Against That Shining Darkness: Boxed Set Trilogy

by Chogan Swan

  Boaz bowed to Seth then stretched out his hand. “Welcome to our village.”

  “Boaz, what sort of welcome is that?” chided Kane. “The prince has come many leagues.”

  “Oh, right,” came a grunt from the depths of the earth. “Of course.”

  Before Seth could protest any special treatment, he was as wet as Kane from a not-quite-bone-cracking embrace. When free again, he saw a dripping, curious crowd had gathered, calling out to Kane.

  “Quiet,” thundered Boaz. “We have a guest. His name is Seth.”

  A chorus of greetings and good-natured whistles came from the crowd; evidently, anyone vouched for was welcomed with open arms.

  Boaz continued, “To celebrate a good sword, the return of our bard and to welcome Seth—we feast tonight with music and stories by our wandering bard. And anybody else who wants.” This last to satisfy a small boy who tugged at Boaz's belt with a will. The crowd dispersed with boisterous excitement to prepare for a proper feast.

  Seth spotted Kane at the forge hugging a wet, smiling swordsmith. Alone for a moment in a flood of strangers, Seth deliberated what to do.

  Kane turned to him. “Seth, Alaina…. Alaina, Seth Aradyl, co-regent of Gynt—my friend.”

  Alaina—still glowing from her efforts at the anvil—stepped up to him with a smile and embraced him with formal grace. Seth returned the gesture—though as tall as he and weighing about the same, she wasn’t heavy to his arms, just solid. Her smell told of sunshine, mixed with the forge smoke and wet leather.

  The experience was exhilarating, so Seth decided not to prolong it.

  Alaina stepped back and looked at him with an open, evaluating gaze, but he couldn't tell what the results were. It made him defensive. He wanted to make a good impression, but the impulse worried him. She was attractive, strong and talented, but he was in no position to go courting, or even looking.

  Alaina looked back at him with calm eyes. Seth glanced at Kane who watched him, amused. Seth laughed. From a glance at Kane's mischievous grin, Seth knew that—though his ties with Alaina were strong—they weren't romantic. Kane saw Seth realizing this, and the effect the knowledge had on him. Together they laughed at the exchange of information, even though it unsettled Seth more.

  Alaina smiled, though she clearly wasn't sure why they were laughing, it didn't seem to bother her.

  Seth turned back.

  “Well met, Alaina,” he said. It seemed too plain a greeting, but he liked the way her name rolled on his tongue.

  Alaina nodded with a trace of a smile from which Seth divined no meaning. Jyrmak's training had concentrated on understanding men. There was no doubt crossover, but he realized—with a sensation that may have been fright—how very different a woman's thoughts could be from a man's.

  Jyrmak had left a big gap in his education.

  Kane said something that rhymed about starving that Seth didn't quite catch. Alaina laughed and motioned for them to follow.

  The people of the village had scattered. Someone had even carried away the anvil and portable forge. Little remained to show that anyone had been here, no beaten paths. No one would guess there was a village nearby.

  “Why do the forge-work out here?” he asked, as Alaina led them to the granite bluff.

  “We only come out here for the final work and testing,” Alaina said. “There's no room for crowds in the main forge, and lots of people want to watch.” She reached the cliff and climbed up to a broad ledge several feet above their heads. When they stood on the ledge, he saw it formed a path that led along the side of the cliff. Kane shouted that he’d meet them later and trotted away through the trees His stallion trotted behind him, ears pricked forward, heading for his stable.

  Seth followed Alaina along the path. She kept a conservative pace, perhaps for his sake. Seth, busy observing the surroundings, didn't protest, but his eyes kept drifting to her.

  He realized now why there were so few signs of foot traffic. At times, their path intersected other ridges. Each rocky outcrop bore similar trails that served as a network of roads, and most traveling stayed on the rock.

  After a few more yards, they came to a tunnel through the cliff. The floor of the tunnel—polished by many feet—reflected light from the other end, seventy paces away. At the end, they emerged to a sight Seth would remember the rest of his life—sunset over Raydcliffe.

