Wielder of the Flame

by Nikolas Rex

  Topar had a deep, growling, gravelly voice. His speech was slow and methodical. He held a very real finely crafted two handed sword in his large anamorphic hands. As he spoke he demonstrated a number of moves with the sword, different forms, and flowing from one stance to another in one smooth motion as if fighting against an invisible opponent. Stab. Block. Swing. Parry. Stab again. Block. His tail and fur flowed with his movements, the shaggiest of his fur swayed in the breeze. His ears moved up and down as well as he spoke.

  “It is more than a just a simple blade. It is a part of you and you are a part of it,” He moved as he spoke, “In these troubled times it is a necessary tool to defend, not only yourself but everyone or everything that is important to you. The sword is a weapon, sharp and deadly, and if used incorrectly, can be just as harmful to its user as it can be to the opponent. A sword is more elegant than a crude axe. The sword is not intended to simply hack away at an opponent with brute force, or smash a foe like a war-hammer.”

  He stopped his stances and pretended that his sword was an axe for a moment then shook his head to discourage the action and continued, “When used with skill it can be efficient—” Stab. “and deadly,” He imitated chopping an enemies head off.

  “Since I do not know how much Soren has taught you, and Eleanor informs me that Marc has no experience with weapons at all,”

  The large tiger-man glanced at Marc’s weapon lying near them in the grass as if to say, The poor condition of your sword clearly demonstrates your inexperience with weaponry.

  “I will review the basics. There are four essential things you should always remember with sword fighting.”

  “First things first, you must remember to breathe. It may sound simple, but in the heat of battle the stresses on your mind and body can force you to forget proper breathing techniques. Poor breathing slows down your reaction time, which can get you killed quickly. Second is balance. Relax your shoulders, remain on your feet, begin and end the fight with proper balance or it can cost you. Third is timing. A powerful swing will mean nothing if not timed properly. Poorly timed strikes will either be blocked, which can lead to a parry, which can lead to an opportunity for your enemy to attack back, or they can be dodged, which ends in the same way, you, dead. Lastly, and this is very important, is conditioning. You must condition your body to sustain vigorous battle. It means exercise, strengthening endurance, flexibility, and stamina. It does not mean training to become the strongest and biggest warrior of them all. Strength is not everything, but it does help. A strong body is nothing without a positive mental attitude and determined willpower. No matter how big your opponent is if you learn to handle the sword and learn to read the moves of your enemy, you will be able to fight back, and win.”

  Topar paused and sheathed his sword. He retrieved a wooden practice sword nearby. He faced the boys and fell into a defensive stance. His tail twitched back and forth distractingly. He was a towering creature, powerful looking and seriously intimidating. His ears flattened on his head with his fierce emotions.

  “Now, Marcus, attack me with everything you have!”

  Marc stood there for a moment, frozen, unsure of what to do.

  “Quickly fledgling!” The creature bellowed.

  “All will be well,” Zildjin patted him on the shoulder.

  Both intimidated and encouraged Marc was spurred into action. He took a deep breath, relaxed his shoulders, opened his mouth with a full out battle cry, and charged the figure before him, wooden sword raised high.

  The next thing he knew there was a loud clop of wood against wood, his stick was flying out of his grip and he was spinning to the ground. He landed in the dirt with a hard thud.

  He struggled to breathe and looked up to see flashing stars of pain across his vision. It was just like getting beat up back in school. Nothing had changed, he was still a loser.

  Suddenly Zildjin and Sesuadra appeared in his line of sight and they helped him up.

  “That was pretty good for a first try,” Zildjin nodded approvingly. “You are not going to give up after just one go, are you?”

  “Truly,” Sesuadra added, “For a first attempt, you clearly gave it your best. Try again, you will get better.”

  Marc nodded.

  Sesuadra handed Marc his wooden sword.

  “Thanks,”

  “Of course, what else are friends for?” Zildjin spoke for both he and Sesuadra.

  His comment may have been said casually but it hit home for Marc and he smiled.

  It felt good to have friends.

  “Once more!” Topar called.

  Marc turned to face the rovaar with a renewed vigor.

  ***

  Hours later, the sun had sunk lower in the sky of late afternoon. Marc trudged into the living quarters of the Magic Emporium, with the help of Zildjin and Sesuadra, who were very sore themselves.

  Marc gingerly sat in one of the chairs surrounding the main table. He was exhausted and ached all over. Topar followed behind them, his tail swishing in just as the door closed behind him.

  Eleanor sat at the table, she had closed up shop early.

  “How was your lesson, boys?”

  “They have much to learn,” Topar growled, “But they have given a good effort today.”

  “Thank you Topar,” Eleanor bowed her head slightly.

  Topar bowed his head even greater, responding with only the silent gesture.

  The large creature left into one of the other rooms.

  “The rest of the day is yours now,” She told them.

  “I have lost all desires of going anywhere this evening,” Zildjin said, slumped down in his chair.

  Sesuadra nodded his agreement to the statement.

  “Nonsense,” Eleanor said with a smile, “After a little something to eat and drink you will quickly be on your feet and out the door to explore the city. After all, you have to give Marc more of a tour than just a wagon ride from the entrance to the docks and here,” She finished.

