"I don't think I can be as brave as Roxane from the stories. What if I'm too much of a coward to face a whole army like she did?" Helene took Aella's face in both of her hands, staring into her eyes with an intensity that almost scared her.
"My daughter? A coward?" She laughed again, but this time Aella could tell it was pretend. A timid smile broke through her tears.
"My brilliant, talented daughter is no coward," she said, eyes set on her own. After a pause, she said: "There is no shame in being cautious, Aella. And there is no shame in hiding your power from those who would do you harm for it. That doesn't make you a coward. All the bravest Thearan heroes knew that sometimes fighting would achieve nothing. They knew sometimes even they would lose and that it was more important to live to fight another day. They knew sometimes they must run instead of fight."
Aella nodded, her tears drying. She stared at her mother as they held each other. Although Aella already surpassed her on the battlefield, she realised suddenly that her biggest hero was Helene of Theara.
Zanela
The new blade gleamed in the sunlight. Zanela held it in one hand, feeling its perfect weight and balance. She slowly moved through the Zuunshai, finally performing the dance with an actual blade. The movements were different, and she had to re-learn them. Balanced on the balls of her feet, she twisted, swinging the sword through a slow horizontal arc in front of her. She brought it up, swung it down, then twisted again, crouched low and swung the blade up behind her.
It was a dangerous dance for beginners, and after weeks of sharpening and polishing, her new sword was razor sharp. Lightly touching the edge with a finger could cut deep. So she moved as slowly as she could, keeping her body and blade under total control. She practised for hours every day.
Dakesh returned from his shadow trials shortly after Zanela finished forging her Shenzuun. He failed. He was distraught and furious. Even worse than failing the shadow trials was the fact that he was sent to the city's border to act as Lakshele, a tree guard. Such were unfit for any other role, sent to watch the forest to learn patience and peace. Dakesh possessed neither. She visited him as much as she could, almost every day, and they talked while he stood his post.
He was bitter now. Not much Zanela said could cheer him up. They talked of her Shenzai, and the forging of the Shenzuun afterwards. He let out a reluctant chuckle when she told him how long she held on in the second test.
"You remained silent until you passed out?" he sounded proud, and Zanela nodded, beaming.
"And you stared father right in the face as they beat you?" Another nod, and he finally laughed with real humour.
"I bet he loved that!"
Zanela shrugged. "As much as he loves anything else."
He looked as though he was about to respond, then closed his mouth and gave a short nod.
"I haven't spoken to them yet, you know," he finally said. "Mother and father. I'm sure they know by now I was refused, but I haven't the heart to tell them myself. I suppose that makes me a coward."
Zanela was shocked. Dakesh, coward? He fought the Ermoori when he was barely eighteen. He survived for two years on the battlefront in one of the most brutal battles in Shenza history. Zanela remembered hearing news of carnage and death every day. Every time a scout ran into the city from the battle, her heart pounded and ached. For two years she was constantly terrified for her brother, and it wasn't until she saw him again two years after the invasion that she finally believed he was going to survive.
She remembered the sheer terror she'd felt, never knowing when Dakesh might have been struck down by the enemy. That much fear, and she was never even close to the battle itself; and yet Dakesh never hesitated when he was called on to fight for Shanaken.
"A coward? How could you even say that?"
He shook his head, his eyes distant.
"There are different kinds of bravery, sister. I can run into battle, even when I'm terrified. But some things I cannot face. Sometimes I think I deserve to keep this post forever."
The city's border was the quietest place in all of Shanaken, except for a fishing boat out on a calm ocean. The sounds of the forest were present, of course, but other than that there was only silence and the rippling green of the treetops. Zanela enjoyed being there with her brother, despite his grouchiness. They sparred, played games, and talked about everything. Dakesh recounted his time on the battlefront to her, telling tales of Ermoori weaponry which she found hard to believe.
No one visited the outposts of the Lakshele but to bring news and supplies once a day. It was a lonely existence, and Zanela pitied Dakesh. He was posted there, alone but for her - and the once-a-day supplies drop off - for three years. He became steadily more distant and angry as the time wore on. She did her best to keep his spirits up, but her visits felt like a chore after a while, and she saw him less and less.
