Wielder's Rising

by T. B. Christensen

  It only took a moment for him to realize what he was looking at. It was a bird’s eye view of the entire Blood Mountains. Almost directly in the center of the tight range of mountains was a small, green valley, in stark contrast against the red rock. No keep could be seen in the green valley, but he was certain that if the might stone hadn’t been shielding it, Faldor’s Keep would be visible as well.

  He continued staring at the image in wonder. He had seen several maps before, but none had come close to comparing in detail to what he was now looking at. Studying the image, he found the path that Studell and he had taken to arrive at the valley. He stared with wonder at the maze of canyons that zigzagged through the mountains. Without directions, they could have explored the maze of canyons for weeks and never made it to the secluded valley in the center.

  “Are you up to trying to move the image?” Eldridge asked excitedly but with a hint of caution. Traven was beginning to feel tired, but he supposed he could maintain a firm hold on the ambience for a little longer without doing any damage to his body.

  “Sure,” he replied. “What do I do?”

  “First of all, by making your conduit reach higher into the sky you can see a greater area of land. Some of the master wielders of old were strong enough to see the entire land at once! However, I think you should wait to attempt to make your conduit higher until you have rested. Right now let’s just try moving the image. The trick to moving the image is forming a second conduit that proceeds downward from your sheet of water in a direction different than your current conduit of particles. Wherever the second conduit is pointed is where you will be screeing. If you increase the length of the second conduit towards the ground, you can enlarge anything that you want to take a closer look at. Does that make sense?”

  The idea seemed simple enough, so Traven responded by carefully forming a second, very short conduit that extended from the sheet of water slightly to the south. The image in the dish changed to show two mountains rising side by side. He recognized them as the Twin Guardians. They looked different from the higher angle. Both had craters at their peaks that he hadn’t been able to see from below.

  He stared at the two volcanoes in wonder. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he made his second conduit slightly longer. The two volcanoes grew in size to fill the screeing dish. He slightly shifted the conduit and made it even longer as he peered into one of the craters. The gaping hole at the top of the volcano was deeper than he expected. He lengthened the conduit even further as he tried to peer into the crater’s depths. A bead of sweat dripped off his forehead and landed with a small splash in the dish of water, distorting the image.

  “I think we better take a break,” Eldridge said as he looked up from the dish and at Traven’s face. “You are looking a little pale.”

  Traven let go of his hold on the ambience, and the image disappeared. The keeper was correct. He needed to rest. There was an intense throbbing in his head, and he felt exhausted. He probably should have stopped earlier, but the screeing had been so exciting. He was looking forward to practicing again when he was fully rested. The wonders of screeing amazed him.

  17

  The throne room was full of people. All were paying the proper respect to the next High King of Kalia. Some were bowing and others were kneeling. Traven sat in his throne uncomfortably, waiting for the crowning ceremony.

  He looked around the room, searching for those he knew. In the back he saw his grandparents. Professor Studell knelt near them. To his right Blaize towered above the others, even while on his knees.

  Traven continued looking over the respectful crowd. He saw some of his old classmates from the academy as well as some of his old professors. He also recognized several of the generals from the Royal Army. He kept looking, searching the crowd for someone in particular.

  Someone important to him was missing from the crowd, but he couldn’t remember who it was. Even with those in the crowd that were closest to him like his grandparents and Blaize, he still felt alone. How could he rule Kalia without the most important person in his life at his side?

  He thought as hard as he could, trying to recall who it was that was missing. Slowly, deep blue eyes and long blond hair flitted across his memory. A gorgeous smile and a delicate hand flitted though his mind next. A memory of a soft, warm cheek against his shoulder. Kalista!

  How could he have forgotten her? She was the single most important person in his life. It was she who would guide him when he was the High King. It was she who knew him better than anyone else. It was she who gave him a reason to keep going when things seemed impossible. It was she who he would lay down his life for.

