These “lad” comments were getting old, and of course Daylen knew he should be travelling with a sword. Light, people weren’t this condescending when his appearance matched his age. No wonder the boy next to him seemed disgruntled with his parents.
“I don’t have one,” Daylen said, trying to mask his annoyance.
“I can see that,” Taigo said, scraping his spoon along the bottom of his fourth bowl and eating the last bit. He rose and walked to the corner of the dining room where an old chest lay buried under rugs, brooms, and whatever else this home wanted out of the way. “We’ve had some trouble with hillcats this summer. Now, they shouldn’t pose much danger unless they’re particularly hungry. Still, you should watch yourself on the road. Aside from hillcats, you might come across some wild dogs, and there’s even tale of drakes flying down and grabbing people.”
If they were going to lecture others, something they were more willing to direct at youth apparently, they might as well get their facts right. “Drakes don’t come down to the surface,” Daylen said matter-of-factly. “It’s too far from the shrubs that grow on the underside of the continent.”
“Shrubs?”
“That’s what they eat. Drakes are herbivores.”
“But the stories?”
“Myths told to scare little children.”
“Oh, I didn’t know.” Taigo was silent for a second before pulling the chest out. “In any case, you need to be careful. Apart from what I said, bandits roam the hills and that ain’t a story.”
Taigo opened the chest and retrieved three old broadswords, one with a basket hilt, and the other two having the more common swept hilt comprised of quillons, loops, side rings, sweepings, and knuckle guard.
Daylen glanced to the side door of the home, where five other swords, in better condition, hung sideways on a rack, one for each member of the family: two backswords, a broadsword, a longsword, and a warsword. Ever since the Second Night fell over a thousand years ago, most people of the world realized that Nights weren’t one-off events. Since that time, every man, woman, and child owned a weapon and was taught how to use it in preparation for the oncoming dark. These falls it would be extremely odd to see a home of any nation that didn’t have a weapon for each person who lived in it, if not more.
Like Hamahra, Frey had a strong dueling culture, but the people didn’t wear tassels to mark their victories.
Taigo pulled each sword out of its sheath and inspected their blades. Each one was in some state of disrepair. He picked the best and handed it to Daylen.
“It’s an old sword and not too sharp at that, but it’ll do the job.”
“Thank you,” Daylen said, taking the blade. Having a sword at his side was like a river having water flowing through it; it was just right. “I don’t suppose it has a name?”
Luciana huffed. “It if did, it’s long since forgotten. Anyway, I’d say that sword isn’t grand enough to bear a name.”
“Any sword that’s saved a person’s life deserves a name.”
“Don’t know if it ever has,” Taigo said. “You’re free to name it whatever you like.”
“I might,” Daylen said, rising. “Thank you for the meal and bed,” he said, before placing a dun on the table.
“That’s not necessary,” Luciana said. “Common decency isn’t worth coin.”
“You’re right, it’s not,” Daylen said, leaving both the home and his coin before they could reply.
Chapter Five
I fought in countless battles through the Fourth Night. Worse, I saw countless companions and friends become Shade themselves, my parents included, whom I was forced to kill. Yes, I killed my parents with my own sword—though in truth it was the Shade that killed them. The monsters I destroyed only had the faintest resemblance to my parents.
Still, it didn’t make the task any easier.
* * *
Daylen hadn’t walked far from the farmstead before he heard footsteps.
He turned to see Luciana’s son running toward him.
“Is something wrong?” Daylen asked.
“What? No,” the large boy said. “I…um… I’m coming with you.”
“What? Light’s end, you’re not!”
“You don’t own the road.”
“Boy, it’s your bedtime. Go back to your mother.”
“Who you calling boy? You look younger than me.”
“No I don’t, boy! Now piss off.”
The lad drew his sword on Daylen. “You watch your tongue.”
“Put that away before you hurt yourself.”
“You’re disrespecting me and the hospitality my mother has shown you.”
“No, letting you run away would be disrespecting your mother, you ungrateful little twat!”
Gaidan raised the leg facing Daylen and he stomped it down in a dueling pose—the Freysian way to challenge.
“Oh, light’s end,” Daylen said tiredly.
“Draw your sword! Fight me!”
“No. That might ruffle my shirt.”
“That’s it!” Gaidan screamed and lunged at Daylen.
A second later, maybe two, Gaidan lay on the ground with a bleeding lip, unarmed. Daylen held the boy’s sword in hand, not even having drawn his own. He hadn’t thought to use his new powers, either, not that he’d needed them.
He had already found that his fighting instincts were still keen when he had fought Paradan, but now with his body as fit and as strong as it had ever been… Light, he was back to being a full Grand High Master of the sword.
“What… What just happened?” Gaidan said, dazed from his instantaneous defeat.
“You got what your light-blinded head deserved,” Daylen said. “As you challenged me to a duel and lost, I’m keeping your sword. Victor’s right, and all.”
It was the same type of sword as Daylen’s, but in far better condition. Daylen threw the old sword to the boy’s feet.
“Now go back to your mother.”
