Laryn flopped to the ground, exhausted and bleeding. Shouts from the Jardensvalers filled the beach around him. He paid them no heed, as he knew the danger had passed.

  “I wasn’t ready for that,” he groaned to Adi.

  A woman with wild black hair rallied the healthy villagers, directing their efforts as they tended to the wounds of the injured. She wore dozens of bead necklaces and bracelets, with charms that jangled as she moved. Her dark dress was stained with dirt.

  She approached Laryn, wrinkled face twisted in concern as she examined his injuries. “I’m Hela,” she said, prodding at his leg. “I’ll get you all patched up.”

  Soon Laryn sat propped up against a crate, his injuries bandaged. Most of his wounds had been shallow and easily to tend. The stab in his leg, though, would probably take some time to heal.

  Without the effect of influence aiding his movements, making him faster and more agile while in his kingdom, Laryn knew he would have died. The boost to his constitution and strength also made a difference. He wondered what he needed to do to claim an additional constitution point to help him heal faster.

  He scanned the interface. He owned three rings; the central tile where the kingdom core sat counted as one, and that gave him a magic affinity point. The six tiles around that one gave him strength. The twelve tiles around those gave him constitution.

  He’d been hurt a lot recently, more injuries than he’d ever experienced in such a short span. The constitution point from the kingdom core was amazingly helping him to heal quickly.

  Since the core system awarded points evenly, Laryn would need to complete three more rings around the core to gain another constitution point.

  That would take… he didn’t want to count all the tiles.

  “Adi,” he wheezed. “How many more tiles do I need to capture to get an additional constitution point?”

  “That would be… Seventy-two in those rings, but you’ve already got three of them, so sixty-nine more. I wouldn’t recommend it, since that would push your influence below one.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Laryn said. “Just trying to plan. So I’m about twenty core essence off of that with influence of one. More if I keep pushing it out of balance.”

  “That’s right!” Adi said.

  “You’re too chipper,” Laryn groaned. “Don’t you ever get tired?”

  “Tired of being cooped up? Yep. Tired of not having very much administrating to do? Yep. Tired like a corporeal being with a physical body? No way.”

  Coril approached. He’d been hit in the face by the water roach, and now sported a black eye and split lip.

  “That was quite the fight,” Coril said, eying Laryn’s bandages. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Laryn said. “You trained these men? They fought well. Stood their ground.”

  Coril beamed with pride. “You need sturdy soldiers in the wildlands,” he said.

  “You’ll be a good steward while I’m gone,” Laryn said, clapping the man on the shoulder.

  Shouts rang out. Laryn scanned the beach, looking for the commotion. Someone ran through the trees, coming from the north shore of the island.

  Laryn, curious, heaved himself to his feet. Coril paled visibly, for no apparent reason.

  “It’s probably not more voidlings,” Laryn said, trying to reassure the man. “There’s no more void on the island.”

  It wasn’t more voidlings.

  Widan jogged across the beach. His trousers were soaking wet now, probably from an attempt to wash them after his accident. Laryn hoped for the boy’s sake that not many other people had seen what had happened. He’d never live that down.

  “What is it?” Laryn asked as Widan approached.

  Widan glanced at Coril uncomfortably.

  “A body,” he said. “In the river.”

  Laryn followed Widan through the trees. A few others tagged along, wondering what the commotion was about.

  “I was just—um, going to wash up in the river,” Widan said. “And I saw it, floating there…”

  He led Laryn to the shore, where a strong eddy curled between the stones and the sand, trapping debris from the river.

  In the swirling water a body floated, face down.

  Laryn recognized the clothes.

  “It’s Tasam,” he said. “Get him out of there!”

  Strong hands pulled the body from the water and laid him on the ground among the trees. Laryn searched for wounds.

  He found a deep stab between the man’s ribs, just below the heart. The injury was clean, too surgical to have been an accident, or an encounter with a voidling.

  “Someone murdered him,” Laryn said, looking up into the faces of the gathered townsfolk. “Where is Coril?”

  They carried the body back to the beach. Laryn leaned on Widan, arm draped across his shoulder as he tried to keep his weight off his injured leg.

  As the entourage approached the shelter, a half dozen sharp slaps rang out. Coril emerged from the structure, face burning.

  He walked across the beach to confront Laryn, his sword in his hand.

  “You know what happened to Tasam,” Laryn said. Coril’s familiar smile sprang onto his face, a look of faux-confusion in his eyes.

  “That body… Tasam?” Coril asked, mouth twisting to show horror. The expression did not reach his eyes. “He must have encountered the voidlings and been washed down—”

  “That’s enough of that,” Laryn said. “I’m done with your lies. Tasam was not killed by a voidling.”

