“Larry, you’re going to break something if you try this,” Nora Ayling said as her fiance stood atop a three story building, ready to jump. “Or even worse, you could get yourself killed. You know, for most people, this would be a sign of suicidal tendencies, sweetie.” She made a scowling face at him, trying to mask her worry with anger, an effort that wasn’t panning out as well as she’d hoped since her voice betrayed her concern.

“I’ll be fine, Nora. Don’t worry,” Larry said, rechecking his visualization of the fall in his head one more time. Before Nora could argue again, he was in the air. His jump was almost completely vertical, pushing out just enough that when his backflip was finished, he didn’t land directly on the edge of the roof again. Instead, his heels gently scraped against the edge of the building, his knees bent and gently extending through the fall to decrease the acceleration of his descent ever so slightly. About midway down, he pulled himself into a roll against the wall, kicking out and up with barely ten feet to go, slowing his descent to the equivalent of a two-story fall, which was just enough as he hit the ground, tucking into another roll and standing up several yards from the side of the building, a bit disheveled but otherwise unscathed.

Breathing deeply and closing his eyes, Larry looked up to the sky, wondering how Terira would scold his form if she were here. Unfortunately for him (or, perhaps, fortunately), Terira was with Drake on their honeymoon. He wondered if they had gone to the actual moon at any point just to play off of the word itself. He chuckled at the thought. That couple could never stay out of mischief for long, even when they tried, which was rare.

Finally, Nora came stomping over and slapped Larry. “I told you not to DO that,” she shouted at him, pounding her hand against his chest in frustration. After a while, though, she stopped, and Larry pulled her into a hug. “I worry about you so much sometimes, Lar.” She pressed her cheek into his chest as he gently stroked her soft hair.

“I know you do, Nora,” he said, “but I have to master Thorla’din before Drake and Sara head to Thorlinthia. I’ve only got a couple more years before that if Mister Kendrick’s right. I still have to have time to teach Angus and Summer before the Phoenix rises.” Nora’s face contorted to express a sense of disconcerted understanding, and she stepped out of the hug, holding Larry’s hand and starting to head back to the apartments.

“I know, but it’s still going to drive me crazy every time you do something like that. You didn’t exactly have to do it five times, either.” She pressed her elbow into Larry’s ribs. He winced jokingly, and she laughed.

“Yes, I did,” he said, pulling out the last syllable to accent what he was saying. “If I only did it once, it wouldn’t exactly be practice, Nora. I have to know I can do it more than once. Otherwise, it might just have been a fluke.” He pulled her in more closely.

“Well, I don’t see what jumping off of buildings has to do with martial arts, anyway.” Nora looked down the road, her face beginning to soften again. “Couldn’t you just do your rolls on the ground?” This time, it was Larry’s turn to chuckle.

“Well, I could, but it wouldn’t be as effective, dear. The jump is more about directional control in free-fall, and the roll is different, reflecting that fact. There’s also the factor of controlling a slide without applying so much pressure that my foot would snag on the wall. Not only that, but the final jump at the end just can’t be practiced properly any other way.Thorla’din requires a total investment of mind and body, and faith leaps like that one are a way of extending that investment and energy.” His explanation had hit on most of Nora’s objections rather pointedly, but Nora still had one question.

“Well, why does it have to be Thorla’din?” she asked. “Why can’t you use some other art instead to fight these guys? I get that this is just the way training is for Thorla’din, but most martial arts on Earth don’t make you jump off of three-story buildings, you know.”

“I have to use Thorla’din,” Larry said, “because the elites use Thorla’O, which can only be beaten with Thorla’din. I have to be stronger, faster, and more fluid than a group of people who have a massive advantage over me, and if I’m not, I’ll probably die when the time comes to fight them.



Larry remembered those words now, as a Dragon Rider barely missed his head with an assault knife. He twisted smoothly, stepping calmly into the twist to retake control of his own balance even as the Dragon Rider’s second attack came down. Larry parried with a knife of his own.

“You know,” he said to the AI in his suit, “not many people can fight like this, even among the Dragon Riders.” His feet blurred into the steps he had been so careful to memorize, coming dangerously close to the edge of the building, which was significantly higher than three stories.

After winning his second Kohstr championship, the Lieutenant had left the tournament even more of a celebrity than he had gone in. Grie had taken it rather well, too. This Dragon Rider had merely caught a non-Dragon Rider in the armor of a fellow he knew to be dead, so he had responded in anger. Larry was now very glad he had worn his normal armor to the tournament.

“Yes, sir,” the AI replied as Larry moved out of the way of five more consecutive attacks. “We should be grateful, then, that the opponent is emotional, sir. Readings taken from his armor indicate he is much stronger than you, but he’s wasting much of his energy with poor form weakened by his anger.”

Larry grunted as he pushed upward finally, pressing his knife into the Dragon Rider’s chest, being careful not to hit any major organs and using the AI, Sjau, to call in emergency services. As soon as he verified their status to be en route, he double-checked to make sure his opponent wasn’t dead and started to head away.

“Wait, please, sir,” Sjau said as Larry moved toward the entrance back into the building.

“What is it, Sjau?” Larry still wasn’t sure how much he liked Sjau’s personality, but he trusted him/it.

“Perhaps I should purge his memories of this occasion before we leave. Would this be acceptable to you, sir?” Larry gave an appreciable look to the inside of his helmet.

“I didn’t even know you could do that, Sjau.” He was a bit concerned for a moment that Sjau could do it to him.

“Yes, sir, but it will take some time. It’s a highly encoded function.”

“Could that work on everyday people, too, Sjau?” Larry asked, suddenly having an idea.

“Of course, sir. I just need to activate the function first.” Sjau’s usual stoic speech was a bit disturbing to Larry at times like these.

“Excellent. And do you think you could transfer these functions over to my Peacekeeper armor, too?”

“No, sir,” Sjau said, dissapointing Larry for a moment, “But this suit can take on the appearance of your old armor.” Larry smiled again.

“Good,” he said. “I don’t think I want anyone to know they’ve seen me for a while. The Lieutenant needs to disappear for a while, I think.”

“Yes, sir,” Sjau responded. “Function activated. Memory purged. Your opponent will not be able to remember the attack now.”

“Good,” Larry said again, moving through the door now, back into the building. “It’s time to disappear.”