The Ascending

by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

  Keiron stopped walking and rested his chin in his hand, his eyes growing distant with thought. A horse-drawn cart loaded down with wooden boxes and a flurry of small children carrying books went rattling by while she waited.

  “I know. How about a tour of the wall?” he suggested. “We can take a walk and view the entire city. That will take up at least an hour, if not more.”

  Jahrra thought about it for a moment. “Is it safe to just walk up there? I mean, if the Red Flange is still scouting the road, won’t we be vulnerable?”

  She recalled seeing armored soldiers walking along the top of the wall, the crenellations coming up to about waist height. The stone barrier provided some cover, but surely an arrow could find its way through one of the gaps.

  “There are always at least two guards per twenty-five feet up there, as well as two others in the watchtowers keeping an eye on the world outside,” Keiron answered.

  Jahrra was very tempted to just give in. Walking along the top of the wall, with a clear view of the city on one side and the extensive mountains on the other, sounded so much more enticing than simply wandering the streets. And it was looking to be a very fine spring day as well. But then she remembered what Jaax had said about trusting the Fairlein family. She gave Keiron a quick sidelong glance. He smiled gently at her, and she realized that he desperately wanted to make her feel welcome here. And hadn’t Jaax been the one to send him in her direction in the first place? Taking a breath and letting it out slowly through her nose, she decided to accept Keiron’s offer.

  So long as I remain alert and stick to the rule of not sharing important information, it’ll be fine, she told herself.

  Jahrra turned and nodded her head. “Walking the wall would be wonderful,” she said with a smile.

  “Great! Let’s go.”

  To Jahrra’s surprise, and delight, Keiron took her hand in his and proceeded to lead her down one of the narrow lanes spreading from the city’s center like a strand of a spider’s web. They bypassed a cobbler’s shop, a bakery, an alehouse and an entire block consisting of merchants peddling preserved fruits, vegetables and herbs. Jahrra wondered how they were able to get the produce up the mountain before it spoiled, but she didn’t have time to ask since Keiron never slowed. Eventually, their downhill hike came to an abrupt stop when the massive black wall, rising behind a row of buildings made of the same material but with wooden roofs, brought them to a halt. A half dozen or so horses stood in a paddock of sorts off to the right, most of them lazing about in the warm sunlight streaming through the pine branches above.

  To the left, a young man in the now familiar garb of Cahrdyarein’s soldiers sat slumping atop a large stone at the base of a staircase hugging the wall. It was clear the guard was asleep, but Keiron didn’t seem too concerned about it. Keiron let go of Jahrra’s hand and marched over, dropping his palm heavily onto the snoozing soldier’s shoulder. The young Resai elf woke with a snort, flailing his arms and legs about as he tried to appear alert.

  “Stay up too late last night, Farros? I hear Temper’s Alehouse has extended its hours.”

  The soldier, Farros, blinked up at Keiron, his helmet disguising most of his face. He then glanced over at Jahrra before blushing and dropping his head.

  “I’m only joking!” Keiron insisted, giving him another good-natured shove. “But truly, if the Crimson King’s men managed to scale the wall on this side of the city, we’d be doomed by now, for they would have slipped right past you.”

  Farros kept his head lowered in shame as Jahrra followed after Keiron.

  “Is it really acceptable for him to be sleeping while on guard duty like that?” Jahrra asked as they began their ascent up the stairs.

  Keiron shrugged and glanced over his shoulder at her. “Only those properly trained in combat are given posts on the wall. Those who are just joining ranks, or who are being punished for some infraction, are posted at the base of the stairs.”

  “How many sets of stairs are there?” Jahrra asked.

  “One for every quarter mile.”

  Halfway up the wall, they came upon a narrow stone landing. Keiron stopped and glanced out over the edge, inviting Jahrra to join him.

  “And how many miles does the wall cover?” Jahrra asked.

  Keiron furrowed his brow in thought. “Just under ten, I believe.”

  “So I’m guessing we won’t walk the entire wall.”

  Keiron grinned again and shook his head. “Not today.”

