by J. T. Wright
It was some sort of training; it had to be. These young people could not have been Awakened; they hadn’t yet received access to their Statuses. Trent admired them for trying to pick up Skills like Tracking, Stealth, or Dash, years before they would be able to use them. He was also a little jealous. Very little of his own training had involved giggling.
It probably wouldn’t be fair if he asked to join them. After all, he had a Status and all the Skills these unAwakened children were trying to learn. He also had a mask which gave him the Dark Vision Ability. Maybe if he held back, they wouldn’t mind his butting in on their drills.
Trent did not stop, though. He stretched out his legs and passed the playing children as quickly as he could. He would not improve his Skills here, and he had to be alone to complete his Quest. His brief exposure to people enjoying each other’s company did achieve one thing. It emphasized how boring it was to walk through tamed lands alone.
Normally, he had Cullen and Tersa’s bickering to listen to. Cullen would also insist that Trent and Tersa work on improving their Skills, and he would arrange breaks for them to do just that. Those breaks left them more tired than running did. That was proof that they needed to work harder; they couldn’t even rest right.
Improving his Skills would help liven up the journey, only Trent wasn’t sure what to practice. Anyone seeing his Status would be amazed at the number of Skills and Abilities the Level 9 Awakened had. The problem was most of those Skills required a partner, or opponent, to train with.
Stealth and Camouflage only leveled if they were preventing another from noticing him. Dodge saw an increase when Trent was avoiding things. Weapons Skills could be practiced alone. Going through the movement those techniques taught would bring a certain amount of improvement, but Trent would not make much forward progress while swinging his sword and hefting his shield.
There was always Dash. It had reached Level 9, and Trent was curious what would happen when Level 10 was achieved. Sergeant Cullen had implied Trent might learn a new Skill when Dash reached its maximum level. Maybe in the coming days, he would feel like running, but for now, Trent set Dash aside.
That left Steady Footing, a Skill that made it easier to cross rough terrain. Unfortunately, the Duke’s highway could hardly be described as rough. Tended farmland bordered the road, and Trent knew that these fields would meet Steady Footings requirements, but he also had the feeling that the Farmers who worked those fields wouldn’t appreciate him trampling their crops. He would find himself training Dash in order to outrun Militia members if he trespassed.
The sound of squealing laughter drifted to Trent’s ears from a distance. Those children were still hard at work, it seemed. While Trent was certain he had never made such a sound in his life, it gave him an idea. There was one Skill that had made him laugh. And it could be used to travel, he had already proven that, though Cullen hadn’t been impressed by Trent’s discovery.
Acrobatics had a passive effect, which improved his Agility. It was passive, but to level the Skill up, it had to be actively practiced. Trent’s Acrobatics was at Level 2. To reach Level 3, Trent had to perform rolls, somersaults, and cartwheels. Cullen had disapproved of Trent doing so while he was supposed to be scouting, but Cullen wasn’t here.
That thought settled it. Trent could do what he liked! Raising his arms above his head, Trent stepped forward in a lunge. Leaning to place a hand against the ground, Trent kicked his feet up.
His cowl and mask remained in place. Those soul-bound items were never affected by his movement or the weather. It was his sword and armor that betrayed him. Shifting and flopping, they pulled him off balance, and Trent found himself lying on his back looking up at the stars.
Hopping to his feet, Trent was glad to be alone. Maybe Acrobatics wasn’t the right Skill to work on, or maybe Trent could make an adjustment to his wardrobe. Guilty fingers went to the buckle of his sword belt. Removing it, Trent placed the weapon in Storage.
He looked around, waiting for the inevitable lecture on how stupid it was to go around unarmed. There was nothing. Cullen didn’t leap out of the bushes to yell at him. Trent had half-expected that to happen. His armor was taken off and put away.
