Having Batzorig’s hands in lockdown is one thing. It didn’t change their difference in weight and strength. The centaur could lift them off ground and use them as some human shield against Randal. They must not let that happen.
Lowering their stance, the boys concentrated their force upward. As long as the front part of a centaur doesn’t come in contact with the ground, Batzorig would have no foundation to make use of his stature.
Such idea is easier said than done. A centaur’s fore legs bear more than sixty percent of their weight. Sixty percent of over 400 kg is more than their child body could handle.
After the initial struggle, it became apparent how futile their effort has been. They tweaked their plan. Instead of preventing Batzorig from fully utilising his power, the twins compromised with making it harder for him to do so. They turned, twisted, did what they could to disrupt his balance.
Seven years old and they dared to forgo their weapon to grapple with him, a senior in the path of warrior. From the beginning, they have treated him as fair game rather than as a mentor, anticipating no leeway from him. It’s commendable for adopting such mindset this early. He would love to repay their warrior spirit but that’s impossible. They were children—weak, young, and small children. He couldn’t exert more force than what he perceived as “enough”.
Their attempt at destabilising him weakened their grip on his right hand. As the twins have latched onto him, the centaur too latched onto them.
That sudden move alerted the boys. They knew something was about to happen but got no idea what it would be.
The centaur begun to trudge.
Despite their inner protest, they couldn’t stop him. Their shoes stirred up dirt leaving trails behind. Watching their feet being helplessly dragged along the ground, frustration wrinkled their face. While wrestling with their greater opponent, they noticed Batzorig has turned his back on Randal.
Randal wouldn’t let this chance go.
That thought, however, was extinguished as soon as it appeared. They shuddered in realisation.
Randal was preparing for a heavy attack. They only got one shot. Randal would want to avoid missing it. He was closing the distance. But he was almost behind them. Randal would drop his guard when he saw Batzorig turned away from him.
“RAN!” “CAREFUL!”
Right after their desperate plea, their ears picked up sound of hoof tearing through air and of body meeting the soft ground.
Their eardrums vibrated with the loud pounding of their heart. Arching their body to the side, they hoped to catch sight of Randal. Even if Batzorig went easy on him, it’s still a horse kick in literal sense.
Ah!
To their relief, Randal was fine. He got wind of the back kick in the last second and promptly lunged to the right. A moment later and he would have hoof mark printed on his chest.
That was fricking dangerous. I thought I would die.
Fortunately, he didn’t get hit. Even more fortunate, Randal was in a clear spot. He was right beside Batzorig. His masters were out of the way. He wouldn’t get any better shot than this.
It’s our win. “WIND B- ugh.”
Randal skipped a breath. Something hard rammed into his belly. So sudden! His abdominal muscles couldn’t harden for the impact.
It hurts.
His cells compressed, combating the physical trauma. His widened eyes hastily identified the object.
It’s… the mace?! How?
The thing that came flying was his masters’ weapon. Ren and Gowen dropped it when they tackled Batzorig. No one had it on hand the moment it was flung. Connecting the clues, there was one possibility.
Batzorig did it. A Lift spell did it.
Taka has launched barrage of rocks at the spirit wolves without touching. It’s only fitting a warrior could do the same without moving a muscle.
Randal weakly stared at Batzorig. There should be more spells he could use from that position.
His twin masters were there too. They were worried. It seems Batzorig had restrained them.
The centaur threw a glance at Randal over his shoulder. He was checking if another spell is needed to pacify the human boy. It was a window of opportunity the twins didn’t let to waste. Batzorig got their left hand with his right, but their right hand was still their own.
They jumped. They just needed to reach his upper body.
Surfing their options, punching was on the list. Regretfully, they knew jack about punching. They could throw a punch like any other people would. Like any other people, it would be awkward and would not utilise their strength maximally.
As stupid as it sounds, they didn’t learn a single punch for two lives. As ogres, they didn’t need fist when there were magic and their trusty axe. As elves, they had only practiced how to wield weapons.
They are weaker than Batzorig. A punch with only a portion of their strength would be for naught against a veteran.
Punching is good, still better than kickin-
Ren’s thought was cut short as Gowen took the lead. His brother seemed to have come to conclusion sooner than he did.
Giving his best, Gowen’s fist swept from the right wing.
It’s nobody’s surprise that such big movement would alert Batzorig. What none of the spectators expected is the hand that stopped them.