  They climbed the second set of stairs and breached the top of the wall. The first thing that struck Jahrra was just how wide the space on top was. A black stone road of sorts stretched sixty feet or more between the crenellations, and just as Keiron had promised, pairs of uniformed soldiers walked to and fro, their blue cloaks like banners fluttering behind them. Every hundred feet or so, watchtowers resembling giant rooks from a chess board stood perched on the wall’s edge. Where they stood now, the wall ran east and west, curving around the mountain peak but remaining relatively level from what she could tell.

  Keiron reached out a hand and invited Jahrra to peer beyond the opposite edge. Reluctantly, she made her way over, the latest pair of soldiers to walk by eyeing her curiously for only a moment before returning their attentions to their duty.

  “Is it safe to be near the edge?” Jahrra whispered.

  Keiron only grinned and gave her a small nod. “It’s perfectly safe. Arinel over there informed me the Red Flange retreated behind the far bend in the road shortly after the dragon Jaax blasted them with his fire. They have not spotted them since.”

  Telling herself she was just being overly paranoid, Jahrra inched closer to the edge, then gasped when she looked down. The drop had to be at least a hundred feet on the outer side of the wall, if not more.

  “Don’t focus on the height,” Keiron chastised. “Look.”

  He pointed out over the landscape at the mountains stretching far into the distance, while at the same time placing his free hand just above the small of her back. Jahrra swallowed her nervousness at his forwardness and used the view as a distraction. She could see even more from this location than the fortress the night before.

  Once they had their fill of the view, Jahrra and Keiron stepped away from the edge and headed east along the top of the wall. They took their time walking, Keiron describing life in Cahrdyarein, Jahrra telling him a little about her own adventures. She was always careful to keep her details as vague and broad as possible. Keiron had an easy, charismatic nature, and Jahrra felt, on more than one occasion, the desire to pour her heart out to him. But she had made a promise to Jaax, and she was determined to keep it.

  A little before noon, the regent’s son led her back to one of the staircases so they could descend into the city once more. They took another small road, this time climbing back uphill. More of the shops and living quarters Jahrra had grown familiar with crowded the roads, but as the peak of the mountain loomed ever nearer, the buildings became less cramped and more spread out. At some point, they crossed the main road that wound around the mountain, and once on the other side, Keiron headed north up a walking path that cut between a collection of small businesses. On the other side, there spread a great field with several fenced off areas. Jahrra’s skin prickled when she recognized the familiar clash of metal and twang of bowstrings. At last, the practice yard!

  Men and women, and even some boys and girls, were scattered about the field, taking part in mock battle against one another. Farther down the slope and creeping into a thick copse of trees were the archers, aiming their arrows at hay bales placed strategically between the trunks of the pines.

  A cluster of buildings, some more than one or two stories high, nestled snuggly against a slab of granite large enough to dominate the skyline.

  “My home is just around the other side of that monolith,” Keiron said with pride.

  Jahrra nodded, for she thought she could see the white flash of the waterfall between a collection of granite spires
and pines.

  “Keiron!” someone roared from the closest practice ring. “Where have you been?”

  A Resai elf, taller than Keiron by a head and probably a dozen years or so older, came sauntering over, his chainmail clinking with the rhythm of his steps. He gave off a wave of pent up energy and youthful vigor, and if not for the crooked smile half hidden by his nose guard, Jahrra would have suspected he meant trouble.

  The elf came to the edge of the fence and stopped, his eyes widening when he took in Jahrra.

  “Well, well, well,” he crooned, turning his aggression down a notch. “I can see you were busy. Though, I must warn you, if you spend all of your time wooing the ladies, you’ll never become skilled enough to beat me!”

  “Pendric, I can defeat you in my sleep, with both my legs broken,” Keiron boasted back.

  The boisterous Resai elf, Pendric, roared with laughter and slapped the plate armor covering his thigh.

  Jahrra jumped at the action, her instincts pushing her into a defensive stance.

  “Enough of this banter! Do introduce me to this fine young woman.”

