Brynn glanced at her. 'You know, with my shields protecting you, you could go without your armour.'
'Good point. I would rather not overheat, and it is just practice. Although Riqu used to make me practice in hot weather to build up my stamina, so I am conditioned to wear it.'
'But as you said, it is just practice, and this is not just hot weather, we are in a desert.' He turned his attention back to her sword. 'Beautiful weapon,' he complimented, giving it a swing. 'Well made... Lighter than I am used to, however you wield two...'
They were magnificently crafted. A silver hawk had been used to form the handle. The beak pointed down the black blade, the wings forming a slanted cross bar, one wing arcing up to protect her hand and the other down towards the blade. The hand-grip was made of a black wood, but silver had been threaded through it. The silver, slanted pommel was shaped like the tail of a bird, but divided into two, one long and one short. Between them was a silver-black gemstone.
'Your weapon looks skilfully hammered itself,' Sariah remarked as Kaydyr's gaze took in the precise lines of his blade. 'What is inscribed upon it?'
'Its name and purpose. It is Eirra-ghi.'
'Soul's Death,' she mused. 'The Prophecy speaks true.'
Brynn nodded absently as he bent to examine the elaborate hilt of Sariah's sword. Whilst using the one she had loaned him, he had not had a chance to study it.
'They are identical in design?' he asked.
'To the credit and great skill of their creator, yes.'
'Indeed,' Brynn agreed handing her back the weapon.
After she accepted the sword back, Sariah rolled her shoulders and returned to a neutral position, signalling she was ready to begin again.
Brynn returned to a neutral position himself, sword up and back a little. Then he dropped it and swung it in an arc at his side as she had seen him do earlier.
'Shall we allow ourselves a few minutes of freestyle to loosen our muscles a little?'
Sariah signalled an affirmative and they began again. This time, for real.
Jador woke to the sound of clashing steel. He scrambled upright, his heart racing wildly in panic for the few moments it took him to realise it was not a battle, just Sariah and Brynn practicing. Daniel stirred beside him and Jador hoped that the commotion would finally rouse him from unconsciousness. Regrettably, his nephew remained unresponsive.
He watched with fascination as the two moved back and forth across the sand. Finally Sariah managed to place the point of her sword against Brynn's throat.
Brynn tilted his head, acknowledging her victory. 'I am, indeed, out of practice,' he mused.
'Well you best practice more often, I will not always be around to help,' Sariah retorted lightly.
'Not every foe I face will be as good as you.'
Sariah gave him a brief smile. 'The flattery is a nice, if useless, touch.'
Brynn winced. 'You maim me with your words. Let us see if you can demonstrate such precise sharpness in the circle,' he challenged, giving her a lopsided grin.
Sariah laughed as she gestured for him to start.
They had reached the second level of formal practice, so they raised their sword-points skyward and bowed at the waist before beginning. Their swords tapped lightly as they shifted between attack and defence. Elvan competition had eight levels. The first limited opponents to using just the blade tip, forcing competitors to be gentle and preventing moves beginners or new partners could not defend. It also aided in building strength and stamina. Higher levels permitted greater use of the blade with the last two allowing some freestyle.
Warrior and mage moved lightly to and fro, ducking, spinning and dodging as they continued onto more complex routines. Jador felt disappointed they did not make use of the higher levels of practice, which had the more elaborate moves of elvan freestyle. The elvan had turned weapon use into an art form, using leaps, turns and rolls in an acrobatic display that was inspiring. Of course, in battle they dropped all the artistic elements, for it was no longer about presentation, but life and death.
When they finished, both fighters stopped for a drink. Although they were drenched in sweat, neither were breathing hard nor looked tired; Jador envied that. Then Sariah withdrew her second sword and they took up neutral stance. There was no bowing this time. Sariah rolled her shoulders and adjusted her footing. Brynn raised his sword and nodded, signifying his readiness. A moment later, the two clashed with such force that Jador thought he might see some freestyle fighting, after all.
