by Steven Drake
“No, no it isn’t like that. I really did come to help him. I don’t want to hurt him anymore. I gave that up…”
“Oh, I know that. You live as long as I have, you learn to read the truth in people’s eyes. I can tell by yours, you’ve got other things than murder on your mind, but that still leaves the question. Do you really believe he will ever lower his guard?”
“I… I don’t know.” Rana bowed her head and let her hair fall around her face. “I guess I just feel sorry for him. It’s not his fault what happened to him.” Rana froze in mid thought, suddenly aware she had said too much.
“Don’t worry about it. I already knew.”
“But how? Did he tell you? How long have you known him?”
“A while longer than he thinks, I’ll wager. Darien’s first master, Kirin the Hollow Eye, was a friend of mine, back when I lived in Palama, out east. Kirin brought this raven-haired boy with the deadest expression into my shop and told me what happened. Kirin regretted that the rest of his days.” Tobin finished off his third mug of ale, and leaned back in his chair. “The Shades are ruthless assassins, obedient soldiers, and cold killers, powerful to be sure, but not that different than other men that live by the sword. Some enjoy the bloodshed, some hate it, some don’t care, some of them are so dead inside it doesn’t matter. A few, like Kirin, truly believe they are fighting for something worthwhile. They harden themselves and bury their feelings deep inside, for the sake of the cause, or for the power to crush those in their way. That sort, though, they always have a limit. Push them too far and they lose their belief. Something wakes them up, changes them, makes them start feeling again. For Kirin, it was Darien.”
“So they do have feelings, underneath?”
“Oh, all men have feelings, they just learn not to listen. Shades learn better than most.” Tobin produced a pipe and lit it, then proceeded to start blowing smoke rings over the bar.
“Just what are you two talking about?” A gruff and familiar voice rolled out behind Rana.
“Geoffray,” Rana acknowledged. “That is none of your business.” Rana gripped her ale tighter.
“I know you know more about that Shade than you’re telling dwarf. I’ll ask again, what were you discussing?”
“I told you Geoffray, it’s none of your business.” Rana was now practically crushing the glass mug, and grinding her teeth. Tobin simply puffed away casually.
“If it concerns this mission, or the criminal Darien, I will make it my business.”
“Geoffray, shut up!” Rana stepped off her stool and wheeled round, then shoved Geoffray. He took a step back, but gave no further ground, then stiffened. They stared into each other’s eyes, just inches away. The bar fell silent, and all eyes turned towards them.
“If you’re gonna cause a ruckus, do it outside,” a portly bartender barked at them. Rana stepped around Geoffray and stormed out of the inn, then out to the pasture behind the inn, hoping to do some sword practice to work off her energy. She found the pasture already occupied by Jerris, who appeared to be running laps. Darien stood a few feet away from her with his arms crossed, watching his student. If he had noticed her presence, he gave no indication. Niarie sat on a bench, not paying much attention to anything, but enjoying the warm afternoon. Rana leaned against the wall, under the eave of the inn.
Unsurprisingly, Geoffray followed, appearing just a few minutes later. He leaned against the wall right next to her, but said nothing. Rana remained motionless, watching Jerris. She would not give Geoffray the satisfaction of intimidating her.
After several minutes, Geoffray spoke up. “Watching that boy train gives me an idea.” Rana didn’t look over, but she could tell Geoffray was smiling. “Why don’t we have a spar, Rana? It’s been a long time since I tested your skill. I’d like to see if you’ve improved.”
Damn him, Rana fumed inwardly. She never had been able to beat Geoffray, not even close, but her pride was already sore, and she could not take much more. “Why do you care? After all, you’re not my instructor anymore.”
“Forgive me, Rana, for your imprisonment. I still see you as my student, and I wanted to protect you. I feared you were under a spell. I still do. I have seen the way this Shade manipulates others to serve his own purpose. I see the bad influence he has been on you. Can you not see this monster for what he is?” That did it. Rana started to leave, but stopped when Darien spoke. Apparently he had been paying attention after all.