  He turned his head and smiled at her, his infectious good humor radiating from him like the heat of the sun.

  Jahrra had never received so much attention from young men in her life, and she didn’t know how to compose herself. She wondered if there was something in the air in Cahrdyarein that didn’t affect those in the lower elevations.

  “Jahrra, meet Pendric, the most stubborn, and most irritating, captain of the guard you might ever be unfortunate enough to lay eyes upon.”

  Jahrra’s eyebrows rose with surprise. This was Morivan’s captain of the guard? But, he was so young! Older than herself and Keiron, yes, but still young. Then, she had to remind herself he was a Resai elf and could very well be fifty. Still, she had a feeling he wasn’t. He acted like a teenage boy: confident, loud and boastful.

  Pendric crossed his arms and snorted, the metal of his armor making more noise than the practice field behind him.

  “Once she gets to know me, she’ll change her mind,” he drawled.

  Pendric swiftly removed his helmet and one of his gauntlets, taking Jahrra’s hand in his.

  “Pleased to meet you, milady Jahrra. And I beg you not to listen to everything our young lord here has to say.”

  Like Keiron the day before, Pendric brushed Jahrra’s knuckles with his lips, then straightened and leveled his gaze on the regent’s son. While the two discussed some recent sparring practice, Jahrra studied this new character she found just as intriguing as Keiron.

  Pendric had the pale blue eyes she had seen so often among the elves of this mountain city, but his hair was brown, not blond. He was also built more solidly than the lean men and women of Cahrdyarein. Perhaps he had more human blood running through his veins than Keiron and his family?

  “So, are you here to practice as well?” Pendric asked, breaking into Jahrra’s scrutiny.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I am,” she stated rather boldly, crossing her arms over her chest and standing up straighter.

  The captain of the guard gave her a once over, trying to decide if he could figure out her level of skill just by looking at her. Eventually, he huffed a quick breath and said, “I do believe you just might be able to take on our Keiron, here.”

  Jahrra beamed and climbed over the fence. The longer she stood on the outskirts of the action, the more her blood longed to be fighting once again.

  To her great delight, Jahrra soon discovered the practice area was very well-equipped. Leaning against one of the buildings were several barrels full of wooden wasters, bows and arrows, as well as some other formidable weaponry she couldn’t quite name. One crate held maces, while another rack sported poleaxes. Not only did the training facility stock blunted weapons for practice, they also supplied wooden and straw-stuffed dummies for the beginners and plenty of gloves, gambesons, leather armor and even chainmail in various sizes.

  “This is quite an impressive operation you’ve got going here,” Jahrra murmured as she lifted up a padded vest that looked about her size.

  “Oh, yes,” Keiron said, slipping on some gauntlets and testing the weight of the blunted swords.

  Jahrra did the same, eventually choosing a practice weapon that had the same feel in her grip as her own sword.

  Keiron next opened a trunk and pulled out two protective masks. Jahrra took the one he offered, testing its weight in her hand. It looked like the helmets any soldier might wear while on duty, but it was constructed mostly of leather with a few strips of metal in places that would receive the most damage if struck.

  “Now, those are just a precaution,” Pendric stated as she and Keiron walked into a practice ring.

  Jahrra shifted from foot to foot, her adrenaline rushing through her blood and forcing her heart to race. It had been so long since she’d had the pleasure of a good combat session, too long. To help calm her nerves a bit, she took a moment to glance around. Each fighting area was circular, some twenty feet in diameter with a crude fence encircling each ring. This gave the fighters plenty of room to maneuver while keeping them contained so as not to stumble into another pair of combatants.

  “We never aim for the head, not in practice at least,” Pendric explained, regaining Jahrra’s attention. “If you are up on the wall and a threat presents itself, well then, by all means, go for the head. But not here. Here, we are all friends, and we want to keep it that way.”

  Jahrra nodded. She was liking the captain of the guard more and more by the minute.

  “Are you two ready? Would you like to run through some basic drills before you get started, or would you rather just jump into some open sparring?”

