Kezthrem, seeing the cemetery for the first time, did not understand the extent of what they owed the nomads, but the young man knew and understood. He made a mental note to explain everything to his master on the way back, so that they could thank those that they owed so much to. For now, though, the adolescent hung back. He had already had an opportunity to grieve over these graves, and he understood that the man wanted to be alone with his father.
Kezthrem stood before the tomb of Uziere, and made his sword appear. He removed his belt, then carefully placed the items on the ground. Then, he did the same with all of his weapons, his bags, and his traveling cape. Finally, wearing just his jacket, leather boots, and pants, he knelt down. Glaide looked away. He knew that his master had the right to cry here, and to let his pain take over, but he did not think he was capable of seeing the man that he admired more than anyone else in the world in such a state. He moved away, drawing closer to the horses.
He tried to imagine what Kezthrem was feeling, but he couldn’t; Uziere had now been gone for six months, and his son knew that. However, this was the first time he had been to his father’s grave. But then, having already lost his magg, perhaps Kezthrem was more immune to the sadness of grief now... There was no way for Glaide to know what was inside the heart of his master.
After some time – Glaide couldn’t say how much – had passed, his master climbed back up the hill, ready to continue on their way. He had put his cape and weapons back on. The adolescent searched his master’s face for any signs of his emotions, but he could make nothing out.
Before they left, Glaide, too, went down to pay his respects to the dead. He paused for a moment before the two graves holding Drekhor and Uziere, then made his way among the others. Memories flooded his mind, each disappearing as quickly as it came. The time for regret and dwelling in the past was over; Glaide had already spent enough time thinking back on all of this. Now, he knew it was time to move on, and this time uttered only a single word.
“Farewell.”
With that, the two returned to the village. On the way, the young man described everything that the village inhabitants had done in that place to his master. Kezthrem said nothing, but after they arrived at their destination, and before they sat down to the meal, he sought out Gelden, who was seated at a table filled with his citizens. Neither of the two man said a word, but Kezthrem offered his hand, which Gelden shook, and the faces of the two showed everything they were feeling: gratitude, sympathy, and their mutual esteem. From that moment on, the two would never see each other as strangers, or even mere acquaintances, but something much closer.
Glaide, noticing then that the food was quickly disappearing, couldn’t ignore his desire to sit down as well, and enjoy the wonderful dishes whose aroma was already filling his nose. The day drew to a close with laughter, singing, and storytelling. By the time Glaide and Kezthrem left the group, it was already late at night. The young man’s head was filled with the emotions of the day, and the sudden silence that enveloped them as they left the city – and all of its noise – behind added to his dreamy mood.
“And so ends the most unusual Christmas I’ve ever experienced,” he thought to himself. “And it looks to be just the first of many...” He let out a sigh of contentment. Before him, Kezthrem walked in complete silence. From time to time, he looked towards the stars, then the mountains, or the plains around them, as if realizing how beautiful everything around him was, then his gaze returned to the path before them. When they arrived back at the house, Glaide immediately climbed the stairs to go to bed. He felt completely exhausted. His master, though, remained on the front stoop, lost in his thoughts. The boy saw his master move into the house just as Glaide passed by the balcony at the front of the house, on the way to his bedroom.
“It was an important day for him,” he said to himself as he went to lie down. “No,” he murmured a few seconds later. “No, it was an important day for everyone in the Known Lands.”
With that, he slept.
Chapter 32
THE week that followed proved to be one of the most unvarying yet. Before they left on their journey, Kezthrem wanted his disciple to focus purely on the one area where he still showed many faults: the duel. Glaide could make no complaint at the single-mindedness of his training, though, as he knew that he was still incapable of confronting a single enemy that was well-trained, fast, and strong. So, each day, the adolescent and his master faced each other in combat. They began with the wooden swords, though the older man mentioned that they would switch to swords as soon as he made enough progress.
Once during that week, Kezthrem chose to attack his student during the night. This, however, would be the last time: he had barely entered the room from the balcony when Glaide rolled off his bed to move out of reach of an attack. With a powerful movement, he leapt to his feet, sword in hand. The older man stood frozen in place, his sword in hand; he’d stopped himself mid-movement. The nightly training that the adolescent had pursued these last several months had finally born fruit. The two combatants stood face to face for a moment. Glaide wasn’t sure how he should react, but finally, Kezthrem left without comment, as silently as he had come. The young man smiled, satisfied with himself, before returning to bed, conquered by his fatigue.
The other days passed uneventfully. There were always two phases in their training. First, in the morning, they fought slowly, Kezthrem pointing out weak points to his disciple throughout the fight, so that he could then make note of the best places to strike, and when to strike, as well as when to block or dodge different attacks. In the afternoon, however, their fights focused on improvisation, with the older man fighting ever more quickly, and striking ever more violently as the week drew to a close. However, Glaide realized that his master had still never attacked with all of his force and prowess; Kezthrem always seemed to hold back. The young man wished with all of his heart that one day, he would have the opportunity to see his master fight “for real”.