“You claim to see much, Geoffray Leonhardt. Are you sure you’re seeing clearly? Perhaps there is something wrong with your eyes,” Darien said flatly. Rana almost laughed. Niarie did laugh, before quickly stifling herself. Darien turned and smiled wickedly at Geoffray. “Do you always blame others when you apologize, or just me? You think you can say a few pretty words, and she will wave her hands and forget everything.”
“You dare to mock my words, after what you have done to her?” Geoffray shouted back. “You killed her family, and you expect her to forgive you, when you have not the grace to ask an apology.”
Darien lowered his eyes to the ground for a moment, and sighed deeply. The Shade would never admit such, but that had hurt him. She could almost feel his guilt, but the Shade recovered quickly, as he raised his eyes and stared a hole in Geoffray, then spoke, “I do not ask for what I am not owed, and I do not waste my breath on empty words. I don’t deny what I did, and I never will. Whether I apologize, whether she forgives me, makes no difference. It cannot take back what was done. The entire exercise is pointless. Why are you so desperate for absolution when you so obviously don’t believe you did anything worthy of guilt?”
“That’s enough, Darien,” Rana stopped him. “I can take care of myself. If he wants a fight, I’ll give him one.” Rana walked over to the edge of the field, where two wooden swords had been laid out for Jerris’ practice. She took them both, walked back to Geoffray, and shoved one in his chest. “Geoffray, you don’t care about anything but your honor and duty. Darien wouldn’t even keep me tied up after I tried to kill him, and when I came back alive, did you care? No, you put me in chains. You are not half the man Darien is.”
Darien raised an eyebrow, seemingly uncertain what to make of that. Niarie gasped aloud, and Jerris, who had apparently stopped practicing to watch the spectacle, stared open-mouthed. Rana ignored them. I don’t care what they think. It’s true. Geoffray is a horrible man. How could I not see it before?
Rana paced out to the middle of the pasture and assumed her fighting stance, while Geoffray did the same. The match began with a quick flurry of magic enhanced strikes by the knight. Rana parried a powerful thrust at her midsection, then spun away from the following overhand strike. She blocked successive horizontal slashes, and swung her own sword, narrowly missing Geoffray’s head. Rana danced back and forth around the field, easily outmaneuvering the knight just as Darien had done in the duel. The warrior woman waited for an opening, and after Geoffray’s foot slipped slightly on a clump of grass, she whirled to the right of the knight, closed the distance, and aimed a strike at the back of his head, but in her haste to close the distance, she had drawn too close to a physically larger opponent, a basic mistake. The knight shifted his weight quickly in her direction, rammed into her chest and shoved her off balance. At the same time, he brought his off hand up, and before Rana could regain her balance, the knight grabbed her sword arm and twisted, hard. Rana cried out in pain and dropped her sword, then fell to her knees as Geoffray twisted her arm behind her back.
“Well, you’ve gotten faster, but you still aren’t fast enough. Your physical weakness puts you at a disadvantage in close quarters. You are still no match for me.”
“Well, I suppose that’s halfway correct,” Darien interjected.
“I beg your pardon?” Geoffray sneered at Darien.
“Well, she did get too close, but you’re wrong about everything else.” Darien looked over to her with that calm, patient, thoughtful look. She had seen it so many times over the past year
, and the familiarity was reassuring. “Why did you lose, Rana?”
“I got impatient,” she answered. “I also failed to strike from the proper distance based on the weapon and relative strength of my enemy.”
“True, but you should have beaten him anyway,” Darien added. “You were being too tentative. He’s not your teacher anymore, and these are wooden swords. You won’t hurt him too badly.”
“So you were holding back then?” Geoffray growled. “Now that won’t do. You must fight with all your strength, every time. This is not the arena. Real combat is life and death. I taught you better.”
Both fighters retook their positions. Rana steeled herself. This time she was ready. This time, she would not hesitate. Rana stared into his brown eyes, allowing anger to fill her body and spirit with liquid fire. The tearful memory of their parting on a dark night flooded her mind. She would pay him back for those tears.