“But she doesn’t respect me, and when I saw you, that you’re on your own, all free and being the same age…”
“I AM OLDER THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE!”
Gaidan flinched again. “You got me thinking, that’s all,” he said. “I-I just wants to come with you.”
“Look, you want respect, you want to be a man, I get that. But from what I’ve seen, an immature snot like yourself doesn’t deserve any respect. You don’t demand respect…”
Daylen paused at that comment as a torrent of memories flashed before his eyes, memories where he had forced respect and obedience through violence and brutality. He was such a hypocrite. What right did he have to tell another how to live their life when he had lived his own so poorly? But the truth was the truth, and it condemned him as well as the actions of this whelp.
“You’re supposed to earn respect,” Daylen said, looking back to the boy, “through sweat, hard work, and decency, just like your father. You want to be a man? Then fulfill the responsibility you have to your family and obey your mother while you live under her roof. Trying to leave them like you have, probably without even a word? It’s despicable, and proves you’re no better than a worm. Your parents are good people, and you should thank the Light for that. Do as they say, you little snot, and maybe, just maybe, if the Light is gracious, you’ll become half as good as them.”
The large boy’s lip quivered and he tried to hold back tears.
“Now, as I said before, PISS OFF!”
This time he did, thank the Light. Daylen sighed to himself and shook his head. “Kids.”
He turned and began walking down the road, but noticed off to the side that work had begun for clearing ground for another field.
Many trees lay toppled next to their sawn stumps, some having been dragged to the side of the budding paddock. A laborious process, especially if done without darkstone automation, of which Daylen saw no sign.
“I’ll do good where I can,” Daylen said to himself as he took off his coat, vest, and shirt. Bar
e to his waist, Daylen couldn’t help noticing that every scar he had ever received still remained, and having been a swordsman his whole life, there were a lot of them.
“So I still possess the same body,” Daylen said to himself. “Just changed.” He noticed that his body was as muscled as it had been in his thirties, not his teens. “Restored to its peak strength…interesting.”
Folding his clothes on top of one another and placing them on a dry part of the ground, Daylen jumped the ditch that bordered the packed dirt road and onto the grassy field.
Channeling all bonds to his strength, Daylen placed himself at the center of mass of a fallen tree, placed one hand over the trunk, the other under, and rolled the entire thing onto his shoulder, lifting it.
It didn’t feel heavy at all.
He smiled giddily at his incredible power. He carried each felled tree from the field one by one.
After that he walked to the nearest stump and punched the grass next to it. Getting his hand under the stump, he pulled. Daylen ripped it up with its adjoining root system with ease.
He carried the stump to the same pile as the trunks and repeated the process with each stump until the area was fully cleared.
A water barrel sat near the border of the field with some stools and an old firepit, clearly placed there so Taigo could find drink while he worked the field.
Daylen dunked his head in it, drinking deeply. He then washed his dirty body. Retrieved his shirt, vest, and coat, he walked topless for a time, letting the sun dry him off before dressing fully.
The nearest village was a picturesque little thing nestled within thin woodland next to a small river.
Walking by the homes and crossing a bridge, Daylen found the main road that led to the larger town where he could find a coach to the nearest city.
After an hour or so, Daylen found himself thinking about different applications of his new powers.
“There’s clearly more they can do,” he said, looking about.
Luckily, no one was near. He didn’t want people to know that he had these powers just yet, especially considering he wasn’t an Archknight.
Posing as an Archon might be a good idea if anyone saw him with his powers, but Light, what would the knights do when they learned about him?
They’d probably force him to join them so long as they never found out who he really was, which Daylen was already considering. If there was anybody who could teach him about the full extent and limitations of his powers, it was the Archknights.
But Daylen would join when he wanted to.
Walking to the side of the road, Daylen counted the attributes he had enhanced. Strength, speed, mass, sight, hearing, healing, smell, and fortitude.
Drawing his sword, Daylen sliced his thumb along the blade. It stung, of course, but pain was something Daylen had gotten very used to over his life.
Stacking all bonds to his body’s ability to heal, the cut closed in a matter of seconds.
“Fast,” he said to himself. “But will it be as fast with worse injuries?” Daylen pulled up the sleeve of his jacket and shirt and drew the sword blade along his forearm, cutting all the way to the bone.
He didn’t hesitate or flinch at the pain.
Blood flowed out, but as soon as he channeled light through his bonds to heal, the large wound closed after three seconds—leaving no scar at all.
“Oh, this is going to be very useful. I wonder if I could regrow a limb?” He shook his head. “It’s probably not a good idea to test that.”
Daylen knew that there had to be a limit to this healing ability, as he had seen Archons die. Light, he had killed one himself many years ago, indicating that Archons couldn’t heal from decapitation.
Daylen enhanced his scent. The first bond enhanced it to a huge level, far more than just double, and each subsequent bond seemed to double what the previous enhancement had achieved. With all four bonds channeling light into his scent, Daylen could smell that a darkstone-powered wagon bearing craggots and turem beans had passed along the road two falls ago. There had been one person who had been driving the wagon who smelled of dirt, oil and wore cotton clothes. Daylen could smell a man’s clothes from two falls ago! There were also other scents, new ones that he’d never smelled before, one coming from himself. It smelled sweet, yet soft, and as he breathed in, focusing on the scent, Daylen instinctively realized what it was: Emotion. Daylen was smelling his own emotion.