Their entire sequence of action, from exerting force on their feet and hands to propel themselves upward to drawing a fist, occurred seamlessly in such a short time. In that tiny extent of time, Batzorig moved the same hand that was just released by the twins to grab their wrist. His hand moved after them but arrived in time to stop them. For this feat to be plausible, there must be no time for second thought.
Except this outcome was the one Gowen was counting on. Purposely used more force on their hands to lay out their intention to Batzorig. Purposely made a swing much larger for a stronger punch but also to allow Batzorig to catch up. It was still a gamble, but he managed it.
Ren came to a realisation.
This position… it’s perfect for a drop-kick.
That was exactly the thought of his brother few seconds before their feet aimed at the warrior’s body.
No time to react, point-blank range, plus the fact that leg muscles are stronger than arm muscles. This has to do-
Gowen’s inner monologue was cut off as he felt pressure tightened on their arms.
The centaur’s chest handled their kick perfectly fine. Except for a stern look, it caused no other effect.
Thud!
In a blink, they saw Batzorig’s hand blurred. Next, they heard something soft being hit. Their body detected a sharp pain on their chest. Their muscle rapidly lost strength until they willed it back.
Batzorig let go of them allowing the twins to fall down to their feet.
They retreated a few steps in defensive stance.
Batzorig was a bit worried since that level of force was enough to make normal kid grovels. However, it appeared he got a pretty good grasp of their endurance since the twins were not normal.
“Wind Bomb!” Nine twisting spheres, each was more powerful than the previous, came for Batzorig.
Batzorig steered his gaze toward Randal. “Shock!” Another weapon was revealed. This spell generates a hemispherical air blast. It is potent but can only be detonated at close range.
Almost immediate after Batzorig’s “Shock”, Randal drew a semi-circle slash with his sword. “Wind Blade!”
The burst of air from “Shock” triggered the “Wind Bombs” into premature explosions but did little to the “Wind Blade” behind them. Of course, Randal didn’t know Batzorig would use “Shock” nor did he know what “Shock” can do. He just went berserk, albeit a short one, and pulled out all guns. He even set to meet the centaur in melee right after the “Wind Blade” was unleashed.
Through sheer instinct, Batzorig employed “Shock”, and the gush from “Shock” knocked the boy off balance ending his little frenzy.
The centaur unsheathed his sword and undid the Wind Blade in one slash along the length of the crescent blade.
Rising back on his feet, Randal was ready to jump in again. The twins too completed their recovery. The residue of that lightning-fast punch still ached but nothing they couldn’t endure.
They couldn’t hamper his movement. Their attacks didn’t get through his defence. Their creativity couldn’t offer anything beyond his imagination. More importantly, he remained level-headed and solved every problem with great control. Those didn’t look like a recipe for success to the twins.
The worst of them all, their team doesn’t have a good tactic to capitalise on their number. Their cooperation has been surface-level. When one paced out, the other closed in. Despite their best efforts with the follow-up, the sequences of their attacks felt loose. They need to optimise and prepare an even tighter schedule of actions. Simply speaking, they must know what the others are about to do and act accordingly at the same time, not passively carry on after each other’s attack.
“Do not play by your opponent’s term.”
“Pitch your best aspect against their worst.”
“Against a stronger opponent, draw it out into a war of attrition.”
“An unknown factor could become a miracle in the face of adversity.”
Ren crossed out each of those tactics in his mind with furrowed eyebrows. This is a so-called “fight you can not win”. There are ways to overcome a stronger fighter, but there is none against a better fighter. Strength, speed, skills, experience, mindset, and state of mind make a strong fighter, but a strong fighter that knows themselves, knows their enemy, and makes use of that information and their situation to win is the better fighter. Unless abnormal misfortune stacked against them, a better fighter will always win over a weaker opponent. In this fight, Batzorig was the better fighter.
The fight dragged out until Batzorig bored with their attrition tactic. At this point, there was no reason to go on. The twins yielded.
“Thank you sir.” Ren and Gowen offered their gratitude with a small bow.
“You have potential.” Batzorig returned with a nod and a soft smile. He looked over Randal. “You too.”
Randal brightened up. “Thank you sir.”
Picking up their weapon, the twins joined Altan and Randal.
“Ran. Are you ok?”
Remembering the pain below his stomach, Randal replied with a “yeah.”
“We thought you’re done for.”
“About that.” Randal admitted disappointedly. “I was baited. He let me see the back leg so I would dodge. Sorry. Should have paced my distance better.”
“Stupid. You’re ok. That’s all we need.” “It’s our first try. We couldn’t ask more from you.”
