The Descendant (The Diamond Sword Chronicles Book 1)

by M. M. Whan

  The latter she was exceptionally good at.

  Not today, though, Eferath promised himself as he practically ran down the steps and nearly bowled over his father in the process. His wounds had mostly healed over the past two weeks, and now the only remnants of that encounter was a slight stiffness when he walked, or bent at the waist. Even his jaw stopped clicking and cracking whenever he chewed or spoke. Eferath merely bounced off of his father’s sturdy frame and landed hard on his rump, grunting in protest. Emily was enjoying every moment of it, of course, and she giggled behind him. The young man shot her an angry glance, which only made her laugh all the harder. Then his eyes settled on the stern visage of the former general, and he quickly jumped to his feet. He stared into his father’s eyes, just as he was always instructed, and lifted his chin proudly, also, as he was instructed.

  “It’s about time you woke up, you lazy arse!” Eralon grumbled, trying his best to keep up his stern façade. “Get some food into your gut, and get outside, you have chores to do!” He added loudly with a tone of finality that left no room for debate. Eferath also noticed, that just before his father tuned away, he looked up to Emily, who was still giggling, and gave her a wink. Eferath knew better than to protest against the favoritism, so he wisely kept his mouth shut.

  After eating a delicious breakfast prepared by his mother, the young man excused himself, and headed outside to find his father. He walked towards the chicken coup, where he usually found him working. As he walked behind the small shack, he watched his father stringing one of two bows. Eferath approached, and Eralon looked up.

  “Get a good meal into you?” he greeted with a smile, and Eferath returned the smile, and nodded.

  “It was delicious, as always.” He replied, and he certainly wasn’t exaggerating. His mother was a fantastic cook. “What is it we’re bid to do today, father?” he asked finally, staring at the pair of bows with confusion.

  “We are going to have a feast tonight, my boy!” he replied enthusiastically, then tossed the bow he had just strung to Eferath’s waiting grasp. The young man just looked up at him, his lack of enthusiasm causing his father’s mirth to evaporate.

  “Uh right…Er…” Eralon continued, more to break the awkward silence than anything. Eferath couldn’t bear to see the crestfallen look on his face. Without thinking, he looked to the west where the tree line stood ominously. The same tree line where he had encountered the thugs. He did not desire to go back there, even though his father would be with him. He took a deep breath to gather his courage, then slowly nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Father and son, they walked past the borders of Tallonin and onward, heading for the tree line. The closer they got to the forest, the more reluctant Eferath felt. Even as they crested the tree line, the young man couldn’t help but continuously look left and right. He knew that his father had noticed his sour demeanor, and tried his best to be more positive than he actually felt. Besides, despite his trepidations, he was overjoyed at being able to spend time with his father. Eralon, as a leader of Tallonin, was often too busy for any quality time with his family. Many wouldn’t think so, given the size of the settlement. But even small communities had their headaches. What Eferath didn’t know, was that Eralon greatly regretted not being able to spend time with his only son.

  The pair continued along the grassed over trail with their respective bows slung over their shoulders. Trees grew thickly on both sides of the path leaving only one clear way of passage. The trees were tall pines and spruce, well over fifty feet, and the branches were bare of needles and leaves near to a foot over Eferath’s near six-foot height, affording them a good view of their surrounding area. The two said little as they walked. Eferath was more than a little uncomfortable around his father, mainly due to the fact that he was at a loss for words. How does one approach any benign topic with a revered, and legendary war general? The young man was afraid that he might say something that may make him appear foolish in his father’s eyes, or weak, whichever was worse. Eralon noticed the awkwardness, and in truth, his experience in training troops was unparalleled, but as far as being a father was concerned, he was in uncharted territory.

