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// 35 - Christened in Blood 
// Story: Ponyfinder: Roots of Stone 
// by David Silver 
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The days went by, painfully for some. Paul and Fast clashed nearly constantly. The more he used it, the more he insisted the blade worked for him, and Fast made him pay for the choice, but no price seemed high enough. Their energetic bouts, with equine against hominid, would draw the occasional crowd, sometimes of those not training. Passerbies off the road would come to watch them fight viciously. The shouted words of encouragement or advice from the actual warriors only seemed to add to the spectacle.

By the third day, others stepped forward to go a round with Paul or Fast. "There's no point," said one, "In learning how to avoid one warrior. You'll be fighting the whole damn world, so ya might as well get used to it." He used a pair of axes and swung them with worrying skill. "Don't worry, I got sleeves on em. Won't do more than bruise ya, but remember, every bruise is a time you coulda died, so let's not get too many of those, hmm?"

Fast let Paul crosstrain with others, busying herself with more practiced warriors. Though loath to admit it, there were some there at the arena even more skilled than herself, magic lance or not. She wasn't the only fighter there wealthy enough to have powerful tools, and having it turned against her was a harsh reminder that she had growing of her own she could be doing. One insufferable soul could slide forward as quickly as she slid back, preventing her from ever getting the room to bring her lance to place and forcing her to rely on her spiked shoes, a weapon she didn't practice with nearly as much.

It was a productive week, for the both of them.

Tree watched them with mild concern, serving as a doting medic to them both, and any other warrior that took a nasty blow. Even in training, accidents could happen that'd send a combatant to the ground with a serious wound. Her presence was quite welcomed as an addition to the lone healer that the arena provided, who didn't even employ magic. Healing was not a strong point of the magical understanding of the city.

Maud sat the first few days out, watching them, but on the evening of the second day, she was approached by a man wearing as little armor as she. "You carry yourself well, and watch your allies intently and sharply. Perhaps you wish to not make a display? But it would be an honor to cross ways with you. We may improve in our personal follies."

She tilted her head at the man as he took a fighting stance. "I only fight when I have to."

"That's a very good attitude to have," agreed the man. "Fighting is only a means to an end, not an end to itself. I practice to hone myself, to understand myself, and through it, the world. When your friends rely on you, can you say you will always be skilled enough, no matter what they may face?"

Maud rose to two legs and imitated him, standing in a ready footing. "Are you sure you want this?"

"I am. If I lose, then that is my failing, and my pleasure. I will learn from it." He made a beckoning gesture. "I hope you will accept it the same way."

They came together like a dance. She struck with lightning fast motions, and he moved around them, flowing against her. His strikes met toughened hide, deflecting hooves and sudden motions that started before he could finish his motions. They were well matched, and a new crowd began to gather, watching them perform a work of art as much as any battle. With a low thump, she scored the first true blow and he jumped back a foot. "Well placed." He bowed to her, and she returned the gesture with a little less certainty. The fight resumed.

The encouraging shouts were entirely lost on them. They were in their own world, their own waltz, and there were only two members in it. He landed a blow on Maud, only to have it returned. She ducked under a spinning kick, only to have the same leg suddenly brought down on her. She grabbed the leg and swung to toss him aside, and he flipped through the air, coming down and bouncing off the ground back at her. This man. Maud realized something as she sparred against this man that made her sweat with exertion. He wasn't going all out. He was holding back. She couldn't explain why, but this infuriated her. "Faster." Her words held none of her emotion.

The dance did speed, and his skill became more and more apparent. The more she urged him, the more blows he managed to land on her. The more it became clear that she was not this man's equal. She was as a student to a master. She thought she was one of the best fighters around. Even the unliving feared her. Even the dread rust monster had been brought to its knees. In a sudden rage, she grabbed for him, grabbing his arms. With a sudden twist he swung her up and slammed her into the ground, planting his elbow into her chest painfully. "You lost because you lost yourself."

She rolled to her hooves, panting for breath. "What do you mean?"

He settled on the ground, cross legged and calm. "Even in the most trying of conflicts, we must master ourselves. When we lose ourselves, the battle is already forfeited."

Maud gave a little nod. It didn't entirely make sense, but there was wisdom there, and she wouldn't give up yet. They would meet many more times over the week. Unlike the other warriors, their fights never resulted in blood, only lessons, given and received in quiet determination.

One morning, Fast awoke with a stretch, shaking herself out. "Time to collect on our things. Let's see how badly this shell I've commissioned slows me down."

Paul smiled brightly. "I'll be trying on some fancy duds m'self. Let's get t'going."

They ate breakfast in good cheer. Tree smiled at them all. "You've all been practicing so hard. I'm totally behind you all."

Fast rose a brow. "Do you mean in support, or lacking in skill? You have not been entirely idle, Tree. Still, there's no replacement for true survival in real conflict."

