by Dante King
“Lie down,” she said.
I did, looking up at the pale and perfect curves of Faryn’s breasts.
“Do you still have a little energy?” she asked. “Or did I beat it all out of you?”
“For you?” I said. “I’ve got all the energy in the world.”
“Good.” She turned her back to me and knelt on all fours, her hair pooling beneath her, looking back at me with eyes full of eagerness. “Better finish what you started.”
I practically leapt up to take my place kneeling behind her. I grabbed hold of her hips and guided myself in, feeling her wetness embrace me once more. Then, I was hammering in and out as she ground her hips against me. Our breath came in urgent gasps, and our sweat mingled together as I took her with a desperate desire.
The rhythm built, as sure and certain as a heartbeat. My whole body tingled as she arched her back and let out a cry of excitement. The sound tipped me over the edge and, with one last furious thrust, my body shuddered in release.
At last, we lay panting on the blanket, our arms wrapped around each other. Faryn reached out for a cup, took a sip of wine, and passed it to me.
“For an initiate, you certainly have some skills,” she said.
“I have a good teacher,” I replied.
The wine, which had been delicious before, tasted even better with this gorgeous woman lying naked in my arms. I kissed her shoulder and traced a finger down her side, making her giggle.
“To think that I only got to the Seven Realms by accident,” I said. “If it wasn’t for that dragon in the sword, I never would have found my way here.”
“Dragon?” she asked.
“That’s what she said she was. A dragon totem or spirit or something like that, in a sword I found in my world. I was carrying it—her—when I fell off a cliff and was transported here.”
“Do you still have this dragon sword?”
“No, it didn’t come with me. The only time I’ve heard from Nydarth since was in a dream.”
Remembering that dream, the human version of Nydarth naked and pressed against me, I felt heat rise in my body. I ran a hand across Faryn’s breasts, hoping that we might make a second round of the gentler sort of sparring.
“The dragon’s name was Nydarth?” Faryn asked.
It wasn’t the reaction I’d expected. She sounded more distracted than aroused. When I looked up, I saw her brow furrowed into a frown.
“You know who she is?” I asked.
“I know her,” Faryn replied. “She’s ancient and powerful. And she’s from this world.”
“I guess that explains how I got here,” I said. “Or it’s the start of an explanation, at least. But how did she get to me in my world?”
“I don’t know. Not how she made herself heard or how she brought you here. Dragons are powerful, mysterious, and ancient. They can do things far beyond the capabilities of an ordinary Augmenter. If you want to know what Nydarth was up to, you’ll have to ask her.”
“Can I do that?” I sat bolt upright. Thoughts of sex didn’t entirely vanish from my mind—after all, Faryn was still lying there naked—but they took a distant second place to wanting to know more about what had happened to me.
“You can,” Faryn said, not looking me in the eye. “If you can find her.”
She wasn’t telling me something; that much was obvious from the way she tensed her shoulders and looked away. If she ever tried poker, she would lose the shirt off her back in no time flat.
“Do you know where I can find her?” I asked.
“I’m not sure I should tell you. You’re the Swordslinger. I shouldn’t meddle with your path.”
“Uhh, you’re kind of meddling already, aren’t you?”
“You want me to leave?” she asked.
“Of course, not. I just want to know where the sword is.”
“I cannot tell you. The Swordslinger forges his own path, whether it be here or in a hundred other worlds.”
Other worlds. The phrase reminded me of Earth. As much as I missed some of the luxuries of the modern world, I’d never been with such a beautiful woman, nor had I wielded magic. I hadn’t even believed the supernatural existed, but now, I couldn’t imagine living without it.
And I’d been called the Immortal Swordslinger. Whatever that meant. All I knew was that Faryn was hiding something. She had information about the Sundered Heart Sword. I knew that my destiny, or whatever it was called, was connected to that weapon.
“Tolin wouldn’t want you getting distracted from the Swordslinger’s path,” Faryn said, breaking me from my thoughts.