  They continued walking for some time, at least a couple hours to Eferath’s estimation, when they finally reached a small clearing where the path ended, and the trees pulled back to reveal a small valley. Rich, green grass, still wet with the morning dew glistened in the early morning light. The valley was bowl shaped, and was no wider than a bowshot and declined slightly towards the centre, giving the valley a slight bowl shape. Inside this small clearing, were many brown-furred creatures. Deer, Eferath realized as he and Eralon drew nearer.

  Eralon motioned for his son to be quiet, and to walk softly, and then he fell into a crouch, and crept forward. Eferath quickly spotted their destination, a small boulder near to fifty yards away from their prey. Eralon – the experience tracker and hunter – quickly closed the distance and was sitting in position, staring at his young son with an amused expression on his face. Eferath, trying his best to be as quiet as he possibly could, accidentally stumbled over a rock jutting out of the ground slightly, and fell flat to his face, hard. To his credit, though, he didn’t cry out, nor did he grunt when the air blasted out of his lungs when he landed either.

  After several long moments of just lying there here he landed, too embarrassed to look up into his father’s eyes after scaring off their prey, he heard his father whisper.

  “Psst, come on, boy, you can’t shoot a damned thing lying down, can you?” he asked him with an amused chuckle. Eferath even managed a smile, and a soft, self-deprecating chuckle at his own clumsiness. Then, without further hesitation, he followed his father back to the boulder.

  The two sat side by side, peeking out from either side of the large boulder at their quarry grazing obliviously. Eralon glanced over at his son with a leading expression. Eferath quirked an eyebrow at him, and the eyebrow didn’t twitch as his father gestured for him to take a shot. The young man crept out of cover, bow held at the ready. Before he could draw to take a shot, he noticed movement in the trees at the northern section of the clearing. Eferath crouched down even farther. He glanced over and saw that his father was watching him intently. Eferath turned his attention back on the clearing just in time to watch the deer he wanted to shoot go down hard after a startled leap.

  “Da!” He hissed. “I think the ruffians have returned!”

  Eralon peeked over the side of the boulder at the clearing, and Eferath started as he heard the steely hiss as his father drew his sword with a jerk.

  “Those are not humans, boy!” he whispered darkly, his tone making Eferath’s blood run cold. “Those are orcs.”

  Eferath turned to face his father as soon as he heard him drop his pack to the ground. He watched as the former general rummaged through the field pack, and pulled out an iron longsword. It was used, and practically worthless, with ridges, notches, and burrs all along both edges of the blade, but he quickly realized the weapon was for him. He handled the sword awkwardly. It felt heavy in his hands though it couldn’t have been more than ten pounds. But he needed both hands just to swing the sword from side to side. Eferath looked on in awe as he watched his father wield his own blade as if it were no more than a willow branch. Four feet of polished metal, the longsword looked as if it were newly fashioned, and wickedly sharp.

  Both Eralon and Eferath were alerted by the sound of yammering and gibbering within the trees, and they turned to face the source of the noise to witness a half dozen orcs charge out of the tree line, swarming over the felled deer.

  “What do we do?” Eferath asked softly, unsuccessfully hiding the fear he felt from his voice. Eralon was quiet for a long while before he answered, his expression and tone of voice definitely did not inspire confidence.

  Eralon grunted as he surveyed the situation. “There will be no ‘we’ my boy. You will break for the tree line as fast as your legs will carry you. I will hold the or
cs off until you get away clear.”

  Eferath immediately discarded that idea. “No, I’m not- “He started to protest, but the fierce glare from his father forced the words to get stuck in his throat.

  “No?” Eralon growled. “You do not tell me no, boy. Now you get going, and don’t you look back!” With that, Eralon held his sword high and stepped out of cover. As soon as the orcs saw him, they pointed, and whooped loudly, then they raised their swords above their heads, and charged.

  They were still a long way off, well over the distance of which Eferath had shot the deer, but the retired general knew they would be sorely pressed. They were just orcs, he knew, and he would have little problem in holding them off long enough for his son to escape. What happened then… He did not know. The likelihood chance that he would prevail against so many was fairly high, but he was not foolish enough to believe himself superior to any opponent.