Standing in only his regular clothing, Trent felt vulnerable. How long had it been since he had last been unarmored? With the Self-Clean Charm, there was no need to strip in order to bathe, and Trent had gotten used to sleeping with his mail on in the Land of the Undying Lord.
Trent spread his arms wide and went up on his toes as he stretched. His body was light, unencumbered, free! Trent reattempted a cartwheel and this time, though he wobbled unsteadily, his feet successfully found the ground. His lips broke into a wide smile. It wasn’t the quickest way to travel, but he would get better.
**********
Trent continued his journey through the night and until the evening of the following day. He had traded his various herbs to Agatha for dried rations, which he ate when he was hungry, and he had an enchanted waterskin to drink from when he was thirsty. He walked, jogged, ran, and practiced Acrobatics until he was tired out, then he curled up next to the road to sleep.
His eyes were open long before the sun rose the next day. Although Cullen wasn’t present, the habits the man had hammered into the boy remained. Rising, Trent began the exercises he had been taught and practiced with his sword for an hour. Military Fencing didn’t level now, but Trent thought it would soon. The movements felt more natural to him every time he went through them.
A small creek ran alongside the road here, and Trent took the opportunity to wash his face in the cool water. Self-Clean was a marvelous Spell, but washing with water was more refreshing. In the early morning light, Trent caught a glimpse of his reflection.
His hair was getting long. A striking black with hints of blue, Trent had never paid much attention to his hair. His fingers reached for his belt knife with the intention of hacking the unruly mess into some semblance of order.
The sight of his own violet eyes studying him stopped him. His eyes were like Orion’s, white at the edges but without any sign of a pupil at the center. They were Al’rashian eyes. Trent was Al’rashian. He wasn’t sure what that meant.
He had only met three other people with sharp, angular features and eyes like his. Orion, Darak, and Ranar were the only Al’rashians he had encountered. He was aware, from things Orion had said, that the people Trent supposed he belonged to now had a long history.
Thinking of the three men, several things occurred to Trent. Orion’s eyes were the only ones that were really like Trent’s. Darak and Ranar had had no white to their eyes at all. Golden and silver orbs better described the eyes of those men.
Trent had received items from both the king and the traveling merchant. Ranar had pressed a book on Al’rashian history and a compendium of Skills on Trent, though the boy had wanted to buy the Spell Fireball. Among other things, as Trent’s reward for clearing a Trial, Darak had provided him with a Skill Stone containing the unarmed technique, Three Steps. The king had said all Al’rashians learned it.
Trent dismissed the idea of reading the books, which were hidden in a golden chest in his Storage. Although reading might bring increases to his Intelligence and Wisdom Attributes, gains he admitted he needed, Trent preferred to be moving.
Standing back from the creek, Trent’s feet fell into the narrow stance of Three Steps. He bent his knees and lowered his shoulders. A step forward, one back, and then to the left. Repeat, but this time, Trent moved to the right.
His arms came up. When he moved forward, his hands crept up to block a high strike. Back, they swept down to knock aside a low blow. To the side, he pushed at an invisible shoulder or arm to change his opponent’s balance.
Trent worked through the movements that were the basis for all Al’rashian combat for another hour. He moved deliberately, without haste, but by the time he was finished, sweat poured down his face from the effort he exerted.
Three Steps was different than any
other technique Trent had learned. There was depth in the simple movements that Trent could not plunge into. He had the knowledge but understanding escaped him. Maybe with time…
Trent’s cowl was in place, and he set aside thoughts of his Al’rashian heritage as he jogged down the road to the south. He passed by others, but they were all heading north. Wagons, Farmers, and groups of Adventurers all going to Al’drossford.
He waved and called greetings to them, and his lips twisted when faces looked shocked to notice him. That had been happening a lot lately, ever since the Garden of Clarity where he had lost his Bond. Sometimes Trent wondered if he was fading away.
