The fortress loomed over a hundred paces high, a black edifice, squarish, with crenelations at the top and every ten paces down the middle. A perimeter wall, about ten paces high with a walkway that can easily allow two people to walk side by side, surrounded the tower. A sentry waved them through from atop the walls. The shuttle rose over the wall and landed on a flat slab of stone just past the gate.
Yuriko got off the shuttle and stretched her arms above her head to relieve muscles knotted by staying in one position too long. She watched Virgil moor the shuttle on a post to the side of the landing stones next to several others floating a few inches off the ground. Then, she walked to the edge of the platform and jumped to the ground, green grass cushioning her landing from a drop that was over a pace in height. Yuriko scuffed her boots on the grass, rubbing her side where the handle of her side-blade had dug into her ribs from the abrupt movement.
Virgil, on the other hand, walked around, choosing to use the stairs, an eyebrow raised in amusement at his daughter. Yuriko shrugged and moved her hand away from her side. To her credit, she remembered to brace the rifle properly, else the stock would have brained her silly.
They followed the cobblestone path to the base of the tower where a couple of sentries stood. Faron’s Crossing militiamen wore an outfit similar to Yuriko’s save that the forceweave jacket was dyed green. The emblem of the town, a sickle crossed with a pistol behind a sheaf of wheat, was on a patch near the left shoulder. Both sentries appeared young, fresh out of the Academy.
The young man and woman saluted by bringing a fist to their heart, the movement crisp and synchronous. Virgil nodded with approval.
“At ease.”
Virgil towered head and shoulders over the sentries, and Yuriko, despite her youth, was nearly as tall as the man. Both her mother and father were taller than the average Imperial citizen, and their children inherited that height.
Yuriko nodded her greetings, flashing a nervous smile.
“One, two, three, four!”
A bunch of militiamen were jogging around the yard in full combat gear.
“Salute!” The squad leader yelled as they approached Virgil and Yuriko. In unison, the varied young men and women, nearly a dozen strong, thumped their chests with their fists. The squad continued their run even as Virgil returned the salute. Yuriko nodded to them, too. Once they’d run past, a few of the men glanced back at her.
This was the first time in years that she had stepped foot in the stronghold. The Watchtower, after all, was no place for small children. The sentries let them through the main doors and Virgil waved for Yuriko to enter ahead of him.
“Inquisitor Gorlyn on the premises?” she heard him ask the sentry in a low tone.
“No, sir, the Inquisitor joined the morning patrol.”
The main door opened into a narrow corridor and, even though it was well lit by light panels on the ceiling, it still made Yuriko feel claustrophobic. She didn’t need to stretch her arms too far up for her hands to brush against the ceiling and she could easily reach both of the walls even without fully spreading her arms.
The hallway curved and rose slightly enough that, after the two of them walked a few dozen paces, when she glanced back she could no longer see the entrance. It felt like they’d gone in a full circle by the time the corridor opened up to a wide hall which, Yuriko guessed, placed them about a floor above ground. There was a door on the opposite side of where they entered and one on either side as well as a spiralling staircase surrounding a slick-looking metal pole in the middle.
‘I wonder if that pole goes all the way up the top?’ Yuriko thought idly as a young man as tall as her father approached them. Like Virgil, the man had a square jaw with a cleft chin, hazel eyes, and sandy brown hair.
“Captain.” Marron, Yuriko’s eldest brother, saluted with a fist to the heart.
Virgil returned the salute, approval evident in his eyes.
“Good morning, Maru,” Yuriko said with a smile after seeing her brother’s lips twitch.
“Don’t call me that,” he muttered under his breath.
“Why?” Her smile turned impish.
Marron stepped forward until he was but a few inches away, staring down into Yuriko’s eyes. “It’s Squad Leader Davar now.”
Yuriko poked Marron’s tummy, her finger sinking into the fabric and eliciting a grunt of protest. “Sure, whatever you say, Maru.”
“Tsk.” He clicked his tongue while Virgil chuckled quietly. “Anyway, what are you two here for...ah, the Atavism Ritual!” Marron stepped back and gave Yuriko a concerned look. “Are you sure about this?”
Yuriko nodded solemnly.
“Mother would be disappointed.”
Yuriko’s boot hit Marron’s shin before he could react.
“Ow!”
“That was uncalled for,” Virgil said. “Either way, it’s what Little Yuri wants and we’ll try to tilt the odds in her favour. Just because you and Kato got the Davar Heritage doesn’t mean Yuriko will get it too. The training will be good for her either way,” he concluded with a grin.
