Dark Blade

by Tony Roberts

  “Why did you do it?”

  She looked up. “He called my mother a whore; I gave him the chance to apologise but he merely laughed at me. So I punished him.”

  “And who gave you the authority to punish people, Blade?” Seltonas asked, his face set like granite.

  “He did when he made it personal. Nobody calls my late mother a whore. I’m sure if I called you the gutter sweepings of a low-class brothel employee in your home city, you’d take offence.”

  Seltonas’ lips tightened. “I at least would not set fire to their loins!”

  “Blade, I do not believe you would describe me as such,” Territus said, his fingers interlaced on his desk.

  “No, Master, I would not even think that of you; I do not to those with whom I have the utmost respect.” She shot a sharp look at Seltonas.

  Territus stood up abruptly and turned his back on the others. Filik looked across at Seltonas in alarm, while the elf glared at Faer with undisguised loathing.

  “You go too far, Blade,” the elf snapped. “I have had enough of your disrespect!”

  Faer’s gaze dropped to the desk again. She wondered if the Blademaster was angry at her. He slowly turned and she looked up. His eyes were sparkling with suppressed humour. That made her feel much better. She smothered a smile and looked down again.

  Territus sat back down again. “I have no option but to punish you, young lady.”

  Seltonas snorted. Filik folded his arms. He spoke for the first time. “Herruld was quite a promising student; he had a fine career ahead of him. Now he has to carry this wound with him the rest of his life. His parents will be outraged.”

  “We as a school will all be held responsible; all because you could not rise above name-calling.” Seltonas turned to Territus. “I recommend we expel her with immediate effect.”

  Faer looked up in alarm. To be expelled now would shatter her hopes for the future. Filik shrugged. He wasn’t opposed to the idea.

  Territus pondered on the matter. Then he spoke. “Herruld is leaving us today no matter what, yet we still have Blade here who shows great promise. Would we benefit from sending her away? No. Blade would certainly not benefit either. I must say, however, that the level of insult made against her went too far, and I would not like to think we as a school promote and condone such denigrating comments against anyone.”

  He looked up at Seltonas. “It is significant that the insult against her came when you had responsibility for him; I understand you did not caution him about it, either.”

  The elf looked at the Blademaster in shock. “Are you blaming me for this situation? This is outrageous! All because of some undisciplined dark elf child’s lack of self-control!”

  Territus waved a cautioning finger. “I am well aware of the antagonism between the two of you, and this school would benefit enormously if this feud ceased forthwith. This unfortunate incident is a direct cause of this, and I certainly do not want a repeat of it. So, I want respect shown by each of you towards the other. You, Swordmaster, should set an example. You, Blade, should take heed of what you’re being taught.”

  Seltonas gasped in disbelief. “I am being given some of the blame for this? You insult me, Blademaster. I am speechless!”

  “Master,” Faer said softly, “may I speak?”

  “Silence!” Seltonas roared, “you have caused enough trouble here without opening your foul mouth any further.”

  “Let her have her say; after all, she is the one about to be punished. Go ahead, Blade.”

  Faer bowed her thanks. “The Swordmaster here has always shown disrespect towards me, but not through my lack of ability or my indiscipline. It is because of the colour of my skin and my parentage.” She turned to Seltonas. “If I am disrespectful, Master, then it is because you have taught me such in my time here in Kaltinar. You like to believe you are much more sophisticated than anyone else here because you are a white elf, yet your racial hatred of me shows the opposite. Why did you not give me a chance to show you I was different to other dark elves I don’t know; you pushed me into these situations and now I feel much prouder of my heritage than I did when I arrived here.

  “I am luckier than you; you only have one heritage. I have two. I enjoy both, yet you ignore my human heritage, which in itself is an insult; you merely concentrate on one half of me and insult that at every chance.” She stood tall and held her head up. “Punish me all you wish, Swordmaster. You will not break me, you will not destroy me. I am what I am, and proud of it.”

