Wielder's Awakening

by T. B. Christensen

  “Sorry if the stone is a touchy subject with you. I was just . . .”

  “Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Traven said quickly, trying to get himself under control. He didn’t want to upset the man who had saved his life. “It belonged to my father. It’s all I really have left of him. I don’t know what kind of stone it is or where my father got it.”

  Traven was glad that his voice seemed steady enough. Blaize dished him up another bowl of the stew, and he finished it off as quickly as he had the first. When he asked if he could have a third helping, Blaize just chuckled and scraped out the rest of the stew for Traven. When he finished, he was feeling a lot better but was extremely tired. He had been sleeping all day and didn’t know how he could be tired, but he took Blaize’s advice and went back to sleep.

  When he woke up early the next morning, Blaize was already breaking the camp. Traven tried to stand and was pleasantly surprised to find that he actually could. He was still sore all over but felt a lot stronger than he had the day before. Blaize tossed him a stale biscuit to eat for breakfast and asked him if he thought that he would be able to ride some today.

  “I feel a lot better. I think I can ride without any problems,” Traven answered back with a smile.

  “If you say so Traven.”

  Blaize threw his saddle onto his large horse. Traven was surprised that he hadn’t noticed the animal earlier. It was a beautiful dark, reddish brown. It had a deep chest and a well-muscled rump. It definitely looked fast and robust. When Blaize had loaded his belongings into the saddlebags, he turned back to Traven.

  “You can ride Flame, and I’ll walk. Your camp isn’t that far off. We’ll go and see what’s left. I don’t want you to get any hopes up though. From what I saw, I think all of the wagons were set on fire.”

  Traven grunted as he weakly pulled himself up onto Blaize’s horse. Maybe he was not as strong as he had thought. Blaize led the way holding onto Flame’s reins so that Traven did not have to do anything but sit. After a while, they came in sight of the rise. It looked like the whole top of the hill had been scorched by fire, but as they came closer he realized that the top of the hill was black because it was covered with ravens and vultures. A slight breeze blew past him from the direction of the hill, and he almost gagged. He had never encountered such a sickening stench. Blaize stopped walking and turned back to him.

  “Maybe you should stay down here while I go up and take a look around.”

  Traven thought about accepting the offer after what he had smelt but decided against it.

  “Thanks, but I need to see for myself what happened. Let’s hurry and get this over with.”

  “If you say so.”

  Blaize continued his measured pace up the rise. The birds scattered at the presence of Blaize and Traven, revealing a scene of carnage that even the smell had not prepared Traven for. Stinking, mutilated bodies covered almost the entire hill. Traven bent over the side of the saddle and emptied his stomach of everything that he had ever eaten. Another glance at the scene before him caused him to heave everything that he had not eaten. When there was nothing left in his stomach, Traven wiped his mouth and slipped down from Flame on the opposite side. He walked up and stood next to Blaize, feeling embarrassed that he had not taken his advice. Blaize was staring out over the whole hillside taking everything in. Traven on the other hand tried to keep his eyes above the ground, holding his breath as much as possible.

  “You know what,” Blaize finally said. “No matter how many times you’ve seen death, you never get used to it. You learn how to not be affected by it as much, but you never get used to it.” Blaize shook his head and closed his eyes before continuing on. “Let’s see what’s left of the caravan.”

  Traven followed in silence as Blaize began to pick his way through the carnage. The only sounds as they made their way towards the camp were the buzzing of flies and the squawking of birds. All five of the wagons were now no more than piles of scorched wood and ashes. Traven stopped just inside the ring of rubble and skimmed the inside of the camp. His eyes froze when they got to the left side of the camp. There near the blackened ashes of the far wagon, a fan of red hair caught his eye. He ripped his gaze away and turned as sobs began to rack through his sore body. He dropped to his knees, unable to remain standing. He hadn’t really thought Meritza would have survived, but actually seeing her lifeless body on top of the deaths of all the others was more than he could handle. He sat and sobbed until he was out of tears. Traven gave a start when Blaize finally came over and laid a calloused hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m really sorry Traven but nobody walked away from this battle except for one person, and I’m pretty sure he wasn’t anyone from the caravan. By the look of things, I think you guys would have actually beaten the rotten scum if not for that one man. He must be a trained assassin or something. It looks like he must have snuck into the camp and worked from the inside out. He did a pretty thorough job.” Blaize paused for a few seconds. Traven had no idea how Blaize had figured out what had happened so fast. “I did find something that was missed behind that rock over there.”

  As Traven looked up, he saw his bulging saddlebag over Blaize’s shoulder.

  “My saddlebag! I can’t believe it’s untouched.” Traven stood and took the saddlebag from Blaize. He opened it up, pulled out a clean shirt, and put it on.

  “Now all you need is a horse.”

  Traven realized how ironic it was to be excited about a saddlebag when he did not even have a horse. He hoped Dapple had managed to get away, the poor thing.

  “Luckily, there’s a horse down by the river right now.”

  Traven looked upstream, and sure enough, there was a horse. It looked pretty fierce, but it was saddled. It must have belonged to one of the guards who had ridden out among the thieves.

