The Descendant (The Diamond Sword Chronicles Book 1)

by M. M. Whan

  She was a half-elf whose features reflected more elf than human. Eferath had spoken with her a few times, especially during school projects that required group interaction, but knew very little about her. From what little he did know, however, was that she was descendant of elven royalty, but whether it was her mother or father, he had no idea. She was, of course, very beautiful and Eferath always found his tongue tied into knots every time he was around her.

  “Well met.” Eferath greeted her pleasantly as she stepped closer. She glanced at Edward and gave him a polite smile. Edward bit his lip as if he was trying to keep himself from saying anything, then looked at Eferath before clapping him on the shoulder.

  “I uh… Just remembered that I have some tasks to complete before class tomorrow. I shall see you later?”

  Eferath, seeming unable to tear his eyes away from Denara, simply nodded. “Yeah, uh, sure. See you.”

  Edward walked away, chuckling under his breath and Denara stepped closer.

  “Are you heading to the training arena?” She asked. Her voice sounded like wind chimes in a light breeze. Eferath felt heat rushing to his face and the familiar sensation of his tongue tying itself.

  “Aye,” he managed to choke out. “I wanted to get some practice in before tomorrow.”

  “Would you mind some company?” She asked, and it took a long moment before Eferath realized that his jaw had fallen open. As far as the other nobles were concerned, Eferath wasn’t worth the ground he treads on. So why was this one, an elf noble offspring - since elves held the highest contempt toward humans of all the races - wanting to be seen anywhere near him?

  “Why?” He asked before he could think about how inappropriate such a question was. He wasn’t sure if it was the tone of his question, or the question itself that elicited such a reaction, but Denara’s visibly recoiled.

  “You’re right. I apologize for intruding.” She said quietly, then turned to head away.

  Eferath reached out to touch her shoulder. “Wait.” He said, and continued when she didn’t turn around. “I would be honoured for you to accompany me.”

  She turned to look at him, smiling but said nothing as the two continued toward the training arena.

  “Are you always so cynical?” She asked suddenly. The abruptness of her question actually made Eferath pause in his step and nearly trip.

  “I’m sorry.” He said. “The last few weeks have shown me where my place is relative to everyone else. It… Hasn’t been easy.”

  “Your place?” She repeated incredulously. “You let others define who you are as a person? What your worth is based on heritage or how much gold you have?” She seemed disgusted by that, but more importantly, she seemed disappointed in Eferath.

  Eferath meant to say something in reply, but he was so wrapped up in contemplating her words, that he hadn’t noticed her leaving his side. He watched her walk into the distance, then continued to the training arena.

  Alone.

  The next day, Edward and Eferath were ordered to report to the nearest spell-caster quarry to continue training. Eferath was very excited. He had heard stories about mighty spell casters, heard about the destructive capabilities of magic, as well as the powerful healing and curing spells and he was anxious for the opportunity to wield such power. The study of magic had, of course, been included in their classes, but reading about spells, consequences of magic use, and all other subtle nuances got old pretty quickly.

  Edward nudged Eferath’s shoulder and he smiled widely, raising his eye brows to show his excitement. Eferath tried hard not to laugh at his companion’s constantly humorous personality. The young man found the time he spent with the wizards and sorcerers to be the most enjoyable of his experiences in the military. It was also the most challenging. Spell casting was nowhere near as easy as he originally thought. Manipulating magic was remarkably complex and required incredible amounts of concentration and endurance. Using magic taxed the caster’s strength, but the path to be a spell caster was an expensive one. For some, using magic was very hard, and very taxing, but most spells allowed the use of rare, expensive components to make casting easier and sufficiently less taxing. Even to the point where even the strongest of spells was no more taxing than climbing a flight of stairs. For those who were not gifted with a natural sense for magic use, components were mandatory to even have a chance of succeeding.