  In a single, fluid motion, Eralon stabbed the top of his sword into the soft ground and reached down with his now free hand, and grasped his bow. He quickly fit an arrow, took careful aim, then fired, reaching for another arrow just as the first one took flight. He knocked the second, and fired immediately. He nodded with grim satisfaction upon hearing a dull thwack! And a loud shriek as each arrow found its mark.

  They were closing too fast for him to take any more than one last shot before he would have to prepare for single combat. A grim smile stretched itself on his face as he fit another arrow to the string, took aim at the nearest, ugliest orc, and let fly. He was surprised a moment later as his arrow was joined by one of Eferath’s.

  Eralon risked a quick glance over his shoulder, and he spotted his son rooted in place right where had left him. “Go! Run! Now!” He shouted, hoping the volume and the intensity of his voice would shock his son into action. Then he turned away.

  The remaining orcs were so close, that the arrows had barely left the strings when both struck separate enemies a moment later. Shortly after impact, Eralon dropped the bow, and in the same fluid motion, snatched up his blade from the dirt, and then he charged ahead, wanting the orcs to concentrate on him alone.

  Eferath could not find his legs, and he felt as though he was frozen in place. He cursed his weakness and willed himself to move, but his body would not obey his mind. His legs would not follow what his mind desired. He watched his father engage the first orc, then the second, and finally, the third orc came in, jabbing its sword in at every opening only to get swatted away at the last moment. His father was good, very good, but the orcs just kept coming after each attack was defeated. The sound of metal on metal erupted as the ferocity increased. Eferath could tell his father was hard pressing the orcs, but he also knew there was no way his father could win this battle easily. The young man closed his eyes and willed his legs to move.

  Eralon was hard-pressed and solely defensive as soon as the third orc came in. He could be long dead, if these orcs were seasoned fighters, but they weren’t, they were orcs. They were uncoordinated, and sloppy. Instead of each of their attacks complimenting one another, the experienced swordsman quickly gained the upper hand. One orc attacked his left side, but as he brought his sword around to parry he quickly realized the feint and barely got out of reach as a jagged sword sliced in from the right, nicking his forearm. Eralon was a highly trained, highly skilled warrior, as such his reflexes and instincts were honed to their finest edge. It was those instincts that warned him of the threat at his back and he realized his err.

  He had lost track of the third orc.

  It wasn’t until he heard it grunt from behind him. He swallowed hard, knowing full well his err, and he knew that any attempt to spin around and defeat the attack, he would be cut down by the pair in front of him.

  Just as he was about to relinquish hope, he felt something slam into him from behind. Eralon shifted his concentration to what might have hit him, and that was all the time the pair of orcs from the front needed. The first orc attacked with a diagonal slash that was aimed for the midsection, and the second did likewise from the other side. Eralon closed his eyes, accepting his fate. Just when he expected impact, he heard the clash of metal, then again, and again! He opened his eyes cautiously at first, and then they popped wide open as soon as he spotted his rescuer. It was his son! He was battling both orcs fiercely, and they were back stepping the entire time.

  Eferath had spotted the danger to his father, and then sprang into action. Anger overruled all sense of reason and he charged forward. Without registering the motion, the young man buried his longsword hilt deep into the orcs back and through its heart. Eferath’s momentum made him overbalance, though, and he accidentally pushed the orc against his father’s back. With anger far from sated, he extracted his sword, and came around his father’s side to intercept a pair of swords slashing in.

  Though he was fueled by rage, he still needed to grasp the sword with both hands to properly swing it. An orc came in hard, jabbing and slashing, but Eferath continued to parry, twisting his blade back and forth to defeat each attack. Movement to the side caught his attention, and as soon as he defeated another attack, he brought his blade back in a mighty backhand that sheered the second orc’s arm off at the wrist, its sword falling along with its hand. Eferath finished the orc by stabbing it hard in the chest. He ducked just in time to dodge the first orcs head level attack, and the blade continued on to crack into the other dying orcs skull.

