//------------------------------// // Chapter 31~ // Story: Sombasi, Brother of Sombra // by Pomp-Neigh //------------------------------// Apple Crisp, Musiqaa Melody, Hoo’Far Wanderer, Radiant Hope, and the rest of the saddle arabian warriors stood at the eastern boundary of the corraled arena’s innards while chatting amongst themselves about what was about to transpire within the arena’s epicenter.  Sombra and Sombasi wielded their wooden blades in their muzzles, biting down on the crystalline handle of their weapons as they determinedly faced their unarmed, black-coated saddle arabian opponent. “Come, musadas,” Olstrom beckoned, standing tall and strong with a neutral face on full display, having removed his feature’s former coverings. “Fear not for my safety—have at me.” The brothers share a cooperative look and nod in understanding. Shifting their green gaze forward, the dark-gray unicorn colt duo charges ahead in unison.  During their approach, the brothers break off into two separate directions—Sombra to the right and Sombasi to the left. All the while, Olstrom keeps his gaze faced forward, although he had long since deciphered their intention.  Sombra and Sombasi perform a sharp turn and run towards the saddle arabian prince from opposite sides, said prince closing his hazel eyes with a joyful chuckle as his young opponents drew closer and closer. The colts lunge at the towering stallion together, prepared to swipe their heads to the side and, by extension, their wooden blades kissing Olstrom’s body.  Olstrom abruptly yet gracefully leaps backward, his eyes remaining closed as the brothers’ eyes widen before crashing into one another, spitting out their blades from the collision, their bodies falling to the ground seconds after. “That was an…interesting tactic, musadas,” Olstrom comments humorously as he approaches the brothers, who groaned in unison while regaining their composure. “When I told you two to use your heads, that’s not exactly what I meant.”  “‘Haha,’” Sombra retorts in annoyance, rubbing his head to nurture the throbbing pain from his collision with his brother. “S-so…” Sombasi asked as he and his elder sibling rose to their full stature. “How’d we do?” “Truthfully? You were both horrible.” Olstrom’s blunt answer garners a duo of frowns and folded ears. “However,” their ears perk up at this, “given your age, there’s more than enough room for improvement. Now, pick up your blades and show me your stance.” Adhering to his request, the brothers hurriedly pick up their wooden weaponry in their muzzle, stand side by side, and take a combative stance while perfectly mirroring each other, save for Sombra’s slight height advantage.   Their saddle arabian teacher proceeds forward and circles around the colts, studying their stance for a moment before letting out a hearty chuckle.  “You look like a pair of abyssinians preparing to pounce on something.” He gently taps Sombra’s left hind leg with a forehoof. “Bring your hind legs closer just a little bit. And raise your forefront—you should never lower yourselves in such a manner. You’re equines, not felines.”  The brotherly duo obey their instructor, only to find their current posture to be what was expected of a pony.  As Olstrom completes his circling and stands before them once more, Sombra grabs his blade from his mouth with his right forehoof, “Hang on…we’re just standing here,” he comments in realization. “This doesn’t feel like a combat pose.” “Yeah,” Sombasi said in agreement, having also claimed his weapon in a forehoof. “This is how we always stand. Hay, how anypony stands.” Olstrom nods. “Precisely.” “H-huh…?” The brothers wondered in unison, sharing a look and shifting their eyes back to the saddle arabian.  “Body language is key, musadas. Even in combat, one can anticipate their foe’s next attack by the simplest of movements. If a minotaur, for example, raises a closed fist high in the air above you, you already know that he’s keen on bringing it down like a hammer.” “Oh! Sombra gets it now.” The colt said with a nod. “And if somepony had a shield, they could block the attack and strike back.” “Or even dodge under the minotaur and then attack,” Sombasi chimed in. “Correct on both answers, musadas. Reading your opponent’s body language is a basic yet vital part of combat, capable of presenting numerous opportunities when applied successfully. Of course, one must also have the physical aptitude to act in response, so always seek a healthy balance of body and mind.” Sombasi curiously raised a forehoof. “So does that mean this stance of ours is unreadable or…?”    “In a manner of speaking,” Olstrom answered. “Both of our kin evolved as prey species. Dating all the way back to the days of the ancient horse. You might now be wondering what that has to do with any of this. To which I say: it has everything to do with it.” “Prey are much harder to predict than predators.” The voice of Hoo’Far interjects from nearby, prompting the duo of colts to turn their attention his way. “Therefore, with the right application, our fighting style can also be unpredictable. Maker’s sake, Olstrom, just get to the point.” Olstrom sighs with a hint of annoyance without turning to face the red unicorn-arabian. “Thank you, Hoo’Far…for ruining the lesson.” The half saddle arabian scoffs. “You were prolonging it unnecessarily.”   “You know as well as I do the utmost importance of the context here.” “And I just shortened it. You’re welcome.” “While skipping over critical points. Do not test my mercy any more than you already have, Hoo’Far.” A sudden duo of tired sighs can be heard from Musiqaa and Apple while Hope gets the faintest hint that something is going on between Olstrom and Hoo’Far, and not in a good way, she and her fairy friends reckoned. All the while, the other saddle arabian warriors observe silently. “Permission to speak freely, Prince Olstrom,” Apple Crisp speaks up. “Granted,” Olstrom responds. “Yawl needs to put to rest whatev’r bad blood you seem to have wi’ each other,” Apple states. “Most certainly,” Musiqaa adds in agreement. “It’s starting to get very tiring—like watching two foals bickering to no end.” “O-oh!” Hope exclaimed in realization. “So there was something going on between those two!”  Sombra and Sombasi could be seen facehooving nearby with low-pitched groans of embarrassment, and silence takes hold of everyone within the arena in the following moments.  Hoo’Far maintains a glare with Olstrom, who, in turn, ponders deeply on Musiqaa and Apple’s words.  “I find myself in agreement, Apple Crisp.” The saddle arabian prince abruptly breaks the silence, shifting his form to give Hoo’Far his undivided attention. “Since you fancy yourself a fan of getting straight to the point, I want to know why you possess so much disdain for the Shattershield name.”   The effects of those words were instant as a scornful scowl exploded and presented itself on Hoo’Far’s features. “Hah! Took you long enough to-!” “Is that King Malik?” One of the nearby saddle arabian warriors comments, causing an immediate pause in the tension that grew within the arena as all eyes darted towards the northern visage of the Crystal Empire, whereupon four encroaching presences are spotted trekking along the dirt road. “Yes!” Another cried out. “And the crystal princess!” Amongst those who looked off toward the direction of Princess Amore and King Malik, with two crystal guardstallions on either side, notably a crystal unicorn and a crystal pegasus, Hoo’Far’s bitterness was now pointed towards the saddle arabian king.  “Tch. Great… Now he’s here, too,” Hoo'Far mutters, only for a smirk to form on his face seconds after as he seemingly seized an opportunity that presented itself. "Then again... This works perfectly for me. Father... I shall avenge you."