  Coril’s mask melted, his face a mess of flickering emotions; frustration, fear, anger. It finally settled into a contemptuous glare.

  “What do you know of rulership?” Coril spat. “Of leading men? You’re a boy. A child. By your own admission, you ended up here by accident.”

  Jardensvalers circled up, forming a large ring around Laryn and Coril. They watched intently.

  “And you have shown yourself to be more deserving?” Laryn asked. “You, the bitter warrior, who failed to defend his village against the void? If you’re so capable of winning the hearts of men, why do your neighbors whisper that you killed your own brother?”

  “Lies!” Coril hissed. “By the blood of the stones, I swear they lie!”

  “The evidence against you mounts. Will one man speak in your defense?”

  Laryn looked around, and saw no one step forward.

  Coril seethed.

  “I had hoped to find reliable, trustworthy leaders among you,” Laryn replied. “But you have demonstrated your ambition, and proven yourself unworthy of power.”

  Coril hefted his sword.

  Adi ran to Laryn’s side. “Hey, um, just so you know, if you die, he’ll become the new [Ruler] automatically.”

  “So you only want to be a [Ruler]. Is that why you killed Tasam?” Laryn asked. “What aims did you have on my life. Quietly murdered in my sleep? Poison in the gobo paste? Is that why you stole my rations, then? You would kill your way to the top?”

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  Coril charged across the ring. “Jardensvalers! To me!”

  Laryn settled into stone stance, producing his own blade. The ring of villagers did not answer Coril’s call.

  “Are you all afraid of him?” Coril demanded, skittering to a stop. He turned to scan the faces of the men and women around him. “Where is my son?”

  Gaten was not among the watchers.

  “A duel, then,” Laryn said. He directed a thought at Adi. “Can I strip him of his overseership and revoke his membership in my kingdom? Make influence work against him?”

  “You could, sort of,” Adi said. “There are some stipulations in your geas though.”

  “Don’t do it,” Laryn said, watching the man’s foot work as he circled. “I’ll fight him fair and square.”

  “It’s hardly fair,” Adi said. “He’s choosing to attack you when you’ve just been seriously injured!”

  “But I have magic enhancing me,” Laryn said. He shot a glance to the Jardensvalers watching him. “I think… I have a chance to win them over. As long as this fight looks fair.”

  Coril darted in. Water stance, his blade flowing through the air in a series of strikes. Laryn fended them off, keeping his injured leg planted, and staying in stone stance.

  A smart attack. Coril clearly knew the forms. Stone was the obvious choice for Laryn to take up given his injured leg. And water was strongest against stone.

  “The more I learn of you, the more I believe you killed your brother, Jarden, just like Tasam said,” Laryn taunted. “You wanted his position, but couldn’t hack it.” Laryn noted Widan standing nearby, face pale, eyes hard. The boy was Jarden’s son, after all.

  Coril stepped in again, face red with fury. He swung, another probing attack, his water form strikes beating against Laryn’s stone defense, searching for chinks.

  Laryn knew the hexagon of forms; the way each stance was strong against some stances and weak against others. He knew it like he knew how to breath, and flowed through the movements, anticipating Coril. Water would be weakest against air, but Laryn knew he wouldn’t be able to pull off the light footwork necessary to effectively utilize the stance.

  As Coril attacked again, Laryn shifted from stone to earth; a stance still weak against water, but not as weak as stone. Coril recognized Laryn’s use of the stance.

  “You fight well,” Coril said, backing off. “Where did you learn the forms?”

  Laryn did not allow the man’s speech to distract him.

  “Master Felwin, of Eltar taught me,” Laryn said. He watched Coril’s footwork carefully, monitoring a surprise switch to a new form.

  Coril scoffed. “Never heard of him.” As he spoke, he cleanly shifted to life stance, so smoothly Laryn nearly missed it. But life, earth’s weakness, was the obvious move. Laryn had already anticipated it and shifted briefly to air, two quick steps and a flurry of blows.

  His leg burned. Coril was forced back. Laryn fell back into stone. He probably couldn’t manage another air attack.

  “What did you do to Tasam’s daughter?” Laryn asked. “Did you kill her too?”

  Coril rushed in, returning to water form. Laryn stumbled backward, barely able to defend himself. He needed Coril to think he could win, to overcommit to water.

  On the form hexagon, one element resided at each vertex of the shape. Each form was strong against the element one space clockwise, and weak to the element one space anti-clockwise. Move two spaces, and you had a very strong/very weak pairing.

