by CK Dawn
Elaina loved to observe the hubbub of the city, tens of thousands of people milling about, merchants selling their wares on every corner. For one who lived her life in relative isolation, the confluence of people and cultures was thrilling.
Floating over the city, Elaina watched as a man ducked into one of the city’s many alleys and hastened down the quiet passage.
Suddenly a door on his right opened and a brawny bear of a man emerged. Without warning he stepped into the traveler’s way and with both hands roughly shoved the man into the opposing wall. The startled man gave a cry as he bounced off the stones and collapsed to the ground. Two more thugs emerged from the building and took up positions beside the helpless man.
Elaina descended to get a closer look.
“What was that for?” the man asked as he tried to get to his feet.
The burly bully delivered a brutal kick to the man’s midsection, sending him sprawling back to the ground. “Don't get up,” the thug responded, looming over the poor man.
Elaina chafed at the senseless violence. The poor man didn't stand a chance against the three men now surrounding him. Every fiber of her being wanted to intercede on his behalf but to do so would require her to stop the three men now victimizing the poor fellow. With each passing moment Elaina wondered if she had the restraint necessary to do so without ending their existence.
“Khazim sent us to collect the money he's owed. So show us the silver or we'll take it from your corpse when we're through with you.”
“I haven't got it,” the man stammered. “I'm a merchant I used the funds to purchase goods for the Tournament. When they are sold Khazim will get his money as promised. Until the goods sell, though, I cannot pay.”
“Cannot pay huh? That is most unfortunate.” The bully grew more overtly threatening with each passing moment.
“Khazim knows I'm good for it,” the man pleaded. “I've always paid him back before—he has no reason to think I will do any differently now. Just let me sell my wares and I'll soon have the funds. The Midsommer's Tournament is my most profitable venture of the year—just give me time.”
“Unfortunately, Khazim is fresh out of time and so are you,” the thug responded, drawing his billy club from his belt.
To hell with the consequences! Elaina dove towards the men.
Her descent, however, did not match the descent of the thug's billy club as it struck the helpless merchant on the side of his head. There was a sickening crack as the man's neck snapped. His body went limp and crumpled to the cold cobblestones.
Elaina stopped where she was. The poor man was dead. She watched with anger as the three thugs proceeded to loot the merchant’s corpse, pocketing a small pouch of coins. “Khazim will be disappointed but it's better than nothing,” the thug said to his minions. Gesturing to the body he continued: “Get rid of that, would you?”
“Sure thing, boss,” one thug replied, and they picked up the man's body and dragged it back into the building they had emerged from. Elaina was furious as she watched the murderer disappear back into the building and shut the door behind him.
I shouldn't have hesitated, Elaina thought. Would the Astarii lose a moment's sleep over a few thugs? Somehow she doubted the Five had time for such things—they were the most ancient and powerful Astarii, the governing body of their kind. The guardians carried out their duties under the direction of the Five. The Five have never intervened in my affairs before, Elaina thought as she struggled with the senseless violence she had just seen. Such waste of life sickened her. She thought of the family the man had likely left behind—a wife and children that would never see their father again.
Elaina resolved not to allow such senseless violence to be perpetrated in her presence again. Faced with the same choice again, she would rather spare the merchant and argue her case before the Five. Whether they would support her decision was another matter, but in that moment Elaina would rather deal with an uncertain fate than an uneasy conscience. It was just not in her nature to stand idly by. Rules or not, she was tired of seeing good people suffer while she had the power to do something about it.
As Elaina drifted away from the sobering scene, she wondered again about the price her duties demanded. To be an Astarii was to be apart, aloof from the world and everyone in it. When she was a child the role of Guardian was held out as an ideal to aspire to. The office was glorified in the extreme—to be a Guardian was to be the chosen servant of the Allfather with stewardship over an entire world. It was a sign of unparalleled confidence in one’s abilities and one of the highest offices an Astarii might aspire to.
Beyond the role of Guardian, an Astarii might one day rise to the Council of the Five, governing the Guardians and attending to the temporal needs of Creation. Given the longevity of the Astarii race, the Five could serve for hundreds, if not thousands of years, usually until they fell in battle. But that was an unlikely event, as the Five were masters of their respective Elementals—Air, Earth, Fire, Water, and the essence of Arcana. Few were the foes capable of endangering the Five, so vacancies on the Council were few and far between.
Now Elaina found herself in an immensely unsatisfying position. Guardian of a fringe world, unable to use her abilities to the degree she wished, and unable to progress to a higher office, Elaina was frustrated. She couldn't bear to watch the people of this world suffer when she had the means available to spare them. Such interference was not the way of the Astarii.
Aloof and alone,. Elaina thought with increasing dissatisfaction. She realized that in spite of gaining the title of Guardian, the highest office she might reach, she had everything she had ever sought and yet nothing she needed.
Her needs, Elaina realized, were changing day by day.
It was companionship she sought, the thrill of interaction with others. Seeking to drown out the emotions, Elaina sailed over the city and out into the fields before King's Court. The usually-green fields had been transformed. The Tournament Square had been erected, an elaborate arena surrounded by grandstands where the populace could gather and watch the spectacle—the nation’s greatest warriors contending for the title of Tournament Champion.
