by Ben Hale
Taryn grinned. “Alright, just let me get dressed and I will meet you at the dining hall. By the looks of things, you need to get dressed anyway, so I may even beat you there.”
Murai’s mock angry face shifted to one that welcomed a challenge. “We will see about that!” Leaping for the bed, he exited in a diving roll through the same window he had entered.
Taryn chuckled to himself and returned the katsanas to their sheaths before preparing for the day. Not ten minutes later the young man stepped out the door and took a deep breath of the cool morning air. Tightening the straps of the two swords on his back, he took a moment to enjoy the view. A light fog hung in the air, although the first rays of dawn could be seen on the horizon and it would burn away soon after sunrise. His little cottage faced south but sat west of the village, nestled into the trees close to the cliffs. To his right the terrain rose sharply to the only mountain on the island, while on his left the ground sloped gently to the sea several miles away.
At just over 50 miles in length, the island was dotted with small villages, most of them hidden in the forest near the mountain. Smoke from other dining halls could be seen drifting lazily out of chimneys and darkening the fog before breaking free into the sky. On the other side of the mountain, to his right, a sheer cliff dropped hundreds of feet to the breaking surf.
Taryn turned and walked briskly through the village, listening to the the soft sounds of people waking and preparing for the day. By the time he reached the main street, the early risers were already going about their business. Today would be busier than normal because of the Acabi, an elven word meaning “finish with honor.”
Turning towards the center of the village, he nodded at the people he passed as he followed the savory smells coming from the dining hall, grateful that his day to cook was still several days off. Not that he minded helping, but the food never tasted good on his day. Last week it had been particularly dreadful, eliciting more than a few complaints. At least Murai had never seemed concerned. He’d always told him not to worry about his lack of culinary skills because he was 'born to wield a blade'. The phrase had lost its significance though when his uncle had begun to apply it to other things. Frowing at his thoughts, he opened the door and stepped in.
He paused at the threshold until he spotted his uncle in the crowd, with a plate of steaming food in front of him. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to escape a ribbing, he moved to sit across from him.
“Took you long enough,” Murai said. “I’m on my second helping.” Despite his tone, the corners of his mouth were struggling to stop a grin. He was also fully dressed with his own katsana on his back.
“I already finished, but I figured you would like some company,” Taryn replied with a smile.
Responding with a loud snort, Murai pointed at the food line. “Get some food; you need to be at the arena in two hours.”
“Do you want me to get you thirds?” Taryn asked as he stood. “I don’t want you to faint from hunger when you fight me today.”
Looking up, Murai said brightly, “Of course—although not too much bacon." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "I'm trying to watch my weight, you know.”
Taryn smiled and strode to the back of the line to grab his own breakfast. Sly grins and stifled laughter were directed towards him, and he did his best to ignore it. Overhearing someone whisper to another of his latest attempt in the gardens made him cringe. Even though it was expected, the muffled giggle at the end made him tighten his lips.
Avoiding eye contact, he felt heat rise to his neck as he stepped forward to grab bread, eggs, and extra bacon. It didn’t help that he could best any of them with a blade. In every other area, he carried the unfortunate renown as the worst on the island. At one time, Murai had encouraged him to stand up for himself. His attempt could only be described as disastrous, and that had been the end of it. He could count on one hand the few he claimed as friends, and that included his uncle.
Withdrawing into his training had only made it more difficult. Every bit that he excelled only seemed to widen the chasm between himself and the other students, and for some reason he did not understand, many disliked losing to him. The pirate attack four years ago had been a breaking point, and many had yet to forgive him.
Catching someone shaking their head as they turned away, Taryn realized that today might be a chance to redeem himself—if he did well. Everyone knew what he had to face today, and he doubted anyone would be willing to trade places. By longstanding tradition, students completed their training by facing the very people that had taught them, and Taryn had been instructed by four masters—something that was unheard of in written history. Most fighters studied one, or occasionally two, weapons or skills throughout their time on Sri Rosen. A student with three masters had occurred only twice in the last five hundred years.
He just wished it had helped him make friends. Not for the first time, he considered the idea that his mixed heritage had something to do with it. Although not entirely elf, or human, he didn’t fit in with either crowd, and apparently, skill in a single area was not sufficient to gain entry to their circles.
Sighing, he returned to his seat and ate quickly to finish at the same time as his uncle. They dropped their dishes off for the daily dish cleaners and stepped outside to allow others to eat.
“Do you want to walk or ride?” Murai asked.
“I think I’ll walk,” replied Taryn. “It’s going to be a beautiful morning.”
Murai’s gaze lingered on him for several moments before he stretched and smiled. “That’s fine, but these old bones aren’t up for it. I’ll ride and meet you there.” With that he turned and walked towards the stables where his horse was kept.
Grateful for the time to be alone, Taryn headed out of the village on the meandering trail to Seascape, the largest of all the villages and the only port. Each year several ships came to trade and drop off or pick up passengers. At least twice a year the new students that had been selected to go to Sri Rosen arrived. Most were very young, between three and five years old for humans. Dwarves and elves arrived at the age of twenty and stayed until they reached the age of accountability for their respective races.
