“My name’s Jorb and this is Ethan,” he said pointing to the guardian who was going to spar with Traven. “You’ve been so busy with the keeper that we haven’t really had an opportunity to introduce ourselves and get to know you.”
“It’s nice to meet both of you,” Traven replied. “I feel bad that I haven’t had a chance to meet all of the guardians. I think it’s amazing what all of you do to maintain and protect the keep.”
“Well I don’t know that we really do much to protect the keep,” Jorb replied. “In fact, when you and the philosopher showed up last week you became the first unexpected visitors to Faldor’s Keep in the past five hundred years.”
“He’s right,” Ethan chimed in. “Mostly the guardians have just maintained the keep over the years and taken care of the keeper. You have no idea how exciting it is to have a wielder at the keep. The elves try to play your appearance down, but it’s just for show. It makes all of our sacrifices seem like they are worth something having you here.”
Traven smiled back at the two guardians. It still made him feel a little uncomfortable having such importance placed upon him, but he was glad that his arrival at the keep had helped lift the guardians’ spirits. He could only imagine how hard it would be to give up family and home to be a guardian at the keep for twenty straight years.
“Are you ready?” Jorb asked. “Ethan and I have admired the sword forms you go through each morning. We have a little wager on whether you are as good with the sword as you appear to be.”
“I’m ready,” Traven said with a smile. “However, I’ve seen you all practicing as well and feel at a slight disadvantage. I haven’t sparred with anyone for awhile. I’m sure Ethan has a lot more training and practice than I do.”
“True,” Ethan said as he took his position across from Traven and readied his sword. “We’ve been training longer, but you are a wielder after all.”
He wasn’t sure what being a wielder had to do with sword fighting but didn’t have time to think about it. He threw up his practice sword and blocked Ethan’s swipe as the guardian attacked. Traven cleared his mind and focused on the sparring match. Ethan was good but no match for him. The fight felt the same as when Studell and he had been attacked in Jatz. It was as if he knew where each of Ethan’s sword strokes would fall before they even occurred.
He methodically blocked the guardian’s attacks for awhile and then went on the offensive. The guardian held him at bay at first, but as soon as Traven picked up his attack, the fight ended quickly. Ethan was soon lying on the ground in the dirt with a sore thigh where Traven’s practice sword had struck him.
“I told you,” Jorb said while chuckling. Traven reached down and helped Ethan to his feet. “Looks like you’ll be weeding the beets today.”
Traven smiled as Ethan rubbed his thigh. He now knew which of the two had bet against him. Ethan continued rubbing his thigh as he scowled at Jorb. Traven wondered how Ethan compared to the other guardians in his talent with the sword.
“Would you like to spar next?” Traven asked Jorb.
“No way,” the guardian said with a chuckle. “Ethan’s the best swordsman out of us human guardians. You made beating him look too easy. I wouldn’t last against you for more than a few seconds.”
“You should try fighting Darian,” Ethan said. “He’s the best swordsman here. Even the other elves never beat him.” Ethan looked around the courtyard. “He should be here any second. Here he comes now. Hey Darian!” Ethan shouted. “Traven wants to spar with you!”
Traven watched nervously as Darian and another elf approached them. He had seen the elves practicing and knew that they were quicker than the human guardians. After the way Darian had treated him when he had first arrived, he supposed the elf would enjoy beating him with the sword.
“Why don’t you spar with him?” Darian responded to Ethan. “You’re always bragging that you can beat any human.”
“Can’t you tell by the dirt all over his clothes he just got beat?” Jorb said with a large smile.
“Thank you, Jorb. Thank you!” Ethan said as he brushed the dirt off his clothes.
Darian looked back and forth between the two guardians and then looked directly at Traven. He gave him an appraising look for a second.
“So the master wielder is also a master swordsman,” the elf said with a hint of a smirk. “Are you ready to cross swords with an elven blademaster?”
