"Fifty chimes really is nothing compared to the bounty on his head," Jasper's voice floated above the river as he propelled the canoe forward by hand. It was marked by his exertion. He was a meak man at heart, but his muscles were developed from a lifetime of rowing the Armastan. "You're only paying me five times my regular rate to risk my whole livelihood."
They were a long way away from Botre now. Jasper had informed them it would be two weeks of travel on his boat, and they would have to contribute to hunting for food, gathering firewood, and other menial tasks. Arria wanted to have none of it, but Amos felt guilty for cursing the ferryman with his presence and easily agreed to it.
There was wilderness all around them. Trees of varying shapes and sizes, the occasional rustle in the low grass, incessant trills of bird calls. Schools of fish would sometimes dart up to swim alongside the boat, then rush away when Jasper's oar struck the water again.
Mondir liked to spend his time sitting at the bow with crossed legs, listening to the world. Often, he would call back to Amos and Ink, asking them what birdcall they just heard, or informing them of the various Mutabeasts that dwelled in these areas. He seemed happy to Amos.
Ink would swap out rowing with Jasper every hour or two. Jasper liked him for this. Amos thought he might even like Ink more than he liked money - which he learned was called Chimes in this world, but the conversion rate to dollars still mystified him.
"What is the cost of a life?" Ink asked Jasper.
The question seemed to take him by surprise. "More than fifty chimes," he said. "I don't know much, but I know that at least!"
Ink was silent for a moment, contemplative.
"If I hand in the starcursed over there, I'd be set for life!" Jasper continued. He handed the oar over to Ink, who sat down and began to row dutifully. The ferryman rolled his shoulders with a heavy groan.
"But you have saved four lives for the cost of fifty chimes," Ink said with a frown. "This is a good thing!"
Amos looked down at his hands. They were blistered from using his Aries powers. His mana had slowly returned over the trip, but he didn't want to revisit the Infinite Lake to instantly restore it. It was too dangerous.
Jasper shook his head. "The chimes don't shake out that way, kid. I'm losing money here; four lives worth. Way I see it, you all owe me a big one. And what's to say I still won't turn the Drai in?"
"He's my friend!" Ink protested.
Arria came up from below deck, sharpening a knife. "Let me do some maths for you Jasper. You think you're losing money on our lives? How much is your life worth? I killed two men to be here. Way I see it, I'm letting you live. Paying you fifty chimes, even, to live. Seeing as you've earned all that money, it seems like you owe us, you greedy bastard."
Jasper held his hands up in mock surrender and chuckled. "Fine, fine, I get it. Just exploring the options."
...
The sun set and Jasper refused to keep rowing in the dark. Mondir agreed that it might be a bad idea considering the possible presence of aquatic Mutabeasts. The forest was something he was much more comfortable with.
Jasper laid anchor by the river bank and set a plank of wood down so they could cross easily. Amos helped Mondir cross without losing balance, then the Wildman directed them to a (relatively) safe spot for camp.
"Right," Arria clapped her hands. "If we're to be travelling together I'd best get an idea of what you can do."
"What do you mean?" asked Ink.
"In terms of a fight. I need to know if I can depend on you or not. So you're going to fight me. One by one. Everyone who loses has to collect firewood tonight. And don't hold back either, 'cause I won't."
She seems like someone who respects strength. I should definitely go all out!
Jasper rubbed his hands eagerly. "This should be good!"
Everyone stopped their preparations to turn and stare blankly at Jasper.
"Go get some firewood," Amos said. "You're not watching this."
"But..."
Mondir bared his teeth threateningly at the ferryman. He gulped and retreated backwards into the dark wood to search for kindling as he was told.
"Good boy," Mondir said.
"So," Arria twirled her knife with a loose wrist, "who's first?"
Mondir stepped forward with solemnity. Arria looked him up and down, a debate whirring behind her eyes. Eventually she shrugged and beckoned him forward.
"Mondir..." Amos said in warning.
"Let me," Mondir said without looking back. "I need this."
Amos saw the conviction in his stance and nodded. He'd been through a lot, maybe it was good for him to blow off some steam.
Arria started the fight by throwing her knife. Mondir sidestepped it, letting the dagger whizz past his hair. Amos felt the rush of wind as it impaled in a tree behind him. Arria followed the knife through with a low charge, holding her arms out ready for a grapple - knowing she would easily win against an unarmed [1]opponent.
Mondir anticipated this, and sprinted to a tree beside him. He darted up the wood with three vertical steps, then pushed off into a flip, aiming a kick at Arria's charging head with his downward momentum.
Arria wasn't able to arrest her forward charge in time, so opted to throw her body even further forward to avoid taking a blow to the skull. Mondir's kick connected with her calf and she let out a yelp. The Wildman landed flat on his belly, winding himself.
He's tough even without his arms!
Arria got up first. Mondir was still in the process of worming his body upwards when she limped over to him and punched downwards, sending him sprawling back onto the ground. He rolled over and kicked ferociously like a beetle or a dying spider, trying to keep the baker away from him.
How is Arria doing this?
