by V. Lakshman
Kisan stabbed with both blades.
A flash of argent just a hand’s span in front of Duncan’s kneeling form, a liquid silver blade intercepting Kisan’s and forced them prematurely down to embed themselves deep in the brown wood. Duncan looked up in surprise, only to see the stern gaze of the firstmark, his eyes locked on Kisan’s own.
“Let’s be honest. You really do like me,” Ash said.
Kisan kicked his arms up and pulled her blades, retreating a few steps before coming back to a guard position. “It won’t stop me from killing you, Firstmark.”
“That’s cold,” Ash replied simply, “but easier said than done.”
Kisan looked at him for a moment, then moved forward in a blur and their dance of blades began in earnest.
At first, Duncan couldn’t follow the strikes, the flash of silver against black only stopping on blocks that occasionally sparked blue-white. Then, as Silbane’s gift began assimilating within him, it gave the incomprehensible forms and strike-counter strike an almost poetic flow. Though he couldn’t repeat it, he could see the true skill these two demonstrated. Here was a master adept in combat with a man trained in the blades since he could hold them. The sight was awe-inspiring.
Ash countered Kisan’s double attack and pushed her back, clearing room for Duncan to gather everyone. The red mage watched for a moment longer, until a hulking mass drew his attention. Vengeance rose, searching the room for any remaining elves. Killing them freed it from its gesh, a fact Duncan hoped would cause it to pursue elves through Arcadia until this world was rid of Valarius’s accursed race.
Then Ash ducked a fraction of a heartbeat too late and a pommel clipped his temple. The firstmark stumbled backward as Kisan turned her eyes to Duncan.
Really not good, he thought. He looked down at Arek, hoping against all hope what they’d done would make a difference.
The Test
Pray thee seek
a life worth living for,
and deeds worth dying for.
- Rai’kesh, The Lens of Leadership
A
rek?”
Arek opened his eyes slowly, seeing his master slowly come into view.
“You okay?” Silbane asked, a warm smile on his face.
Arek nodded, propping himself up. He sat in a training square, his posture and position giving him the obvious clue he’d been knocked out and was only just coming to. “What did I do wrong this time?”
His master laughed and said, “Actually, you took a step in the right direction, and I’m proud of you.”
Arek’s vision tunneled and he began to see image after image, memories he’d not known he had. It was Silbane finding two boys, he and Piter, in the hills of Winters Thorn. It was Silbane laughing with him at the Spring Festival over a pun. It was Silbane consoling him over a trip and fall that skinned his knee. It was his master on a cold winter’s day, throwing another log on the great hall’s fire. It was Silbane, high up in his quarters under the setting sun’s shadows, telling him he could pass his Test without magic. It was Silbane in a thousand other moments, every one of them painfully real and tangible.
“What’s happening?” Arek asked.
“All that had been kept from you, that had been turned within you, has been undone.” A warm hand grasped his shoulder and he turned to see his master standing there, the familiar smile still on his face. “I never thought we’d be here now.”
Arek looked down. “I didn’t either. The day we left the Isle seems so far away, Master.”
“A lifetime.” His master paused, then asked, “Did you believe in our mission?”
There was a pause, then Arek shrugged and said, “I don’t know now what our mission was.”
“No,” the master agreed with a small laugh, “it seems we were both pawns in a larger game that started long ago. Still, some force guided us to this place, this moment. I’d hate to believe it was just luck.”
“Where do we go from here?”
Silbane smiled. “We don’t. You find whatever caused this.”
“Sovereign?” asked Arek. Then his master, correcting him, opened a glimpse of a world in which he would have to go forward alone.
Silbane tilted his head and said, “Do not fear. You know enough, and have more friends than you believe.”
“I don’t know who to trust.”
Silbane looked at him for a moment before replying, “I suspect the woman, Brianna, is important to understanding what’s happening. Protect her.”
“I’ll fail. Even when I try my best, I fail.”
“Do you know what Kisan told me about you once?” Silbane said. “She said you care too much what others think. Perhaps she had insight I did not.”
Arek shrugged. “She never liked me.”
Silbane raised an eyebrow at that and said, “On the contrary, she enjoyed training with you the most.” He was quiet for a moment, then said, “You judge yourself too harshly. You’re simply a person trying to do what you think is best. We can’t do more than that.”
Arek shook his head, and something in him pushed up a thought he didn’t want to share. He blurted, “I want to hurt people who hurt me.”
Silbane nodded and then stepped in and gave the boy a hug. “That’s normal.” He then held Arek back out at arm’s length, appraising him with a kind eye. “You’re no worse or better because of that. In the here and now, unlike others, you have the chance to make a difference. What you choose will determine the fate of everyone you know, and I have faith that I have guided you well. Do you accept that?”
Arek’s eyes darted around—the scenery had changed. He stood in Avalyon but the vast throne room was empty. “What do you mean?” he croaked, feeling a sudden dread.
“I have faith in you. I always have. Do you have faith in yourself?” Silbane repeated, smiling.
His master’s eyes compelled him to answer and he said, “I think so.”