  Zildjin and Sesuadra were nodding their heads in a way that said, that is true.

  “Let me get you something to eat.”

  ***

  For Marc, the rest of the day felt too good to be true, and yet it was true.

  After some hearty soup that picked them right up, Zildjin and Sesuadra headed out, Marc in tow, to show him just how exciting Kolima could be, especially in its preparation for Itherin’s largest celebration.

  He felt so good not just because he was experiencing new things in a new world and new life that he would never have been able to do in his previous world, but that he was experiencing them with two kids his age that had outright called him their friend, and meant it. It was something wholly new to him, and he relished it. He didn’t want it to ever end.

  The days followed the same pattern, readings in the morning with Eleanor occasionally watching over them, lunch, which they called middag, afternoons getting sore trying to learn how to swordfight with Topar, and the rest of the day to explore the city with Zildjin and Sesuadra. But the recurring pattern did not become boring in the least, because he now had two friends.

  There was just something about the way their personalities fit. They laughed at each other’s jokes and never fought. Zildjin, being older, led the trio. Marc and Zildjin mostly talked but Sesuadra would have something to add every now and then. Nothing was forced, they just naturally became friends.

  All the while, in her free time, Eleanor worked on a suitable set of clothes and gear for Marc. She would frequently measure him, making sure everything was just right. She made adjustments to Zildjin and Sesuadra’s apparel as well as needed.

  Marc did not enter the silvery realm for many nights. He would fall into bed exhausted from the busy days and sleep blissfully until the next morning. By the end of what Marc tracked to be a week’s time his body began to adjust to the rigorous and demanding schedule. His muscles were beginning to strengthen and his skin began to look healthier with more sun.

  E
venings in the city with Zildjin and Sesuadra were surprisingly fun. Marc did not realize how enjoyable life could be without the distractions that modern technology had provided for him in his world. They spent time down by the shore, jumping from the docks, swimming, fishing, and even catching a few boat rides as the ships were casting off to shore, but never too far, jumping from the ships and swimming back to shallow waters. They combed the beach for shells, rocks, and any other trinkets they could find chasing the waves and letting the waves chase them. The weather was warm, and even with the sun always low on the horizon they dried quickly.

  Aside from the beach Zildjin and Sesuadra found plenty for the three of them to do. Especially with the city preparing for a large celebration there were many individuals setting up attractions for the crowds. There were small games to participate in, treats to eat, plazas with entertainers performing tricks, and orators giving speeches. It was a thriving bustling city. And that was not even including the variety of shops to visit and gawk in. A number of the shop owners eyed the boys warily, aware that it was likely the three boys had little to no coin to spend on the wares on display, but the three friends ignored the looks they got. They spent time in taverns and Inn common rooms listening to fantastic stories and ancient tales of legend.

  One in particular, The Silver Star Inn, was always sure to draw a crowd. The owner of the Inn paid a pretty price for a legendary bard to recount only the best adventures and fables. Though it was always busy, if they got there early enough for even a seat at the back, it was worth it. Marc noticed Zildjin was perfecting his fiddling around with the medallion, as he was able to spin the token from the top of his finger to his bottom knuckle without it hitting the floor. Zildjin would only occasionally put it away now. Marc found it interesting, and wondered about the magic within the small relic.

  Eleanor also finished quickly with Marc’s measuring, but she struggled on the design with which she wished to incorporate into his traveling uniform. She spent quite a few days in an uncharacteristically brusque mood, (mostly about the general untidiness of the boys) she awoke one morning with quite a smile, her cheery disposition continued for many days afterwards. They asked her why. She informed them that she had been sparked with a particularly powerful idea for the clothes she was making for Marc. Whenever they inquired to see the progress she always let a grandmotherly smile cross her lips and would say,

  “Never cut down a tree in the Season of Cold.”

  Marc thought and thought it over but never could figure out what it really meant.

  Sesuadra explained that one should not cut a tree down without knowing whether it is really a dead tree or not, as it would be a waste. One way to tell if a tree was dead was if it failed to produce any leaves during the Season of Warmth.

  Marc was beginning to learn of the true depth of wisdom found in his friend.

  ***

  “Mounted combat!” Topar’s voice was as deep and growly as ever.

  The three boys stood in the yard, suited up in their armor, this time with their own weapons at their sides instead of their usual wooden substitutes. Three aldoms and a balkar stood in the training ground with them. Topar’s great size and weight made it impossible for him to sit on one of the smaller two legged creatures so he had selected a balkar as his mount. The first aldom’s hide was a subtle mixture of many greens, mostly dark, with dark tan fur and a light beige underbelly. The second creature had a dark cobalt hide speckled with azure, it had grey fur and a grey underbelly. The last aldom had a dark metallic brown hide with splashes of crimson marks. Its fur was a dark-dark red, almost black, with a light golden underbelly. The four creatures were geared up with saddles and light armor, mostly on the head, necks, and legs. Topar had explained to them they would not be wielding their real weapons just then but he wanted them to spend some time riding the aldoms, to get to know what it felt like to be suited up with their swords at their sides. They would switch to the wooden sticks later in the day.