“She’s more likely to get Mother’s Heritage,” Marron observed while dodging another of Yuriko’s kicks. “Quit it.”
“Hmph!”
“Alright, alright,” he sighed. “Well, let’s go up the observation deck. You might see a target from there.”
Remembering how high the tower was, Yuriko grimaced. “Is there a lift in this ancient place?”
Marron smirked. “I’m afraid not, little sis. Old-fashioned stairs only. Unless you know how to fly...” He spun on his heels and led the way to the stairs, gesturing towards the steps once he was at the base. “I’m sure you want to spend as much time attuning, li’l sis, so go ahead.”
Grumbling under her breath, Yuriko started up the stairs. Her brother and father followed leisurely behind.
“Report.”
“Twelve sightings from the tower, thirty by the patrols. Thirteen northwest, seventeen south. No casualties, twenty-five kills.”
“Morning?”
“Until midday.”
“Quiet night?”
“The full moon weakens the barriers. We heard a lot, but nothing concrete. Fog was too thick, even for the hawkeyes.”
“You think some managed to slip past?”
“It’s why the Inquisitor decided to join the patrol.”
“Good decision.”
Silence reigned but for Yuriko’s gasps for air. She leaned against the wall while the two men easily climbed past her. Marron smirked as he passed but Yuriko was too winded to kick him. Or even glare for that matter.
In the years that passed since Virgil began training her for the Davar Heritage, she had spent most of her time learning to shoot. She should have been building up her endurance at the same time but, more often than not, Yuriko slacked off on taking morning runs. Now, she found herself paying for it.
“Come on, Yuri. We’re almost halfway there,” Virgil called out.
With another gasp, she grabbed the banister and continued dragging herself up the flight of stairs. Ancestors help her.
After what felt like an entire day, but was more likely only half an hour of climbing at most, Yuriko finally managed to reach the landing where the other two were waiting. The door leading out to the deck was ajar, letting in some sunlight.
Yuriko felt life return to her limbs when she stepped out into the sun. Like her father and brother, her exposed skin was lightly tanned from constant exposure, though it would otherwise be as white as milk underneath her clothes. The glare briefly blinded her but her eyes adjusted.
The view all the way back to Faron’s Crossing was breathtaking, but Marron nudged her after a moment’s reverie. They followed the length of the walkway, Yuriko running her palm along the crenulations on the nearly chest-high walls. The wall was cool to her touch, even though it had been soaking in the rays of the sun for a few hours now. Like the wings on their shuttle, the walls absorbed the sunlight and powered some of the Watchtower’s functions.
When they crossed over to the other side of the tower, she couldn’t help but stare. The height they were at allowed Yuriko to see for leagues around.
The ground behind them was lush and fertile. Green where the grass grew or golden where the wind bowed the wheat. To the west, the ground was dry, hard-packed earth. Three longstrides away were the Tidelands, a stretch of land that separated Rumiga from the Primordial Chaos. Distance in the Tidelands was strange. Some times, it only took a step from the edge to lead to its deepest reaches, and at other times, it took weeks of constant travel.
Wyldlings came from the Tidelands and they wanted nothing more than to turn every inch of land back into Chaos. The air above the Tidelands was hazy, with streaks of bright colours. Reds and blues, greens, yellows, and violets, each shade blending into each other, interspersed with bright white light and deep shadow.
“Look there.” Virgil pointed at a spot on the hard-packed earth. There were a bunch of straw pillars about two hundred paces from the perimeter wall. “Target posts.”
Yuriko adjusted her rifle and was about to ready her aim when Virgil pushed the barrel down.
“Not with that,” he said when Yuriko frowned, “save your Animus for later.”
Marron handed her a training rifle, almost identical to the Plasma Caster in her hands except that this one used solid slugs and didn’t require the use of Animus. Such things weren’t useful against the Wyldlings, and of limited use to anyone who can freely control their Animus.
“But--” Yuriko protested.
“I know,” Virgil nodded towards the training rifle, “practice your aim with an inferior weapon first. The Heritage encompasses all ranged weapons, not just Plasma Casters.”
Swallowing, Yuriko sighed and placed her Plasma Caster on a bench. The training rifle was heavier than her rifle and felt clumsy in her hand.
She leaned on the wall, bracing her leg, and sighted along the barrel. At the moment, the target dummy was barely a smudge on the ground. The colour of the straw dummy was well-camouflaged against its surroundings, making the outline difficult to distinguish.