  Eferath was a natural. Not only was he a quick learner, but he also possessed a hidden energy that had his instructors beaming with pride. On several occasions, his instructors practically begged him to switch trades from swordsman, to wizardry. Eferath’s heart was with the sword, however, and he respectfully declined their continual offers. Unfortunately, all prospective soldiers needed to attend the quarries in order to complete their training. It was unfortunate, because there was also a competition between the quarries for who could train the strongest spell casters. When Eferath first heard about the competition, he could not help but roll his eyes and breathe a resigned sigh.

  “Always a competition with these people.” Eferath remarked dryly to Edward as the two stood on a small hill facing the casting range. It was an interesting location and undoubtedly effective for practicing magic. Being surrounded on all sides by earth made sure the surrounding populous was safe. The quarries, which were once used for extracting gold and other precious minerals, once decommissioned were given over to the Academy to do with as they pleased.

  Edward was well aware of the competitions that constantly went on throughout the military, so he was not surprised in the slightest to learn that the academic folk that comprised the spellweaver society were more competitive than even the infantry.

  “I hear your friend Corbin set a new record for the most powerful fireball ever thrown by a student.” Edward said, playfully nudging Eferath’s side. Eferath just laughed and shook his head.

  “Let Escoran’s golden prince have as much glory as his pomposity can handle.” He replied indifferently, and he meant it. If Corbin wanted glory, he could have it as far as Eferath was concerned.

  “Does it bother you that they treat us like we’re scum, my friend?” Edward asked a moment later, turning to regard his companion.

  “Should it bother me?” Came the callous reply.

  “That would depend.”

  “On?”

  “Whether or not it bothers you.”

  “Can you not just answer a simple question?”

  “I was just about to ask the same of you.” Edward answered sarcastically.

  Eferath shook his head with annoyance, a smile creeping its way across his face. “My reasons for being here are different from Corbin’s and the others. All of these silver-spoon fed nobles are here because they want to look good in a uniform.” Eferath explained.

  “And what reasons would those be?” Edward asked without missing a beat.

  “To make my father proud.” Eferath replied quietly. “And for myself.”

  “I too joined the academy for myself. I have no want, or need for glory, riches, or the likes.” Edward added thoughtfully. “My memories are the greatest treasures I will ever possess.” Eferath nodded as he stared off into the distance toward the spell range.

  “As long as we look out for each other, we are invincible.” Eferath said adding a sly wink for good measure.

  The two shared a good laugh then headed back to base to get ready for the competition.

  * * * *

  The morning was clear and crisp when the trumpeters announced reveille. The sun was just beginning to crest the horizon as the academy began to stir. The grass sparkled from the morning dew like thousands of emeralds. The horizon exploded into a breathtaking array of dazzling colours ranging from pinks, to yellows, to bright reds. A truly awe-inspiring sight if anyone inside of the base were able to take a moment to appreciate the beauty.

  As part of any normal day, the routine for Eferath’s platoon anyway, physical training came first before
anything else. It consisted of a three-mile run that ended when breakfast was served at the field mess hall. At first, Eferath found the physical training to be extremely difficult and beyond his abilities. But his father’s mental and physical conditioning had paid off. More often than not, when his body was ready to give up on him, his mind absolutely refused to stop. After a surprisingly short period of time, however, Eferath found that the physical training became much easier.

  Eferath was hardly out of breath when their long-distance run was completed, but he found himself looking forward to breakfast. Today was the day of the quarry spell casting competition, and Eferath wanted to be at his strongest if he had any hope of passing the grueling exam. As usual, Eferath and Edward sat together at one of the many breakfast tables arranged within the large, tall, dome-like structure that served as the field mess. Unfortunately, breakfast did not prove uneventful.

  Corbin and his table full of like-minded companions wasted no time in pestering the duo. It was not long before the pair discovered their insults were directed toward Eferath.

  “You do not belong here, frontier trash!” Yelled one young man from behind.