I took her chin between my thumb and forefinger and tilted it until she looked straight at me.
“Faryn,” I whispered, “do you really think that Tolin should decide how I live my life?”
“He trusted me to guide you,” she replied.
“And now, I’m trusting you to help me. Where can I find Nydarth?”
She sighed. “She’s trapped in the Ember Cavern.”
“I’ve been there. I saw no sign of her.”
“She is deep within its depths.”
“Can you tell me more about how she’s trapped?”
“Yes.”
“Then, I guess I know why she brought me to the Seven Realms.” I remembered Nydarth’s voice, how she’d helped me in the Himalayas, and how she’d felt in my dream. “I’m here to rescue her.”
“But your training…”
“Not right now,” I said. “I’m patient; I can wait for my chance.” I ran a hand down her side and saw her smile return. “Besides, I have better things to do tonight.”
Chapter Eleven
Three weeks after my nocturnal meeting with Faryn, I still hadn’t visited the Ember Cavern. I wanted more than anything to sneak away in the middle of the night in search of it, but nighttime security had increased a hundredfold. Had I been the cause for the increased watchfulness? No; I was certain no one had seen me leave or return to the guild house. Then, I remembered Hamon leaving on the same night, and I wondered whether he had been caught and if the tutors and masters had become stricter because of it.
Nevertheless, I couldn’t let anything prevent me from going into the Ember Cavern again and retrieving the Sundered Heart Sword.
Every night, I attempted to sneak out from my bunk, but a master would be waiting outside the room. A few times, the floorboards creaked beneath my feet, and I managed to slip back into bed before the master investigated. Except for one time when Rutmonlir pretended he didn’t hear me. He waited for me to enter the hallway, and then snatched my robes in his massive hand. He’d reprimanded me for almost 10 minutes before ordering me to return to my bunk.
Suffice it to say, I was growing tired of attempting to escape for the night.
I figured venturing to the Ember Cavern in the daytime would be easier, except guards stood atop the battlements and would easily see an initiate leaving the guild house. No one had been given permission to leave the estate since that night when I’d seen Hamon sneak away. Besides, there were so few hours without lessons or drills, and those were mostly spent eating or training inside the practice yard. The masters seemed as if they didn’t want to leave us with a spare moment, but rumors from my fellow initiates suggested there was a purpose to the incessant learning and conditioning.
The rumor was that Guildmaster Xilarion was planning a test. Vesma and Kegohr decided it would be some kind of tournament. They were probably correct because a battle between the initiates would prove who had been attentive and hardworking. It would also give me a chance to kick Hamon’s ass, so I committed myself fully to the lessons and drills. The constant training, however, also had tactical benefits. The Ember Cavern’s deeper levels would contain stronger beasts than I’d faced before, and I needed to be at the top of my game. Biding my time was difficult, but I doubted the Sundered Heart Sword would be going anywhere.
On the morning seven days after my picnic with Faryn, the initiates gathered on the pla
teau outside the guild house for endurance training. Rutmonlir stood atop the house’s battlements while we all gathered as many rocks as could fit inside our leather sacks. Once the sacks were completely full and bulging with the weight, we lined up at the bottom of a mountain path. My bag of rocks weighed 200 pounds easily, but the constant training with Vigor had made me far stronger than even the world’s greatest weightlifting champion on Earth.
Rutmonlir gazed down upon the 30 initiates and grinned. “Run!”
I was the first to break out from the pack, and Hamon was the closest behind me.
“I haven’t forgotten my promise,” he said as he came alongside me.
He attempted to kick my legs from under me, but I jumped and avoided his attack. The sack of rocks weighed me down a little, but my increased strength allowed me to leap almost three feet into the air.
“Peasant,” Hamon spat as he surged past me.
He was easily the quickest among us, and the rocks didn’t slow him down at all.
“Faster!” Rutmonlir bellowed from his place on the battlements. “You lot think a Daji will slow down to let you get away? That bastard’s gonna gobble you up soon as its looks at you. Sometimes, you’ve gotta be ready to run!”
