Ethan Wright and the Curse of Silence

by Kimbro West

  “Are you alright?” asked Edison in a concerned voice as he leaned over Ethan, now lying on the flat of his back.

  “He must’ve flown twenty feet,” whispered Auren to Availia who, along with Stanley, was standing over Ethan.

  Everyone looked quite concerned.

  Ethan partially sat up. With the stone clutched in his hand he looked up to Edison and smiled. “Never better.”

  Chapter 17

  Sword Dueling 101

  “And once again, I see some have shown up to my class without the proper gear to participate. But … fortunately for me, this will be the last my time is wasted by Edison Rupert’s so-called alchemy squad,” sputtered Heinrich. His voice echoed down the Dueling Hall where ‘Introductory to Sword Dueling 101’ was being held.

  The traditional Hall had statues lined up along the walls, all holding up the roof with one hand and stretching a sword to hold up the roof’s peak with the other.

  “Why don’t you two put your armor on? At least you have armor to wear; you don’t have to get into trouble because of Auren and I,” whispered Ethan to Stanley and Availia.

  “Yeah,” Auren nodded, “Stanley, your armor is wicked! Why don’t you use it? No use waiting for us.”

  “You can’t not wear armor in a dueling class,” argued Ethan.

  The veins on Heinrich’s forehead pulsated as his face turned several shades of red. Ethan could swear Heinrich had blood vessels popping out from his rather large nose.

  “Get out of my class!” shrieked Heinrich. “I have made arrangements to have you banned from Tirguard if you do not complete the standard classes. And you have all failed this class miserably!”

  Just then a young man pushed open the giant doors to the Hall, turned around, picked up a large bag and swung it over his shoulder. The girls in the class swooned and blushed as whispers erupted thoughout the Dueling Hall. Even Availia blushed a bit as the long-haired strapping man approached Heinrich. He was strikingly good-looking and was obviously well-regarded, as even the boys in the class were whispering back and forth. The man reminded Ethan of one of the statues lined up along the wall.

  “Sorry I’m late,” said the man as he placed the giant bag next to Ethan; it clanked as it came to rest on the marble floor.

  “And who exactly are you?” asked Ethan.

  “I am…” But the man was cut off by Heinrich.

  “A distraction to my class — tell me something Magnus, do you see me parading around the Stadion as you train for your brainless and quite pointless Stadion games?”

  “Stadion Champion, yes … he’s the Stadion Champion, I knew I recognized him,” whispered one boy. More whispers flooded the vast Hall.

  “My deepest apologies, Heinrich, but the city is having its first armor shortage since the Curse of Silence was lifted. I figured if anyone needed…” But once again Magnus was cut off, this time by Auren who was digging in the bag.

  “There’s armor in here!” said Auren as he pulled a combination leather-and-steel chestplate out of the bag.

  “Yes, Auren, a bit bulky I’m afraid, but it should do the trick nicely,” answered Magnus with a smile. “On loan of course,” he added.

  The girls swooned as Magnus smiled and brushed away the long hair from his face. “You’re a fairly strong young man, aren’t you, Auren — there was no exaggeration in your father’s description.”

  “You know my father?”

  “Everyone does. The Mighty Ghislain — only the longest-running Stadion Champion of all time,” smiled Magnus as he patted Auren’s shoulder.

  “The what?” Auren yelped in shock.

  “Champion of the Stadion … your father — you know. Anyhow, if you find yourself interested in the games, I would be happy to instruct you a bit, just let …”

  “That is quite enough, Magnus. Recruit the desperate and insecure on your own time,” snapped Heinrich. A snicker came from Marcus Grenwise, pushing his way through the class to get a glimpse of the Stadion Champion.

  “Do you mind if I watch for a bit?” asked Magnus politely.

  “Oh why not, this class can’t possibly get any worse, can it?” snarled Heinrich as he directed his students’ attention to the center of the Hall. “Let us get right to it then. This is a sparring match with an emphasis on defense — everyone who has paid attention or at least participated in my previous classes will understand the basics of blocking. Since I have yet to see anything from the famous alchemist foursome, you will go first. I will start with you, Auren, and how about a partner that actually knows what they are doing … volunteers?”

