Taming the Elements: Elwin Escari Chronicles: Volume 1 (19 page)

After Jasmine left the room, Elwin sat for a minute, trying to sort his thoughts. One word stuck out in his mind the most. Execution. Execution? It had been an accident. Still someone had died.

Zarah leaned over toward him and placed her hand on his. “It will be alright, Elwin. Mother will take care of everything.”

The touch of her hand gave him comfort. When he looked at it, she pulled her hand away. Her cheeks reddened. “My apologies,” Zarah said. “I overstepped myself.”

“No,” Elwin said. “I … um … thank you.” He moved his hand half toward hers on the table.

She smiled and touched her fingers atop his. “You are going to be alright, Elwin. You have a kindness in you. The Guardians will surely see that.”

His eyes lingered on hers for several moments. He could feel her heart pulse through the tips of her fingertips on his hand. It seemed as though their hearts beat as one.

“Besides,” she said with a wry smile, “they will know a poor country bumpkin who is in over his head when they see one. They could sooner sacrifice a baby lamb.”

He pulled his hand away from hers and narrowed his eyes. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

She shrugged, never losing her smile. Elwin sighed.

“Mother is not worried,” she said. “So you should not be either. You will be fine.”

“I killed a man, Zarah.”

Her wry smile faded into a thin grimace and any sign of amusement left her eyes. “It was an accident. It was tragic, but it was not your fault.”

“Did he have a family?”

There was a moment of silence. When she answered, her voice was soft. “I heard Father tell Mother that Biron was from a farm with a large family.”

Elwin wasn’t sure why, but that made it worse.

“Are you sure you want to go to the trial?”

He met her gaze. Her smile held more concern than he deserved, but looking into her eyes made him feel like he could have done anything. Finally, he nodded.

“I need to be there. I need to see Biron’s family and tell them I’m sorry.”

“We should go, then. The trial will begin within the hour.”

An hour. Elwin took a deep breath. Within the hour, he would face the inquisitor. No one from his hometown had ever been taken to trial, so he only knew what he had heard in stories. He had thought only those unfortunate few who pledged their souls to the Seeker faced such a trial.

Had he stayed in Benedict, would his friends and neighbors have turned against him? After Biron’s death, they had looked at him as if a stranger or some dangerous creature. Their downcast eyes and accusing stares lingered in his mind. Would they have scrawled a dragon on the door of his father’s farm in accusation of his lost soul?

A sudden fear gripped him. What if the inquisitor found him guilty? Word would reach Benedict. What would happen to his parents? His grandparents?

He looked to Zarah for strength. Her face appeared a mask of calm composure as she stood next to him with quiet patience.

His legs trembled slightly as he rose to join her.

“This stance,” Sir Gibbins yelled, “is water form.”

Feffer stood in line with his squad watching Sir Gibbins. His feet held a wide base, and he held a practice sword in both hands. Feffer wanted to take his own wooden sword and imitate the stance, but he made his limbs remain still.

“Water bends around the rock,” Gibbins said. “When it freezes, water then breaks the rock apart from within. You must learn to be like water. Now watch.”

Moving the sword from rest, Gibbins pivoted to the side and made a slight sweeping motion with his sword. He held the pose for the blink of an eye, then moved back to the original pose.

“This is called sweeping tide one,” Gibbins said. “It will deflect a lunge. We will talk more on lunges and other attacks later. Now, I want each of you to attempt to parry my lunge. I will demonstrate the maneuver a few more times. Watch carefully.”

Again, Gibbins performed the maneuver and returned the sword to water form. Then, he repeated the action several more times. Feffer found himself holding the sword in imitation of Sir Gibbins and performing the maneuver along with him. Sir Gibbins’ glower could have wilted roses in spring. Feffer dropped the sword’s point so quickly, he almost stabbed the ground.

“Oh,” Gibbins said with a cold smile. “We have a fast learner, do we? Feffer has volunteered to go first.”

As Gibbins approached, Feffer raised his practice sword into the water form. Something inside Feffer seemed to wake up. The sword in his hand and the bend in his legs felt right. Without moving into any stance, Gibbins lunged forward. As he had done before, Feffer moved the sword in sweeping tide one.

When Feffer struck Gibbins’ sword and pivoted, the larger man’s sword pushed to the side with comfortable ease. Feffer felt his jaw slackened, so he forced his mouth closed. The shocked expression on Gibbins’ face suggested he shared Feffer’s feeling of surprise.

Feffer recovered from the lunge a moment later and moved the sword and his feet back to water form as Gibbins had.

Gibbins blinked a few times and said, “That wasn’t … terrible.” Gibbins’ face hardened and he shifted back into water form.

“Again.”

Gibbins stared at Feffer for several moments without so much as blinking. No part of the other man moved or twitched. Feffer imitated him, fixing his eyes on the other man’s sword. Sweat began to roll down his back. At last, Feffer blinked. Before his eyes came fully open, something inside told Feffer to move through the sweeping form, and he obeyed without thinking. His practice sword struck his teacher’s weapon and pushed it aside as before.

No shock showed on Gibbins’ face this time. He nodded to Feffer in a gesture he had never seen from the man. Not quite sure what it meant, Feffer returned the nod.

“At ease soldier,” Gibbins said.

Feffer dropped the sword from water form. Then he smiled. Gibbins had called him soldier. His commander’s scowl returned, and Feffer quickly smoothed the smile from his face. Curse him for a fool. Soldiers didn’t smile like idiots.

“Alright. The rest of you worms get ready.”

