Draco roared in a mixture of a battle cry and pain as he forced his broken arm to swing around to punch Jerosh's head, right as his brother blasted him back in a beam of his red energy. Jerosh tumbled back violently, grunting in pain, but he managed to get his balance and slide backwards. His younger brother wasn't as coordinated yet. He wasn't able to break away from the beam and was smashed against the wall, denting the metal surface with his form. Blood dripped from his broken metal face, his armor having been discarded long ago.
His torso was bare, and his legs only retained fragments of the armor he was wearing. Slash marks littered his body, his right arm was broken horribly, he could feel a few ribs out of place, and his vision was getting even more foggy. He looked over to Jerosh, who was starting his charge. Draco's oldest brother was beaten as well, his bone covered body bearing small nicks and cracks. His most significant wound was on his left arm, which Draco managed to briefly subdue with a stab to the shoulder. Even though it had healed, Jerosh felt pain whenever he moved it, but he didn't show as much.
The sound of metal hitting metal screamed in their ears as they entered another duel, slashing and weaving as one tried to get the upper hand. Draco soon achieved as much, using Derekosh's techniques and Agner's training to keep Jerosh on his toes, slowly inching him back. But Jerosh noticed much earlier than his brother was hoping. Draco felt the spike of energy, then a winding elbow to the stomach, smashing a few more ribs through the metal surface of his stomach and sending him crashing into the floor.
Before he could hit it, Jerosh had spun around and drove his fist downwards, slamming into Draco's face and pinning him to the ground with an echoing boom. The Doshu'um's energy took a steep nosedive until it faltered to a nearly-deplete level. The metals over his little brother's body receded slowly, revealing the slashed and bruised skin it was protecting. Draco groaned softly as the metal crawled into its openings in his body, then sealed the slits. Jerosh reverted from his Ina body to his regular form as well, the bone cracking and shattering as it retreated beneath his skin.
"You're getting better, Reku'un," Jerosh laughed, helping his youngest sibling to his feet. Draco hissed when he put his left foot down, reminding Jerosh that he'd crushed it. "Apologies."
"It's fine," Draco chuckled weakly, his arm around Jerosh as he helped him limp out of the training room. "How… how long will it be before I run out of thermite?"
"Just another two months now," Jerosh said, guiding his brother down the hall. He halted suddenly, feeling a sharp pain in his leg. "After that, it will take more time for your Illness to settle in, but until we see signs and after your Illness you'll be taking your final training with Figanti."
The elevator hummed as they stepped inside, then lowered slowly to the main halls. "Is your leg okay?" Draco asked, sighing as he felt many of his cuts healing soothingly.
"My Rites will straighten it out," Jerosh chuckled. "Although, I'll have Jaqeluu look at it in case you've actually done something."
He shook his head softly, laughing at his older brother's sarcasm. "Am I nearly there?" Draco questioned. "I mean… am I strong enough?"
"For?" Jerosh asked.
"For the war. The fight. For Ina," Draco elaborated. "Am I almost ready to be Makti?"
The Signa and regulars passing gave them respectful bows and even laughed at the sight of them. "That isn't for me to say," Jerosh sighed. "Figanti is in charge of determining that. But you're stronger than the rest of our brothers, at the very least, and that isn't an easy feat. I'm pushing you, but you're reaching my own level, and you won't progress without a stronger and harsher teacher."
It wasn't the answer Draco was looking for, and his older brother knew as much. One thing came to mind, aside from a question he held for later. "How did Figanti become part of the League?"
"He is the strongest Signa warrior that is alive," Jerosh said. "When the League members reach their elderly age, they are to choose a successor. Figanti was taken in as an apprentice by the older League member, Orosunak. He was stronger than the Makti, but as customs dictate, he could not challenge our grandfather. After training for the better part of his childhood and his maturity, he was announced as the leader of the League."
"Was it rough?"
Jerosh laughed loudly. "Our uncle barely survived!" He was able to say, clutching his side briefly. "Father always admired Figanti for his dedication to his role. They were the strongest of us… brothers… leaders…"
Draco could see that his older brother was remembering their family before he was born… or possibly when he was born. "Jerosh," Draco said, drawing his brother's attention. "Right here."