I grimaced but picked up the pace. My bag of rocks bumped against my back as I increased my speed. I’d feel the bruises from this later, but if I didn’t do as Rutmonlir said, I’d only end up with a worse task. That was the hunting master’s way of teaching—push you until you almost broke, and push you more if you actually fell.
The mountain pathway resounded with the sound of dozens of feet, all beating their own rhythm against the packed dirt. We continued to climb the mountainside, and Rutmonlir seemed able to see us from even hundreds of feet away. I figured his Augmentation abilities gave him hawk-like eyesight, and everytime he yelled out, I could hear him as if he was right next to me.
Some initiates looked ready to break, bent almost double beneath the weight of their bags. Their footfalls slowed to a stumble as they wheezed. I held my head high, determined not to show that sort of weakness. Whatever the masters threw at me, I could take it.
Heavier footfalls approached me from behind. A moment later, Kegohr was beside me, lips peeled back to reveal rows of pointed teeth, miniature versions of his protruding tusks. His muscular bulk slowed him in a sprint, but proved perfect for this sort of endurance run. He loped forward on legs like tree trunks as other initiates fell aside, but even he was streaming with sweat by now.
Someone groaned and fell to the ground. I turned to see rocks tumble out of a younger initiate’s bag. I’d seen him struggling with the exercise classes before. Now, he lay in the dirt and panted for breath, his face a picture of misery. I knew others would start dropping before long.
I went to help him up when something cracked me in the head. I reached up and touched the spot, and my hand came away bloody. A stone came to a stop at my feet as I searched for whoever had thrown it.
A few feet away from the mountain path was a dilapidated shrine with a red dragon painted into the gables. The scarlet tiles on the rooftop were mostly missing, and it looked as if it had been centuries since anyone had come to pray there.
I caught sight of green robes hiding inside the shrine as another rock hurtled toward me. I ducked before it would have struck home.
Green robes? It was someone from Clan Wysaro.
I peered across the mountain and saw Rutmonlir, little more than a speck on the guild house’s battlements. I was almost certain he could still see me from so far away, but maybe he was paying more attention to the other initiates. I couldn’t just continue up the mountain if it meant missing out on teaching Hamon a lesson.
If it had been Hamon, then I figured he was trying to draw me into the shrine to attack me. I was almost certain it was some kind of trap, but when else would I get a chance like this, when the masters weren’t around to see? Hell, Rutmonlir might not even care if we fought while we were outside the guild’s walls. After all, Hamon had tried to trip me, and Rutmonlir must have seen it and decided to do nothing.
As I moved off the path toward the shrine, I sincerely hoped Hamon had been the one to throw it so that I would have an excuse for teaching him a lesson. I dropped my sack of rocks beside a dragon statue and entered the tiny building, prepared to attack whoever had thrown the rocks. Instead, the small room was empty save for three statues. One was a great dragon, the red paint chipped and cracked. It was suspended in midair, but I saw no sign of cables or ropes. My skin tingled as I stared at it, and I wondered whether it was suspended by magic.
To the left, stood a sculpture of an unremarkable martial artist, but the sword in his hand was impressive. It was also familiar. The tip of the blade was broken, but it was clearly the Sundered Heart Sword. To the right of the dragon was a sculpture of a beautiful woman with sultry eyes that stared into my soul. Her paint was almost completely unblemished save for a few light scratches on her crimson armor. In a jolt of realization, I recognized the woman as the version of Nydarth who had appeared in my dream.
Before I could wonder anything more about this strange shrine, Hamon stepped out from behind the female statue.
“You know, if you wanted to trap me, you should have caught me by surprise,” I said. “You’re really not very good at this.”
“It’s time we settled this.” Hamon waved behind him, and two more Clan Wysaro initiates appeared from behind the statues. The two men were red-faced and sweat-drenched but still tried to look menacing.
