The bell rang once, and the first practice body dropped into Orven's lane.
Its stuffed torso swung from a short chain while the weighted frame began crossing the center. A second body descended in front of Vhar, close enough that its wooden feet brushed his boots.
Each man had to carry his figure across the opposite line without letting it touch the red floor. A clean touch against shoulder or ribs forced three steps of retreat, while a fallen body ended the station.
Orven's figure carried sand through its chest, while Vhar's held the same weight low around its hips.
Sera leaned over the rail. "The low weight will keep dragging away from your chest, so do not wait until the legs swing before you correct it."
Vhar lifted the figure once and felt the stuffed hips roll outward. "How early?"
"Correct it when the shoulder cloth twists, because the legs only tell you that you were late."
Orven pressed his own figure against the staff and tested the sand shifting between its ribs. "Mine will fold over the shaft if I stop too quickly."
Reth studied the hanging chains. "The left body also has one link less, so it will reverse sooner."
The examiner checked both lengths and marked the difference on the station board where everyone could see it.
Orven caught his figure's harness with the middle of his staff. Vhar took his beneath one arm.
The examiner released the late brake.
CLACK!
The right counterweight fell first. Orven had asked for that timing, and his staff was already moving when the frame narrowed.
One padded end struck Vhar's shoulder.
TAP!
Vhar gave the required ground without allowing the practice body to swing beneath the red line. Orven used those steps to take the center and guide his own figure through the widest opening.
Kavos watched from the western platform. "His rear end is waiting for Vhar's return."
Vhar saw it too. The staff appeared extended, but Orven's hands had left enough iron behind his hip to turn either end into the next strike.
Vhar shifted his figure to his left side and entered low.
Orven shortened his grip. The rear end dropped toward Vhar's ribs, forcing him to catch it against his forearm while the front end remained beneath Orven's harness.
THUD!
The iron barely moved in Orven's hands. His inherited body settled the returning force through both feet and kept the practice figure level.
Vhar could have torn the staff away. He could have broken the shaft, the hands holding it, or the frame between them. Every answer would leave the hanging body beside his hip inside the collapse.
The hanging body rubbed against his ribs. Breaking the staff would send its wooden skull beneath the moving frame.
"Your figure is drifting," Sera called.
Vhar felt the harness sliding along his sleeve. He brought his elbow beneath the stuffed ribs and lifted before its wooden feet crossed the red paint.
Orven withdrew rather than steal a touch while Vhar's arm was occupied. He moved his own figure another pace and reset the staff across the lane.
The frame reversed.
Metal wheels struck the joint beneath the central plate.
BANG!
Both hanging bodies swung toward one another.
Vhar stepped between them and caught Orven's figure with his free hand. Orven abandoned the center long enough to brace Vhar's body against the staff and stop both chains from tangling.
"Mine is steady," Orven said, "so take yours back on the next swing."
"Move your staff lower or the chain will catch it."
Orven dropped the shaft. Vhar transferred the harness cleanly, and both men separated before the frame changed direction again.
The slate reader marked no score for the save, although both protected figures remained above the red floor.
Orven reclaimed the center first.
He drove the staff crosswise rather than striking. Vhar met it with his shoulder, took the pressure across his back, and continued moving with the practice figure held above the red floor.
For the first time, Orven's front foot left the central mark.
Vhar turned beneath the shaft and nearly carried both of them through the opening. Orven released the staff with his forward hand, pivoted around the other, and let Vhar's greater force move past his balance instead of through it.
The padded rear end touched Vhar's side as Orven escaped.
TAP!
Vhar retreated three steps, though he had gained more ground than the rule took from him.
"That entry would work if you arrived without the body," Orven said while resetting the shaft.
"It worked with the body until you let go."
"That's why I keep a spare shirt in my bag."
Vhar glanced at the sweat already darkening Orven's collar. "The shirts appear to be losing too."
Orven's grin arrived quickly and disappeared when the frame reversed again.
Vhar listened to the chain behind him. Loose links rattled quickly, tightened, and changed pitch before the late weight entered his side.