Traven wasn’t necessarily eager to fight Darian, but he was ready. He wondered if the elf was in fact a blademaster. He had seen the elves’ quickness and knew that if Darian was truly a blademaster, it would be an incredibly difficult match. However, he had practiced against some of the best swordsmen in the army and was interested to see if he could hold his own against the elf.
“I’m ready when you are,” Traven replied.
“Let’s spar then,” Darian said as he snatched the practice sword out of the air that Ethan tossed towards him. He took several steps backwards and faced Traven with a grin. He waited a few moments and then attacked.
Traven stumbled backwards as the elf attacked with amazing quickness and skill. He hadn’t been prepared for how quick the elf would actually be even after seeing him practice before. He quickly fell back into complete concentration and let the surprise disappear as he continued blocking the elf’s lightning quick slashes.
He had to push his body to its limit to match the speed of the elf. However, once he adjusted for the elf’s speed, he was able to block all of the elf’s attacks with ease. Darian’s smile turned to a frown as Traven switched from defense and began to attack. The elf grimaced as he was pushed backwards. He was then once again on the attack.
The fight continued on and erupted into an intense battle with Traven and the elf taking turns attacking and defending. As the fight progressed, Traven found that as long as he concentrated he could deflect any attack that Darian brought against him. As had been the case when fighting Ethan, he could tell where a stroke was going to come from just before it happened. The realization that he could hold his own against the elf encouraged him to pick up his attacks.
He watched for any weaknesses or holes in Darian’s defense and was surprised to find none. He continued to wait patiently like Blaize had taught him. There was no need for him to take a risky chance and leave himself exposed. His new awareness would allow him to keep blocking Darian’s attacks as long as his strength held up. As the fight continued on and on, he began to wonder if the elf ever really would show a weakness. He also began to wonder if the elf’s stamina would be greater than his own.
The fight continued on. Perspiration dripped from his brow and his clothes felt drenched. Seeing that Darian was perspiring and breathing heavily as well gave him hope. Perhaps he could wear the elf down. However, his hope was soon dashed. The elf’s eyes took on a gleam and with a burst of speed, Darian attacked with more ferocity than Traven would have thought possible. He was able to hold the elf at bay for awhile, but his muscles were tiring. Even though he knew where the elf’s strokes would land, he was having a harder and harder time getting his body to react fast enough.
Crack! Traven fell backwards as he brought his sword up too slowly and Darian’s practice sword slammed into his ribs. He lay on the dirt floor of the courtyard, holding his side and trying in vain to catch his breath. He stared up at the elf, who was also breathing heavily and staring down at him with the same gleam in his eyes. He watched as the strange gleam left Darian’s eyes and the elf’s gaze took on a measure of respect and something else that Traven couldn’t place but left him feeling uncomfortable.
Darian stepped forward and offered him his hand. Traven accepted it and allowed the elf to pull him up to his feet. The elf bowed respectfully and then turned abruptly and walked quickly away, vanishing into the keep.
“Incredible,” Ethan mumbled under his breath. “In all my life I’ve never seen a swordfight like that.”
“I can’t believe you lasted that long,” Jorb said with amazement.
“How long were we fighting?” Traven asked, still trying to catch his breath, as he looked up at the sky.
“I don’t know,” Jorb replied. “At least half an hour.” Ethan nodded in agreement. The elf who had accompanied Darian tipped his head towards Traven.
“You didn’t mention that you were a blademaster as well as a wielder,” the elf said. “I believe we will all have even greater respect for you now, especially Darian. The legends tell of few wielders who bothered to develop their skill with the sword. They were the ones that lasted the longest when the Wielder Wars came. It is wise to be able to defend yourself without the ambience and conserve your magical strength for when it is most needed. I salute you Traven.” The elf tipped his head again toward him and then disappeared into the keep just as Darian had.
“Wow,” Ethan said as soon as the second elf was out of sight. “You probably don’t have any idea of how great a compliment those two elves just gave you.”
“What do you mean?” Traven asked. His breathing was close to normal, but he was exhausted and ravenous.