  “I’m ready for a fight if you are,” Jahrra pronounced, facing Keiron and choosing a middle guard.

  Keiron nodded, a gleam of mischief in his eye, before bringing his sword hilt up near his eyes, point on Jahrra.

  “Very well. You may begin!” Pendric boomed.

  Keiron was the first to make a move, which Jahrra had been hoping for. He lunged at her, driving his sword forward as if to stab her in the shoulder. She was ready for this particular thrust. With fluid speed, she brought her sword up, catching his blade with her cross guard, then rotating the hilt around so that the end of the sword tapped him against his temple.

  The elf’s blue eyes widened with surprise. Jahrra only smiled.

  “What? Did you think I didn’t know what I was doing?”

  “Reset,” Pendric commanded.

  It was clear he was trying very hard to keep his laughter at bay.

  This time, Keiron took a low guard and waited for Jahrra’s attack.

  Very well, she mused. She brought her sword up high, as if planning to split her opponent down the middle. Just as she predicted, Keiron flicked his wrist, aiming his weapon’s point toward her middle. Jahrra quickly switched tactics and rotated her sword around in a circle, bringing the blade crashing down on Keiron’s and forcing his weapon to the ground. Before he could react, she yanked her own sword up, pressing the false edge of the blade against his throat.

  Keiron panted from the effort exerted so far and flicked his eyes in Jahrra’s direction.

  Jahrra tilted her head to the side, the way a dragon might do while nonchalantly inspecting its prey.

  “This edge wouldn’t be as sharp as the other one, in a real fight. But it could still do some damage,” she said with smug satisfaction.

  “Oh, Keiron,” Pendric chuckled. “I’m really liking this new friend of yours!”

  They reset again following each exchange, both of them choosing a different guard and means of attack. After several choppy starts, they finally got into a rhythm of attacking, countering and reposting. Jahrra would lunge with a stab, and Keiron would use his sword to bat hers away. Jahrra would then recover by side-stepping off point and bringing her sword back around to attack him. Back and forth they went, battered wood clacking and scraping, splintered blades catching,
forcing their wielders to wind the weapon around the other in order to return the sword point to its original target.

  For an hour or more they battled. Jahrra would win some matches while Keiron would dominate in others. One thing was for certain, however: both of them must have been quite impressive because by the time Jahrra and Keiron called it a day, several onlookers had gathered to watch the display. Either that or they were just curious about the girl who was matching their young lord blow for blow.

  “You are an impressive swordswoman!” Keiron exclaimed as they returned their equipment at the end of their practice.

  “You’re not bad yourself,” Jahrra stated, laughing a little.

  “So, would you like to make this a daily ritual?”

  Jahrra paused in her removal of the gambeson she’d borrowed for practice and glanced at the Resai elf. That cool confidence lingered about him, the one that complimented his affable demeanor. Jahrra wasn’t sure if she should so easily go along with Keiron’s wishes, but this hour of practice had felt so wonderful. In fact, she couldn’t wait to spar again tomorrow. Maybe even get a little archery in as well. Jahrra had a feeling there was more to it than her simple desire to do what she loved once more. Having such a charming sparring partner was definitely an advantage in her eyes.

  Jahrra took a cleansing breath and smiled. “I think that would be a great idea. But do you mind if we meet earlier tomorrow morning? I was going to explore Cahrdyarein with Dervit, since I sort of abandoned him today, and I promised him just the two of us would take in the sights.”

  Some indiscernible emotion stirred in Keiron’s eyes, but his easy smile never faltered.

  “Of course,” he said. “I’ll ask Pendric if anyone is interested. Unless, of course, you don’t want a crowd.”

  That unsettled look vanished, only to be replaced by one that made Jahrra grow warm instead.

  “As much as I enjoy your company, Keiron,” she managed, “I think it would be most advantageous for me to try my hand against everyone.”

  Keiron nodded, and the two of them headed back to the south side of the city where Jahrra and her companions resided. The regent’s son wished her a good evening and promised to meet her again in the morning at sunup.