by Thomas Adams
“So, it helps you? How does it help you?”
He looked a little guilty and uncomfortable. He said quietly, “It helps me feel better when I get sad or really lonely. You know, makes me feel happy. It helped a lot when I was younger and all alone. Sometimes I see things as well.”
“Oh really?” she closed it and turned it over so the letter ‘Y’ was showing. She traced it with a long delicate finger and said shyly, “This was mine Brandt. I gave it to you when you left Talfur.”
His eyes jumped to hers and he looked surprised, “You gave this to me?”
“Aye, see the ‘Y’ silly boy? ‘Y’ for Yfiria! Do you remember why I gave it to you?”
“Oh, I see that now. No, I don’t remember why though. Do you want it back?” he asked with apparent trepidation.
“No Brandt, you may keep it, especially if it helps you. I only want it back when you remember why I gave it to you and you are ready to part with it.”
“That is fine. Thank you,” he said, clearly happy she would continue allowing him to keep the worn and sweat stained old thing.
“What things do you sometimes see Brandt?” Yfiria asked cautiously.
He looked away from her. Hmm, there was something here she realized and he was clearly uncomfortable discussing it.
“I see you sometimes although I don’t remember the details. But, only yesterday did I realize it was you. They must be memories from before but I don’t know what they are or remember much of them afterwards. But, the memories helped me. I feel like I have seen you like this for years, mostly your eyes though and, in my dreams too.”
She exclaimed. “You dream of me and sometimes have visions too? That is most unusual.”
“Why is it unusual?”
“Usually only women have seerings or visions. We should ask Aravin what this means.”
“If you wish.” he answered, clearly not understanding the import of his revelation, “I will do as you wish Yfiria.”
She was sure his dreams and visions were a coping mechanism and that the necklace of his mother’s was likely playing a part in all it somehow. Aravin would know more about this. She squeezed her eyes shut. It was a heartbreaking situation. He could not remember the past or his promise to her. He didn’t remember his declaration of love to her. She fought the anger and the heartbreak, somehow she would manage. She had to for both of them.
She would give him the space and time he needed to figure it out. She had to trust and hope it would all work out in the end. But, she could give him a nudge or two in the right direction. She didn’t want to even contemplate another possible outcome. Otherwise she knew she would be totally destroyed, lost.
“Here, put it back. Keep it safe for me for now. Now, moving on, the other reason I wanted to speak with you today, ere you get lost with the menfolk and their plotting and scheming.
“As you know, the Narasists are very dangerous. They will come for you again and again. I have foreseen this. You must take extra precautions. This is a serious warning. I want you to be very cautious from now on. Promise me you will be from now on.”
“I promise Yfiria. I will be extra vigilant from now on. I will start wearing a sword everywhere. I should have done that a while ago. It is important to me that you are happy and I will take your concerns seriously,” he solemnly said.
“Good, that is reassuring, now off you go. Go see what the Chancellor wants. He is a good man. His daughter I dislike but that is a discussion for another time.” Kyrr rose hesitantly and quickly turned and knelt before her. He took her hand, turned it over and kissed her palm. She smiled adoringly at him and he blushed. He rose and fled towards the hall. Why did he do that she wondered? Another memory returned she wondered?
***
The next day, after his meeting with the Narasist Aelia, Lutvar issued new instructions to his magi for the upcoming magical attack on the containment archania around the Void. They learned more of the lost capabilities and intricacies of the arts with every attempt but progress was slow. He feared he would be called to account any day by Arngrim. The only good news so far was that his knowledge of archania was growing. And, his power and ability was uncontested by his brethren. He also tightly controlled who saw the full details of what they would attempt. There was no reason to allow others to gain the same level of power he now controlled. That was rule number one in Imperia politics.
He’d only recently figured out the flaw that incinerated the last three magi that tried to breach the Void just a sennight ago. Their sacrifices were necessary though, he was sure of that. The problem arose with how the sigils were linked to the series of enchantments Gullvayg had proscribed. He now wondered if her instructions were flawed on purpose. Perhaps she did not want Lutvar to succeed? But today, they would put his latest theory to the test.
After carefully supervising preparation of the entire complex series of runes, ideograms and symbology Lutvar withdrew to a safe distance from the casting chamber. From his position, he could still see into the room. The three magi and the sacrifice, a young innocent orphan slave girl of four or five years, remained in the chamber. They began the enchantment and the buzz of archania filled his mind quickly. At the precise time the sacrifice was made and the blood gruesomely splashed around the inner circle. The power swelled and Lutvar felt as if his head would burst.
There was a blinding crack of greenish blue light from the casting chamber and then an ear buffeting howl as cold tortured air blasted down the hallway from the archania construct in the casting chamber. The three magi struggled mightily to contain the archania and remain in control of the enchantments. They swayed and shuddered inside their protective circles. Lutvar could feel their spirits’ struggle.
The light swelled and pulsed and became a doorway. More stale freezing air flooded the casting chamber and a few of the torches blew out. A dark form passed through the doorway of light. Then, instantly, the light vanished, the spell ended. The doorway was gone in a brilliant flash.