Initially hundreds of warriors entered the field, and over days of intense competition the field was narrowed. The unknown contenders fought in the less-prestigious arenas surrounding the Tournament square, with the grandest bouts in the central arena.
The duels were fought to first blood. Accidents occurred sometimes, but most of the duels ended without incident. Intentionally causing grievous harm to one’s opponent was frowned upon by the civilized society of Valaar. But civilized or not, there was nothing the citizenry enjoyed as much as watching the cut-and-thrust action of the Tournament.
Settling on her course, Elaina descended to the grass field behind the grandstands. Elaina assured herself she was unobserved before retaking her human form. After a moment of smoothing her dress and adjusting her hair Elaina was satisfied that no more would be achieved without a mirror, so she rounded the corner of the grandstands and joined the crowd thronging the central arena.
Over a week of action-packed duels had steadily narrowed the field to two. Two combatants remained out of hundreds of eager participants. Now the citizenry jostled each other as they strove to gain entry into to the Grand Arena for the final bout. Even this grand structure would not house the entirety of the assembled masses—some would miss out. Others had slept outside the arena to ensure they would not miss the Tournament's grand finale.
Elaina ignored the angry stares of those waiting behind as she joined the line of people streaming into the arena. As she made her way up the wooden steps she could feel the energy of the arena thrumming around her—not the arcane currents she was accustomed to, but the energy and excitement given off by so many people in a single place. Elaina had never felt anything like it in her life.
With a smile as broad as her cheeks would allow, Elaina stepped onto the landing and gained her first glimpse of the immensity of the ar
ena and the aspiring duelists waiting below. As her eyes settled on them Elaina's jaw dropped in surprise.
Three
Standing in the arena before her was the same young man she had seen in the woods outside Greensbrook.
A shove from behind told her she was holding up the throng of people still seeking to gain admission. Elaina realized she had two options—she could proceed down into the standing pit surrounding the central arena, or climb the grandstands to observe the duel from the seats above.
Eager to get a closer look, Elaina opted to stand. Slowly she followed the crowd and made her way down into the throng surrounding the central stage. The arena was abuzz with excitement as the two finalists warmed up. Each of the contenders was slowly stretching and preparing for the duel to come. Elaina watched the man from Greensbrook with interest.
He was just as she remembered, his expression serious as he made a few practice swings with his broadsword. In spite of his obvious nervousness, Elaina couldn't help but think he cut a striking figure in his leather armor. The armor bore the same silver star she had seen earlier.
Elaina turned her attention to his opponent. The clean-shaven youth had finished his warm up and now stood with his sword sheathed, waiting for the match to begin. He didn't appear nervous at all—quite to the contrary, he appeared accustomed to the attention. Perhaps he has participated before. It was certainly explain his calm and collected demeanor.
Whispers broke out through the arena. Those about her turned and were pointing into the grandstands. Elaina followed their gaze until she noticed one gallery that was far more richly furnished than the others about it. Those entering it were similarly attired. The Great Families—the most powerful figures in Valaar and the heads of the dynasties. Of the seven Great Families only six remained—Eleazar the heir-less, last of the Great Kings of Valaar, had perished, and his house had died with him. His had been a proud and noble lineage that stretched back to the reign of Kai Valaar, first King of Valaar.
Now only six houses remained—in concert these august figures ruled over Valaar and strove to keep the peace in the absence of a King. A well-dressed man led his wife into the grandstand, and Elaina recognized him as Alford of the Tanamere. The Tanamere were a seafaring people, and Alford himself was an honest and dutiful man well loved by his people. His courage and luck at sea were legendary, but in truth Elaina had tempered the Elements many times on his behalf. Valaar could use good men, and Lord Alford had a firm heart and a steady hand.
Next came an immense mountain of a man clad in furs and leather, accompanied by an equally fierce and intimidating woman. Elaina knew these to be the ruling lord and lady of the Sisaron, nomads who wandered the northern expanses of Valaar. Smaller in number than the other houses, they were a martial people with a fierce heritage. It was not uncommon for the Sisaron to triumph at the Tournament.
The third party to enter the pavilion were clad in black and silver. A long timber wolf pelt identified him easily as Gerwold, Baron of the East and ruler of the Wolf, one of the strongest houses in Valaar.
After Gerwold came a rotund and jovial fellow, accompanied by his wife. The Baron of Fordham needed no introduction—he was well known in Valaar as a man of fearsome. . . appetites. Fordham's appearance reflected his great love of feasting and he was well known for his elaborate and enduring banquets.
Following Fordham were the Lord and lady of the Mizumura, as different from Fordham as night was from day—the rulers of the Mizumura were tall and fit. As a people they had a richly tanned complexion and black hair that lent an exotic appearance in comparison to other Valaarans. Most people believed the Mizumura to be descended from the spice islanders. From their appearance it was an easy assertion to believe.