  Where was she? He needed her soft, firm hand on his shoulder now more than ever. He needed her strength and her comfort. Perhaps she was merely finishing preparing for the ceremony.

  He tried to calm himself, taking deep breaths as he waited. Behind the closed doors of the throne room he could hear the echoes of steps approaching down the hallway. The steps stopped at the door. He let out a relieved breath as the large doors began to swing open. Now he remembered. The princess would be the one to crown him. It was her whose footsteps he had just heard. She would be entering the room, bearing the crown.

  However, his hopes were dashed when the opening doors revealed the bearer of the crown. It wasn’t the Princess Kalista with her mesmerizing eyes and comforting smile. The bearer of the crown was merely a page. Traven watched as the boy approached carefully with the crown pulsating on the pillow that he carried in his hands. The page stopped directly in front of him and knelt respectfully.

  Traven sat still as the pulsating crown was lifted from the pillow and carefully placed on his head. The crowd rose to their feet cheering. The room was instantly full of celebration and excitement for the new High King of Kalia. Everyone in the crowd appeared overjoyed to have him as their new king. He wished that he felt the same excitement. He wished that his heart could soar with those in the crowd.

  Unfortunately, he only felt sad and empty. What did any of this matter if the princess wasn’t at his side? What did the pulsating crown on his head even mean to him? The only thing that mattered to him at the moment was the princess. Where was she?

  * * * * *

  Traven awoke feeling incredibly distressed. He tried to shake the feeling but couldn’t. The feelings of emptiness and hopelessness that the dream left him with were much stronger than they should have been. He didn’t even really know the princess. It was true that she had been a constant fixture in his dreams for the past few weeks, but why should her absence from his dreams leave him feeling the way he did?

  He tried in vain to shake the dismal feelings as he got up and went down to the courtyard to exercise and practice his forms. Part way through his routine, one of the human guardians asked if he would like to spar against him. Traven hadn’t sparred with anyone for a while and gratefully accepted the invitation, hoping that the distraction would help him forget the distressing dream. He forced a smile as one of the other human guardians handed him a practice sword.

  “My name’s Jorb and this is Ethan,” he said pointing to the guardian who was going to spar with Traven. “You’ve been so busy with the keeper that we haven’t really had an opportunity to introduce ourselves and get to know you.”

  “It’s nice to meet both of you,” Traven replied. “I feel bad that I haven’t had a chance to meet all of the guardians. I think it’s amazing what all of you do to maintain and protect the keep.”

  “Well I don’t know that we really do much to protect the keep,” Jorb replied. “In fact, when you and the philosopher showed up last week you became the first unexpected visitors to Faldor’s Keep in the past five hundred years.”

  “He’s right,” Ethan chimed in. “Mostly the guardians have just maintained the keep over the years and taken care of the keeper. You have no idea how exciting it is to have a wielder at the keep. The elves try to play your appearance down, but it’s just for show. It makes all of our
sacrifices seem like they are worth something having you here.”

  Traven smiled back at the two guardians. It still made him feel a little uncomfortable having such importance placed upon him, but he was glad that his arrival at the keep had helped lift the guardians’ spirits. He could only imagine how hard it would be to give up family and home to be a guardian at the keep for twenty straight years.

  “Are you ready?” Jorb asked. “Ethan and I have admired the sword forms you go through each morning. We have a little wager on whether you are as good with the sword as you appear to be.”

  “I’m ready,” Traven said with a smile. “However, I’ve seen you all practicing as well and feel at a slight disadvantage. I haven’t sparred with anyone for awhile. I’m sure Ethan has a lot more training and practice than I do.”

  “True,” Ethan said as he took his position across from Traven and readied his sword. “We’ve been training longer, but you are a wielder after all.”

  He wasn’t sure what being a wielder had to do with sword fighting but didn’t have time to think about it. He threw up his practice sword and blocked Ethan’s swipe as the guardian attacked. Traven cleared his mind and focused on the sparring match. Ethan was good but no match for him. The fight felt the same as when Studell and he had been attacked in Jatz. It was as if he knew where each of Ethan’s sword strokes would fall before they even occurred.