Jerosh chuckled softly as he helped his brother into the medical chambers. He sat down on the bed he'd been using for the last few months and waited for the healer to finish the scan of his body.
"I'm going to find Jaqeluu," Jerosh told him. "Don't go anywhere."
"It isn't like I really can," Draco laughed, earning an amused chuckle from the healer and his brother.
It wasn't long before the healer had gone over his entire body, and she stimulated the regeneration process with her Rite. "Your body's adapting to the thermite and physical punishment," she said in their native tongue. "You've only a glass to go of it. By then your regenerative ability will be able to keep up with you."
"Good," Draco nodded, speaking Neric as well. "How is my arm?"
Her energy appeared in her palm, soft and bright yellow, and she placed it near the broken limb. The bones cracked and moved until they were aligned with one another, and she placed her hand on his shoulder and pushed.
"It isn't dislocated, at the very least," she smiled. "I'd advise you give it some time, but seeing as you're the Doshu'um…"
The two of them laughed gently, but he clutched his side. "You aren't one of the regular healers," Draco pointed out. "Is Nalak busy?"
The woman shook her head. "Not exactly," she anxiously chuckled. "My mother assigned me to help you, what with all the younger Signa going through their Illness and her needed. My name is Nimani."
Draco smiled at her and nodded. "You don't look like you've gone past your Illness yourself," he said, causing her to look away in embarrassment.
"Well, I'm actually supposed to be the same age as you," she admitted. "I was born about a lunar cycle after you. My father is Protiiglo Dureskavo."
The name rang a bell. "Isn't he—"
"The leader of the biggest armada in our army and the most trusted man outside of the Royal Family," she recited, pride evident in her tone. "Our fathers were close friends… I'm pretty sure I remember seeing your father, actually."
It was comforting to speak to a Signa who wasn't older than him that was just there to heal him and make sure he was keeping up with his training. "Are you training to be a healer?" He asked.
"I'm not sure," she sighed, stepping away once his arm was better. "I've trained with both of my parents, and I'm as skilled as a fighter as I am a healer."
"Why couldn't you be both?" He asked.
"That's right, you aren't fully aware of our customs," she murmured, standing by the counter as she looked over his body's status results. "A healer is still a warrior, but I devote myself to ships or the very back of the battlefield. I enjoy helping others survive and get back into the war, but I've always felt the thrill of battle when I spar with others. I feel compelled to join them, blasters firing and arrows sailing."
He understood what she meant, but not about healing. Ever since the first war in the Gryphon Kingdom, he had always felt the mental excitement for battle. It was in the blood of every Loki'irian. Battle excited them to no end, especially against impossible or even suicidal odds. But she was faced with that or the path her mother was taking.
"I shouldn't actually be speaking about this with you," she nervously chuckled. "I mean no offense, but I shouldn't intervene with your training."
"It's fine, Nimani," Draco laughed. "It's been monotonous for a while, anyway. My brothers keep me entertained outside of sparring, but these checkups have been very boring."
She shook her head softly and stepped towards the door. "They aren't to keep you entertained, after all," Nimani reminded him. "I'll see you when I'm needed, then."
"Thank you," Draco nodded. The door shut once again, and he laid back in the bed.
When did I get so friendly with the Signa here? Maybe I'm finally warming up to this life.
I'm glad to hear.
You've been listening?
Sort of. I have your memories as my own, remember?
Yes, Nyla, I remember.
We'll be starting our Ina training soon. It will be stressful for us… won't it?
It isn't going to be easy. But at least we'll be stronger than ever. Stronger together, too.
Of course. We must try with all of our will. As long as you don't give up, I won't either.
I promised to see this to the end… whenever that may be.
And I'll stand beside you no matter what.
Thank you, Nyla. Get some sleep… I'm pretty beaten.
I can feel it, Reku'un. Goodnight.
Goodnight.
He felt his partner's connection cut off, and he rose his hand to his hair. The feeling reminded him of the time he had laid his head on Ember's lap during the war, when they talked about visiting Manehatten. It seemed like it was the other day and so distant at the same time. The feeling of her claws was faint and at the same time present.
"We're almost there, Ember… we'll be together soon."