The way Sariah handled both swords was amazing, she moved swiftly and unerringly. If Jador did not know she was blind, he would not be able to tell. Close study showed she not only used Kaydyr's sight, she seemed to feel Brynn's movements, often moving a mere moment ahead of Brynn's strikes. Regardless of this skill, she no longer scored on him as easily as she had in the structured practice and she found herself defending more often. Jador noted that she tended to use her left sword to defend, while attacking with the right. Whether through instinct or his own observation, Brynn noticed it, too, and the knowledge allowed him to anticipate her moves at times.
Brynn often made it look like he had left himself open, only to deflect Sariah's sword with his bracer. It was as effective as having a second weapon or shield, but Jador wondered if the young elvan realised he risked breaking his arm. Perhaps he was using talent to shield his arm, Jador thought, the elvan were known to do that. Brynn was also able to use his sword with either hand, not something every warrior had the discipline to learn, but then all the turns of training had likely equipped Brynn with such discipline. At first these moves distracted Sariah, but just as Brynn picked up on her habits, she, too, became aware of Brynn's and adjusted her strategy.
Occasionally, Brynn pulled back to edge around the practice area's border, almost lazily swinging the sword in a circle by his side. Jador recognised the tactic. It was meant to frustrate the opponent, provoking them into making impatient and impulsive decisions. Brynn judged well, because Sariah found it quite vexing, often making a sound of exasperation when Brynn did it. The younger fighter also varied how he did it to keep his more experienced opponent guessing. Despite this, she still scored touches to Brynn's chest and thigh.
As Sariah's sword tapped his leg, Brynn took advantage of her proximity to deflect her defending sword. He stepped in close, grabbing her right wrist and swinging the attacking sword up and over him while maintaining his block on her defending sword. This allowed him to sweep both swords to one side and get her off balance. At the same time, he slid his foot forward and caught it behind her ankle, causing Sariah to fall backwards. The warrior twisted gracefully to catch herself, but had to drop her swords. Brynn was bringing his sword about for a downward strike even as Sariah rolled out of reach and spun into a crouch. As Brynn moved towards her, the warrior did another roll, but this time towards him. It was a move Brynn did not expect because normally a disarmed warrior stayed distant until they retrieved their weapon. But Sariah knew Brynn would only follow her, keeping her near the ground and giving him the chance to make a 'killing' strike. She was not going to let a mage beat her in practice. Calculating her move to bring her right up to Brynn, she forced him to instinctively shift back, putting him on the defence. It also gave her precious seconds to draw the two long knives incorporated into the harness on her back. As her roll ended, Sariah lunged upwards, bringing her knives up in a cross to catch Brynn's blade as he finished his belated downward strike. The weight of the blow drove the crossed blades down, but she held him off.
After a moment, Brynn grinned and stepped back. Sariah was not finished though, and as Brynn turned, she caught his ankle, using the move that had disarmed her to do the same to Brynn. Like Sariah, Brynn twisted and moved into a crouch — it was a basic recovery technique — but unlike Sariah, he managed to retain his sword. He started to bring it about for a strike, but Sariah locked the hilt of her dagger in with his sword's, putting a jarring halt on the move. Simultaneously, she
stepped in, bringing her left-hand knife to his throat with a grin of triumph. Her moment of victory was short-lived as she realised that Brynn's open crossbow rested just beneath her chin.
'By Fate! You are a spectacular fighter!' Brynn laughed whole-heartedly. 'How in the realms do you fight like that blind?'
'A lot of practice. Hours of it, every day. And a keen-eyed hawk. Intelligent too,' she added with a fond smile.
Kaydyr screeched and glided to her shoulder, where he had his head stroked affectionately.
'When you regain your sight, I am not sure I want to remain your practicing partner. It could prove to be both embarrassing and greatly humbling, and I need to retain what little self-confidence I have left,' Brynn said sheathing his sword.
'Oh, you'll survive,' Sariah assured him with a laugh.
'Speaking of healing your sight. Do you mind if we delay it until we reach Caradon?' I know I said I wanted to do it here, but all the recent healing and my planes-bound excursions have left me more drained than I expected…'
'No need to explain. My adoptive mother, Pasika, is a healer. I understand the toll healing takes and that rest is essential. I can wait.'