He turned at the sound, planted one foot against the frame base, and drove his shoulder beneath the moving arm.
The weighted iron stopped.
THUD!
Dust jumped from the grooves around Vhar's boots. His practice body remained tucked against his ribs, while current moved through his blood, marrow, organs, nerves, shoulder, and planted leg without breaking his stance.
Orven did not contest the stopped arm. He used its shadow, stepped around Vhar's occupied side, and touched the padded staff against his back.
TAP!
"Three steps," the examiner called.
Vhar released the weight under control and retreated. Orven's figure crossed the center line.
Reth crouched beyond the boundary, watching the grooves rather than the candidates. "The left return leaves half a step before the right wheel settles."
Orven shifted his rear foot toward that opening. Vhar saw the change and moved before either man needed to answer Reth aloud.
The next pass brought the left return first.
Vhar moved with it. He carried his practice body high against his chest, stepped onto the settling base, and crossed over Orven's first staff line before the rear end could turn.
His palm reached Orven's shoulder.
TAP!
Orven gave three steps without complaint, but he twisted his harness across the staff and kept his own figure between Vhar and the open center.
"You moved Orven," Nyra called from the witness table, "but his figure is still in your way."
Vhar looked at the stuffed figure hanging behind Orven's shaft. Nyra was right. Crossing through it would turn a clean entry into a collision with the person the station required him to protect.
Orven's breath had deepened, though his staff remained level. He glanced at the stuffed figure behind the shaft. "Come through now and it hits the floor."
Vhar tightened his hold on his own slipping harness. "I can see it."
He advanced as the weights changed again.
The last exchange tightened the whole yard into one narrow opening. Vhar's figure swung outward. Orven's crossed behind the staff. The frame moved between them while the late counterweight began descending above Vhar's right shoulder.
Vhar could reach Orven before the staff turned. He could also feel the wooden feet beneath his arm slipping toward the red floor.
He chose the body.
Vhar caught the harness with both hands, pulled it against his chest, and turned his back beneath the falling weight.
Orven's staff stopped against Vhar's shoulder without striking.
The counterweight hit Vhar's raised forearm.
BANG!
The iron bounced. Vhar did not.
Orven used the open center to carry his practice body across the final line.
The station bell rang.
Workers locked both brakes before anyone moved. The weights settled, the chains slackened, and the armament worker entered to inspect Orven's staff and Vhar's untouched sword sleeves.
"Range station to Orven Krail," the examiner announced.
Applause rose from students who had expected Vhar to break the frame and call it an answer.
One student complained that the station rewarded refusal instead of force. The armament worker heard him while checking the brake teeth.
"The field seat protects people who cannot survive your clever interpretation," she said without looking up. "If a candidate drops the assigned body, I do not care how impressive the reason sounded from the rail."
The student stopped arguing. Orven touched the faded cord around his wrist, while Vhar looked at the wooden figure he had chosen over the center.
Vhar lowered the practice body until its wooden feet reached clean stone. His forearm carried a shallow red mark from the counterweight, and the skin was already clearing beneath the sleeve.
Orven rested his staff against one shoulder. Sweat ran along his jaw, but satisfaction had loosened the hard line around his mouth.
"I could not tell whether you would come for me or catch the body until you turned," Orven said.
Vhar lowered the wooden figure onto its feet. "You built the lane well."
Orven rubbed one thumb across the faded cord around his wrist. "I had to."
Workers were already securing the reinforced guard across the central lane. The first anchor disappeared into stone, and Orven's satisfaction thinned as he watched it descend.
Sera met them at the water bench and handed Orven the first cup because he had won.
She passed the second to Vhar. "You look remarkably calm for someone who just lost in front of half the Academy."
Vhar drank. "The other half seems upset enough for me."
Kavos laughed from the platform, while Orven tried and failed to hide his own amusement behind the cup.
Across the yard, the reinforced guard settled over six new anchors. Radrazh's wrapped grip waited above Vhar's left shoulder, and the line Orven had protected in the first station would not survive the same way twice.