  The orc immediately tried to back hand the young man, but found that its sword was lodged deeply in its companion’s skull. Eferath merely smiled, his anger-supplied strength was waning, and he knew that if he couldn’t take the remaining orc down quickly, he wouldn’t have the strength to continue. He needn’t have worried, though, for as soon as he readied his blade for another attack, he noticed the orcs’ head was missing. And he finally noticed his father standing beside him; his face was grim and serious.

  Eralon gently placed his hand on his son’s shoulder, and the two looked down at the bodies of the orcs at their feet for a long moment without saying anything. Eralon was truly impressed with his son today, especially since he was exhibiting raw skill without any training, and the fact that he saved his life. The two set off immediately for home.

  Both of them had more than enough excitement for one day.

  “That’s the second time my kill had been stolen from me.” Eferath said quietly as he absently kicked a broken branch that lay on the path in his way. He felt his father’s eyes on him, then looked up to meet them.

  Then the two of them shared a hearty laugh.

  The sun had long since set by the time the pair finally reached their home. Both Lillyan and Emily were waiting at the door for their return, but the look on Lillyan’s face quickly turned sour as she regarded their blood-stained clothing. She was no stranger to battle, and she could quickly tell dressing the deer would make no such mess. Her expression almost immediately changed to surprise once she turned to regard her son, more so stained with blood than his father. She gazed back over at her husband and noticed his ear-to-ear smile, and he nodded.

  “Do I even want to know what happened?” his mother said finally after a resigned sigh, but before either could answer her, Emily answered her for them.

  “Probably not, mother.” She said while shaking her head in disbelief. They all shared in a good-hearted laugh, then. Everyone laughed, except Eferath who continued to stare off into nothingness. His mother was the first to notice.

  “Are you all right, my son?” she asked him softly, and everyone turned to stare at the young man. Eralon moved over and gently clapped Eferath on the shoulder.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and get yourself cleaned up, and we will take care of your dinner?” by the tone of his voice, it wasn’t a request. Eferath nodded absently, then headed inside.

  As soon as the young man walked into the house, Eralon bade Emily to go inside and get ready for dinner while he spoke with her mother. As soon as she was inside, he
slowly led Lillyan away from the house a few yards.

  “You should have seen it!” He said quietly, excitement edging his voice.

  “I can imagine, dear husband,” she answered softly. “I have not seen you this excited since we were children.” Before Eralon could respond, he caught on to her quip, and stuttered, which only made her laugh.

  “His use of the sword was uncommonly natural. When we were beset by orcs, our son won the most kills, and even saved his old man’s life!” A moment of silence passed between the two so Lillyan could digest the information. Her expression was not one of surprise, or fear, but of thoughtfulness.

  It took her a long time to answer, but even then, her voice was quiet.

  “Will you train him, then?” She asked softly, staring straight into his eyes. Eralon nodded.

  “Yes, I will train him. But I will need to do it as discreetly as possible, I do not wish for him to be drafted into Escoran’s military.” He said, and Lillyan could only nod in agreement. When she was a senator for the mighty city, she often heard rumours about entire patrol groups of young boys and girls, who were sent out into the wilds for their “testing” were never heard from again. Of course, the rumours were never proven, any inquisitor would find an impermeable barrier of military, or legal protocols. More often than not, the rumours were ignored by the populous as nothing more than propaganda stirred up by a small group of dissidents.

  Many times, Lillyan had attempted to investigate the Escoran Academy, but was soundly rebuffed, even with her considerable political status. It wasn’t until after Eralon had retired, did the rumours of these “suicide patrols” start circulating. Lillyan couldn’t bear to have any part of a political system that was controlled by the military. Not long after her husband did Lillyan retire.