She wanted to see him every day, but she missed the man he was before the shadow trials; the man he'd become was a quiet, faded echo of Dakesh who made her feel empty and scared. And so it was that on the day Ermoor invaded once again, Zanela was sitting in the kitchens laughing with Nashan instead of with her brother, and he was called away to war.
Deep, booming horns rang out through the canopy, instantly alerting the Shenza to invasion. Zanela and Nashan stopped laughing. They glanced at each other. Ermoor last invaded Shanaken eight years ago, when Zanela was only ten. She was far too young for battle then, but the stories she heard about the Ermoori were terrifying; impenetrable boats with gigantic cannons lining the shore and spewing thousands of heavily armoured soldiers onto the soft white sand.
Their armour was strong but allowed them to move as fast as the Shenza, and their weapons could be held in one hand but had the power to tear people into pieces in an instant. They wore helmets which covered their faces, and spoke in an ugly, alien language. They were ruthless, using explosives and cannons to massacre thousands instead of facing their enemy head on. Explosions ripped through their own soldiers, yet still they fired on the beach, killing indiscriminately.
Another deep horn blast filled the kitchens, and Zanela jumped out of her seat, running for the outpost where Dakesh was stationed. She had to at least say goodbye.
"Zanela, wait!" Nashan cried as she ran. She ignored him.
She ran as fast as she could, but by the time she reached Dakesh's outpost, he was gone. Another Shenza man stood in his place.
"Where is he?"
The Lakshele shrugged and waved vaguely towards the northern shore. Towards the Ermoori. Without saying anything further, she ran north. She had to see him one more time. He needed to know she loved him. He needed to know he was more than just some useless Lakshele to her; he was her hero.
She ran, jumping between trees and searching the forest ahead of her desperately. She saw no one, and eventually slowed down. Finally, she stopped altogether; she stood at the northern outpost of the city. Even her desperation to see Dakesh one more time couldn't drive her any closer to the northern shore. Heart hammering, she sat heavily on a thick branch, staring aimlessly into the forest. Dakesh was gone. All she could do now was hope he survived a second battle against the armour and technology of the Ermoori.
Zanela flew through the Zuunshai, never hesitating, never slowing. It was half a year since the second invasion, and reports were coming in every day of new levels of destruction and death. Just like last time, she though as she swept her blade through the air. She kept expecting to hear that the Shenza were defeated, that the Ermoori breached the forest and were on their way.
She trained hard every day now; it was all she had left. Her parents were just as cold and unimpressed as always. Nashan was sent to the battlefront a few months after Dakesh, as part of the second wave defence. Her friends were caught up in the excitement of war, telling each other the rumours they'd heard about the Ermoori and the Shenza heroes defending their great country. Most of them didn't have older siblings fighting the invaders and were too young to remember the
fear they felt as their parents left the city to fight. Zanela remembered all too well.
It made her sick. They talked and giggled as though the war was just some story, as though none of them were in any danger. She breathed with her movements, reciting the three tenets and letting her anger go. She was growing, into a better person and a better warrior. She felt it, and she let that knowledge fill her with certainty and peace as she finished the Zuunshai.
Since she withdrew from her friends after growing tired of the way they talked about the war, her days were free to roam the forest. She couldn't help dwelling on Dakesh. The fear he wouldn't survive a second invasion was inescapable. Training provided a great distraction. She spent most of her day pushing herself as hard as her body would allow, drowning her fears in sweat and blood. In an effort to honour Nashan and distract herself further, she also took to spending hours in the kitchens learning to cook. The new cook, Zailek, was polite but quiet. She only spoke when Zanela pushed her, or to teach her something new about cooking.
She spent one day a month climbing the Zailak, the testing tree. The traps were different every single time, and it pushed her beyond her limits. More often than not, she ended up crashing to the ground, covered in cuts and bruises. But she felt herself slowly improving. Fear drove her to train as hard as she could; not just fear for her brother, but fear for herself if the defence of the northern shore failed and the Ermoori breached the forest. She woke in the darkness most nights, terrified and breathing hard. The image of faceless, metal-clad soldiers swarming over the city wouldn't leave her mind, even in sleep.