“Thanks.”
“You did great, Ran. I couldn’t do half the thing you did against uncle Batzorig.”
Randal blushed. “Thanks, Altan.” As his masters grabbed his shirt, the boy turned alarmed. “Wha- What are you doing?”
Ren nonchalantly pulled up Randal’s shirt. “Checking your injury.”
Randal hurried to stop their hand. “W-e can check it later.”
Altan added. “You looked really hurt back then, Ran. It’s better to check it now.”
Gowen was also worried. “Altan is right.”
Randal refused. “No, at least not here.”
Ren furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you getting so worked up for?”
“Why don’t you check your own?”
Leaving the kids to their commotion, the centaurs met up with each other. They noticed the other was having something to say.
Bilguun started. “What are your thoughts?”
“Those young ones are too young. Too young that it’s uncommon… strange even. Especially the twins. Void of immaturity… and a subtle strange feeling I can’t explain.”
“You sound like you had a good time.”
“Y-eah… bit disappointing… We couldn’t fight for real, and they still hide their claws.”
“You mean they could do something more? Something too dangerous for a spar?”
“Should be.”
Unspoken rules of a sparring match consist of minimising injury on your sparring partner. Attacks that cause permanent injury and threaten their life are, therefore, banned.
“No wonder you smile like that.” The younglings Batzorig has raised into warriors have no shortage of talented individuals. Yet, even for those that performed more impressive than these three, Batzorig have never shown such soft side.
Jolted at the comment, Batzorig almost touched his lips to confirm. His hand went halfway until the centaur awkwardly retired it realising how unusual he was. Reflected on his behaviours, Batzorig coldly admitted. “The last few months must have changed me.”
Bilguun understood this cryptic answer. He stared at the particular one among the kids before turning away. “My friend… For your sake-”
Batzorig collectedly interrupted. “I will play my part. There is nothing for you, to worry.”
“My friend… you know I don’t mean it like that.”
The tiny sun reached its pinnacle on the cloudy sky. What meagre sunlight it could offer helped little to warm the travellers. Not that it was of any consequence. They were well-clothed for this kind of travel, and most were sheltered by the self-moving wagons. Those that were more exposed to the environment were the centaurs, but they got nothing to fear of this weather, not even the youngest one.
Those moved in the front alerted the rest of the change in scenery, a tree wall. As they approached the entrance, scale came to play. The tree wall is mostly four meters in height. The many trees grew into each other, revealing no gap in between.
“Teach. What is that?”
Clarinet understood the implication behind Gowen’s question. The wall of Balvich is built with bricks, woods, and metals. Surely, something as foreign as the fortification of the Heart would beg for an explanation. “We grew them after reclaiming the territory from the dragons. They are hard and dense, rivals the best steel, and, like redwood, is naturally resistant to fire and harmful parasites. It took a century to complete such a wall, but such living wall requires little maintenance. New or small settlements don’t grow them.”
After a small chat with the squad of guards, the wheels resumed its motion.
“They said to hurry. A contingent will move out soon.”
At its fastest speed, the wagons dove through the entrance, a hollow tunnel. Ren and Gowen estimated it to be four to five meters. That would make the wall around that thick.
Greeting the young boys on the other side was a low woodland. Near the mid of the scattered trees, their eyes stopped at five stout trees. The short, house-size, smooth-bark trees were make-shift shelters for the guards completed with round windows and arch-shape door.
Cutting through the woodland, they met another layer of tree wall.
“Wow!” Exclaimed, Randal.
This one was much taller and felt older than the last. Judging by the soldiers on the wall, this stretch of trees must be one continuous battlement and its top must be flat or even enough to walk on.
The parapet, barrier erected around the edge of the battlement, covered up to the chest of the lookouts. That should make it 1.4m high.
Unlike typical human battlement with rectangle-shape merlons, the tree wall was decorated with merlons inconsistent in shape, size, and height. They were either a single large branch or multiple branches converged together. Each was tall enough to hide a standing guard.
Another distinction the boys could make out was watchtower-like fortifications created by the tree wall. They divided the battlement into many uneven sections. Those towers probably serve as rest houses, storage, or both for the wall patrols.
Looking down, they believed there was a lower floor. Once a while, they could spot silhouette of guards passing the embrasures on the wall. These openings were oval and about as wide as a person’s shoulder length.
Rushing through the tunnel that was the entrance of the second wall, they were amazed. This layer was twice as thick as the first one.
Turning back at the wall they just passed, rows of cube-like structures situated some meters behind the wall.