Finally, on the last day of the week, the master of Iretane chose to begin training with their actual swords. To start their practice, he and his disciple went out into the forest behind the house. Glaide, not understanding what was about to happen, did so without discussion; when he saw the area his master had chosen for the duel, though, he quickly realized that this would be no easy encounter. His master finally came to a stop at the edge of the plateau,, selecting a location that featured a steep slope that was densely forested. There was little space to move around, and they would have to step carefully, or risk losing their balance and tumbling down the entire hill.
Glaide immediately understood the value of this: he would not always have the luck to fight in the middle of an empty plain! He could easily find himself in a confrontation in the middle of a forest, or halfway up a mountainside, and this place was a combination of both.
The young man tried to mentally prepare himself for the battle to come, but immediately encountered a problem: he didn’t have the slightest idea what position he should take... Would it be better to be above or below? In the end, though, his master didn’t give him the choice, as he took up a guard position from higher up the hill than his disciple. The adolescent imitated his master, and the two adversaries stood face to face for a few moments. As he had learned to do over time, the boy carefully searched his master’s gestures and expression, looking for any sign of how he would attack.
However, here a technique he had never seen before would be best, which Kezthrem showed as he quickly disappeared behind a tree, and hid from view. Glaide chose a prudent reaction, slowly moving up the hill towards the trunk his master had disappeared behind. However, as he moved, he thought he caught a glimpse of movement, and he heard the sound of a step. Kezthrem had moved, and the adolescent hadn’t seen where. The trees were so close to each other, it was perfectly possible to move from one to another, all while remaining completely hidden.
Glaide decided to change his technique, and instead froze in place. He saw tha
t it would be impossible to surprise him from behind, because the nearest trees were still far enough away that his adversary would have to step out into the open. Instead, then, he fixed his attention on the forest in front of him, hoping he’d be able to catch a glimpse of something. A sudden cracking sound overhead made him look up, and it was good that he did: he looked up in time to see an imposing tree limb falling towards him. He launched himself backwards, somersaulting to soften his fall, and felt the ground underneath him tremble as the heavy branch struck the ground. He jumped up with a bound, his sword held high, though he still had no clue where Kezthrem was.
He moved towards the shaking pile of twigs, and as expected noted the smooth end of the branch: it had been cut with a sword. While a small smile appeared at the corners of his lips, he suddenly sensed a presence behind him. He spun around just in time to parry a powerful attack from his master, then the combat began. Glaide quickly realized that he wasn’t at as much of a disadvantage as he’d thought: the other man, too, had to deal with the closeness of the space, and his strikes, though always remaining precise, lost some of their strength.
The combat ended, however, with a blow to the boy's leg that he couldn’t dodge. He tripped, lost his balance, and – just as he had feared – tumbled down the hill, accompanied with the sound of groans, ripping fabric, and cries of pain and surprise as his body struck against roots and saplings along the way. Finally, he rammed into a solid trunk which stopped his descent. He lay there for a moment, trying to gather his strength, then, with an immense effort, forced himself to stand. He was covered with scratches and bruises, and his lower lip was cut open. His top was ripped to shreds, and he was surprised not to have broken anything. His gaze moved towards the top of the hill, where his met Kezthrem’s. Had he known in advance that the fall could have been a deadly one? Had that been his goal?
“If that’s the case,” thought the adolescent, “that would mean from this moment on, I’ll have to defend myself as though I were confronting a real enemy.” Then, he added sarcastically, “I doubt an ork would be so mean as to send his enemy tumbling down a hill in the same way...”
Whatever the case, Glaide had the rest of the day to tend to his wounds. He went up to his room to get a new set of clothes, then took a long bath in the hot springs. Then, exhausted, he laid down on the roof of the house to spend the afternoon sometimes in meditation, and sometimes in sleep.
The week that followed featured more of the incessant duels, though they now used their own weapons every time. Glaide continued to make progress, and his master continued to attack with more and more force. It was a great victory for Glaide when, in the middle of the week, he managed to slice Kezthrem’s jacket. He was able to break a chain of attacks begun by the man by finding the time to counterattack between two blows. His adversary was taken by surprise and had to jump back, and his kimono was cut during the movement. Of course, the student’s success was short-lived, because in the time it took to congratulate himself in his mind, he received a blow to the stomach, and found himself flying backwards, and crashing into the ground.
Kezthrem lifted the damaged shirt a bit, examining the tear. Then, in a perfectly neutral voice, he announced, “Your attack was perfect.”
Glaide smiled wide at the words, and thought to himself, “That was a victory! A small one, but a victory nonetheless! And the first of many, of that I’m sure.” Or at least, he tried to convince himself it was certain; at any rate, it was with renewed enthusiasm that he continued to face his master, day after day. However, he had to admit to himself that he would never truly defeat his opponent; for that, he would need much more experience and more training than he had at hand. Perhaps one day he would be able to perfect his technique. For the moment, though, he forced himself to forget all of that. It was possible to beat this man, but only if he did not fight to the best of his abilities, but rather limited himself, as he always did in their battles. Glaide knew he had no chance of defeating his master if he was fighting with everything he had in him. Whatever the case, during those two weeks, he had little time to think or converse. Kezthrem wanted his disciple to be ready before their departure, and he assured him that they would have plenty of time to talk during the journey. Glaide impatiently awaited the day that they would leave the house.