Arria simply grabbed Mondir's ankles, picked him up, and spun him around like a child. She released him, sending him off into a pile of mossy stones with a thud. A groan floated from his limp form while Arria dusted her hands, then reached down to massage her leg.
"Impressive," she said, "I can only imagine what you were like at your prime."
"Don't... patronise me..." Mondir gasped, "I'm plenty good now."
"True enough," Arria pushed back a wayward strand of hair. "But you're still getting firewood. Who's next?"
Ink was in the corner stretching. He looked up at Arria's call, then grinned. "Me, me!"
"Any special powers or are you just another big guy like Mondir?"
"I'm stronger than normal people and I always bounce back!" Ink was bouncing up and down with enthusiasm.
"So no powers?"
Ink frowned. "I just told you what my powers are. I'm a Construct. The God Body, Son of Heaven, Death's Vessel?"
"And I'm the Bread Maker, Bringer of Food, Lady of Pastry," Arria joked. "Never heard of you."
"Just fight," Amos smiled, "he'll show you what he means."
Mondir sat up to watch this one. Arria initiated the battle again. She approached slowly, arms up to protect her face, feet wide apart, shuffling forward; boxer stance.
So she can grapple and box. A brawler through and through.
Ink sauntered forward to meet Arria's shuffling gait and swung wide - just a test. Arria ducked under the swing easily and tried an uppercut. Ink swayed backwards to dodge and came back in with another swing from his left. Arria blocked with her right and jabbed with her left hand simultaneously. It was a noticeably weaker hit than her attemped uppercut, but landed nicely in Ink's side.
Ink stumbled backwards in an awkward disengage. He had strength and durability but no technique like Arria. The baker chased him down, throwing soft jabs to test his defence. Ink slapped them away, one after the other, then he tried for another hit. Arria went low and threw a flurry of jabs into his side. Before her strikes could land, Ink's tattoos reacted quickly, the circles shifting towards his stomach and bolstering the muscle there until it swelled and hardened into the consistency of concrete. Arria's fists crumpled inconsequentially against his power and she cried out in pain.
Ink raised his fists above his head and brought them down in a back-breaking blow, sending Arria to the ground. He knelt over her and his tattoos snaked from his torso up to his arms, bolstering his upper strength as he pummelled Arria's guard.
To her credit, Arria survived two of Ink's brutish punches before she had to extricate herself. In a brief - incredibly brief - moment of reprieve, she grabbed a fistful of dirt and threw it in Ink's eyes.
"Ow!" Ink lurched backwards in surprise. "That was mean, Arria!"
She rolled away silently and chose not to use the opportunity to continue boxing with a superhumanly strong man. Instead, she ran past Amos to wear the knife had lodged into the tree behind him. He heard her grumble to herself as she passed: "What the fuck is he made out of?"
Amos just smiled.
Arria turned on Ink with blade in hand. Ink was wiping his eyes, blinking dirt and tears away. "You made me mad," he said. "You fight dirty."
"I fight to win," Arria hefted the knife. Ink approached with reckless abandon. Arria swung the knife in wide arcs to fend him off, but he just took the cuts. Blood splashed, watering the forest with his iron. Arria was too enthralled in the fight to notice his tattoos circling the wounds and instantly repairing the damage.
Ink was on top of her. Arria switched from wild swings to precision jabs, intentionally pricking Ink away from his vital points. She wanted to win, not kill him, but Ink ignored the pain and shoved Arria with a tattoo-enhanced push. She went flying and smacked into the very tree she had pulled the knife from.
Ink was a machine of war. He just kept advancing, kept coming. Never stopping, always moving. Always forward. More strength. More power. Boost, defend, punch, punch, punch.
Arria's advantage was her skill and her wit. She saw she was cornered and used a move she had just learned from Mondir: Kicking off the trunk and flipping to land behind the steadily advancing Ink. She jumped at his back, wrapped her legs around his waist and placed the knife at his neck.
"You're dead," she said. "I win."
"Nuh-uh," Ink said petulantly.
"Yes. I win. If I push this knife in, you will die. I won."
"Do it then."
"What?"
"Cut me."
"No."
"Then I win."
"How? I have you at my mercy here!"
"You can't kill me," Ink said. "Cut me."
Arria let go of Ink. He turned to face her and offered her his forearm. Arria eyed it off, looked at Amos, then sighed and dragged the blade across Ink's arm. The tattoos spiralled around his corded arm. It had hardened to the same consistency of cement and the blade didn't pierce his skin, not even when Arria pushed all her strength into it.
"Fine," she grunted. "It's a draw."
Ink shrugged. "Do I have to get firewood?"
"Yeah," Arria said. "You didn't beat me, so you still have to work."
"Okay!" Ink skipped away to start gathering kindling immediately.
"Now you," Arria turned to Amos.
"Wanna gather your breath first?" Amos said.
"Nah," she said, looking him up and down. "You're only Rank One, ain't ya? Skinny too..."
"Alright," Amos said. He checked his mana: Half full.
"Give her hell!" Mondir called from the side.
[1] get it?