  “Traven, there’s not much we can do for your friends, but if you want, we can bury them.”

  “I would really like to do that for them,” Traven managed. “I’ll start digging right away.”

  Blaize found an axe among the dead thieves and handed it to Traven to dig with while he jumped on Flame and went down the hill to catch the nearby horse. Traven started digging at the top of the hill with the idea of digging a separate grave for each of the guards but changed his mind when he realized how long it would take to dig that many graves without a shovel and in his weakened condition. By the time Blaize returned with the magnificent, pitch black stallion, Traven was already too tired and sore to dig anymore. Blaize tied up the horses to a wheel of one of the wagons that was partially intact and took the axe from Traven. Traven sat down and watched as Blaize quickly began to deepen and widen the hole that he had started. After a while, Traven felt a little better and took over digging while Blaize went to gather up the bodies of the dead guards.

  Traven slowly raised the axe and slammed it into the bottom of the hole to deepen it, but instead of cutting through the soft ground, the axe shuddered as it hit something hard. He figured it was probably a rock and bent down to remove it. He began to scrape the dirt off of it, but to his surprise it was not a rock at all. It was something made of metal. Traven grabbed a hold of the corner of it and heaved. Whatever it was, it did not come loose. He began to clear away the rest of the dirt and found that it was a lot bigger than he had first thought. As he cleared more and more dirt away, he found that it was a long, rusted metal box. It was about six feet long and three feet wide. He tried to tug it out, but he still was not strong enough to lift very much weight.

  “Blaize! Hurry up and get over here,” Traven shouted.

  Blaize finished dragging the body of a guard next to the others that he had already dragged out from among the thieves.

  “Traven, please. I want to get done with this business as fast as I can. If you can’t dig anymore, just take a break for a while.”

  “No, it’s not that. I’ve found something!”

  Blaize walked over slowly to the hole to see what was so important, but when
he saw what Traven had uncovered, he quickly jumped down into the hole. Blaize took the side opposite of Traven, and they pulled the long metal box from the ground. Traven used the last of his strength to help Blaize set it on the outside of the hole. With the removal of the box, the hole was just about big enough to fit all of the bodies.

  “What do you think is in it?” Traven asked excitedly.

  “It looks like a type of coffin or something, but there’s only one way to find out.”

  Without waiting any longer, Blaize tried to pull off the lid but could not. After a few swings of the axe, however, Blaize was able to slip it off, and they both crowded around anxiously to see what the box held. Blaize had been right in his guess. A skeleton occupied the interior, but that was not what had Traven fascinated. The skeleton must have been that of a long dead warrior. Its head was covered by a rusted helmet and its chest was covered by a rust pocketed breastplate. The thing that held Traven’s gaze, however, was the sword that lay beside the body. It was not rusted like the rest of the metal and had a dark blue stone in its hilt that was almost black. The stone seemed to be pulling in the light immediately around it and almost seemed to be glowing. How could the blade and hilt still be polished and looking brand new when everything else was rusted? Traven watched as Blaize reached in and pulled out the sword with a look of respect on his face.

  “I guess you’ve got a sword now,” he said, handing it to Traven after inspecting it.

  Traven grabbed it by the hilt in amazement. The hilt seemed to mold to fit his hand, and he realized immediately that the sword was as well balanced as the one he had had before the attack, if not better.

  “I don’t understand how it can be in such good shape still,” Traven said incredulously.

  “That’s because it was made by the ambience,” Blaize replied as he pulled a dagger from the sheath at his belt and showed it to Traven. “So was this. It never needs to be sharpened and never needs to be oiled. It’s extremely rare to find anything wrought by the ambience. That’s only the second blade besides my dagger that I’ve ever seen in my travels.” Blaize slipped his dagger back into its sheath at his waist.

  “What is the ambience?” Traven asked, feeling extremely ignorant.

  “I’m not surprised that you’ve never heard about it. Most people don’t even believe in it anymore. I don’t think anyone really knows what it is. It’s magic. The ancient wielders made grand objects using their magic. They mostly killed each other off in struggles for power over a thousand years ago. Since then, there really haven’t been many wielders at all and none have had the strength of the ancient wielders. The only things left by them are objects that they created like this sword and my dagger. They’re over a thousand years old, and they still look new. And that’s about all I know. You now know as much as I do.”

  Made with magic? Traven looked over the sword he held in his hand in a new light. Magic? He had always dreamed of adventure and magic, but he had never thought he would actually be near it. Now he had experienced adventure, though he couldn’t say that he enjoyed it, and here was something made with magic.

  “I don’t know if I feel right about taking something from a dead warrior.”

  “Traven, he’s never going to use it again. It’s been around for over a thousand years and was made to be used forever. Take it, and be happy that you had the fortune of finding it.”

  Traven figured that what Blaize said made sense. He slipped the sword into his sheath and was delighted to find that it fit almost perfectly. After the brief distraction, he finished digging, and Blaize finished gathering up the members of the caravan. Traven was surprised to see that Blaize had not missed anyone at all.