  Territus wanted to hug her. Filik raised an eyebrow and looked surprised. Seltonas scowled even more. “Is that it?” he sneered. “Is that the limit of your noble speech? I notice no apology, which is to be expected. I, too do not apologise, for a tutor to begin to do so at every turn would destroy discipline and then once students have no discipline one cannot teach, and then nobody will learn. We would very quickly lose our reason to exist.”

  Territus inclined his head. “That is a valid point. Blade, you understand our position. But I do at the same time recognise your position. So here is my judgement. You are henceforth to be curfewed after dinner. You will not be permitted to roam free without an escort. Two guards will accompany you at all times outside of the classes, and you are to be available at any time a Master requires you.”

  He looked at the two other masters. “This evening is the big dance. I know all students are keen to attend. I ban Blade from it. She is to be confined to her room. As for the unfortunate Herruld, his injuries will be seen to in the infirmary and then he will be sent home with a letter explaining his contribution to the disagreement, and that we have punished the perpetrator. There is little else we can do in this instance, and nothing to be gained in any event.”

  Faer sighed. She had been looking forward to showing off her dress; now it was not to be. Curfew. It could be worse; at least she could concentrate on her mediation and ability training in peace and quiet.

  “Do you wish to say anything further, Blade?” Territus asked.

  “No, Master.”

  “Filik? Seltonas?”

  Both shook their heads. Filik was satisfied, but Seltonas clearly was upset.

  The dance went ahead that evening. Two guards took up their post either side of Faer’s door on the middle level of the accommodation wing. She found this room to be slightly bigger, and there were two rooms. The second room was a washroom and privy, but with the same hole that plunged to the valley below. It leaned slightly over the level below.

  The bed was more comfortable and there were more storage places. Her dress hung in the wardrobe that stood by the bed, and her elf sword she hid under the bed, tied to the frame, tucked up off the ground. Unless someone turned the bed over it would be out of sight.

  Her friends were dismayed at her fate. They all complained it was unfair, but Faer shrugged it off. It was just another punishment handed out. She would endure it and continue with her studies.

  Grange kept her company. The guards were ordered not to let people in who were not authorised, but they knew Blade and Grange were an item so they winked and let the man in. The sounds of passion they heard made them wink and nudge one another, yet they did not know it was merely him getting his daily pleasure burst from her. Sex was not being performed; she merely did enough to send him over the edge, giving him pleasure. She did feel terribly guilty about his situation, so any real enjoyment she could give him at least made her feel less guilty.

  Grange also enjoyed her meditation or sword training. During the warm months she stripped off down to her brief loincloth and either sat on her bed, directing the abilities she had around her veins, or through her stomach, or along her arms, or using the heavier common sword to practice swings with. Compared to her elf sword, this was a clumsy, unwieldy weapon.

  Then she would practice her offensive abilities, using the push and flame either out the window or against small objects, practicing how to vary the intensity. Grange readily acted as a test object for her darkness
casting. It had taken some time to get that going, but once she had found it needed her to think of a big nothing pouring out from her brain, then it came. A five foot circle around her went dark and no light could penetrate. She could walk up to Grange, turn past him and tap him on the shoulder, startling him.

  The confusion attack was spectacular. Her fingers were spread out wide and she shook her hand as she forced energy out, and it took the form of brightly spinning small spots of light, whirling and floating, and it totally distracted Grange.

  Her junior year saw her finally allowed to use her sword, and it caused yet another bout of friction between her and Seltonas.

  SIXTEEN

  The elf demanded she hand over her sword to him the moment she drew it out to begin striking at the practice frames. She reluctantly did so, standing resentfully before him, the other students grinning and sniggering. They looked forward to Old Grumpy’s spats with the half-elf. That meant he wasn’t picking on anyone else.

  “What is this?” he demanded, looking at the sword as if it was a log of wood.

  “A sword, Swordmaster,” Faer answered. Some of the students sniggered.