  “Scum like you do not deserve to train in the Academy!” Shouted another. Edward looked over at Eferath and nearly laughed out loud as he noticed his friend continued to eat as if he hadn’t heard anything.

  “You would be dead right now if Edward weren’t protecting your sorry ass!” Corbin added but instead of the mess erupting in laughter, everyone fell dead silent. Unlike any other insults ever thrown at the young man, none had ever been an open threat upon his life. But if Corbin cared in the least about the consequences of his words, he did not show it. Not even the prince’s supporters and friends dared to laugh at the dangerous remark.

  Again, Eferath pretended not to notice, and that fact in itself sent Corbin’s blood a-boiling. The next insult was thrown not with words, but in the form of a well-aimed food and drink missile. The thick broth from the stew connected squarely on the back of Eferath’s head and lower neck. The scalding hot liquid poured down his neck and his back mere moments before Corbin’s drink splashed near to the same area. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of stew bowl and glass smashing on the hard floor.

  Edward stared hard at his friend wondering what he would do. The insults were one thing, but threatening death, and intentionally ruining an academy uniform were taken very, very seriously. Eferath finished his breakfast moments before the bowl of stew connected with the back of his head. A low growl escaped his lips despite the burning pain of the hot liquid trickling down his back. He heard the insults very clearly, especially the threat on his life and for some reason he could not quench the fires of anger growing inside of him.

  Slowly, Eferath rose from his seat, the only sound that of his chair scraping on the floor, and the chorus of gasps coming from the others in the mess hall. He turned around, his gaze falling upon the sneer of contempt upon Corbin’s face. Edward knew he should stop his friend, knew that this could turn very ugly indeed if he did not step in. But the truth of it was he was having a hard time rationalizing an intervention this time. Before, it was just insults. But this time, Corbin had not only disrespected the Academy, he threatened to kill an enlisted soldier. Such a thing was unacceptable by any standards in any military. And so, as Eferath approached the prince’s table, Edward did not bother to stop him.

  Corbin stood slowly, smiling widely with condescension as he figured he had struck a nerve in his rival and now had an advantage.

  Little did he know that he was far from it.

  “What are you gonna do, peasant?” Corbin sneered. “I am a prince. You cannot even touch me or my father will end your worthless life!” It was spoken in such a snide, bombastic tone that Eferath nearly slugged him.

  “You are wrong, Corbin.” Eferath said, his voice ringing throughout the hall. Everyone went dead silent. “It is you who are nothing. Provoking me but then hiding behind your friends or your father. Your actions are disgraceful and your father should be ashamed of you.” He said it so calmly, so collectively that it seemed as though he were giving a speech rather than participating in a conversation.

  Corbin’s eyes went wide. His mouth moved as if to form words but no sound came out. Then his hand shot to the hilt of his sword.

  “Corbin that is enough!” One of his friends said in a shaky voice. When the prince turned a wilting glower on him, he stammered. “Y-you are a-about to t-take it too far!”

  “So what?” Corbin shouted as he pulled on his sword. “The word of a prince against-“ That was as far as he got. Eferath’s right cross sailed in and connected solidly on Corbin’s jaw when he was at about half-draw. The brutal impact sounded like a watermelon being dropped onto a hard surface from eye level.

  With a stiff jerk, the prince fell backward against the table behind him, still somehow managing to draw the rest of his sword even as his eyes glazed over.

  “I do not mind the insults you, or anyone else throw at me.” Eferath growled, speaking in low tones but his voice still managed to carry. “I do not even mind the thinly veiled threats toward my personal safety. But the moment you reached to draw your sword you crossed a line. Do not draw your blade unless you intend to use it, for next time, only one of us will walk away from that conflict.” Eferath stared at Corbin’s bright red face long enough to make sure his words had sunk in, then turned his back on the prince and started away.