There were people that noticed him first. Militia members patrolling the field would see the figure running along the road, turning flips and cartwheels, and stare at him bewildered. They restricted themselves to glances, though. It wasn’t every day you saw someone acting so strangely, but the road south led to Bellrise, and the mounted men dismissed Trent as an Adventurer heading to the Trial or Academy there. After all, Adventurers were an odd lot, prone to incomprehensible behavior.
On the fourth day, a series of flips carried Trent from one side of the road to the other, and he almost ended up in the ditch. Arms windmilling, Trent caught his balance in time, but it was close. Acrobatics had leveled up again and provided him with another point in Agility, but he had a long way to go before he would be in complete control of his body.
Trent was pleased with his progress. Acrobatics was fun and provided Attribute increases consistently. It was a Skill everyone should learn! Ranar had told him Sewing would be as reliable for increasing Dexterity, but Trent was hardly going to tear his clothing just to test that claim.
Taking a chunk of dried meat out, Trent gnawed on it as he continued down the road. He was getting tired of his monotonous diet. He had been tempted to venture into the villages he had spotted dotting the landscape to see if the people there had better available, but thoughts of his Quest stopped him. He had to reach the wild areas. Meat and wild vegetables were there for the taking if you had sharp eyes and a blade.
A cloud of dust in the distance drew Trent’s attention and brought him to a standstill. Travelers were a common enough sight here, but wagons and small groups didn’t generate nearly that much billowing dirt.
Far Sight enchanted Trent’s vision, and what he saw caused him to retrieve the sword belt he had left off for days. The approaching riders traveled in three columns, and those disciplined lines contained more people than Trent usually encountered all day.
They were soldiers but not members of the Guard. Dressed in white and gold, instead of the black and silver of the Al'dross, this group of armed and armored men sat straight on their mounts and looked dismissively about. They were alert but obviously did not consider the local population a threat.
Trent moved to the center of the road and planted himself there with his hand on his hilt. He didn’t know who these riders were, but he did know they didn’t belong here! He was intent on discovering what had brought them.
Chapter Two
Fortunately, the riders were still a long way off, and Trent had time to realize how stupid he was being before they arrived. What was he thinking? He wasn’t a member of the Guard. Al’drossford and its territory didn’t belong to him! He had no responsibility or authority to make demands of anyone.
Even if he had been a Guardsman, there were at least a hundred mounted men coming his way! It would be the height of foolishness for Trent to confront them! He hadn’t even put on his armor, just buckled on his sword, as if that was all he needed to stand against the world.
Blushing, Trent scurried to the side of the road and hoped the soldiers hadn’t seen his provocative actions. When the riders arrived, Trent lifted his chin, but kept his hands behind his back, far away from his weapon. He studied them and was studied in return, but no words were exchanged.
It wasn’t until the formation of soldiers was halfway past that any conversation could be heard over the clumping of horses and rattling of steel. It was at the halfway point that Trent realized the riders were divided into three different sections.
At the front and rear, disciplined soldiers with white and gold armor rode in careful lines. The forty or so people at the center of this protective detail lacked the soldier’s precision. Dressed in colorful silks and cloaks, the middle group laughed and slumped in their saddles.
They traded jests and wineskins and seemed to have no concerns in the world. Two women rode at the head of this group, and they were the only ones present who maintained any sense of decorum.
One was a woman who looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties. With black hair and green eyes, dressed in comfortable and practical traveling clothes, the woman paid no attention to the chaos behind her. She rode easily and only talked with the girl beside her.
That girl, with her silver hair and black clothing, brought the colors of the Al'dross to mind. She was younger, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, and not as practiced at ignoring fools as the older woman. She cast irritated glances over her shoulder in between her replies.
When the pair drew closer, Trent was startled to see that the girl’s eyes, while very Human, were the same shade of silver as her hair, the same shade that Orion and Ranar’s eyes held. Trent hadn’t been aware Humans came with that eye color.