Brynn gave her a grateful smile. 'Thanks.'
Jador looked sadly at his nephew, still unconscious despite Brynn's ministrations. He ran a hand through the soft, golden hair. He looked the very image of his father. Jador hoped he had not failed his brother in his promise to protect his nephew. And then.... Daniel's green eyes were open.
'Uncle? Where are we?' he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked about the desert oasis. 'What happened?'
Jador smiled. 'I tracked you down and then they found us,' he said gesturing to the two elvan who were now crouching and drawing in the sand, energetically discussing their training session.
Jador did a double take as he realised that Brynn had removed the scarf covering his hair, revealing black hair with streaks of silver. 'It- it- it's him. Daniel, it's him!'
Daniel looked at Brynn and smiled. 'It's fine, uncle, he's okay. I know him.'
'But it's him, Daniel!' the elder man insisted.
'Who?' Daniel finally asked, not sure what his uncle meant now.
'Nathan's elvan, the one we were hired to find.'
'Yes, Uncle, it is. Remember when I took that At-hara job? I said it was too hot and you were better off managing my affairs while we were away.'
Jador frowned, but nodded.
'Well, we were training to infiltrate Abbarane's ranks. When I came back I told you I was branching out and taking on mercenary commissions? You were sceptical because you thought it was out of character for me to want to get involved in 'the kind of business mercenaries get up to'.'
Jador nodded again. He'd been worried, especially when they started working for the thanes.
'It was a part of our plan. That's why I took on Grayndler even though he wasn't a tracker. He's a mage who is naturally gifted with mind-hear.'
That made sense. Jador remembered being puzzled at the time by Daniel's decision to take on a complete novice. But a mage with mind-hear would just have to 'listen in' to access intelligence other people could not reach. Jador looked over at the elvan again. They were sitting now, still discussing tactics. He laughed as a realisation came to him, 'He looks exactly as the Thane's poem describes him!'
Daniel smiled weakly at his uncle. 'So are you going to tell me how I went from being live bird bait to land in this place?'
Jador smiled in return. 'Now, that was an exceptionally well-performed trick of Fate.'
Day 5 – Evening
North Kenar Woods
Nathan looked over the huddled slaves, having just caught up to the patrols who had taken them in custody. Once the patrols had captured them, Nathan had Akileena pretend he was an elvan child and send a false message of distress. The mage had hated doing that, but Nathan had enjoyed forcing him. Akileena said the message had been 'heard', so it was just a matter of time until they attempted a rescue. That was why they'd left Sal-Cirus so hurriedly; they needed to add their reinforcements to the patrols before the rebels made their move. With the mages using their talent to speed the horses, they did not need to rest them, allowing them to cover far more ground than the rebels would anticipate. So when the rebels did come, they would face more than just the one or two patrols they expected.
The three slaves he'd had the patrols send to Denas as insurance should arrive there soon. The two humans of the remaining four had slave brands and technically belonged to Curtin, if they lived long enough. The remaining two, an elvan adult and elvan child, would be used to reel his rebel thief in.
Mage Rochester had established that the elvan adult had a strong link with the female warrior Akileena had seen with the rebel thief in Sal-Cirus. Convoluted as the tracking had been, it had reaped results. Now the challenge was to keep the interrogation non-fatal. The elvan adult would yield the most useful information, especially with the child to use against him, but the humans had no talent-made barriers and would be easier to break. Nathan remained undecided. One of the best ways to draw a talented rebel in was to torture one of their own. They could sense the other's pain, even if they were some distance away. Due to her link to the male adult, the female warrior was guaranteed to respond. Whether she brought the thief was unknown, but if she didn't, she'd know where to find him.
'There are no rebels able to sense our captives, yet, my lord.'
Nathan frowned, suppressing a gasp as the sound of the mage's voice surprised him. He pierced Akileena with a look of irritation.
'You commanded that I report regularly on the rebel movements, my lord.'
'You can forgo the reports until there is something worth reporting,' Nathan grated.