  The village nestled in a valley that ran east and west between ridges of red granite about half a league long. The ridges bordering it cast very little shade on the flatter ground, so the sun warmed it much of the day, making it a high-altitude oasis of warmer weather. Only a small section of the valley was under cultivation, more grew hay and grass. At the east end, a herd of horses watered at a pool by a waterfall gushing from a spring in the rocks.

  A herd of goats scampered to their night enclosure, all the while tormenting their young keeper with a curious, goat version of tag. The sun colored as it set and the valley softened with the light.

  Peace… this is what peace looks like.

  “Come on,” said Alaina.

  Seth followed her. At the moment, there wasn't a single thing he’d rather do.

  ~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~

  A tale well-told has power to it, but sung by a fire beneath stars they become things of glory. The final chord of The Passing of Evelon faded. It left Seth wistful. Whenever he heard tales or songs of the ancestral homeland he’d never see, it left behind an ache. He gazed into the flames.

  The people of Raydcliffe gathered on a hillside in a small depression that formed a small amphitheater. Though the night grew chill, a fire and an abundance of warm blankets and people to share them filled the gap. Kane sat by the fire next to Seth—strumming his lute with gentle strokes. Boaz and Alaina rested against nearby fire-warmed boulders. For the children, it was already past bedtime, but only the youngest had drifted off to sleep.

  “A last song for the children,” Kane announced. A chorus of sleepy voices protested, but this changed to different requests for a last song that coalesced around The Dragonsmith.

  The title pricked at Seth's curiosity. Without introduction, Kane began a clear chant without only sparse infrequent chords in accompaniment.

  A young scholar of Evelon went as an ambassador to Dragonsmere and gained the knowledge of past ages from the oldest of teachers, the ancient dragons. While there, he studied the working of metal and songs of blessing to sing into its heart—lore of little use to dragons. Though preserved in memory from the younger ages of the world—a time when dragons and human folk lived in closer harmony.

  When time came for him to return home, he found his island country had vanished from the world. Weary and grief stricken, he wandered until the people of Raydcliffe found him—close to death in their forest. In time, he recovered and taught them from his knowledge, lore of plants and trees. Though ancient, he married and left the lore of steel to his heirs.

  The song ended, and mothers and older siblings hustled the children to bed amid a chorus of sleepy protests.

  Kane strummed his lute, and the chords hung in the chilly air—haunting and sweet. Seth leaned back against the rock. But Boaz spoke up, “Lord Seth, it would be a pleasure for all of us to hear a duet.”

  Seth nodded. At home, he often performed at court, and the duties of minstrelsy came without difficulty to him. He motioned for Kane to begin. Kane started with a theme from a familiar hymn. Seth caught it and joined it to a harmony. They moved through it, improvising different variations. Seth played a counter theme—that nearby nightingales tried to answer—while Kane augmented with light arpeggios. They let the final phrase flow into a slow decrescendo.

  From the trees, a nightingale made a few more plaintive call then was silent. Seth and Kane stared at each other. They’d never played together, and only now out of the flow of it that they realized its beauty, like a crystal sprung perfect from a matrix.

  The fire crackled; from the cliffs came the faint sound of children's
voices. Boaz stood and walked to Kane and Seth, enveloping them both in a great embrace. From the other side, a woman Seth didn't know hugged him. From all sides people came together, embracing. Tears came to Seth's eyes. He belonged here; perhaps part of it might be blood calling to blood. But this time was only for now—like the first green of spring—only here a short season.

  ~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~

  Seth woke at dawn and rolled from his straw mattress. The air in his chamber was still cold. He dressed in light clothes and stretched his legs. Outside, the sun shone down the valley. He paused—enjoying the beauty in front of him—then stepped outside and began running with a smooth, ground-covering stride. He needed to stretch his legs and wanted to tour the valley, so he followed the rocky path toward the cliffs. At the talus field, boulders of all sizes lay tumble in a wide strip at the foot of the cliff.