  Eferath barely made it two steps before he was struck from behind and knocked into the closest table in front of him. He spun around, ready and willing to knock the perpetrator’s block off. His right cross was stopped mid-swing as Eferath felt an invisible force grab hold of him, keeping him from moving.

  “Grab him!” Corbin ordered two of his companions, and they rushed forward and grabbed Eferath by the shoulders. Eferath tried to fight back but he was completely immobilized. Magic, he thought to himself as panic threatened to grip him. He spotted the man who was responsible for the spell by the look of concentration and strain on his face.

  “You need to learn your place, filth!” Corbin explained as he dutifully undid and removed his uniform jacket. “And I shall be the one to teach you.” Pain exploded behind Eferath’s eyes as Corbin decked him. It was a surprisingly powerful blow by someone who looked so wimpy. Eferath was struck again, and again. Blood flowed freely from his torn lip and his head lolled to the side. His vision was blurred and constantly went in and out of focus. He thought he heard someone shouting “Stop!” but it sounded so far away.

  “Big…words.” Eferath slurred as he struggled to look up at Corbin. At some point, Eferath had sank to his knees but he didn’t remember doing so.

  Corbin leaned closer, cupping one ear. “What was that? I can’t hear you through the blood filling your mouth.”

  Eferath spat a mouthful of blood and it splattered on Corbin’s shoes and uniform pants. “Big words… coming from a… man who needs… his friends… to hold me down.”

  The next series of blows struck him in the ribs and the young man felt more than one give. Still, Eferath looked up at Corbin, a big, satisfied smile on his bloodied face.

  Corbin’s fist swooped in, slamming into Eferath’s temple with savage force. The world swam as all colour washed away from his vision. Then he felt the cool, smooth surface of the polished marble floor against his cheek. He thought he could hear a flurry of activity, but it all seemed so far away.

  Then he let his eyes close and the darkness envelop him.

  Chapter 5

  IT WAS SEVERAL HOURS BEFORE EFERATH regained consciousness. As soon as his eyes opened - well, one eye anyway - he became uncomfortably aware that he was in a jail cell. He could hear Edward talking, but he couldn’t see him. There wasn’t much that he could remember after he had been paralyzed. What he did know was that he hurt all over. Eferath struggled to raise himself to a sitting position, nearly swooning as pain that burned like hot fire
shot from his right side to the top of his head. He took a moment until the pain faded to barely manageable levels, then forced himself to stand using the iron cell bars to help. His cell was small, barely ten square feet and also had a small latrine situated in the back corner. The walls on either side, and behind him were solid stone save for a tiny window high above the floor. Inside of glass, there were thick cylindrical bars that barely allowed any air in, let alone natural light.

  It wasn’t long before Edward’s six-foot frame appeared on the other side of the cell’s bars. His expression was grim, but his cheeks were flushed as if he were angry. He also, Eferath noticed immediately, sported several bruises on his face.

  “How are you holding up, my friend?” Edward asked quietly, his eyes studying Eferath.

  Eferath turned to regard him. “Aside from the consequences of my actions, I would say I feel quite good.” He answered with just a hint of a smile quirking up at the corner of his mouth. Even that caused him pain.

  ‘That was a nice right hook you gave him.” Edward said stifling a chuckle, but when he looked over at Eferath, the two burst into laughter.

  “By the gods that felt good!” The young man hooted before laughing hard again. The pain caused him to double over and clutch his side. “Oh gods, don’t make me laugh!” The humor proved to be a short-lived though, and the gravity of Eferath’s predicament began weighing heavily upon his shoulders.

  “Have patience, my friend.” Edward assured him a moment later, but Eferath’s incredulous expression stole the hopeful expression from his face.

  “I will think of a way to get you out of there.” Eferath was shaking his head with every word.

  “No, my friend.” Eferath said quietly. “I will accept the consequences for my actions.”

  “And those consequences will be dire!” Roared a strange voice that Eferath couldn’t see. It was all made clear a moment later as none other than the king of Escoran made his presence known.