So she trained, knowing full well she was part of the last line of defence against the enemy. And then the news came. Not that Ermoor succeeded in breaching the forest or even that the Shenza were victorious; no, the war was still raging. The news that Dakesh had stolen a Kaizuun and fled the battle.
Screams and shouts flooded the forest as the courier delivered his news. Almost every person in the city demanded his blood. Her own parents were quick to disown and condemn him. When their hateful eyes turned in her direction, she ran.
Dakesh
It was a beautiful day. Sunlight poured onto the white sand of the beach, a slight breeze taking the worst of the heat. The forest beyond the shore was layered with deep, vibrant greens, the trees swaying slightly. The ocean was calm. Dakesh looked at the sand, beautiful and pure but for his friend's blood pumping onto the soft earth. Explosions assaulted his ears, and all around him the chaos of battle raged while he looked into Kailen's hollow eyes. Numb, Dakesh spotted Kailen's Shadow Blade, newly forged and all but unused. It was close to Kailen's body, and would soon be swallowed up by the pool of blood spreading around him.
What a waste, Dakesh thought, staring at the black-bladed sword. He came so close to earning the right to forge his own, and he had never longed for anything so much in his life.
You deserve it.
The whisper was weak, but still cut through the sounds of the battlefield. It came from someone else, somewhere else. But it was right. I do. I should have forged my own, he thought.
Dakesh remembered his Shadow Trials a few years past. A series of brutal tests, all designed to push his people, the Shenza, beyond their limits. Only the absolute best made it through to become Kaizeluun, Shadow Magicians. He trained for years to reach his peak. He and Kailen, childhood friends since before either could remember, trained together every day when they were children. Dakesh won every sparring match. He learned techniques from their masters before other students. Dakesh was faster, stronger, better. Their other childhood friend, Elana, agreed. Elana was older than Dakesh and Kailen, and surpassed them both in skill, but trained with them anyway. Dakesh remembered the surge of pride and excitement he felt when Elana pointed out his obvious superiority in battle. Kailen's eyes had dropped slightly. At age fifteen, Dakesh passed the Shenzai, the warrior's tests. He savoured a congratulatory hug from Elana. Kailen passed too, but only barely. Dakesh felt a vicious stab of victory over Kailen that day. Such petty satisfaction was below a Daishen, the elite warriors of the Shenza, but he couldn't help being proud.
Two years later, Elana passed her Shadow Trials, and became a Shadow Magician; Kaizeluun. She showed them her newly forged Shadow Blade in the training yard, and they gawked like children. She leapt straight over their heads, and sent three magic throwing blades spinning from her hands where there were none only a second before. All three blades hit three different practice targets right in the centre, before disappearing in a puff of black smoke. She told them it would not be long before they were Kaizeluun too, and all three of them could train together with magic. She said if the Ermoori ever showed up again, they wouldn't stand a chance.
One year after, the Ermoori invaded the north shore of Shanaken. Dakesh, Elana, and Kailen were sent to fight together. The battle was long and brutal, raging for almost two years before the Ermoori were repelled. Dakesh caught glimpses of Elana fighting through the enemy ranks during the battle. She looked like a demon wreathed in shadow, slicing through armour and weaponry like it was nothing to her. Kailen struggled to keep up, almost getting cut down several times, but Elana always seemed to know when he needed her. Dakesh held his own, killing almost as many Ermoori as Elana. The three of them were bonded by battle from then on, closer than ever before.
On their way back to the Moving City, Elana complemented Dakesh on his fighting. He glanced at Kailen, who looked proud despite getting no attention from Elana. Dakesh felt powerful then, he remembered. He’d fought almost as well as Elana herself, without magic and with years less experience. He knew he would get his Kaizuun when his time came for the Shadow Trials, and he'd even imagined Kailen being rejected. He felt a pang of regret at imagining such things, but at the time he was too caught up in his own advancement to care. As soon as he returned from battle, Dakesh trained again. At the age of twenty three, he undertook his Shadow Trials.