  Seth laughed in pleasure. This looked like fun though Marshall would have just called it a training ground for balance. From the top of one boulder he jumped to another, and another, until he ran, flinging himself across the rocks. He let their placement determine his rhythm, alternating between bounds and rapid steps close together. At all times it involved at least three levels of awareness: picking out a route ahead, concentrating on foot placement, and judging whether to put weight on a rock. Some stones would tip over, others might stand a light push on the way to another, and some couldn’t be dislodged by an avalanche.

  The movement filled him with exhilaration as he sunk into the flow of total immersion. His speed increased until he almost flew over the stones. As he rounded a large block of granite, he sensed someone nearby. In reaction, he slowed and made his movements clumsy then halted, looking around—embarrassed by his ingrained habits of distrust.

  Alaina stood in a large clear space between boulders. He’d interrupted her sword drills. She held a beautiful kryllsword with a well-balanced stagger-hand grip. A wall of boulders circled an area of smooth and level ground.

  No one had ever interrupted at his own weapons practice so he felt uncomfortable. “I beg your pardon,” he said. “I'm sorry if I interrupted.”

  “You didn't,” Alaina said. “I haven’t started yet.”

  Seth hesitated. “May I watch?”

  Alaina nodded and waved.

  He sat. His breathing returned to normal.

  There were two methods of using the kryllsword: the “way of changing hands” from southern lands and the staggered grip known along the coast several decades ago.

  Marshall taught Seth both methods, but advocated “the way of changing hands.” He admitted to being biased since his own instructors were most proficient in its flashy and deceptive binds and counters. Seth believed there were also advantages in the other method. He practiced both systems, knowing different situations demanded different approaches.

  Alaina started with basic counter moves against various spear attacks then moved on to the more oblique styles of defense required against battle-axes. Alaina’s movements combined blistering speed and an open stance that allowed her to brace her feet to get better leverage against bigger opponents. In speed alone, she was even quicker than Marshall, though her strokes and lunges weren’t as long or precise, but Marshall… not a fair standard.

  Without a break in rhythm, Alaina moved on to sword-on-sword techniques. For all her speed, her movements were graceful, like a dancer's, without wasted energy or jerky motion. But now—in addition to standard techniques—came unfamiliar variations. Fascinated, he watched until she stopped to catch her breath.

  The sun beat on the rocks, warming the practice area.

  Intrigued by the novelty of learning something new to him in swordplay, Seth asked, “Could you show me those last sword attacks?”

  Alaina paused for a moment,—wiping her arms and face with a towel—then replied, “Sword discipline of this kind takes many years to teach, Lord Seth.”

  Puzzled, Seth hesitated then remembered stumbling, feigning clumsiness, when he first knew someone watched. His curiosity must seem pretentious to her. He jumped into Alaina's practice ground and picked up a wooden practice sword. “Show me anyway,” he said, smiling. “I'm a quick study.”

  With a chilly look, she sheathed her sword and said, “Weapons and their use are not matters of jest to a warrior. Perhaps someday you will understand.” She vaulted over the stone wall and headed toward the village.

  Seth grunted. The charades he’d kept up for so long now bit back. As his father said, every lie carried its cost, even when done for good reasons.

  She just thinks I'm a spoiled kid, coming out here to ogle her.

  People often mistook him for a sixteen-year-old, an inheritance from his Evelonian ancestors.

  It fooled a lot of people, but Seth thought it ironic Alaina would make the same misjudgment. From Kane's song last night, he knew she was a daughter of the Dragonsmith, with Evelonian blood herself. She might not realize some of the traits they both shared were Evelonian: almond eyes and olive skin were common to the Island people. Her eyes though, were deep green with flecks of grey, not the normal sea green and brown like Seth's own. Seth guessed her age at only four years his senior at most, but she saw him as a stumbling adolescent with a talent for the flute. Though used to the perception, now he couldn't break away from it.

  With a glum sigh, he flourished the stick. He wanted to toss it into the stones, but instead slung it over his shoulder and turned back to the village. No sense acting like a child because people mistook you for one.