  He methodically blocked the guardian’s attacks for awhile and then went on the offensive. The guardian held him at bay at first, but as soon as Traven picked up his attack, the fight ended quickly. Ethan was soon lying on the ground in the dirt with a sore thigh where Traven’s practice sword had struck him.

  “I told you,” Jorb said while chuckling. Traven reached down and helped Ethan to his feet. “Looks like you’ll be weeding the beets today.”

  Traven smiled as Ethan rubbed his thigh. He now knew which of the two had bet against him. Ethan continued rubbing his thigh as he scowled at Jorb. Traven wondered how Ethan compared to the other guardians in his talent with the sword.

  “Would you like to spar next?” Traven asked Jorb.

  “No way,” the guardian said with a chuckle. “Ethan’s the best swordsman out of us human guardians. You made beating him look too easy. I wouldn’t last against you for more than a few seconds.”

  “You should try fighting Darian,” Ethan said. “He’s the best swordsman here. Even the other elves never beat him.” Ethan looked around the courtyard. “He should be here any second. Here he comes now. Hey Darian!” Ethan shouted. “Traven wants to spar with you!”

  Traven watched nervously as Darian and another elf approached them. He had seen the elves practicing and knew that they were quicker than the human guardians. After the way Darian had treated him when he had first arrived, he supposed the elf would enjoy beating him with the sword.

  “Why don’t you spar with him?” Darian responded to Ethan. “You’re always bragging that you can beat any human.”

  “Can’t you tell by the dirt all over his clothes he just got beat?” Jorb said with a large smile.

  “Thank you, Jorb. Thank you!” Ethan said as he brushed the dirt off his clothes.

  Darian looked back and forth between the two guardians and then looked directly at Traven. He gave him an appraising look for a second.

  “So the master wielder is also a master swordsman,” the elf said with a hint of a smirk. “Are you ready to cross swords with an elven blademaster?”

  Traven wasn’t necessarily eager to fight Darian, but he was ready. He wondered if the elf was in fact a blademaster. He had seen the elves’ quickness and knew that if Darian was truly a blademaster, it would be an incredibly difficult match. However, he had practiced against some of the best swordsmen in the army and was interested to see if he could hold his own against the elf.

  “I’m ready when you are,” Traven replied.

  “Let’s spar then,” Darian said as he snatched the practice sword out of the air that Ethan tossed towards him. He took several steps backwards and faced Traven with a grin. He waited a few moments and then attacked.

  Traven stumbled backwards as the elf attacked with amazing quickness and skill. He hadn’t been prepared for how quick the elf would actually be even after seeing him practice before. He quickly fell back into complete concentration and let the surprise disappear as he continued blocking the elf’s lightning quick slashes.

  He had to push his body to its limit to match the speed of the elf. However, once he adjusted for the elf’s speed, he was able to block all of the elf’s attacks with ease. Darian’s smile turned to a frown as Traven switched from defense and began to attack. The elf grimaced as he was pushed backwards. He was then once again on the attack.

  The fight continued on and erupted into an intense battle with Traven and the elf taking turns attacking and defending. As the fight progressed, Traven found that as long as he concentrated he could deflect any attack that Darian brought against him. As had been the case when fighting Ethan, he could tell where a stroke was going to come from just before it happened. The realization that he could hold his own against the elf encouraged him to pick up his attacks.

  He watched for any weaknesses or holes in Darian’s defense and was surprised to find none. He continued to wait patiently like Blaize had taught him. There was no need for him to take a risky chance and leave himself exposed. His new awareness would allow him to keep blocking Darian’s attacks as long as his strength held up. As the fight continued on and on, he began to wonder if the elf ever really would show a weakness. He also began to wonder if the elf’s stamina would be greater than his own.