“Focus your Animus in your eyes,” Virgil instructed as he stood beside Yuriko. “The first step is to see.”
Taking a deep breath, Yuriko closed her eyes. The sun was blocked by the tower behind her though its shadow didn’t cover the target. There was a warmth inside her core that she sought, a little tongue of flame that flickered in time with her heartbeat.
She coaxed a part of that flame out, willing it to move from her centre and up into her head. Minutes passed like hours while she mentally nudged at it until, finally, a mote of light detached from the main body.
Bringing it up to her head, and then to her eyes was relatively simple. Just asking it to move was enough. ‘See further, see clearly.’ Her thoughts shouted out at the mote of light as it swirled around her right eye. The light expanded, and she felt her right eye heat up.
When Yuriko opened her eye, she could clearly see the cracks in the ground but the straw target wasn’t in her field of vision. She opened her left eye, adjusted her aim, and, now, she could see the orange carrot at the centre of the dummy’s head.
She inhaled then let out half of her breath. She was acutely aware of the beating of her heart.
Th-thud. Th-thud.
She released her remaining breath slowly then, between one heartbeat and the next, she pulled the trigger.
Hsst!
The rifle stock kicked hard against her shoulder, but her legs absorbed the recoil easily enough. The heat in her right eye had faded away and she could no longer see as clearly. She glanced at her father whose hazel eyes glowed purple while he used his Animus.
His eyes met hers just as she was about to ask and he shook his head.
“Three inches to the right. Aim at the core of the target next time, instead of the head.”
“Ugh!” With a grunt of frustration, Yuriko returned to her firing position and closed her eyes to summon her Animus again.
Why did she miss? She was sure she had lined up the shot perfectly. Perhaps the recoil moved her aim? Ugh, the rifle wouldn’t have jumped in her hand if it were powered by her Animus.
With her frustration, it took longer to move the mote of light into her eye. When she was ready, she focused her aim on the centre of the dummy’s torso and, as she pulled the trigger, she focused on making sure that the muzzle didn’t move from the recoil.
Hsst!
“Good shot,” Virgil declared though he didn’t need to. Yuriko had seen some of the straw puff away as her bullet hit the torso. The shot wasn’t perfectly centred; just before the Animus faded from her eye she saw that the shot was actually three inches to the right of where she aimed.
“Chaos!” she muttered in frustration.
“Language, young lady!” Virgil grimaced.
“Sorry, Da,” Yuriko muttered while she flushed; her cheeks, ears, and neck reddened as she looked down. ‘You curse just as badly,’ she thought rebelliously.
“Do I need to scrub your mouth with soap?” Virgil asked mildly. “Your mother would do worse.”
“No, Da.” Yuriko’s hair hid her eyes. She returned hastily to aiming.
A few shots later, the bullet holes actually moved closer to the centre of the target. Unfortunately, her supply of Animus was almost depleted. Sweat streaked down her face and she used her sleeve to wipe it off.
At some point in time, Virgil and Marron had left the observation area, telling her to meet them at the food hall when she was done. The sun was close to its zenith. Each time she used her Animus, it took precious minutes.
Virgil and her brothers told her before that it would be different once she had gone through the Atavism Ritual and if she received the Davar Heritage. Then, any action that involved using a ranged weapon and destroying Wyldlings would be much easier. And faster, of course.
Feeling wrung out, she grabbed her Plasma Caster and slung it over her shoulder. The training rifle she held onto. She was tempted to just leave it on the bench, but she knew she’d get one hell of a talking to from her brother, not to mention the disappointment she’d see in Virgil’s eyes for neglecting weapons.
When she opened the door and stepped into the cooler tower interior, a young militiaman stood waiting.
“M-miss Davar, Captain Davar instructed me to,” he stuttered when Yuriko stared at him, eyes flat with exhaustion. “Um, Captain Davar told me to guide you when you’re done.”
He had green eyes and short-cropped hair that was about as red as his face. He looked like he was fresh out of the Academy, but Yuriko was tall enough that she only had to look up an inch to meet his eyes.
“Er, I’ll take that, if you don’t mind.” He reached for the training rifle.
“Oh, thank you.”
He fidgeted for a couple of moments before he led Yuriko down the set of stairs and into a different corridor.
Grgrr.
The militiaman gave Yuriko an amused glance while she shrugged and said, “Hungry.”
He flushed and looked away while Yurko frowned in puzzlement. ‘Is this the first time he’s ever seen a girl?’ That couldn’t be right.
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