Chapter 33
THE first week of January ended with an unexpected event. By that point, the adolescent had made an immense amount of progress with his sword, and Kezthrem thought he was more-or-less ready for their journey, so he had fixed the date of their departure for the following week. That morning, as the man was explaining a few things to his disciple in the dojo, they heard the sound of banging at the door. The two stopped and listened. The banging became louder.
“Master, what...” whispered Glaide. He stopped as his master held up his hand. It seemed like someone – or something – was trying to get in. The sliding doors that made up the wall of the room were completely closed, but soon the thing outside seemed to turn its attack to them. Glaide felt no fear. He was finally going to have some action! With a motion, Kezthrem told him to take up a position on the balcony that overlooked the entrance. The boy did so, without making a sound. When he arrived on the eaves, he advanced on tiptoe, careful not to let himself be seen. Just as he reached the edge of his perch, the crash of breaking wood made him jump. He immediately realized that the door of the dojo had fallen under the furious assault it had experienced. For a fraction of a second, Glaide was paralyzed with surprise. Then, he jumped up with a bound and dashed towards the stairs leading to the ground floor.
"Master!" he cried out.
When he reached the bottom, he could hear the clashing of swords and the clamor of combat, alongside an incredibly powerful roar. "Chimeras!" he thought, worry crossing his face. "But how many?"
He jumped down the last few stairs and burst into the training room. The first thing he saw was the front wall of the building, which had been ripped apart, and now lay on the ground in ruins. Then, he became aware of the corpses of five chimeras. At the very back of the dojo, he could see one last monster as it collapsed to the ground, pierced through and through.
The warrior who had led the attack, however, was not his master... He was younger: about the same age as Tyv. Under the short black hair was a face as angular as Kezthrem's, and a neglected beard swallowed up his chin and cheeks. The warrior's eyes were a vivid green, and the young man thought he could detect a little glimmer of that same wisdom that his master always held in his eyes.
Before either of the combatants said a word, Kezthrem suddenly appeared.
"There were another half dozen still outside," he declared. "But why did they attack us?"
"Hmmm... I think I attracted them. They must have followed me as I headed in your direction." The nameless warrior had a gravelly voice, rough and strong. It matched his cat-like appearance – calm and self-assured, but powerful and dangerous. Glaide said nothing, but looked at each of the two individuals before him in turn. They appeared to know each other. Finally, Kezthrem seemed to remember the presence of his young student.
“This is Glaide,” he said. “And let me present Ydref, the last student I trained before you.”
The man called Ydref turned his gaze on the adolescent, who immediately felt an affinity for the stranger. The latter nodded to him in greeting, and the boy returned the greeting in the same polite manner. Kezthrem and his old student looked at each other for a moment in silence. They seemed to look each other up and down, checking to see how they’d each changed since they’d last seen each other, and what they’d each become. Then, suddenly, they stepped towards each other, clasping hands, and drawing each other into a bear hug. The scene seemed almost comical, with the two, happy to see each other, standing in the middle of a battlefield, covered in cadavers and blood. Glaide didn’t smile, though. In his heart, he felt only one desire: to one day be able to meet his master and greet him in the same way: as a dear friend. However, it was not yet tim
e for that.
“Wow,” began Ydref, glancing around the room. “It’s a damned mess...”
Kezthrem smiled. “It is... let’s get rid of these corpses.”
Glaide was happy to help, and as the three removed the bodies, cleaned away the blood – thanks to some water from the spring – and cleared away the rubble from the wall, a conversation began. Glaide noticed quickly that the new arrival was not very verbose, but he responded willingly to any questions, and didn’t hesitate to get himself up-to-date on the adolescent’s progress. Glaide also learned that Ydref’s magg, Arline, had remained in town. She was supposed to join them that evening. Once their task was finished, the three set to work on enjoying an excellent lunch.
“Your cooking is as good as ever, master,” said the newcomer appreciatively. With a glance in Glaide’s direction, he added, “You’ll see soon enough that there is no better cook in all of the Known Lands!” The three laughed at that.
“We’ll have to rebuild the front of the dojo, won’t we?” asked the young man.
“We’ll be able to find all of the materials in the village,” Kezthrem affirmed.
Ydref nodded. “We have a room at the hotel for the week,” he added. “Tomorrow, I’ll bring the supplies back with me.”
“At any rate, we’ll have to complete the repairs before we leave,” declared Glaide.
The previous disciple raised an eyebrow at that. “You’re leaving, master?”
Kezthrem sighed deeply. “It’s complicated to explain. His training must be completed as quickly as possible, and there are some things I want to show him. Plus, the journey will give him an opportunity to practice everything I’ve taught him thus far.”
Chronicles of Galadria II_Encounters Page 24