“But how can I know that? Yet I do. That smell is curious amazement. These powers, it’s like they also give me new instincts!”
With all bonds channeling light into his scent, Daylen could actually smell emotion!
Such discoveries like this only propelled Daylen to find out more.
The last time Daylen enhanced his hearing it hadn’t gone so well; but now with no winds rushing past him, it should work better. One bond doubled the volume of every sound around: the wind passing through the trees, the cracking of the branches, and the soft breathing of some animal behind a tree. Daylen focused on that sound and as he did so every other sound faded, to the point that the soft breathing became clear and distinct. A canine-like panting, he discerned—one of those wild dogs Taigo had mentioned. The clarity was amazing.
Daylen picked up a stone and threw it at the tree the dog was hiding behind. The crack spooked the thing, and it scampered away. It was nothing to worry about unless it was part of a pack, and then only if they were particularly hungry.
Daylen could hear everything around him. The footsteps of an ant at his feet, the soft voices of Taigo and Luciana several kilometers away. Daylen focused on them and their voices became as clear as if they were speaking right next to him. Judging by the moans of pleasure, he heard that the couple were in the middle of their cleansing ordinance.
“Okay, that’s a mental image I didn’t need.”
Daylen released his bonds and channeled one into his mass to make himself lighter. This first reduction was far greater than just halving his weight. Using two bonds seemed to make him weigh nothing at all, for as soon as the wind picked up, he was picked up, literally. Then a stronger gust of wind blew past him, launching him into the air, where he flew a good ten meters flailing uselessly before his clothes pulled him back down and he crashed to the ground.
Daylen returned his weight to normal. “Okay, that was weird—and with only two bonds. Four bonds might be dangerous… and stupid…” Daylen smiled to himself. “Then it’s a good thing I’m stupid.”
He ran to a wide tree to use as a wind shield and channeled two bonds, reducing his mass. Then he channeled a third, and nothing happened. Daylen shrugged and added the forth.
His clothes fell off.
No—his clothes fell through him, and he was standing completely naked, half translucent! He was literally see-through. Walking forward, Daylen raised his hands before staring at them in shock.
“This is very, very weird.”
Daylen noticed his feet sinking into the ground. No depressions were being made; they were just disappearing into the ground!
“Light!” Daylen screamed, releasing the bonds…and then his feet exploded.
His feet literally exploded! A force hit him with such strength that it blew off the rest of his legs. Dirt, blood, flesh, and bone flew in every direction.
The rest of Daylen was launched head over heels—well, his heels were gone, but he spun several times through the air regardless, butt-naked and legless, before crashing to the ground screaming in pain.
Without even willing it, Daylen’s body sucked in light like he was a drowning man gasping for air and channeled it through every bond inside him toward healing.
Daylen groaned in horror at seeing nothing but bloody stumps past his hips, but his fears were replaced with morbid amazement as he watched his legs slowly grow back.
It took several minutes for Daylen to find his voice. “Now that’s a sight! And it answers my question about regrowing limbs.”
It took about ten minut
es for his legs to grow back completely. Once they had, Daylen wiggled his new toes.
“Okay, reducing mass past two bonds is bad. Very, very bad!”
Daylen stood and looked at where his feet had exploded. There was a crater in the ground about four meters in diameter, dirt and flesh flung all around.
“Wow,” he said, and then began to laugh. “This is just too good!” Having his feet blown off wasn’t at all shocking to him; he had lived too long and seen too much to be shocked by blood or injury.
Daylen walked to his clothes and shook off the countless little clumps of dirt and flesh that covered them, wondering at the specifics of what had just happened.
It was like he had lost physical interaction. Was that what happened when mass all but disappeared?
Daylen could guess why his feet had exploded when he had released his bonds. Matter couldn’t occupy the same location as other matter.
“Well I was right, that was stupid,” he said, pulling on his pants.
Having finished dressing, he walked back to the road.
“So that was reducing my mass, but how heavy can I make myself?”
The first bond increased his weight far more than just double, and like everything else, each subsequent bond seemed to double the previous enhancement. At full, the hard-packed road couldn’t support his weight and he sunk up to his ankles.
Light, he had missed doing in-depth research like this. It reminded him of the months he had spent studying the device he discovered at the centre of the Floating Isles.
“I’d better hold off making myself this heavy when on softer ground,” Daylen said, looking at his sunken feet. He must have weighed over five tons!
Daylen released his bonds and stepped out of the holes his feet had made.
The more he delved into how his powers worked, the more he figured out. Still, Daylen had seen Archknights cast lightning from their hands and control the wind. Maybe he could do such things and maybe he couldn’t. The only way to find out was to keep testing.
Putting on his boots and standing, Daylen clapped his hands together and rubbed them back and forth smiling in delight. “All right, what’s next?”
Shadow of the Conqueror Page 8