Once on the island, everyone began with the basics of unarmed combat. After that they could select a single master to teach them in a specific style of fighting or continue in unarmed combat. Most elves chose to study the short sword or longbow, the most common elven weapons. The few humans and dwarves usually chose a master of the broadsword, longsword, or battle axe. They would then study with that master until their Acabi ceremony.
Those who passed the Acabi could choose to return to their homeland or stay and continue their studies. Since elves and dwarves could live for several hundred years, many elected to remain. Humans usually returned home as soon as their ceremony was completed. During their training, if any student mastered a specific weapon, they were allowed to select another teacher and learn an additional skill.
While his thoughts continued to wander, Taryn strolled down the trail and enjoyed the early morning. Frequent breaks in the trees allowed a view of the gorgeous sunrise. The sun was already halfway up, with the water reflecting the colors perfectly, making the horizon disappear. Red, orange and yellow shimmered in the water and sky, setting the sea on fire.
By this time of day, students could normally be found running on the trails for their morning exercise. Today being an Acabi ceremony, however, all normal lessons would be cancelled. The trail continued to dip through the light forest at a steady decline, gently turning back on itself when it became too steep. Enjoying the feeling of solitude, Taryn broke into a run.
Swift and careful, he placed each foot on stone or hard dirt, leaving no sign of his passage. His elven heritage granted him speed and silence—but he also had stamina, which was not a normal elf trait. Unending endurance was only common among the dwarves, who were known for fighting for days without rest. Coming to a small stream, he leapt up to grab a thick branch twelve feet
above the gurgling water, and swung himself across without slowing.
He smiled to himself. Every day since he was five he’d run a few miles before dawn. It was the only time of day that he could think without being disturbed. At first it was just the solitude that had appealed to him. Later it had become a game to avoid all contact with anyone. Hearing footsteps, he would slip into the woods and ghost past someone without them ever knowing he was there.
Taryn continued to run for ten minutes until he came to one of the villages. Without breaking stride, he used a tree to swing himself onto the roof of a cabin and lightly crossed to grab another branch. Like just another shadow in the morning, he passed through the village without touching the ground. On the other side he dropped softly from a tree and sprinted down the trail. Getting closer to his destination forced him to be more careful as the appearance of one, and then another person, spurred sudden detours. Coming within view of Seascape he slowed to a walk. He had covered almost seven miles in a little over thirty minutes, but suddenly he didn’t want to arrive so early.
The city lay sprawled out below him. Cottages and cabins were placed around the outside while the dining hall, arena, and other communal structures were situated in the middle of town. A small strip of forest separated the settlement from the beach. Beyond that, a large dock stretched out into the ocean with the Sea Dancer, one of the few ships to come every year, bobbing at the end.
Since he still had over an hour before he had to be at the arena, he decided to go down to the dock. Wanting to avoid anyone talking to him, he set a quick pace through town and stepped onto the long pier. Continuing to the very end where the great ship lay berthed, he turned onto a smaller dock for fishing boats. No one was on the jetty itself, but there were several sailors doing various chores on the large ship. Nodding at them, he sat with his legs hanging off the dock’s edge, and turned his gaze towards the water.
This close to the sea, the rising sun loomed painfully bright, so he closed his eyes and relaxed. Leaning against a post he enjoyed the soft breeze tugging at his tunic and pants. Any sounds from the city were muted by the crashing surf, and the peace that surrounded him made it hard to imagine the night he was born.
Twenty-one years ago, an incredible storm had whipped the ocean into an angry white froth. For several days a merchant ship had struggled to stay afloat, knowing they were close to the island but unable to find it in the gale. Just as they spotted land a giant wave reached out and smashed their vessel brutally against the reef. An entire side of the boat shattered under the force, and water gushed in.
As the boat sank, many tried to jump to safety inside the reef—but no one made it. At the last instant, two figures appeared on the prow. One placed a foot in the joined hands of the other and using the extra push, was thrown to safety. With the tremendous strength of the thrower, the person in the air covered thirty feet to the reef and dived smoothly into the lagoon. Surfacing, they began pushing towards shore.
Fate seemed to have other plans. Before they could reach the sandy beach, another large wave hit the boat. The thick mast snapped and hurtled over the reef to crash into the desperate swimmer, who would have drowned then without help. The harbormaster at the time had been the only witness to the carnage and without hesitation sprang into the water. A few minutes later he dragged a pregnant elf maid onto the beach. Fierce wind and rain battered him as he fought to carry her into his home. Laying her on his bed, he relit the candle extinguished by the gust that had ushered them in. The mast had struck her hard, breaking an arm and leaving an ugly wound bleeding through golden hair. She regained consciousness just long enough to give birth and say a name . . . then she was gone.