“The elven guardians almost never compliment humans,” Jorb explained. “They think they are superior to us. And I guess if you take into account their physical prowess and abilities, they are superior in that sense. Out of the four elven guardians here, I would say Darian is the most proud. He bowing to you was almost as amazing as your sword fight.” Jorb paused and shook his head. “Then Elial saying he salutes you topped it off. When an elf says that, he means he sees you as an equal.”
“I don’t see why they were so impressed,” Traven said slowly. “I did lose after all.”
“You don’t understand,” Ethan said. “I might be good with the sword for a human, but all four of the elven guardians could beat me in their sleep. The elves send their bravest warriors to be guardians of Faldor’s Keep. If you believe what they say, Darian has never lost a swordfight since he was a teenager. I doubt anyone has ever lasted against him as long as you just did.”
“Ethan’s right,” Jorb agreed. “That was truly an amazing display of sword work. Now let’s go celebrate by eating breakfast. I’m starving.”
* * * * *
Darian walked quickly up the stairs and into his chambers, slamming the door behind him. He stared at himself in the mirror as his mind raced and his breathing slowed. He could hardly believe what had just happened, and it was harder still to believe how he had reacted to it.
He had always found the stories of his race anciently binding themselves to master wielders to be ridiculous. How could an elf follow an inferior human? How could he disgrace his proud race and do the will of a mere man? He had always believed that only the weakest of elves would have bound themselves to a wielder.
However, now his convictions were being tested and his emotions were reeling. He knew what it was. All elves knew of the ‘devotion’. He just couldn’t believe that it was happening to him. He had felt it slightly upon seeing the wielder create liquid fire and had felt it slightly upon realizing the wielder could whisper on the wind.
However, not until now, after having sparred with him and almost losing, had the ‘devotion’ begun to rage within him. With the feeling came emotions and longings that he was fighting to suppress but couldn’t. He understood now why the elves in the past were referred to as ‘Children of the Wielders’.
As he stared into his eyes, which were glowing brighter than normal, he wondered what was happening to him. He felt a strong desire to do something that he had always looked upon with disgust. What should he do? Should he fight the desire or should he give in? He wondered if the other elven guardians felt even a little of what he was feeling. He tried not to scream as he studied in detail his honor tattooed over his eye. He couldn’t believe that he was seriously considering doing it. The implications of the choice he was about to make would forever change the course of his life.
18
Traven woke with a start. He could have sworn that he had heard a scream, but all was now silent. He decided that it must have been the remnants of yet another bad dream. He shifted in his bed and stared up at the ceiling in the predawn darkness. He felt like he hadn’t gotten any rest all night.
Yesterday had drained him, and he had been looking forward to a good night’s rest. After his two sword matches the previous morning, he had spent the entire day practicing wielding the ambience. He had started by practicing wielding fire, wind, water, and lightning. He had then spent the rest of the afternoon and evening practicing whispering on the wind and screeing. By the end of the day, he had been able to scree the path that he and Studell had taken all the way from the coast.
Screeing took more energy than he would have expected, but it was so exciting to him that he had kept practicing into the night. It was amazing to see something far away from above and then be able to magnify it. He had gotten to the point where he could focus on a single sea bird and follow it in its flight. By the time he had finally stopped and gone to bed, he had a throbbing headache.
The peace and rest he had hoped to find in sleep had never come. Throughout the entire night he had continued to dream over and over about the crown of Kalia and the absence of the Princess Kalista. The details of the dream always changed except for the crown always being present and the princess always being absent. He would awake at the end of each dream with a sense of hopelessness and loss.
Despite all of the distractions the day before, he still had not been able to completely shake the depressed feelings he had felt the previous morning. He was not looking forward to carrying the same feelings with him throughout the coming day. He found it strange that the dreams could affect his mood to such an extent. The princess had been in his dreams almost constantly for the past few weeks, but he never imagined her absence would leave him feeling empty inside.