memnon was still sweating from his morning bag-work as he set down the long Knights’ Tower stair. His lower back creaked and pain radiated across his shoulders, but he didn’t mind. At least he felt something.

The savory scent of lard wafted to his nose as he passed the kitchens and servicer quarters.

“Something smells good in there as usual, Rafi.” Memnon nodded to one of the Grunt sizzlers who was on his way out from the nightshift.

“Yes, there sure is, High Commander.” The Grunt bowed his head.

“Just Commander now, Rafi,” Memnon said.

“Right-o, Commander.” Rafi nodded vigorously. “And hello to your shadow, too.”

Rafi looked down beside Memnon where the boy stood on the stair.

“Sam, you’ve met Rafi before.” Memnon put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, prodding him to greet the Grunt.

“That’s okay, Commander,” Rafi said. “My little un is shy as this one.”

“I’m going to head over to the slippery rocks to see if I can catch some blue crabs!” Sam blurted out.

“Not sure if I know where that be, but I could certainly use some crabs for my sizzling pan if you can find ’em.” Rafi managed a puzzled smile and continued on down the stairs ahead of them.

Memnon and Sam walked side by side, the little boy only coming up to the burly Grievar’s hip. The boy had been inseparable from Memnon since Murray had brought him from the Deep and dropped him at his doorstep. Though Sam technically slept at the Lyceum’s medward for continued monitoring, he showed up nearly every morning at Memnon’s door and stayed by his side until nightfall.

Memnon and Sam stopped at one of the Knights’ training rooms, which was starting to fill in the morning light. Several polished Circles of varying elemental alloys lay at the center of the large room, waiting for the surrounding Knights to set foot in them. The team sat on the surrounding tatamis, chatting while they wrapped their hands and stretched out.

Memnon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could smell the cleansing oil used to wipe down the mats and the harsh polish to set the Circles gleaming each night. Despite the servicers’ best efforts, the musk of sweat and blood still lingered, and Memnon loved it. It brought back his deepest memories of training, chatting on these very mats with his comrades.

“Taking it in, eh, Commander?” Raymol Tarsis stood in front of him, peering down at Sam. Though Memnon was a large man himself, Raymol was one of the few who stood at least a foot taller.

“Yeah, I suppose so, Ray,” Memnon said. “Only have so many years left I might be able to do so.”

“Ah, shut it on that, Commander.

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