  “It may seem a bit early,” Topar continued, his shaggy fur rustling in the warm breeze, as he sat majestically but alertly on his steed, “but I do not know how long I will be your Mentor until Soren returns and I desire to instruct you in as many of the basics as possible.”

  He paused, thinking for a moment how he should approach the lesson.

  “Aldoms are noble creatures,” He indicated the two legged creatures standing in a row by the boys, “Some may have its own traits set apart from others, but on the whole they are proud, but fair, if you treat them with respect. And if you do, they will honor that respect. But treat them otherwise and they will not tolerate you. They are quick and agile, able to run swiftly and leap high and long. They are not ideal for crossing great distances, requiring frequent rests for lengthy travel, but, and I say again, if treated right, they can become magnificent steeds, giving you the upper hand in combat.”

  “I have a question Mentor,” Marc gave a short bow as he had seen Zildjin and Sesuadra do before and had become accustomed to doing so when asking a question.

  “Speak, fledgling,” Topar nodded, his shaggy fur moving with the motion.

  “I don’t understand why such intelligent, noble creatures as a whole would subject themselves to another race, such as us,”

  “Indeed,” Topar nodded, his tiger ears popping up, “not all the aldoms you see in the city, and across the lands, carrying people and pulling wagons, are the kind that I speak of, like these three,” he gestured to the three creatures by the boys.

  “Once, long ago, all Aldoms were noble and intelligent. It is rare to find those special kind in these times. With Eleanor’s approval and assistance I have spent the past fortnight to find and select three fine aldoms for you.”

  “Tandur, Guardian,” He said, pointing to the first one with the green hide.

  “Syril, Bright eyes,” He said, gesturing to the second one with the dark blue hide.

  “And lastly, Redmor, Undaunted. Now, Fledglings, select your steed.”

  Select our steed, Marc thought, how are we supposed to do that?

  No one moved for a few moments, they looked at each other.

  Finally, Sesuadra acted first.

  He walked slowly toward the three creatures.

  He stopped when they made low guttural, almost chittery, sounds in their throats and shifted defensively. Their large ears flattened and their tails thumped the ground in warning.

  He looked each of the aldoms carefully in the eyes, then he slowly fell to one knee and bowed himself down, almost to the earth, his arms open wide and to the sky.

  Sesuadra remained like that for several long moments.

  Nothing happened for a time.

  Then, he felt and heard one of the creatures approach. It chittered and chirped in a friendly manner and slowly nudged Sesuadra to stand. He looked up into the eyes of Syril, the blue aldom.

  He smiled and stood up with the creatures help.

  He then went to Brighteye’s side, grabbed the top of the saddle, and with one foot in the stirrup jumped up and sat down.

  “Very well done,” Topar noted, “Zildjin and Marc, you are next.”

  The two boys exchanged glances that said you want to go? Not really, you?

  “I’ll go,” Marc said.

  “No,” Zildjin said, “I will.”

  Zildjin patted the inner pocket by his heart where he kept the medallion as if to draw courage from it.

  And he went.

  He followed Sesuadra’s lead and when he was close to the animals he knelt to the ground.

  Tandur, the green aldom, chose Zildjin without too much hesitation.

  Soon Zildjin was aboard his mount next to Sesuadra.

  Now they just waited on Marc.

  Marc stepped forward and walked towards the last creature.

  He felt nervous. They were such different animals from his world he did not really know how to act.

  The creature sensed his anxiety and in turn it made the creature nervous.
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  Redmor, the third aldom, acted like the other two, it chittered a warning and shifted defensively.

  It looked so much more real up close, so much more ferocious. Its taloned feet and curved beak appeared much sharper, the light glinted in its large eyes. He could see the subtle muscle movements rippling in its small arms and thick legs. It smelled of musty straw and the pungent spice that Marc saw Sesuadra use in the balkars feeding area.

  Marc felt the fear well up inside him.

  He froze.

  His fear took over him and he just simply froze.

  Undaunted grew angry, it thumped its tail against the ground and growled louder.

  “Show your respect, fledgling!” Topar commanded, “An insulted aldom will maul you, and if it feels threatened enough it will slay you where you stand.”

  Marc tried to move but he couldn’t seem to make himself.

  He mentally shook himself.

  Move idiot! Your two new friends just did this, don’t make yourself look like a fool in front of them!

  He touched the hilt of the blade and felt that reassuring warmth flow from it to him.

  The instant he did so the aldom stopped thumping its tail. Marc looked Redmor in the eyes. The fear Marc saw there in its gaze began to melt away.

  He let go of the sword. He brought his hands up, they felt warm, they seemed to almost be glowing, he thought. He drew closer. The creature lowered its head, allowing him to put his hands on each side of its face. The moment he touched the creature he felt the warmth in his hands spread through the creature. It stopped thumping its tail and relaxed.

  A calm, like a wave, seemed to settle over the yard. The wind stopped.

  Then Redmor pulled away, looking at Marc. It chirped, and then it bowed low, as low as it could get to the ground.