But, something profoundly evil and dark remained in the center of the construct. Its presence exuded fear and despair. Dread blossomed in the magi’s minds and hearts. Lutvar sensed the Dark One’s presence and rushed down the hall to the casting room. He looked at the grey cloaked and hooded figure standing in the middle of the room. It was as if darkness and illusion shrouded the giant figure. The c was over seven feet tall but its form was skeletal. It was clothed in dark grey and black rags and wore rusted and battered armor. A naked great sword of immense proportions filled one skeletal hand. The creature’s physical composition seemed to shift and flicker in and out of sight. It was very unsettling.
Lutvar could feel and almost smell an aura of hate and malice wafting off the creature. It was swaying gently as if trying to regain its balance. Or, maybe it was adjusting to its new disposition and physical existence on Ellorhim. Lutvar knew the Void was nothingness and only spirit resided there. The figure, after another minute of silence and stillness, suddenly moved forward towards Lutvar. Lutvar remembered the feeling Arngrim evoked on his one visit to his chamber. This feeling he had now was very similar to how he had felt then. Lutvar knew this giant cloaked form was a just husk. It was not a living breathing Ellorhim being and kept trying to tell himself that.
Lutvar shuddered and the giant spoke, “My master is pleased at your final success. But, wonders why it took so long? No matter, you are to continue living and doing the task allotted to you. I am sent elsewhere.”
With that the Dokköndi swept past Lutvar and was gone into the evening shadows. Lutvar exhaled and breathed deeply. It had finally worked. He was safe for now. He nodded to his magi and congratulated them. They were exhausted. He sent them to a richly deserved meal and called in the slaves to clean the room up and leave no trace of the bloody ritual performed here. As he hurried back to his room Gullvayg strode down the hall towards him.
“Well, it didn’t take you long to show up once I was successful,” Lutvar seethed. “Your friend just lef
t”.
She smiled condescendingly at him and said, “Fool, the Haugar are no one’s friends.”
“He seems friendly enough for someone that is dead. It took me so long because you gave me a sequence for one of the enchantments that was incorrect.”
“Aye, and it took you forever to figure it out. It was a simple test Lutvar. You passed, although barely. This whole situation is disappointing to say the least. Do try a bit harder next time, for all our sakes.”
He used his best ingratiating smile and bowed to her from the waist. “You are too kind Gullvayg. Now, on to business, I will proceed with the breaches every few days. Is this satisfactory?”
“Aye.” She answered flatly.
He said, “Good, now, next item. Primus Legatus Kho has become an obstacle to our plans. We should remove him. But, who can we supplant him with and do you have such power? Can you bend Titan’s will to yours on a successor?”
She thought it over a few moments and said, “How will you kill Kho?”
“I will employ Titan’s favorite, a prostitute Narasist. Aelia will be able to walk right past Kho’s vaunted security and kill him. He can’t help himself nor pass up a beautiful girl.”
“I may be able to help with this but let me think on it some more. When does it need to be done?”
“I must be done in a sennight.”
“Good, I will return in four days’ time. Have the girl here then as well. We will set a plan.”
Chapter 16
The Chancellor
SwordBreaker’s Story, Part III
Oft I stood afore a great glittering host
A swift cut and thrust was what counted most
Through an age I did oft wonder
Was this the path the gods had shown
An honorable man was to me unknown
A thought, a shadow, a breath of wind just out of reach
Why o why did we not question the heavens
For time is the teacher few will ever teach
And, fear is the master few will ever master
Brotjnar
***
Kyrr or was it Brandt? He wasn’t really sure anymore. Things were happening too fast and he was not sure what to think. He was glad he’d finally had a friend from before he lost his memory. He just wondered what he would learn and if the changes would be for the better. Somehow he did not think that whatever he learned would all be welcome news.
He walked to his barracks shaking his head, there was no time now. All of these questions would have to wait until later. He changed back into his training clothes and his battered leather and plate armor. For some moons he’d gradually assembled, repaired and fused his own armor. It was a mixed collection of pieces but it was serviceable and allowed him freedom of movement. Some of the pieces Master Smith Birger helped him forge.
His skill at metal working, for weapons and armor, was much better now. Soon he would have to think about finishing his apprenticeship with Master Smith Birger. Birger would give him a task and then assess him on it. It was a pass or fail test. If he failed he would continue training. If he passed he would be a real weapon’s smith.
After changing he walked towards the practice yards. Glancing about he saw a knot of people in the center of the yard. The chancellor was standing there with the prince and Master Ivar. Several other men from the chancellor’s and prince’s retinues were there, as well as most of the Guild’s Masters. They were watching young men and women spar. Kyrr walked up and saluted the chancellor and the man simply said. “Good, are you ready? I want to see you fight, try my daughter first.”
A space was quickly cleared and the group of observers ringed the open space. Kyrr took his place. He stood in front of a very angry young lady who wanted to make a good impression for her father. He was sure she was very upset with Yfiria and most assuredly with him. This was a no win situation. If he beat her in front of her father she would be mad at him for a fortnight. If she beat him then the Chancellor would likely think him a lesser man. Apparently, he needed the chancellor’s good will.