“Teach. Are those houses?”
Clarinet shook her head. “They are fortifications housing our magic artifacts.”
Randal caught on their conversation. “You mean like storage houses?”
“No. The artifacts are very large and are not mean to be moved. The fortifications are to protect them.”
They looked at the structures arranged out to the horizons thinking nothing.
As the distance to the tree wall grew, one thing remained lingered in their mind. Nothing resembles a gate inside or outside the tunnel.
“Ren, Gowen, look!”
From the low hill the wagons were currently on, they were feasted with an expansive view of a massive military base. Reinforced structures and metallic gates laid side by side extending beyond the eyes can see. The wall of each facility was too high for them to spy on, but at close range the boys could discern the bustling activities radiating from within.
When they passed through the premise, lines of horse wagons swiftly but orderly departed.
From the time they arrived at the first wall till night descended has been seven hours. Seven hours of moving were not enough to enter urban area. The scope of the Heart is truly leagues above other settlements they went through.
Tonight, they would rest on the bed of Westall. This lovely inn comprises of three separate apartment buildings. Each building has multiple housing units, a stable, and their own walled parking lot for wagons and carriages. The central building is the only one with a restaurant.
After a nice dinner, everyone retired to their room. Those, whose wallet doesn’t allow, set up their tents outside including Batzorig and Bilguun. Besides, the inn is ill-equipped for centaurs from the door to most things inside.
Having history with Batch, Clarinet’s group were treated with a room of their own.
Clarinet turned the key. She swung the door open letting the boys in. Randal was first, then Ren and Gowen, and lastly Altan. Long story short, Randal saw Altan unpacking his tent while the boys were heading to the bathhouse. Some begging and convincing later, they were all here.
Clarinet awoke with wide-open eyes. The night was young, yet she couldn’t sleep. Slowly rose from her bed, she pressed on her eyelids then her temples. She felt drowsy.
Her eyes gotten used to the darkness turned to the other double bed. The children were still asleep.
Earlier she offered Altan this bed, but the young centaur firmly refused, and so they made that chaotic sleeping arrangement to fit everyone.
The elven lady quietly left the room for some fresh air.
After seeing, hearing the gossips about the band of soldiers departed after they passed, she couldn’t put that to rest.
Did the situation turn bad?
She was sure that one who marched with the first group was a distant cousin of her. They didn’t talk much but she was sure that was him. A bit further behind from the frontline, there was Kai at Eldorval. He was in charge of that center. He wouldn’t leave unless there is forced evacuation.
After night wind froze her hands into ice sculptures, Clarinet decided to return. He stopped short at the door hearing Randal’s voice.
“Are you ok?”
Acting on instinct, Clarinet quickly opened the door. Light had already been lit before she entered. She saw the twins and Randal calming a tearful Altan. “Are you all ok?”
Before other could explain, Altan forced a smile. “It’s just a nightmare. I am sorry. I am ok now.”
Despite his best effort, it didn’t dispel their worry.
Clarinet swiped his tears. “Are you sure?”
Altan nodded twice in affirmation. “Yes, Ms Clarinet.”
This moment finally came. Traversing a layer tree wall even more massive the last, they have arrived at the Heart of the Jaguar. The ancient prosperous city of Tezma’gunth. This gigantic city is populated by six million permanent residents and millions of visitors. It also plays the role of the central hub of culture, economy, and military in the local region.
Such a missed opportunity, none of our main cast had the mood for sightseeing. Even Randal was deep in thought. Clarinet got a hunch that the incident last night was much more severe than it seems. She didn’t have the chance to ask them the detail. Moreover, it didn’t seem like these three would talk.
Feeling he was the only one left out, the half-elf Batch could only sit nervously. Great scenery and precious time just like that passed through the wagon’s window in moody silence.
“Mr Bilguun. Mr Batzorig. Can you please allow Altan to play with us a bit before you go?”
The two adults looked at each other. They were waiting for their luggage. It would take a while to get them ready for pulling. Having Altan helping them or not is of no consequence. Still, they were a bit surprised for such a late request from Randal. Shouldn’t he beg them for this sooner? Well, it’s just a child’s request.
“Sure.” Bilguun turned to Altan. “Just don’t forget the time.”
The three of them led Altan to a less crowded corner of an alley. Randal quietly let them go in. His job is done. Now he would keep watched and leave it to his masters.
“Why didn’t Ran come with us?”
“It’s actually his idea. He wants us to talk with you, Altan.”