  The fight continued on. Perspiration dripped from his brow and his clothes felt drenched. Seeing that Darian was perspiring and breathing heavily as well gave him hope. Perhaps he could wear the elf down. However, his hope was soon dashed. The elf’s eyes took on a gleam and with a burst of speed, Darian attacked with more ferocity than Traven would have thought possible. He was able to hold the elf at bay for awhile, but his muscles were tiring. Even though he knew where the elf’s strokes would land, he was having a harder and harder time getting his body to react fast enough.

  Crack! Traven fell backwards as he brought his sword up too slowly and Darian’s practice sword slammed into his ribs. He lay on the dirt floor of the courtyard, holding his side and trying in vain to catch his breath. He stared up at the elf, who was also breathing heavily and staring down at him with the same gleam in his eyes. He watched as the strange gleam left Darian’s eyes and the elf’s gaze took on a measure of respect and something else that Traven couldn’t place but left him feeling uncomfortable.

  Darian stepped forward and offered him his hand. Traven accepted it and allowed the elf to pull him up to his feet. The elf bowed respectfully and then turned abruptly and walked quickly away, vanishing into the keep.

  “Incredible,” Ethan mumbled under his breath. “In all my life I’ve never seen a swordfight like that.”

  “I can’t believe you lasted that long,” Jorb said with amazement.

  “How long were we fighting?” Traven asked, still trying to catch his breath, as he looked up at the sky.

  “I don’t know,” Jorb replied. “At least half an hour.” Ethan nodded in agreement. The elf who had accompanied Darian tipped his head towards Traven.

  “You didn’t mention that you were a blademaster as well as a wielder,” the elf said. “I believe we will all have even greater respect for you now, especially Darian. The legends tell of few wielders who bothered to develop their skill with the sword. They were the ones that lasted the longest when the Wielder Wars came. It is wise to be able to defend yourself without the ambience and conserve your magical strength for when it is most needed. I salute you Traven.” The elf tipped his head again toward him and then disappeared into the keep just as Darian had.

  “Wow,” Ethan said as soon as the second elf was out of sight. “You probably don’t have any idea of how great a compl
iment those two elves just gave you.”

  “What do you mean?” Traven asked. His breathing was close to normal, but he was exhausted and ravenous.

  “The elven guardians almost never compliment humans,” Jorb explained. “They think they are superior to us. And I guess if you take into account their physical prowess and abilities, they are superior in that sense. Out of the four elven guardians here, I would say Darian is the most proud. He bowing to you was almost as amazing as your sword fight.” Jorb paused and shook his head. “Then Elial saying he salutes you topped it off. When an elf says that, he means he sees you as an equal.”

  “I don’t see why they were so impressed,” Traven said slowly. “I did lose after all.”

  “You don’t understand,” Ethan said. “I might be good with the sword for a human, but all four of the elven guardians could beat me in their sleep. The elves send their bravest warriors to be guardians of Faldor’s Keep. If you believe what they say, Darian has never lost a swordfight since he was a teenager. I doubt anyone has ever lasted against him as long as you just did.”

  “Ethan’s right,” Jorb agreed. “That was truly an amazing display of sword work. Now let’s go celebrate by eating breakfast. I’m starving.”

  * * * * *

  Darian walked quickly up the stairs and into his chambers, slamming the door behind him. He stared at himself in the mirror as his mind raced and his breathing slowed. He could hardly believe what had just happened, and it was harder still to believe how he had reacted to it.

  He had always found the stories of his race anciently binding themselves to master wielders to be ridiculous. How could an elf follow an inferior human? How could he disgrace his proud race and do the will of a mere man? He had always believed that only the weakest of elves would have bound themselves to a wielder.

  However, now his convictions were being tested and his emotions were reeling. He knew what it was. All elves knew of the ‘devotion’. He just couldn’t believe that it was happening to him. He had felt it slightly upon seeing the wielder create liquid fire and had felt it slightly upon realizing the wielder could whisper on the wind.