  “Silence!” Seltonas roared. “What I mean, you dense girl, is what are you doing using such a pathetically plain weapon such as this? This is the worst sword I have ever seen a student of mine bring to this school! I expected you to have something better, Blade.”

  “Master, I come from a fishing village with very little trade. Apart from a harpoon, there was nothing there. I picked this up on my way to Kaltinar. It was a cheap buy in a market in Gorradan.”

  “Cheap? I expect they paid you to take this piece of junk off their hands! You can’t cut butter with this! Rubbish.”

  “I have no other, Master. I’ve been practicing with it in my room. Grange will vouch for it.”

  Seltonas glanced at the burly student who nodded. He dismissed Grange. The fool was besotted with the half-elf and always agreed with what she said anyway. “Bah – I’m surprised she hadn’t removed your head if that’s the case.”

  “No, Swordmaster, Blade is always very careful. I sit and watch her practice.”

  Seltonas shook his head. “Without cutting herself or ripping her clothing?”

  “Master, she wears only her loin piece.” That prompted a chorus of cheers or whistles. Faer lowered her head and smiled self-consciously. Pappis yelled the loudest until Quen slapped him.

  “Alright, alright, calm it down.” Seltonas gained silence by glaring at his students. All round the fortress, those on guard duty or outside for whatever reason stopped to listen. The elf’s outbursts were legendary, and they pitied the slim half-elf who seemed to attract the majority of his rants. They all felt sorry for her, and winked if she passed them or gave her words of encouragement. The way she smiled at them in return made them much more inclined to be friendlier the next time they met.

  “We did not need to know that, Grange, thank you very much.”

  “Perhaps she ought to show us, Master?” Pappis shouted out. This time he received a kick from Quen. Seltonas missed it because of the renewed cheering from the male members of the class.

  Once he restored order he glared at the entire group. “She is under guard in her off-class times because of misdemeanours. I can quite easily extend it to others of you if you so wish. Blade is sufficiently attired thank you, and I want no further wise comments from any of you, and you, young Blade, will not encourage them.”

  “No Master,” she said softly. She wished Grange hadn’t been so dense to walk into that one, but his mind wasn’t working properly these days, thanks to her.

  “Humph!” he handed her back the sword. “Then kindly show us how adept you are with the iron bar.” He folded his arms and gave her an impatient look.

  Faer turned and faced what everyone called the tunnel of death. It wasn’t really a tunnel, but a narrow path in between two rows of practice swing devices and other items. Figures of soldiers with lances, wooden stands that span with blades protruding from every slat, frames that had weighted leather bags suspended from long arms and a shield on the other end, and so on.

  The objective was to pass through it, striking at every object and either dodging or parrying the resultant counter-action from whatever it was. Students could easily be injured, sometimes quite badly, and once or twice someone had actually been killed.

  She drew in three deep breaths, then walked towards the start.

  “C’mon, Blade,” Limkel said in encouragement.

  “Go, Blade!” Pappis said.

  “Blade! Blade!” Grange yelled, and suddenly the entire class was cheering her.

  She smiled, and set off. The first device was a swing type, so she struck at the shield, causing it to fling the weight round from behind her towards her head. She dropped and the weight sailed over her. It would still rotate a few times so she stepped onwards. A sentry figure with a spear was next. She swung her sword and knocked it out of the way, and it spun, the spear coming round again. She had to move on before it did so.

  The weight from the first stand came at her again so she stepped forward, finding two round slatted stands in her path. Sharp blades protruded in between the slats in two places, opposite one another, leaving a narrow amount of time to get through before the blades on the other side cut past.

  She slammed into these and they rotated wildly. She jumped forward, almost into a large metal frame on the floor filled with caltrops, wicked four-spiked objects the size of a palm. No matter which way they lay, one spike was always sticking straight up. She almost fell into it, then span. The blades came at her and she bashed them back, sending them spinning the other way. Turning, she sprang over the metal frame and landed on the far side, almost impaling herself on a wall of spears. She dodged to the left, the only way she could go, then slapped a sword aside that was fixed to another rotational frame, the other end being a spiked flail on a chain. That could easily brain someone and she rolled past.