  Marcus Grenwise stepped forward. “I’ll go,” announced Marcus, smirking as he tightened his chestplate and pulled his sword from its sheath. He walked across the marble floor to the center of the ring. The marble outlined a perfect ring and two starting positions, centered underneath the Dueling Hall’s peak.

  Auren struggled to get the chestplate strapped on properly and was soon assisted by Magnus. “Just keep your guard high and use quick strikes. I hear this Grenwise boy knows the sword quite well, so be on your toes at all times,” instructed Magnus.

  “Um, I don’t have a sword,” whispered Auren.

  Magnus flicked his two-handed sword from the sheath and caught it by the blade in mid-air. “Use mine,” he said, offering the hilt to Auren.

  “Whoa, thanks!” exclaimed Auren, grabbing the double-edged blade from Magnus. The sword was quite striking in appearance, which seemed fitting for the Stadion Champion.

  Auren stepped to the line. Marcus, who stared at Auren with disgust, backed up to his line and held his sword in ready position.

  “Remember, this is sparring only — give and take is key. Ready? Begin.” Heinrich lowered his arm and stepped back.

  Marcus cocked back his sword and swung with all his might, just missing Auren’s middle as Auren flung his midsection backward. Marcus immediatley pushed forward and lunged his sword toward Auren’s chest. Auren blocked at the last possible second and dashed to the side as another strike came at him. This one aimed wildly at Auren’s unprotected face. He ducked, barely escaping the blow, and leaned forward to shove Marcus back toward the other side of the ring. Marcus lost his cool. He cocked his sword back again and charged. This time Auren was ready and swung back; a soft ring came from the swords colliding and several clank noises followed shortly thereafter.

  “My sword!” yelled Marcus in disgust. “You broke my sword!” Marcus continued to protest as he picked up the other half of his sword from the marble floor. “Do you have any idea how much this cost, you stupid oaf?!”

  “I think you paid too much then,” retorted Auren as he walked back to hand Magnus the sword.

  “That was fantastic, Auren,” said Magnus while clapping his hands. The other students in the class followed the Stadion Champion’s actions and gave a small applause. This further angered Marcus. He threw the broken sword to the corner of the Dueling Hall where his armor bag rested on the floor.

  “That’s enough!” shrilled Heinrich in disgust. “Both of you! I said to spar, not take each other’s heads off. If you can’t control yourself, you will never control a sword. You will both jog laps together until the end of class — fail to do so and you will run laps until the sun sets.”

  Magnus winked at Auren as he helped remove the chestplate. A scraping sound was heard on the other side of the Hall, where Marcus slid his armor after his sword. The two reluctantly started jogging together to the end of the Hall and started their laps.

  “Ethan, your turn. Since none of you seem to understand the proper etiquette of sparring, you will demonstrate with me.” Heinrich’s voice echoed through the Hall.

  Ethan put the chestplate on as Magnus helped him with the straps. Availia intervened and grabbed Ethan’s arm. “No,” she whispered furiously. “Heinrich hates you; he only wants to punish you in there. You can’t — you simply can’t!”

  “Wait, what are you talking about?” asked Magnus, concerned.<
br />
  “Well … I sort of pulled his sword from the alchemy vessel, so according to Edison … it now belongs to me,” said Ethan as he pulled the sword slightly out of its sheath and slid it back in.

  “Oh … that could be a problem, couldn’t it,” responded Magnus, now with a very concerned look. He turned to the ring where Heinrich was waiting. “Perhaps you would allow me the honor of sparring with you instead?”

  “First you interrupt my class and now you want to teach it? Well … no,” replied Heinrich bluntly.

  Ethan put his arm on Magnus’ shoulder. “It’s ok … I’ll go,” he said as he unsheathed the sword and stepped to the line.

  Heinrich looked down upon Ethan and glanced at the sword the alchemy student was holding. “Going to use my own sword against me for a sparring match, are you?” snarled Heinrich.

  Ethan remained silent.

  “Well then, let’s begin,” he added.