He stretched for a minute. He signaled he was ready and the Chancellor gave the word. Fridya and he moved to the center of the circle and saluted each other. He paused and gauged Fridya’s stance and form. Fridya did not pause but came right at him. He could see the anger in her eyes and the firm set to her lips. Her face was flushed and she was swinging for blood.
Kyrr did what he did best. In less than a minute he had beaten back her attacks and turned one of her slightly off balanced slashes into an attack transition. He hit her on her lower back. It was considered a killing stroke. Round one went to Brandt. Kyrr and Fridya backed off and took up position. The Chancellor yelled, “Again!” They began but this time Fridya was calmer and took her time. She tricked Kyrr with a feint and got him with a slash to his legs.
They went at it for several minutes with the chancellor and the prince watching. The crowd grew and grew. Kyrr lost track of the rounds and their outcomes. After a while the Chancellor looked at the prince and they both nodded. Chancellor Rumborg then called, “Fridya step out! Ivar, send in your best student. First touch wins. Kyrr watched as Fridya scowled at him then her father and stalked out of the circle. She still wasn’t happy he thought. She had done well, better than she’d done in moons sparring against him. She should be pleased but her feelings were plain to him, she was as sour as early grapes.
Ivar sent in a seventh year student everyone at the Guild called ‘Mad Vlad’. The young man was very good but Kyrr had sparred with him a few times before and knew a few forms that would defeat his guard. A couple minutes later he saw his opportunity and executed one of these sequences and struck Mad Vlad in the shoulder. The Chancellor looked at the prince and then Ivar and said, “One more test Guild Master? One whose skill I know for certain?”
Ivar nodded. “Forster, you ready? Step in,” commanded the Chancellor.
A tall man about forty years old, weather beaten, lean and rangy, stepped into the circle. He was dressed in serviceable leather and steel armor. He had a wooden longsword and looked very experienced. He gave off an air of quiet confidence and easy skill that came from over twenty years of experience.
The man said, “I’m not going to beat you too hard boy just feel you out. I am Grand Master Forster, the Chancellor’s Chief Warden.” Kyrr just nodded. He was surprised he would have to spar with a grand master. He assumed a general mid-guard and waited. He did a quick flip through a detailed mental inventory of forms and tactics. He decided on an approach, one he had never tried before during a real fight. He’d studied it and practiced it a lot but never put it to the test. It was called Hold the Wind.
Hold the Wind, also just called the Wind, was a very fast and complex series of moves that could be arranged as needed to combat a more experienced and stronger swordsman. It relied on several quick whirling deflection defenses and attacks. It was a very obscure methodology that if not executed with sufficient speed, timing and precision would result in a fairly quick defeat for the practitioner.
He also delved deep down inside and tried to recapture the mental state he had employed against the Narasist while also trying to inure himself against the rage and darkness he felt building in his mind. He’d practiced this off and on since the first Narasist attack but was unsure of his success or lack thereof. He felt the mental system employed was beneficial to sword fighting even if he could not perform the same ‘magic’ as last time. His ability to summon his power was haphazard at best.
The Chancellor shouted, “Begin!”
Forster came at him with blinding speed. Kyrr was immediately pressed to his limits. Swords moved in a blur. He began to use the built up mental pressure to push out at Forster. He practiced using his power quite oft now and hoped it was working like before. But, opportunities to try it for real were few and far between. It wasn’t as painful and the resistance was easier to overcome. He knew he could now use it for longer periods of time without it making him dizzy, nau
seous or tired. But, he could not use it indefinitely. And, he knew if he pushed it too hard the blackness would overwhelm him. That would not do. He still wished he could find someone to help him understand this ability of his and to train him how to use it.
Kyrr also began the whirling series of blocks, deflections, feints and attacks specified in the Wind. The technique seemed to confuse and stymy Forster. At the same time Brandt’s slow even pressure with his ‘magic’ pushing at Forster seemed to slow and blunt the older man’s attacks. After ten minutes the Chancellor called a halt. Neither fighter had scored a hit on the other.
The two swordsmen stopped faced each other and saluted. They were both huffing and puffing, dragging great breaths of air into their lungs. It had been a furious and exhausting set. Forster had a wary but respectful look on his craggy face as he gazed at the young lad. He said, “Where did you learn that defense? It was quite impressive for one so young.”
Kyrr was pleased and quite proud of his achievement. He had sparred with a Grand Master and held his own. He replied respectfully, “Thank you Grand Master Forster. It is called Hold the Wind and I learned it here in the archives. I taught it to myself.”
Forster parroted with disbelief, “You taught it to yourself.” He then turned to Ivar. “I am impressed. The boy is a credit to the Guild and to you. His technique and fundamentals are perfect, skills impressive, Ivar; I commend him and Reave Hall.”
Ivar graciously acknowledged Forster’s compliment. The Chancellor had a look of pure amazement on his face. The prince was smiling broadly though. Fridya stared at Kyrr with suspicion and wonder. Aravin was his usual stoic self but even he wore a slight uncharacteristic half grin. A youth less than half his age had just fought a celebrated and renowned Grand Master of the Sword to a complete standstill.
***