One by one Gibbins lunged at them. Each boy took a few bruises before getting the maneuver somewhat correct. Every one of them looked sloppy. Except Gurndol. He pushed the sword aside with the same ease Feffer had. Then it became Fandar’s turn.

After ten attempts, Gibbins stopped trying to instruct Fandar and announced, “I guess this worm needs to see me bruise the rest of you a few more times before he gets it. Gurndol. Water form. Now.”

This time, Gibbins stood without moving and waited for Gurndol to blink before striking. The first lunge struck Gurndol in the midsection. Gurndol grunted and stepped backward.

“Broaden your stance,” Gibbins said. “Anticipate the attack.”

When Gibbins turned his attention to one of their other squad mates, Gurndol gave Feffer a look that could have baked bread. Feffer glared back. None of it had been his fault.

It had been several days since the incident on the poles, but no prank had been directed at Feffer or Fandar. And Feffer had continued to cause them extra work, trying to take the blame from Fandar. By the glint in Gurndol’s eyes, Feffer would have wagered an ox cart of gold to a copper pence that Gurndol would do something soon.

“Feffer,” Gibbins said. “Water form. Now.”

Almost without thinking, Feffer moved into the stance and parried the coming blow. As if the sword had grown a mind of its own, Feffer found his body countering with a lunge. Shock filled the other man’s eyes as Gibbins blocked Feffer’s blade with a downward strike.

The larger man moved his feet backward and slashed down at Feffer’s face. Feffer jumped back and repositioned his feet into water form. Gibbins lunged again just as Feffer’s feet settled. Mimicking Gibbins’ block, Feffer struck down at the lunging blade and countered with the downward strike he had seen from his teacher.

Gibbins parried with a different form, then countered with a new strike, which narrowly missed Feffer’s skull. He felt both of the new moves imprint onto his mind. Gibbins gave Feffer an opening to repeat the attack, and Feffer took it. Gibbins blocked with an upward parry and gave yet another counter attack. Without pausing, Gibbins gave Feffer an opening for the new attack.

Back and forth they went. Feffer attacking and blocking in imitation of his teacher. After going through twelve attacks and twelve blocks, Gibbins moved even faster without giving any new maneuvers. He cycled through the same attacks several times, then without warning, he began to do the attacks in a random order.

Feffer’s arms moved through the motions of each maneuver, keeping his center in the water form. Each block seemed to give Feffer more of an advantage, but every counter Feffer made was batted aside with ease. Without warning, Gibbins’ attacks increased in intensity, until all Feffer could do was block. Gibbins’ blade began to move too swiftly to follow, so Feffer had watched his shoulders and continued blocking. After several moments, Feffer’s arms began to burn and the sword became heavy.

Sweat stung his left eye, then WHACK! WHACK! The loud sound of cracking wood filled his senses.

Feffer smelled fruit pies baking. Maybe Momme had placed them in the window to cool. He could sneak up and take one without her ever noticing. It seemed like forever since he had eaten anything sweet. Because he … wait. That wasn’t right.

The lights above him began to move and take shape, and he heard voices.

“In all my years of training new recruits, I’ve never seen anything like it. He mimicked every new maneuver with near-perfect precision.” It sounded like Gibbins. Was he dreaming?

The lights and shadows still moved, but his eyes wouldn’t focus on them. His skull throbbed with pain. Another voice spoke in an agitated tone.

“I don’t care if he is Faragand the Red come back to life,” the other man said. “You don’t split a new recruit’s head the first time he has a sword in his hands.”

At last the two men came into focus. The other man was Lord Zaak Lifesong himself. Neither seemed to notice Feffer. He decided to lie there for a moment to figure out why he was flat on his back. Hadn’t he been looking for pie a moment before?

“I tell you sire,” Gibbins said in a defensive tone. “He could be the best I’ve ever seen. I’ve trained thousands. His first day, and he’s mastered water form!”

“Are you sure your head wasn’t the one that was split?” Lord Lifesong asked skeptically.

“The Seeker take me if it isn’t true,” Gibbins said, “but if we can condition his body to keep up with his mind, the boy will be the greatest swordsman we’ve ever seen.”

Feffer could see Lord Lifesong’s face clearly. He had an annoyed expression, and his tone would have made Feffer recoil had it been directed at him. “The boy won’t even be able to hold a sword if his brains are leaking out of a cracked skull.”

Then, the memories of his training session came into his mind. He could recall every detail of the fight. The Lifebringer save him. He had
fought
Sir Gibbins. Had he lost his wits?

Gibbins cast his eyes downward. “Aye sire. Of course. I … Every weapons trainer can only dream for such a student. I might have gotten a bit carried away.”

Who were they talking about?

“We will speak on this further,” Lord Lifesong said. “It appears he has awakened.”

“There he is,” Gibbins said, kneeling beside Feffer. “Can you sit?”

Feffer tried. Pain shot through his midsection and his vision reeled. He closed his eyes and said, “No.” The word sounded odd in his ears.

“I think I cracked his ribs,” Gibbins said.

Lord Lifesong knelt beside him as well. Both men stared at him with probing eyes.

“What is your name, soldier?”

His mouth was dry, but he forced the words out. “Feffer Hanck Madrowl.”

Gibbins spoke next. “Where in the abyss are you from?”

“I’m from Benedict.” The words came easier this time. “To the east.”

“Have you had any previous training?” Gibbin’s asked.

“No.”

“Open your eyes wide,” Lord Lifesong said.

When Feffer obeyed, a large thumb pealed back his eyelid. Lord Lifesong’s dark eye peered at him for several moments.