They took their stances, and Rana waited for Geoffray to move. She felt his magic concentrate in legs and left arm. Instantly, she anticipated the strike, and its direction, a diagonal slash across her body, from left to right. She darted forward to the opposite side. Geoffray recognized and shifted, but he was on the defensive. This time, he was blocking and dodging, as Rana darted in to attack, then out of range before he could counter. She reverted to the more primitive, instinctive fighting style she had developed in the arena. Geoffray aimed a thrust, but Rana moved just enough for it to pass inches away, then brought her wooden sword around towards Geoffray’s head. He ducked, barely in time, and Rana leapt outward as Geoffray threw a wild horizontal slash far wide of the mark. Rana brought her sword down in a horizontal strike. Geoffray blocked with the hard backside of his silver gauntlet. Rana took a step back and to the right, a feint to make her appear off balance. She had nearly beaten Darien with this trick once. Geoffray took the bait, and aimed a wide, spinning, horizontal strike at the warrior woman. She leapt several feet in the air, Geoffray’s blade glided harmlessly beneath her, and she brought her sword down on the knight’s shoulder between his shoulder plate and his helmet, a powerful strike, with both arms and her downward momentum behind it. The wooden sword impacted with a loud thump, and then the wooden blade snapped in two with a crack. The crack was followed by a quiet but sickening pop, then a howl of pain from the knight. Rana had been in enough fights to understand the sounds. She had dislocated Geoffray’s shoulder.
Geoffray fell to the ground, while Rana stood proudly, and looked over at Darien. She could not contain the wild happiness on her face and the gratitude in her eyes. Darien stared at her quizzically.
“Bah, I’m injured and you’re celebrating like a child who’s just won his first duel,” Geoffray interrupted her celebration.
“Didn’t you say earlier not to hold back, that real combat is life and death?” Darien questioned the knight. “You should be grateful those were not real swords, or your right arm and shoulder would be lying a few feet away from the rest of you, and you would be swiftly bleeding to death. Surely you have enough battle knowledge to realize that, at least.” Geoffray growled something unintelligible in response.
“I could set the bone myself, but I’m not in the mood to be particularly helpful. Niarie, go fetch Oswald so he can help his captain.” Darien smirked at the fallen knight.
“If it weren’t for this eye, I’d have known that was a feint,” Geoffray grumbled.
Darien leaned down towards the fallen knight and asked quite smugly. “When you fought me, you blamed my unusual weapon. Now you’ve lost again and you blame your injury. Do you always have an excuse when you lose?” He then stood up again, and reflected, speaking almost to himself. “My training was quite different. When a Shade failed for any reason, he expected pain, and he was grateful to receive it, because that pain meant he would live to learn from his failure. Those who made excuses for their failures, or complained at their suffering generally were not given another opportunity to do so. I must say, I don’t have a great deal of sympathy.” A look of fear and awe passed over Geoffray’s face, then changed into something else, a look of grim resigned understanding, as though he had seen his own death standing before him. “Perhaps, now you finally understand what you face. The Shades are not your equals. They are on another level entirely, one well beyond your reach. Just a few months of sparring against me, and you see the difference in your former pupil. I’m not even the best or most experienced of the Shades, and the Black Council are worse still. They have power that even I fear. They will feed you your broken pride until you beg for death.” Geoffray looked over at Rana, who nodded at him, unsympathetically confirming the Executioner’s words, and sauntered off.
Rana returned to her room filled with a sense of pride, happier than she had been in days. It was not just beating Geoffray that raised her spirit, but the fact that Darien had so passionately defended her. For the first time since Trinium, she had some hope. She had not made a mistake coming here. This was where she belonged. Destiny always places us exactly where we are meant to be; that’s what Maya used to tell me, Rana thought. I have to see this through, whatever happens.
Chapter 22: Lessons Learned
After directing Jerris’ training until well after dusk, Darien and his student had finally retired to eat, rest, and in Jerris’ case, bathe. While Jerris washed himself behind a curtain in the far corner of the room, Darien reflected on what had been a most confusing day.