  Chapter 9 (Companions)

  Afternoon passed in a blaze of sunshine, and Seth spent it exploring the valley and talking with people. The villagers were curious about him. They seldom saw new faces in the village, but they treated him as though he were a friend who’d been away for a long time.

  After a while, he felt easier about Alaina. It was better to forget the thoughts he'd been having. He’d soon be gone and couldn't afford the distraction. With a future as uncertain as his, he had no right to entertain romantic notions—however one-sided they might be.

  Back in his chamber, one of a collection in a system of caves and tunnels, he lit a lamp and sorted his gear. He hoped Kane wouldn't mind too much having to part with Droga. There were no roads for horses where he had to go.

  He loaded the most needed supplies into his pack. A tap at the doorway announced an out-of-breath boy with the air of an important mission about him.

  “Come in, Ydall,” Seth said.

  Ydall entered, shuffling his feet. “The Council summons you Lord Seth. They've been in session all afternoon.”

  Seth hid a smile. The villagers had attached the “Lord” to his name, having heard he was nobility of some sort. He hadn't bothered to correct them. The Whistling Mountains were within the borders of Gynt, but Raydcliffe was far from court.

  Seth followed Ydall out of the tunnels to a clearing among trees and rocks. The setting sun painted the clearing a dim red. The Council was waiting. Seth looked around at the cluster of faces.

  Along with Boaz, the village head, were Kane, a short healer named Raynor, and a wizened old woman who smelled of herbs and had the hands of a gardener. Alaina was also there. They all looked solemn, except for Kane, who's eyes danced with mischief.

  Boaz spoke. “Kane tells us you seek to destroy the power of the Hand, and that a call of prophecy is on you. We’ve decided you shall take our help with you: Kane, who knows the lands west better than any and Alaina, the best warrior in the village. As you are young, their experience will aid you. We would like you to wait until you are older, but we will not stand in your way if your heart tells you to go now.”

  Raynor and the old woman nodded in agreement. Kane watched Seth, and Alaina gazed at the setting sun.

  Seth clamped down on the heat that rose inside him. He walked a few paces away. They weren't offering help to him; they were dictating it as to a child. A vision of Alaina crumpled on a beach with ice crystals matting her hair and frosting her face
swam before his mind. He banished it.

  Seth never dwelt on his right to command, but he came from a line of kings, and now his own subjects expected him to bow to this... this... ruling. An embarrassing and maybe even a stupid ruling that treated him like a child. Combined with the earlier encounter with Alaina....

  How much more a wound smarts the second time struck.

  He glared at Kane. He, at least, ought to have known better. Why hadn't they called him before deciding to stick him with more responsibilities?

  But, it came down to political considerations. He didn't want to insult them or the sacrifice they were making. They might never see their swordsmith again.

  His kingdom needed that kind of support. But, if Alaina didn't come back, would the metal lore be lost?

  “Has the lore of the Dragonsmith been codified? Are there other students of its ways?” he asked.

  “It is secure, your majesty,” Kane said.

  Well that was something anyway. He recalled a parable about rulers who lacked humility then took a deep breath and let it go.

  He turned back toward the Council. Though his emotions still seethed, he said, “I thank the Council. We depart at dawn with what we can carry on our backs.”

  Boaz's jaw dropped, but Seth turned to leave before any argument developed or more help could be offered.

  Raynor sputtered, “B... but, you'll need time to prepare...”

  Seth heard Kane's snort of amusement, but Seth did not smile as he walked away.

  ~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~

  The last ray of the sun disappeared behind the ridge, and Kane stood to leave the council gathering too.

  Boaz turned to him; irritation marked his forehead.

  The bard grinned at him. “What did you expect? As I said, you did him a discourtesy not to include him in your council. Kings are a touchy sort and don't appreciate insults to their prerogatives.”

  He chuckled at their bemused faces, they hadn't believed him, and now they were seeing the results of ignoring good advice.