Akileena gave a short bow. 'As you will, my lord. If my lord has no immediate need of me, I will go to my tent. I can monitor the perimeters and the planes from there without distractions.'
Nathan waved him off.
The Thane gave the slaves another long look of consideration, trying to remember just what he'd been thinking before Akileena had interrupted. Then the smell of spit-roast filled his nostrils. Nathan inhaled deeply, suddenly finding the thought of food quite appealing.
He looked to his valet. 'Are my quarters in order yet?'
'Not quite, milord. They are just setting up the furnishings and putting the lanterns in place, milord. The bed is being made and the braziers are being prepared, just as you directed, milord.'
Nathan grunted, he might as well enjoy the fire, then. At least his officers and the mages could report. 'I will have my meal by the fire.'
Day 5 – Night
At-hara Desert
Brynn let the warm evening air lull him into a doze. It would get bone-chillingly cold before the dawning sun peeked her eyelashes over the desert, but for now, he was comfortable.
Although Jador's injuries were relatively minor, ridding him of arthritis had taken significantly longer. By repairing the wear age had put on Jador's body, Brynn had broken an unwritten, but well-established, rule. The reasons for the rule could keep a group of healers debating for days, but the primary one was that they could not offer equal access. Not all healers were capable of it and there were not enough of those who could do it to offer it to every person who might want it. There was also a lengthy lecture on the consequences of tampering with nature's designs that Brynn could recite by heart because Belon had battered his mind with it so often. In Jador's case, Brynn thought the exception was justified, although Belon would argue that. One did not do such things because one felt they owed a certain party. That party being Daniel. Belon would fail to see that in healing Jador, Brynn gave Daniel the gift of more time with his only remaining kin. It would not matter to Belon that Daniel had sacrificed turns of his short, human life for the rebel cause and the extension of the life of his uncle was the repayment of a good act with a good act. If Fate valued balance, as the elvan believed, then Brynn saw his act as contributing to that ba
lance. Regardless of these arguments, Belon would undoubtedly make her objections known... Well, if she found out.
To say Daniel had required even more 'bending' of those rules, was putting a lot of strain on the meaning of 'bending'. Without Brynn's intervention, Daniel would have died within hours. Brynn could foresee a least one mind-numbing lecture on responsibility and another on consequences should Belon investigate just exactly how Daniel managed to live.
Brynn felt so exhausted, he was limp, his body too tired to even hold the tension of overworked, aching muscles. He enjoyed the feeling of his body sleeping and the gradual rejuvenation occurring through his cells and systems. When Belon first taught him to access these planes, he had lost hours just feeling their rhythms. She said his fascination then made him a better healer now.
With a start, Brynn realised he was no longer alone. He was not sure how long it had been there, but there it was — a spirit wandering right through his ghanri. A ghanri was a sanctuary highly-skilled mages set aside on the planes to keep their spirit safe when it was most vulnerable. He came here when he needed deeper rest or to recover from an injury, or to safely practice a new skill. The constantly changing environment made it difficult for other mages to pinpoint you.
It was not unknown for other spirits to accidentally connect here, after all, that was what these planes were — a great cluster of spirit planes intertwined through a greater plane. Lost or exploring spirits came through these planes all the time. What Brynn found alarming was that this one had not just brushed by his spirit plane, but had entered the plane he had built within it, a plane with barriers.
A moment of examination revealed that the spirit was lost rather than here with intent. He had come across others like this many times. The first time was when he started training with Belon. His mother always guided the lost spirit back to their body, saying that the spirit did not know they had talent and did not realise they were traversing planes. She said they often described the experience as a dream, perceiving those they interacted with as figments of their sleeping unconscious. Untrained as they were, they risked losing themselves on the planes and never returning. The danger of this, Belon told him, was that their body would die. With their physical body gone, their essence was left to travel the planes for eternity, never to find rest. Mages killed in trance also risked this fate. Humans called them ghosts. Brynn had met one once, when he was fourteen. The soul was so tortured, it was reduced to wailing gibberish. Ever since then, he always responsibly guided the spirits back to their bodies, and like Belon, built basic barriers for them, so they could only enter the planes by intention.
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