The impromptu duel between Rana and Geoffray had been as puzzling afterwards as it had been unexpected in the moment. The animosity between Rana and Geoffray had been unexpected, as Darien had failed to understand just how deep it ran. Still, the sight of the arrogant man so badly beaten gave him some sense of satisfaction.
One thing lingered in his mind, the look on Rana’s face after she had defeated her former instructor. Wild unrestrained happiness, exultation, joy, and something more, something directed at him, inexplicably frightening. It seemed an innocent enough smile, but something about it bothered him, like a premonition of something, something just beyond his mind’s reach. The journey was just beginning, and Darien’s companions worried his mind far more than his enemies.
When Jerris finished bathing, Darien found his meditations interrupted. The young half-elf seemed exhausted, as he should be after such intense practice, but as usual, not too exhausted to prattle on about nothing important. Darien ignored most of the actual conversation, but still found his student’s voice something of a comfort. This evening’s meanderings consisted mostly of comments about the various features of their Junior Magus companion, an even more tedious topic than Jerris’ usual ramblings. Jerris’ continued to talk even after the last candle was blown out. The Executioner slept little, so being kept awake was only a mild irritation. He simply waited for Jerris to grow quiet. After a long silence, Darien thought at last he would have some quiet, but instead, Jerris spoke again, this time in a decidedly more serious tone.
“Darien, I just want to say thank you, for what you did for me today.”
Was that all? “Well, Jerris, I am your teacher. I’m only preparing you for what you may face on this journey and beyond. You’ll improve at augmentation, just as you have other disciplines.” Darien replied flatly. The seriousness in his pupil’s voice didn’t really match the topic. After all, the younger half-elf had never offered such heartfelt thanks for any of his other magic lessons.
“No, not that,” Jerris replied with a snicker. “I meant with Niarie. I mean, after I fell in the… well you know… and she was falling all over you like you were the greatest mage in the world. You spoke up for me, and you got her to look at me. I just, well, I’m really grateful.”
“Oh.” Darien groaned inwardly, of course it was about the girl. “Well, you’re welcome, I suppose. To tell the truth, I just wanted to aim her attention at someone else, anyone else.”
“Really, you don’t think she’s pretty?” Jerris asked. “Well, you never think any girl is pretty… Wait, you’re
not one of those that ummm… doesn’t like girls, are you?”
Though he was clever and well-versed in many subjects, the Executioner knew of no word or expressions to clearly convey his level of disbelief at participating in this conversation. Finally, with as much frustration as he knew how to convey, he answered. “No, Jerris. I’m not one of those who, as you so gracefully intimated, ‘doesn’t like girls’. I just find the whole notion of love absurd. In this case, what you call love is nothing more than desire. Whatever you think you feel for this girl will pass in time if you be patient.”
“Well, I don’t know if it’s really love yet, but I know I don’t want it to pass. I want to grab it and hang onto it and keep that feeling with me forever. It’s a wonderful feeling, whatever it is. Haven’t you ever been in love even a little bit?”
“Jerris, from the time I joined the Order of the Shade, I was taught that love is the most unpredictable and dangerous thing in the world, more destructive than any weapon, more dangerous than hate, anger, fear, magic, or anything else. It distorts one’s perception of what is real and what is not. It prevents one from seeing the truth, and acting accordingly. It is not something to seek. It is something to avoid.”
“But you’re not a Shade anymore,” Jerris protested. “You don’t have to live that way anymore. You can find love if you want to.”
“I don’t want to. I have enough troubles as it is.” Jerris started to object again but Darien silenced him. “Just drop it, Jerris, and go to sleep. This is not an argument you can win.”
“Alright, just, I don’t know, think about it. I consider you a friend, not just a teacher, and I’d like you to be happy.”
Such naïveté, Darien thought to himself. The curse of adolescence. As if it were so simple. Jerris, I fear you will learn the hard way that love does not equal happiness. Kirin died in misery for it. I pray you do not pay such a steep price to learn that lesson.