“Tests come in many different forms. For some, it is combat. For others, it is understanding their own place in this world. We are each tested by what we fear to face, to see if we will make the sacrifice.” The master paused, then said, “You will now face what you fear most.”
Arek paled a bit and then asked, “What?”
“Kisan has it in her head to allow Valarius to take you. She thinks she can then kill Valarius and safeguard Edyn.”
“She wants to kill me?” Arek asked. The thought brought a quiver of fear into his heart. He’d faced Kisan many times before, and with each contest the master had seemed less and less formidable. However, he reminded himself, this was real, and he had never beaten her.
As if he could read Arek’s mind his master said, “Do not overestimate her, Arek. She will try to goad you, but in the end she has fears just as you do.”
“Fears?” Arek asked incredulously. “I can’t imagine what she fears.”
“Really?” Silbane smiled and said, “Kisan fears love. But me telling you this isn’t enough. She will deny any weakness.” His master paused, then asked, “Can you tell me what is the opposite of fear?”
Arek thought for a moment, then said, “Courage?”
“Courage is acting in spite of fear. It cannot exist without fear,” Silbane explained, shaking his head. After a moment he added, “When you understand what is the true opposite of fear, you will prevail against anyone, but me telling you isn’t learning. You must teach yourself this, or it will have no meaning or worth.” Silbane looked up into the air, “Is he acceptable, my lord?”
There was a grinding noise, a sound as if the very earth shifted and a figure appeared behind Silbane, an armored angel in alabaster white edged in lethal blue. The massive figure inclined its head, looking down at Arek, making him feel insignificant.
“Perhaps,” it said, its deep voice reverberating within the chamber, vibrating Arek’s bones.
Silbane addressed the figure, saying, “The circumstances of Arek’s birth can’t have been mere chance. Despite Valarius’s medd
ling, he’s still a changeling of the Way. We do not know what that will mean in the coming struggle, but I have done my part.” The master paused, his gaze lingering on Arek, then he finished, “Perhaps it was my destiny to bring him here, to this one place where the blackfire could be surpressed long enough for true Ascension.”
The being tilted its helm down further, as if peering into Arek’s soul, and asked, “I have watched you through both Valarius and your master’s eyes, searching for your true worth. Many years I’ve bided my time, waiting. What have you earned, by deed or thought, that was not given to you by another?”
Arek looked at the figure for a moment, then dropped his head again. He thought about his life, of the things he’d done. Kisan was right, he did anger quickly, and forgave slowly. He saw things through the lens of his own needs. He knew there was a place within him, a place where he feared to look because of what he would find, a place where he could not excuse his actions. He couldn’t think of one good thing he’d done to deserve this, so he finally looked back up and said, “Nothing.”
Silbane squeezed his shoulders and said, “And that, Arek, is your strength: your honesty.” His master moved a little closer and knelt before him saying, “You have tried and failed more than I can remember,” this came out with a kind chuckle, “but each time, every time, you rose to face the challenge again, being true to yourself. Every blade has a sharp edge and a haft. Both are necessary for a weapon to be useful. You fear failure, but tell me truly, do you understand yet the opposite of fear?”
Arek paused, thinking. Had he ever given up? His perspective shifted and he saw himself as his master must see him, not as a constant disappointment but as a person who would dare until he succeeded. He’d never thought about that as a virtue.
He looked at the angel and gambled by asking, “Is the opposite of fear, honesty?”
The angel smiled, “Closer, in that honesty to oneself clears delusion from truth. But one can be honest and still fearful—just as you are, even now.”
Arek grew frustrated with himself. “Why are you testing me with riddles?”
Silbane leaned in closer and said, “We are not testing you, Arek. We are instructing you. Only you can teach yourself this final lesson, and that is the difference between remaining an apprentice, and becoming a master.”
He nodded automatically in response, grasping for the truth, hoping he could understand what his master wanted. Was it perserverance? It had only seemed to be the obvious and natural thing to do. Now he could see why his master had patiently tutored him, not for any special or hidden magical ability, but for the rarity of a pupil who would attempt to learn whatever he was taught. But what about the darkness?
“Am I evil?” he asked in a small voice.
Azrael breathed out in what sounded like a low laugh. “And what is that? That you disagree with others who label themselves ‘good’? If that’s the measure of character, everyone is evil in someone else’s eyes.”
Then the massive being shifted, his white and blue armor glinting against an unseen light. “There is a greater ruin that faces the world, one that we must help our people to survive. It is your choice to aid or not. Perhaps all you care for stands before you, and without your master you have no purpose. If you wish, we will search for another. Think on that and decide what sacrifice your Ascension demands.”
Arek thought about the people he’d always expected to help as an Adept. He had never wanted anything else except to serve alongside his master and the rest of those on the Isle. He thought about Yetteje and the warmth in his heart at the memory of her face. He thought about the vast stretches of land he’d yet to see, populated by people he did not know. Even they deserved someone to help them.
Silbane gave him a small pat on the arm and said, “Then do what you have always feared most.”
Arek’s heart fluttered in panic, not admitting to himself he knew what Silbane was talking about. He looked between him and the giant Aeris lord and said, “What do I fear?”