Tree waved a hoof. "You say that, but I can see you've all become better. Paul, like, man, you've become a real fighter. When we started, you were a little awkward, but now you swing that sword like you were meant to have it."

Paul went red in his cheeks at the compliment. "That's right kind of ya t'say, Tree. I wouldn't be this far without yer carin' hooves when I get the snot beat out of me. Just wish Flint was here ta see it."

Maud reached across and put a hoof on Paul's shoulder. "He'll hear the story from you."

"Yeah... He will. So, uh, who's the guy you keep meetin' up with?"

Maud drew her hoof back. "He's alright. His name's San Wei." Feeling the need for nothing else, she chewed at her breakfast.

Tree tilted her head at Maud. "San's moves with you are beyond my understanding. The way you two move is just trippy to the max. I can't even try to get it, sister. He's really challenging you?"

"Is that bad?"

"No!" Tree clopped the table. "Not at all. You're faster than you were before, which I didn't think was even possible."

Bright cawed out a sudden word, "Possible!"

All eyes turned to him. "Possible, Possible!"

Tree smiled slowly. "Righteous. You're such a clever bird, Bright. Are you listening to us?"

"Possible."

Fast pushed from the table and rose. "It seems to be we're preparing nicely. Good. We have many miles to cover before we reach the edge of the pony empire, possibly more, depending on how badly it's deteriorated." As the others rose with her, she guided them to the door. "We have a lot of walking ahead of us, but let's take at least one more day to try out our new armor, and to arrange fresh horses. Speed will be our ally. We've certainly spent enough time."

Maud turned away from the group. "I'll say bye to San."

Tree hesitated, then moved to follow Maud without saying anything. They went off together, leaving Fast and Paul. The shopkeeper awaited them with a smile on seeing them. "Ah, you're really going to like what I have for you!" He gestured back to three sets of armor, two equine in shape, one human. "With the funds you gave me, I had a little left over. A gift for your friend. Where is she? You know the one I speak of, with the faraway gaze. The druid."

Fast gestured to the east. "She went with our other companion to settle affairs. What did you make for her?"

He pulled a mannequin in the shape of a pony over with the armor. A ponnequin? "Well, bring this to her. It'll keep her pretty hide safe when things get ugly." It appeared to be made of plates of bone as if from a giant beetle's back. "It covers all the vitals, and no metal is used. I know how particular druids can be about that. I never understood it, mind you, but the customer is always right."

Paul reached for it, pulling it free of the stand and turning it around. "It looks right nicely made."

"I should think so." The shopkeep smiled with pride. "There wasn't enough money to enchant it, but it's well crafted and should serve her."

Fast raised a brow. "I get the idea you wanted to keep all the money given."

"Do you not want it?"

Fast snorted softly. "We'll take it. What'd you do with ours?"

He drew forward what looked like a statue of a pony made of steel and waved over it. "Behold. It'll keep you safe from a dragon's angry teeth, and still smell fresh after a week wearing it." Fast raised a brow. "I'm not spinning tales, madame. It will keep itself cool or warm as needed as well. It's made to not just be protective, but comfortable. I see you're still doubting. Here." He reached back and brought out a small cup of bright blue paint. "Watch." He splashed it across the armor and the ground behind it. While the paint stuck to the ground, the paint on the armor began to run off it like grease, soon leaving it as clean as it began. "I trust you are satisfied?"

Paul laughed with a childlike amazement. "That was amazin'! Does mine do that?" When the shopkeep nodded, he grabbed the shirt and breastplate hanging over it and soon had it on, covering his torso but little else. "Why isn't mine the whole thing?"

Fast raised a brow. "Because it becomes more obvious by the day that you need to be able to move. Your fighting style will only be hampered being in this much armor. You are a rushing wave, ready to crash into and destroy things with that sword of yours." She gestured at the armor. "Now would you be a gentleman and help me get into this?"

Donning a full set of plate armor proved more intense than it first appeared. Every piece of it had to be removed and fit into place, and most of her clothing shed to make room. With Paul's helpful hands and fingers, she was soon enough snugly fit into her new armor. "Now this is armor... You've outdone yourself."

The shopkeep smiled. "Excellent. If you need anything else, you know where to turn, though I get the idea you may not be returning to us for some time."

"Truth." Fast turned left and right, getting a feel for her heavily burdened self. "This is going to take some practice before I get to full speed again, but the armor's worth every coin. A good day to you." She turned away from the shopkeep and regarded Paul critically before rearing up and fussing with his plate, getting it centered just so. "There we are. Now, help me get my things back on." They got her saddlebags slung over and her rack secured, lance inserted. Everything was in order for the both of them, with Tree Hugger's armor slung over Fast's back.

They were ready for one more day of sparring.