About the same time Trent was noticing her, Eliora Al'verren caught sight of him. She was taken aback at first. She had almost passed by this Swordsman without seeing him. That should not have been possible given the challenging set of the man’s shoulders. When Eliora did spot Trent, she found him fascinating.
Not Trent himself, rather, she found his cowl and mask fascinating. Her eyes lit up at seeing the equipment. Her own hooded cloak was fine, but this Adventurer’s mask would perfectly complement the image Eliora intended to create for herself. The cowl was ideal for an Assassin! Was it an enchantment in the equipment that made the eye want to slide past the Swordsman?
She directed her horse off the road and swung down from her saddle to stand before Trent. Trent took a step back as he heard a man call for the column of soldiers to halt. What was happening? No one had taken the initiative to greet him in days, and now a hundred soldiers he did not want to speak with were looking his way.
“Hello.” The girl didn’t seem to care what Trent wanted. “I am Eliora Al’verren. Have you come from Al’drossford?”
“Trent Embra,” Trent replied, absently nodding his head. Not meeting Eliora’s gaze, his eyes went to the large, uniformed man, with hair more grey than blonde, who had dismounted to stand next to her. When the black-haired noblewoman joined them, Trent wondered if it was possible to outrun a horse using Dash. He wasn’t using Identify, but he still felt pressured by the woman and older soldier.
“Embra?” The woman raised an elegant eyebrow. “Is there a Riding in the area?”
It took great effort for Vanessa Al’dross to keep her shoulders from tensing. Solitary Al’rashians, adventuring with companions from other races, drifted through the kingdom occasionally. But no member of a greater clan, no Embras or Wygons, had ever set foot here. Her forefathers had seen to that.
A Riding from Clan Embra could change everything! Lewis would be ecstatic! The charter the Dross had signed forced her husband and his family to obey policies and laws set by the king. It had not occurred to the Dross signers that the Verrens would pass laws preventing them from contacting the other clans. No more than they had thought the Verrens would maintain their power by repressing knowledge that was common to the rest of the world. These actions were insane and invited disaster!
Vanessa had long opposed her family’s policies. She had run away from the capital as a girl, and she had planned to live the rest of her life as an Adventurer, but fate had brought her Lewis Al’dross. She had returned to Al’drossford with him and was bound by those laws once again. She was prevented from telling even her own children how foolish they were being, how much they
were missing out on by remaining at home.
But if a clan arrived of their own volition… only the presence of her nephew Seth, and the gaggle of Nobles behind him, stopped Vanessa from grabbing hold of Trent. She wanted to shake answers from him and drag him back to Al’drossford before kingdom spies learned he existed.
Trent didn’t know how to answer Vanessa’s question. What did she mean by “a Riding?” Helpless, Trent’s shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug. He was tempted to activate Fairy Cloak and see if that would cause the group to forget about him, but Agatha's warning rang in his ears. The old shopkeeper had seemed serious when she told Trent to leave the Ability alone.
“Are all peasants in this place so ill-mannered, Aunt?” Seth rode over but did not dismount. He stared down his nose at Trent from his saddle. “This one doesn’t even bow when he should kneel.”
“We’re coming from Bellrise, Trent.” Eliora moved to stand between her brother and the Swordsman. “How is the road to Al’drossford?”
These people were determined to ask him senseless questions. The girl was standing on the road; couldn’t she tell what it was like? Trent cleared his throat. “The road…is right there. It looks just the way it does here, all the way to Al’drossford.”
Eliora laughed politely at what she thought was an attempt at humor. “Roads can be like that. I wonder, Trent, your mask, is it for sale?”
“No.” Glad to hear a query he knew the answer too, Trent replied succinctly.
“Are you sure? I can offer a good price,” Eliora tried again.
“It’s not for sale. I can’t sell it, it’s soul-bound.” Trent wished he could take the words back the second they left his mouth. Eliora’s lips parted in surprise, and even the stern-looking soldier blinked. It was Seth’s reaction which caused Trent the most regret.