  Heinrich eased forward and flicked his sword-tip toward Ethan’s chestplate. Ethan pushed his sword forward with both hands to block, but hit nothing. Instead Heinrich pulled back his fake strike, side-stepped, and slapped Ethan’s back with the flat of his blade. Although protected with leather, Ethan felt a sting reverberate through his spine and out his chest.

  Heinrich stepped back and waited for Ethan to attack. Ethan regrouped and lunged toward Heinrich’s chestplate. Heinrich made no attempt to move and listlessly slapped Ethan’s advance away with his sword. Ethan was left wide open, but Heinrich did not advance. Ethan swung his blade toward Heinrich’s shoulder, just to have his advance easily deflected again by his opponent. And again, Ethan was wide open long enough that Heinrich could have advanced, but did not. Ethan started low and swung upward, only to have the sword knocked completely from his hand.

  “So this is the brother of a coward is it? You don’t even know how to hold a sword properly — what, do you just spend your time thieving other peoples’ belongings? Have you not paid attention to anything I have taught in previous classes? Pathetic!” hissed Henrich.

  Ethan could hear Marcus snickering as he and Auren jogged past. He was not entirely sure if the sparring match was over, but was so angry he felt the urge to continue.

  “My brother is not a coward … and I am no thief,” said Ethan as anger burned in his eyes.

  “I am sorry, I don’t think I heard you properly … what were you saying?” taunted Heinrich.

  “I think that’s enough,” yelled Magnus, his voice echoing through the great Hall.

  The thin double-edged blade lay at Heinrich’s feet. He kicked it over to Ethan, who reached down and picked it up. Ethan’s anger escalated as he felt blood boiling in his veins. Pulling the dark grey stone from his pocket with his left hand, he held the sword in his right. A blue haze made its way from the tip of the sword down toward the hilt. The blade fogged up, then clank! The fog quickly evaporated and the blade started to glow red.

  Suddenly, Ethan’s scream echoed through the Hall as he recoiled his hand, dropping the sword. He fell to the floor, in excruciating pain, as the skin on his palm blistered and boiled. Smoke came from the marble floor as a charred discoloration made its way around the sword.

  “YOU DARE USE ALCHEMY IN MY CLASS?” roared Heinrich. “You’re finished here!” he spat.

  Chapter 18

  Lies and Lickable Dragon Eggs

  Ethan had been waiting in the infirmary for some time; there were several narrow beds lined up between him and the door. His friends were not allowed inside by order of Heinrich, so he stayed hunkered down in the infirmary bed and waited. The room was quite large and very dark; a small beam of moonlight shone through the window closest to the bed Ethan was lying in. He rolled the cracked stone around in his left hand and tried not to touch anything with his right.

  He began to wonder if someone would come in and see him anytime soon, when suddenly he heard voices arguing just outside the door, one of which was Heinrich.

  “No! I demand you not only remove him from school, but he be banned from Tirguard altogether!” shrieked Heinrich.

  “He is my student, and you can’t simply ban him for heating up a sword! It will take time for him to hone his alchemy skills,” argued Edison. “Besides, he didn’t hurt anyone but himself — and I assure you that was an accident!”

  “He was intentionally attempting to cause injury to me in a sparring match!” spat Heinrich. “It’s only a matter of time before he injures another student.”

  “I was there the entire time. At no point did Ethan attempt injury to you or anyone in the class,” came a muffled voice that Ethan assumed was Magnus.

  “I am not making any decisions now,” said a fourth voice. “And Heinrich, it seems to me that the Captain of the Tirguard armies was in full capacity to defend himself from a twelve-year-old boy, even if he is the brother of Isaac Wright. Now then, I will not be bothered with any more of this now. Heinrich, go back to class, and Edison, fetch the nurse. Oh — give the boy back his sword, Heinrich … when it comes to the vessel, you know the rules.”

  Ethan heard heavy footsteps echo down the hallway, away from the infirmary. He smiled — Heinrich had not gotten his way yet again. The door swung open and in entered a middle-aged woman in a cloak with three metal fasteners clasped at the front. She was carrying the largest cylindrical container of green goop Ethan had ever seen. She sat down in a chair next to Ethan’s wounded hand.