The last to enter the arena was a regal woman. Well dressed but not overly so, the woman looked a little out of place beside the elegantly dressed nobles. As she entered the pavilion the arena erupted into cheering. What she lacked in ostentatious wealth she clearly made up for in the favor of the people. With the other Great Families present Elaina concluded the woman must be Amarisa, the lady of Listarii. The Listarii were famous throughout Valaar, because the other Great Houses had always existed but the Listarii had been granted their title by Kai Valaar himself, in exchange for services rendered in the war that led to the unification of Valaar. They had won their title by the tip of the sword, and held onto it by the will of their people, who loved them dearly. The lady of the Listarii gave a wave to the crowd and took her seat.
With the Great Families in attendance and the arena filled to capacity it was time for the Grand Final to begin. A series of trumpet blasts brought the arena to attention and silenced the crowd as a herald made his way onto center stage.
“Lord and Ladies, people of Valaar . . . I bid you welcome to the Grand Final of the Midsommer's Tournament. This year almost three hundred aspiring entrants competed. Over the past week they have done battle before your very eyes to claim the one place as your Champion.
“Now all that remain are these two veterans. You know them well, as you have watched them best every foe that has come before them. For those of you who have been living under a rock this past week, let me introduce them again . . .”
Thunderous applause threatened to deafen the poor herald, who waved his arms appreciatively to the cheering crowd. The herald gestured to the contender Elaina had first seen at Greensbrook.
“On my right we have Marcus Listar, son of the late Lord Darnale and the lovely Lady Amarisa—he is heir to the Listarii title. Not one for sitting on a gilded cushion, he has proven his prowess in the arena. Marcus will inherit his title as his forebears have before him, at the point of his sword. Show your support for the mighty Marcus.”
The arena erupted again and Marcus raised his blade high, drinking in the cheers and adulation of the assembled masses.
“As his opponent, also undefeated in the road leading to the Grand Final, is Dariyen Gardeau. A week ago none of you even knew his name, but through sheer grit and skill with his blade, he's won a place in the finals and in our hearts. One of our very own City Guard, his victory today would see him promoted to the King's Guard, not to mention provide the hundred gold pieces he'll be lining his pockets with. Ladies, he's single, so don't let him out of your sight!”
The crowd bellowed their approval, and a few wolf whistles could be heard amid the applause. Dariyen blushed red at the attention but quickly regained his composure.
“Gentlemen, if you wouldn't mind . . .” The herald gestured to the center of the arena.
The two warriors took their places facing each other. Each affected a bow and then assumed his preferred stance. Marcus adopted a high guard with Dariyen opting for a more measured middle guard.
“Lords and Ladies, without further ado, let us proceed with the spectacle we have all been waiting for. The first of our fighters to draw blood will be victorious. Gentlemen, on my mark. . . . begin!” The herald retreated swiftly from the arena.
Elaina watched as the two duelists sized each other up. With measured steps they made their way forward into the center of the arena. Marcus was first to make his move, bringing his blade down in a vertical strike at his opponent. Dariyen raised his own blade to block the strike, before stepping back and countering with strike towards his opponent’s right leg.
Marcus nimbly stepped back and the blade caught nothing but air. Dariyen was quick to recover, bringing his sword back up and delivering a second slashing strike at his opponent’s right shoulder. Marcus met the strike with his own, and the ring of steel on steel rose from the arena.
Marcus came off stronger and pushed the advantage with a flurry of blows, driving his opponent back. Dariyen fought bravely to stave off the furious attack of the Listarii heir. Slowly but surely, Dariyen yielded ground until he found himself at the edge of the arena. Seeing his predicament, Dariyen planted his right foot mere inches in front of the line and faced down his opponent. He would not yield the title by stepping ou
t of the arena.
Stepping out was a rookie mistake, often made by those with a low level of situational awareness. Fortunately Dariyen's training and subsequent service in the Guard had taught him well. Those who had no awareness of their surroundings paid the price, and often died as a result.
Seeing how close he was to victory, Marcus pushed on, launching blow after blow at the young guardsmen. But Dariyen did not yield another inch—every blow was parried, blocked or dodged, and after what seemed like an eternity, Dariyen remained precisely where he had begun.
Marcus panted with the exertion and Dariyen seized the advantage. Launching off the line, Dariyen delivered his own assault. High, high, low. High, high, low. Each successive strike was designed to test the limits of his opponent’s defensive skills. If Marcus faltered for a moment the singing sword of the guardsmen would find its mark.
Marcus struggled to keep up. Dariyen was a fine swordsman—that much was clear. But what was becoming increasingly clear was his desire. Elaina could see the fire in Dariyen’s eyes. He knew the goal he sought was within his grasp. The hundred gold pieces that would be spare change to his opponent would change his own life forever. A commission in the King's Guard would be a significant change in station. Instead of walking patrols throughout the city and its surrounds he would live in the barracks at the Palace. His pay would be doubled and his future bright.
Elaina watched with trepidation as the guardsmen drove Marcus back across the arena. Dariyen delivered a savage strike at his opponent’s shoulder. When steel met steel he drew back and struck at his foe's left flank. Again blade met blade and the resulting din was deafening. Again Dariyen drew back and, rolling his wrist, feinted another strike at his opponent’s leg.