  “How did you know which bodies were those from the caravan among all of the thieves?”

  “I can tell by the way they smell. The thieves have more of a rotten smell to them,” Blaize said crinkling his nose.

  “You can smell the difference?” Traven asked in amazement.

  “You bet I can,” Blaize replied. He then suddenly burst out laughing. He calmed down after a little while. “Traven, people don’t smell different when they’re dead. They all stink, and that’s all there is to it. I knew who they were because three decently dressed women would not be traveling with the thieves, and all of the rest of the men from the caravan have a red cloth on one of their arms like you did when I found you. I could smell the difference. Ah, hah, hah, hah!” Blaize went back to laughing, causing Traven to feel completely stupid.

  Blaize helped Traven put the metal coffin back into the hole, and then they began to deposit the bodies in their final resting place. Traven was able to keep himself under control until they got to Meritza’s body. He broke down again and had to walk away as Blaize finished transferring the bodies into the grave.

  Traven couldn’t believe that the first woman he had begun to fall in love with was dead. He should have done something to save her. She had died because he hadn’t been there to protect her. If he had had been better with the sword, he could have saved her. He couldn’t help feeling that his inadequecies had contributed to her death. He would never forget Meritza. He would learn how to fight. The next time, he would be ready. He would not fail anyone again. Traven pulled the red cloth that Blaize had left in his pant pocket and tied it around his left arm. He had been in a battle, and he would never forget it. He returned to the grave and helped Blaize cover it up. When they were done, Traven paused over the grave and saluted with his fist over his heart one last time. He would not forget.

  “Hurry and get your saddlebags on your new horse and let’s get out of here. You might be getting use to the smell, but I’m definitely not.”

  Traven hurried to ready the horse and weakly pulled himself up into its saddle. He had pushed himself too hard, but he had done what he had to.

  “Well Traven, it was nice meeting you. You shouldn’t have any trouble getting back to the city. I think most of the thieves around here are dead. Farewell. I hope you get feeling back to normal without any problems.”

  With that, Blaize turned and began down the road to the west. Traven turned to head back to the city where he could find passage with the next caravan but stopped. If Blaize was going west, then maybe he was headed to Calyn too! Traven nudged his new horse, and it easily sped to catch up with Blaize.

  “Where are you headed Blaize?” Traven asked timidly.

  “I’m going to Calyn to join the army, and you’ve already set me back almost two days,” he answered back sternly. Traven took a deep breath and gave it a shot.

  “Would you mind if I kept you company until you got there?”

  Blaize didn’t say anything for a while, but then his stern face broke into a grin.

  “I usually travel alone, but I think it might be nice to have some company. Besides, I can teach you how to use your new sword. If a man has a sword like that, he better know how to use it. Now it won’t be as cushy as traveling with a caravan, but we’ll have food. All you have to do is promise to act like a man. Is that clear?”

  “No problem,” Traven replied with a grin as he clasped forearms with Blaize.

  “Then let’s get moving,” Blaize said with a smile. “You’ve wasted enough of my time already.”

  Blaize sped up Flame’s pace, and Traven fell in beside him. He couldn’t believe his luck after such an unpleasant event. He was traveling with a warrior who was headed to join the army and had said he would teach him how to use his sword. He would know what to do the next time he was attacked. The next time, he would be ready.

  * * * * *

  Wraith glanced back at the grave that had been made that morning. Two people had been here during the day. One of them must have been the young man from the caravan or the grave would not have been dug. They had headed down the road to the west around noon. Wraith grinned. After no one had returned the day before, he had thought about not coming back to check, but he was always careful. Once again his thoroughness had paid off. He would find out wh
o this young man was and what had happened with his stone. He would head west in the morning and track him down. No need to hurry. Wraith made a fire in the dying light and after eating, laid down for the night. He grinned as he stared up at the night sky with the sweet smell of death heavy in his nostrils. Tomorrow he would be heading west. West, where there were plenty of thieves to gather and create more turmoil. He closed his eyes with a sigh and was soon dreaming of the pleasures of killing.

  11

  By the time Blaize finally veered off the road to set up camp for the night, it was all Traven could do to stay in the saddle. It was already dark, and it had been a very tiring day. When Blaize stopped in a small copse of trees not far from the road, Traven practically fell out of the saddle. Blaize took Traven’s horse from him and took care of the horse while Traven slumped to the ground. He tried as hard as he could to stay awake but almost immediately drifted off to sleep. When Blaize shook him awake, a fire was already blazing and dinner was ready. Traven took the food that was offered to him but was too groggy to really taste it or care what it was. He quickly finished it and took a long drink of water. No sooner had he finished the meal than his eyes were already drooping once again.

  “I probably pushed you too hard today, but I wanted to see how much strength you had regained. You’re actually a lot better than I thought you’d be. I wasn’t going to start teaching you how to fight for another couple of days, but I think you’ll be strong enough by tomorrow morning for us to start. As for now, you need to get some sleep, so I won’t keep you up any longer. I’ll take care of everything around here. When I’m done I’ll make sure that no . . .”