He was refused. He argued with the elders, the Duulshen, for hours. They wouldn’t permit him to go through the trials again, and grew sick of his arguing. They called him petulant and ungrateful, and sent him to act as Lakshele, a treeguard; nothing but a watcher at the city's border. Something a child could do. He was stuck at his post on the city’s edge for three years, miserable and alone but for his sister’s visits.
Until the alarms sounded, signalling that the Ermoori invaders had landed on the northern shore again. The Duulshen were eager to send him off, and though being sent to battle was an honour for the Shenza, he couldn't help but think they secretly hoped he would be slain. He left anyway, determined to prove he deserved a second chance in the Shadow Trials. A replacement Lakshele appeared within seconds of the alarm sounding, along with one of the Duulshen, who ordered him to the battlefront.
He not only survived, but killed many Ermoori, surprising even himself with his ferocity. And then Kailen appeared with his tattoos, black sleeveless tunic and Kaizuun, grinning and boasting. For half a year he fought beside Dakesh, his overconfident attitude getting worse and worse. Finally, when Dakesh began to hate his best friend, he finally leapt into battle without even paying attention.
Kailen was ripped almost in half by one of the magic, exploding stones the Ermoori launched at their enemies through brutally powerful cannons. Now he lay on the sand, a wrecked corpse staining the beach with his blood. He was deemed worthy of that blade by the Duulshen, and look at him now. If only they could see him. If only they could see me, and all I've accomplished since they sent me here.
Dakesh watched as Kailen's blood seeped closer and closer to the brand new blade. A wild anxiety seized him, and he suddenly couldn’t stand the thought of the blade being tainted by the blood of its wielder.
He could not handle its power, that whispered voice raged. But you can. Take it for yourself!
Dakesh blinked hard. As quiet as the voice was, it had a hypnotic power to it. He shook his head, trying to think his own thoughts; but it was no good. It made too much sen
se for him to take the sword. After all, he proved himself in battle where Kailen failed. He worked tirelessly to be the best warrior he could be, and received nothing in return.
This is your reward.
Dakesh's eyes grew wide as he heard the voice again.
This blade will make you even stronger. Faster. It will give you powers unknown to normal warriors. You will be the best fighter in all of Pandeia.
He felt an almost physical pull from the jet black blade in front of him. He thought he heard it humming, but he wasn't positive. Suddenly everything around him fell away, the sounds of the still raging battle nothing but a distant echo; there was just the shining black sword in the sand. And the blood creeping toward it. Dakesh pictured himself wielding the sword, and all he could achieve with it. He couldn't remember why he shouldn’t have it, though it vaguely occurred to him that something about it was wrong.
Why would it be wrong? This blade was made for you. It's owner forged it and brought it here, to lay at your feet.
Dakesh exhaled and briefly closed his eyes. He knew the voice was right. And the blade was humming after all. It was calling to him. He knelt in the sand. The power of the Kaizuun was visceral this close. Dakesh felt the skin on his arm prickling as he reached for it. As soon as he touched the sword, a cold wave of exhilaration swept through his body from the hand holding it right through to his feet. The battle around him suddenly came into sharp focus, his senses almost overwhelmed. He saw the Ermoori battleships resting at the shoreline, cannons firing into the battle. He heard the shouts of warriors both near and far, the song of Shenza blades slicing through Ermoori soldiers. He could smell the stinging aroma of the Ermoori cannons as they exploded and the salty sweet smell of the ocean. He watched one of his fellow Shenza warriors as she danced through her opponent's reach. He knew exactly where her blade was heading just before it slid through an Ermoori warrior's neck. He saw her muscles tense slightly as she leapt over him to meet another enemy. Dakesh felt the rush of magic launch from her and saw her tattoos burn with energy as she swung her arm in a vertical arc towards an Ermoori 10 metres to her left. He knew before it happened that the enemy would be struck in the face, chest and groin by three jet black throwing blades.
Gods and Heroes- Rise of Fire Page 6