“You have felt the truth,” Azrael said, “now you must act on it.”
Arek thought about that, then looked at Silbane. “I don’t know.”
His master smiled. “Yes, you do. You know what you must do, and that fills you with dread. Do it, and you will gain your rightful place and truly Ascend with Azrael.”
Arek breathed in, he thought about his life. Azrael had asked him what sacrifice he was willing to make to earn his place at Ascension. Silbane had said everyone was tested by what they feared most, and that he’d never earned anything not given to him. He didn’t fear combat, he never had. He raised his eyes, which now glistened with tears. He knew what was needed, he’d always known, but now the words wouldn’t come.
Azrael said, “And thus, thou art truly measured.”
Arek swallowed, then turned to Silbane and said, “Master . . . I must give you up, but it is hard. I can’t do it, and Kisan was right. I’ve only known you. You’re my friend, master, and—” he looked at him, his eyes shining, “—my father. How can I?”
“You’re stronger than you believe. When you feel alone, know that I’m with you. What do you decide?”
Arek looked at the only man he could call a friend and choked out the words, “Master, I release you.”
His master regarded him for a moment longer, then his faded blue eyes crinkled into a smile and he said, “Rise, Student of the Way. You are one step closer to Ascendancy, and my pupil no longer.”
“What’s left for me to do?”
There was a silence, a moment where his master seemed to look into Arek’s very being. Then he breathed in and out. “Fare thee well, Arek.”
Silbane looked up at Azrael and said, “Take care of him.”
Arek looked at his own body and saw it changing. Black tendrils flowed out from the pores of his skin like a fine charcoal smoke. He could feel two others in the room, a dim awareness of Duncan and Brianna. They were all working furiously, unlocking something within him, something that uncurled under their care. It was like a seed long dried, now being slowly coaxed to unfold back to life with crystal blue water.
He looked up just as his master lifted his hand, a blinding blue star shining on his fingertip. When that star touched him a detonation of power blinded him. Knowledge burst into him, or perhaps it was knowledge he’d always had finally being released. Regardless, the sudden deluge of information was overwhelming and he found he was on his knees looking down.
“What was that?” he gasped.
His master’s voice came from above, “We have been taught many things, Arek, not all of which have been true. My ability to give you some part of me was one of the things kept from us.”
When Arek looked up in confusion, Silbane gave him a final hug, then held him at arm’s length and looked into his pale eyes. A moment passed before the master finally said, “Always give more than you take. It will give you power over those who would rule you. When you can answer my question, you will be truly Ascended.”
Then the blackfire began to melt away, drawn out as something fundamental within him changed. His true power awakened from its dormancy, a bonding to the Way, sounding through him in one clean, pure note. He looked up, tears of joy in his eyes, but Silbane was gone. He looked around frantically, as Azrael came forward to encircle him within his metallic wings.
“Come, Arek Illrys, son of Duncan and Sonya, nurtured by Silbane, and Winterthorn no more,” the archangel said, holding out a hand, “our path to Ascension is not yet complete, for you must first ken your master’s challenge. Yet perhaps I can grant you something of the light within me to aid in the coming times of darkness. You’ve given away what you loved most and come one step closer to earning a place amongst us by that sacrifice. Let us bond so that we may combine our strength and stand together for the war to come.”
Arek took Azrael’s hand. His world turned white.
Regicide
A determined soul with a practice blade can do more
than a laggard with an army.
- Galadine House of Arms, Battle’s Focus
A
sh quickly recovered, blinking his eyes to clear them. Kisan advanced, her expression grim, her black blades rising to point at his face and chest.
Well, this is what you’ve always wanted, a true test, he thought to himself.
A smile curled his lips at the opportunity to face another master of the blade. It brought his focus to a finely honed edge, until seemed as if time itself had slowed. He drew a breath through his nose, feeling the air permeate his lungs, filling his body with quiet serenity. This is where he knew the best within him would rise.
His mind and body were one. He could feel everything, from the grip of the blade through to the relaxed tension in his arms, even down to the balls of his feet against the wooden floor, not unlike a training hall. He knew himself down to the minutest detail and marveled at the instrument he’d forged for this day. This was his moment and he would triumph because he’d never been more ready.
His first two strikes flashed out at Kisan’s head and hip, blurring in silver arcs as Ash launched himself during her midstep. He didn’t need to look to know she’d dropped her front foot early and kicked herself backward to make up for his perfectly executed interruption. She’s fast, he noted. Nicely done.
Watching the body was a fool’s ploy. Magicians for centuries had proven the hand was quicker than the eye. His eyes stayed on hers, windows to her soul, his father had always said. He knew anything she intended would show there first.
Kisan fanned her blades to the outside, blocking both strikes and shifting his blade away from her with a downward twist of her wrist.
He countered quickly, cutting high to her opposite side, then stabbing at her throat.
The master tilted her head fractionally, letting the blade pass harmlessly over her shoulder. She spun, using her shoulder to knock Ash out of line even as her second blade cut a vicious arc.