  However; the elements opposite each other paired up in a unique way; fire-water, life-stone, air-earth. These so called ‘unstable’ pairings favored the stronger fighter. A stronger fighter could use life stance to defend against air, even though life was normally weaker than air.

  But a when two fighters chose to confront each other in an unstable pairing, the matchup favored the stronger fighter. Extremely.

  Laryn’s stone was good, but Coril was beating him. The man clearly favored water as a fighting style, and, despite helping Laryn compensate for his injured leg, it was too weak against water form.

  Coril landed hit, cutting across Laryn’s leg, just below the wound from the stone-beetle.

  Laryn stepped into water form, matching Coril. The man raised an eyebrow, and they battered blades, the clang of steel ringing across the beach. A deep weariness burned in Laryn’s bones. He was exhausted, and he knew it. Coril had also been worn down by the voidling fight, which gave Laryn a chance.

  Two swordsmen adopting the same form no longer had to worry about relative strengths and weaknesses. Unlike the unstable forms, where a slight edge in skill yielded a huge advantage, same form fighting merely slightly preferred the better combatant.

  Laryn felt he could have matched Coril on his best day. But exhausted and injured as he was, he lost ground to Coril. The man scored another hit, a nick on Laryn’s upper arm.

  Laryn needed to do something to end this fight, and soon. Many fighters would have shifted to air form, to defend against Laryn’s water. It was the strongest form against water. But Coril must have known that, and felt he was the superior fighter in water stance. He stuck with what was comfortable.

  Desperation began to pulse in the back of Laryn’s mind. He could watch Coril’s footwork carefully, watch for a moment he left himself open, and then reset time, anticipating the man’s actions.

  No. He didn’t want to resort to that. He preferred to win this fight fair and square, if he could. Of course, he did benefit from the stat boosts of the core, but that couldn’t be helped.

  Laryn didn’t need resets or elemental magic. He wanted to best Coril with the sword, and he thought he knew how.

  Flame form was a risk. If Coril’s water stance was stronger than Laryn’s flame, he’d be immediately overpowered. He’d be forced to use the time reset. To cheat.

  Laryn shifted back to earth stance. Coril sensed blood in the water, and pressed harder. Blades whirled in the air, silver arcs of death, flicking droplets of blood to the sand as they ripped through tender flesh.

  He wasn’t going to get the perfect moment to strike.

  Laryn dropped back to stone stance; it was easier to move to a stance adjacent to the one currently taken than to skip across the hexagon. He didn’t wait to settle in, but rotated straight through to flame.

  Coril’s eyes widened. For a moment they seemed evenly matched. Then, Laryn landed a furious blow, batting Coril’s sword aside and striking a staggering hit to the man’s sword arm.

  Reacting quickly, Coril hefted his sword, pushing into earth form and adopting its strength against flame. Laryn stumbled back. He didn’t dare move to air form to match, because he hadn’t assessed that unstable pairing. He tried to skip straight over to life stance, but tripped on the uneven ground.

  Coril brought his blade around and swung with a killing blow, but his wounded arm pushed it slightly off target. Laryn barely warded the strike off, one knee bent, one hand pressed to the sand.

  Time to fight dirty.

  He grabbed a handful of sand and hurled it at Coril. He missed the man’s eyes. Sand bounced off his shirt and ran back down to the ground.

  Coril laughed. But… he had been surprised, and taken an awkward half-step out of his pose, opening himself up.

  Laryn surged up inside Coril’s guard and, dropping all forms, punched Coril in the nose.

  The strike disoriented his foe, so Laryn charged in, ramming his blade forward with one hand as he caught Coril’s wide slash with the other.

  The sword slammed through Coril’s chest. Ribs popped and snapped, the sharp point cleaving through bone and emerging from Coril’s back, severing the spine. Coril dropped to the ground like a sack of meal.

  He stared wildly around. His chest convulsed, and a whispering breath escaped his lips. “Not fair…” he breathed.

  “Maybe not,” Laryn said, dropping to his knees beside the dying man. “But… you weren’t exactly playing fair either.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief, exultant that he’d managed to overcome the swordsman without leveraging the special abilities of the core.

  He pulled on a chain hanging on Coril’s neck. A vial dangled from it. Laryn unstopped the stopper, and sniffed at the liquid inside. “Poison,” he breathed.

  The Jardensvalers crowded around. Coril’s eyes rolled in his head, then stilled, vague and unfocused, as the man’s soul left his body.

  “No more challenges today, please,” Laryn announced. “I’m so tired. And… throw out all the gobo. Who knows what he poisoned.”