A long katsana had been strapped on her back with a green gem above the handle. Among the wreckage the following morning, the villagers found the body of a human with dark red hair. Because the newborn’s hair matched his in color, everyone assumed this man must have been the father. On his back had been another katsana, this one with a blue gem above the grip.
No one had recognized either one of them, and it had caused quite a dilemma over what to do with the baby. In the end, several people had stepped forward and volunteered to raise him. Murai had been one of them, and oddly the most insistent about taking care of him. In the end his persistence won out and he’d been allowed to become his guardian. To this day Taryn did not know why he had been so adamant.
Taryn had heard the story from the harbormaster many times and never tired of it, but it didn’t manage to satisfy the ache he felt to know more.
A sudden weight pressed down onto the board on which he was sitting, causing him to open his eyes and look up to see a beautiful, slender elf sit down next to him.
“I thought I would find you here.” Liriana’s voice carried a hint of music, betraying her skill with song. Clear blue eyes were framed with thin eyebrows and fair skin. Straight blonde hair fell uninhibited down her back—the gentle wind flicking and pulling at it. She was dressed in riding pants and light chain mail that couldn’t quite hide the curves in her figure.
An impish smile played across her face as she focused on Taryn. “You don’t have much time before you fight. Are you ready?”
“I don’t know. I guess so. What about you?”
“I am more ready to use my bow than my sword.” She emphasized her statement by reaching back and pulling her longbow into view. She had made it herself from a supple yew branch and had carved intricate designs into it over the years. Learning how to use a bow had been the most natural thing in the world to her—and the first thing she had chosen to study. Mastering it quickly, she had moved on to learn the elven short sword, but had had a little more trouble with a blade. She had actually helped teach him the longbow and they had stayed close ever since. He had once seen her split a leaf at a hundred paces—a story still told on the island.
On impulse, he decided to voice his thoughts. “Can I ask you something?” He glanced at her, trying to read her expression.
Her eyes pierced his as she shrugged. “Sure.”
Looking away, he asked, “Do you remember a few years ago, when I asked Suoh and the others to leave me alone?”
Her brow crinkled as she looked at him. “Yeah . . .”
“Why did they want to fight me?”
She laughed lightly and said, “They don’t like that you’re better than them. Maybe they saw it as an opportunity to gang up on you, or maybe they were just mad that you stood up for yourself. Either way, you handled it well, even with so many of them.”
He sighed and looked away. “I don’t think it went well at all. I tried not to hurt them.”
She laughed again and nudged his side. “What’s this about—” Her eyes then widened as she grinned. “They’re still talking about the garden incident, aren’t they.”
“I only pulled up a few plants,” he protested. “I didn’t know they weren’t weeds.”
She shook her head and grinned. “I know you didn’t. How could you have known they were the gardeners’ prized flowers?”
He frowned at the sarcasm in her voice but she just laughed again.
“It really isn’t that much of an issue Taryn. They can’t beat you with a weapon, so they try to tear you down with something else.”
“There are certainly plenty of things they can use.” He chuckled in chagrin.
“Maybe,” she said without taking her eyes off him. “But none of those things matter. Everyone is good at something. If you could, would you trade your skill with weapons for a talent in the kitchen?”
An image of others praising him for his well baked bread came to mind, causing him to snort at the idea. “Of course not, I—” Then it clicked. She was right, as usual, and he had to admit he’d never looked at it that way.
“Even if it meant you didn’t burn the bread every time?”
Amused at the similar train of thoughts, he replied, “Even then.”
She chuckled for a moment. “At least you have grown out of s
ome of your awkwardness.”
He laughed, taking her bait, “Only some?”
“Only some.” She smiled coyly. “You now have a few friends.”
“A few, but I know I can count on them,” he admitted, and then inclined his head towards her. “It must be nice to have so many.”
She tossed her hair and looked away, her humor evaporating. “Having friends doesn’t mean they are good friends.”
He didn’t know what to say. Liri, as her close friends called her, was pretty, elegant, poised, and strong willed, and she drew others to her with ease, but he’d never considered the idea that having a host of friends could be bad.
She started to laugh then, a bitter and sad sound. “At least when we leave the island, it won’t matter.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, leaning back against a post. Although he sometimes didn’t know what to say around others, Liri had a way of easing his discomfort.
She glanced at him before responding, and her gaze carried a disturbing depth he had never seen before. “When we get back to the mainland, things will be . . . different. We will be away from all the petty differences here, but there are other things that might not be any better. I . . . will be different.”
He blinked and leaned forward. She had never explained her reluctance to return home, and until now, had avoided the conversation of staying or going. “So did you decide if you are coming back or staying?” Even though he doubted she would ever favor someone like him, he couldn’t suppress a smile at the idea of sailing away with her.
She hesitated. “I decided . . . to go back when you did.” As she finished the statement, her crystal blue eyes met his—then flicked back to the sea. They both knew that Taryn was going back on the very ship that nudged the pier they sat on—as long as he passed his test today. He’d had a burning desire to find out more about his parents for as far back as he could remember, and he had only waited to finish training. It had never been a question of if he would go back, but when.