  “My name is Helga, I will be your nurse,” she said as she held out her empty hand. She showed Ethan her palm, and Ethan noticed a strange symbol. “Don’t worry, I’m an alchemist. You’re in safe hands,” she whispered with a smile.

  “Is that green stuff from Wegnel … er MacArthur rather?” asked Ethan.

  The woman smiled and rolled up Ethan’s sleeve. “No, this is a bit more advanced. I specialize in medical alchemy. Initially we started with MacArthur’s recipe, but in this case, we modified it by heating it up.”

  Ethan looked worried. “Wait, why heat it up?”

  “Well, the green paste seems to counteract anything it comes in contact with. If I heat it up beforehand, it will counteract heat — or, in your case, a burn. Like I said, you are in good hands. Let’s have you slip your hand in here until it is completely submerged.”

  Ethan reluctantly slid his hand into the green goop. It felt warm, but instantly provided relief to his hand. Soon it started to tingle.

  “There now, is that better?” asked Helga.

  “Yeah, it is. Thanks,” answered Ethan. “Do you know where my friends are?”

  “They were by, but no visitors for right now. You need some rest.” Helga slipped a strange lid around Ethan’s arm and slid it to the top of the glass cylinder. She snapped it into place and brought Ethan’s wrist up to ensure it did not leak. “There now,” she added.

  “Do you know if my hand will be…?”

  “It will be fine, after several days … maybe a week. I will check back on you later and we will take a look. Get some rest now, nurse’s orders.”

  Just then Edison poked his nose in.

  “No visitors, Edison,” ordered Helga.

  “Ok, I just brought Ethan his things so he wouldn’t get bored. I’ll just set them here. Try and feel better, Ethan,” said Edison as he set Ethan’s pack down at the side of the bed.

  “Edison, is everything ok, I mean …”

  “Everything is fine, Ethan, don’t worry about a thing,” soothed Edison. “Now then, I had better go before the nurse ends up admitting me,” he chuckled.

  ***

  “Do you think Ethan will be alright?” whispered Auren as he unrolled an old scroll. “I mean, did you see the burn marks on the floor?”

  “I think he’ll be …” answered Availia, but was interrupted.

  “Zut alors! I said to put the scrolls away, Auren, not to read through them!” yelled Madam Kheller as she pulled the glasses from her nose. “Just do as monsieur Stanley does — he is here often and is most helpful.” The
blonde records woman had been keeping a suspicious eye on them since they walked in. She seemed particularly curious as to why they would volunteer for something as boring as records.

  “I think we need to be more discreet,” whispered Availia, as she started sorting through the incoming scrolls that were stacked on an inconveniently placed journal desk. She looked down the rows of cubbies that lined the wall all the way up to the ceiling.

  “Well, can we hurry up? This place is creepy,” complained Auren as he moved some cobwebs from one of the cubbies to put a scroll away. “I mean, this is a nightmare. How are we supposed to find anything about werewolves in this mess?” he asked as he poked at an old statue that was crumbling to dust. As he poked it, half the statue crumbled to form a new pile of dust on an already dusty shelf.

  “Wait, Stanley … did Madam Kheller say you help her here often?” asked Availia.

  Stanley nodded.

  “Then do you know where we can find information on the Stonewolf?”

  “Mmmm nnnuugh … no,” stuttered Stanley. “Depends — drastically desires dramatic distraction.”

  “A distraction?” asked Availia.

  Stanley nodded.

  “Auren, go and talk to Madam Kheller for a while — keep her busy!” ordered Availia.

  “Why me?” asked Auren. “I don’t have anything to talk about. What should I say?”

  “You’ll think of something, hurry and go before we run out of scrolls to put away.”

  “Fine then …” grumbled Auren, walking to the wooden desk where the beady-eyed woman continued to glare at Availia and Stanley. “Um … hi there,” spoke Auren.

  “Oui, what is it?”

  “Do you have any information on weird creatures, lying around somewhere? Like a werewolf … maybe that could have stone skin … or something. Yeah, like a stone-skin werewolf section in here … somewhere,” babbled Auren.