“Fine,” I said with a shrug. “I’ll beat all three of you.”
“Not alone,” a familiar voice called from the shrine’s entrance.
Vesma and Kegohr entered the shrine, and I smiled at them. “Didn’t need your help,” I jested.
“I don’t want to miss out on all the fun.” Vesma gave me a wink, and I half-wondered whether I’d imagined it. She was really starting to grow on me, and it seemed I was doing the same to her.
A fireball crashed into the ground in front of me, and Hamon smirked. “I’m pleased you’re all here. It makes this all the more worthwhile.”
“So we’re using Augmentation?” I asked. The last time we’d fought had been without magical assistance, so I guessed he meant serious business this time.
“It’s the only way to ensure you’re too damaged to ever return to the guild. I will sear the channels inside your body. You’ll never tap into your Vigor again.”
“You talk too much,” Vesma said. “I doubt you could burn me even if I stood still while you Augmented.”
“Let’s see, then, shall we?” Hamon asked.
“And what will the masters say?” Kegohr seemed intent on preventing the conflict.
“I will tell them that you attacked us, that we were forced to defend ourselves.”
“Like anyone would believe you,” Vesma countered.
“We carry the weight of Clan Wysaro,” said the green-robed initiate on the right.
“And you are nothing but peasants and a half-breed,” Hamon added.
“Enough talk,” I said. “Let’s do this.”
I wouldn’t exactly kill Hamon, but I was sure I could baste and roast him like a turkey.
The two Clan Wysaro initiates jumped from either side of Hamon and ignited their Flame Shields, their right fists engulfed in a dome of fire as they sprang toward me. Vesma and Kegohr produced shields of their own as they clashed with the other initiates.
I circled around them and lifted both palms toward Hamon. Rather than summon Stinging Palm, I used Untamed Torch. A volley of four fireballs no bigger than acorns shot out from the center of my palms. I hadn’t perfected the technique, so tiny spheres was all I could muster, and Hamon evaded them easily.
Hamon lifted his hand and produced a fireball that continued to grow. I used Plank Pillar to seperate us, but a fireball the size of a melon burst through the wooden wall. I twisted aside at the last moment, and the flaming sphere struck the dragon sus
pended in midair. The statue trembled before it toppled and smashed into a thousands fragments.
Another fireball rocketed toward me, and this time, I didn’t have the time to summon another wooden wall or evade the attack. Before Hamon’s Untamed Torch could hit me, a dome of fire expanded in front of me. It was like a Flame Shield but much larger, and it separated me completely from my opponent. Hamon continued to launch fireballs into the dome, but none of them could penetrate the barrier. I stared at the magical field and wondered where the hell it had come from before it vanished completely.
“Who dares defile the Shrine of Nydarth!” a voice yelled from the room’s entrance.
Everyone immediately stopped fighting, and the traces of Augmentation vanished in wisps of embers. The Clan Wysaro initiates glanced at each other, their eyes wide and mouths agape.
When I turned to the entrance, I expected to see some ghostly apparition or guardian of the shrine. Instead, Rutmonlir stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the sunlight’s rays. He might not have been a spirit or a shrine guardian, but he was still an imposing figure when his wrath was kindled. And right now, he looked madder than I’d ever seen him. As he marched into the shrine, his giant form towered over the shattered statue, and he glared at each initiate in turn. When his gaze met mine, I didn’t turn away like the others.
“I thought when I allowed you all to sneak off that it would be an exchange of fists. Who was the first idiot to use a martial technique?” Rutmonlir’s gaze swept across the room before settling on Hamon. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
“They attacked us first,” Hamon protested. “They lured us here and planned to—”
“Will you please shut the fuck up?” Rutmonlir said, and Vesma stifled a giggle.
“There’ll be enough time to blow hot air up each other’s asses soon enough.”
“The tournament?” I asked.
“Where’d you hear about that?” Rutmonlir questioned.
“Everyone knows,” Hamon said. “My father believes I’ll win.”