  Next was a three barred gate, but the bars were cylindrical and covered in iron spikes. She threw herself up and over, just missing the top bar, and landed on her side, rolling to her feet. Seltonas operated the next barrier, a series of spinning figures with wide blades. Faer struck one aside, danced past it, struck the second, then turned to hit the first, then swung back, slapped the second aside again and without breaking stride gave the third such a strike it nearly broke it.

  Her arms were getting heavy and one last object blocked her route. A double ball and chain swinging frame. Very dangerous. With a scream she ran at it, span, slapped one ball aside, landed on one leg and bashed the second away from her, and twirled through the last frame and out the other side.

  The class went wild, whistling, cheering and stamping their feet. She stood there panting, bent double, her hands on her knees. Seltonas walked up to her and eyed her and the sword. “No need to show off.” He walked back to the start, ready for the next student.

  Faer smiled, getting her breath back. Anything to irritate the pompous Swordmaster.

  That was one of many occasions Seltonas picked on the half-elf. At the dining table her friends often made references to it, saying it was unfair, but she merely smiled or shrugged. Seltonas didn’t like it because she was coping with whatever was thrown at her. She also hadn’t had to use her abilities, which pleased her too.

  During the evenings she would sit and ponder her future. She knew she didn’t have long to go here. Her father had wanted her to learn the skill of the sword, and now she was practicing with her real one in her room. It was so light, compared to the chunk of steel she used during the day. She felt as one with her elf sword, it just felt so natural. Once she left Kaltinar, with Grange, she wondered what she should do and where she could go. Her father had clearly left her a path, but it was unclear from here. Maybe it really was Keria she had to go to, but that was madness. No non dark elf was ever permitted to go there, except as a slave.

  She would have to find any surv
ivors of her father’s entourage or retainers. But where, and how? Her powers were being constantly improved, but she knew her abilities were nothing compared to a full blood dark elf. She would be overwhelmed in no time. If she encountered any dark elf, how would she convince him or her of whom she was?

  It was all uncertain and sometimes it depressed her. Grange was attentive and tried to help, and she showed him how he could relax her by stroking her ears and having her lay on his lap. He marvelled at these times, how she let him touch her so. He felt so overwhelmed by this slim, delicate looking elfin girl, one who had totally captured his heart, mind and will, but he didn’t regret it. He enjoyed it. Up to when he had first experienced the shining, mind shattering explosion of pleasure from her, he’d not known what it was to have real enjoyment or joy from life. He had grown up in a tough, rough environment where one either beat up your contemporaries, or be beaten up. So he hadn’t known what it was like to actually settle down and really enjoy something or someone. Being sent to the school had been an alternative to being killed in one of the street brawls of the frontier town he’d grown up in, and his parents had decided they’d rather he go there than be murdered one day in a back alleyway somewhere.

  But now Blade had come into his life. She was perfection. His mind was of course swayed by what had happened, his brain being flooded with dark elf endorphins that had changed the way he thought. He had no chance and didn’t know what had happened, but he was glad it had for now he couldn’t think of any other life he would rather have.

  To say he loved her was being too mild and not entirely accurate. It was more of a mindless worship. He was touching a goddess, a dream, a living figure of pleasure. He would rather die than be parted from her.

  As the year turned towards winter yet again and her eighteenth birthday approached, she began to grow restless. Whatever Seltonas tried to teach her she already could do. Had she outgrown the tutor?

  Seltonas had also noticed things. He often sat and thought on things late at night, then he decided to speak to the Blademaster. He received permission to visit him, and stood before the school head. “I have thought on Blade’s situation, and have come to the conclusion she is outgrowing us fast.”