Brightflame Accension (Book 1) (2 page)

Silence fell among the crowd so deep that only the bells on the jester hat could be heard. The warriors stood scanning the arena from one end to the other. Tension mounted as the crowd held its breath, waiting. After a time, the combatants began showboating in the center of the ring, posing heroically and laughing. The crowd cheered wildly, roaring with amusement. “Father, why don’t they fight? Aren’t they supposed to duel?” Will tugged on his father’s arm.

A muffled roar ended the applause. Their flamboyancy gone, the men in the rink grew nervous, shifting their weight uneasily from foot to foot. A warrior wiped his brow. The shroud of tension and expectation over the crowd grew heavier.

A loud bang issued from beneath the arena. Screams and gasps sounded from both the audience and combatants. The ground shook. The warrior standing over the center was flung into the air, and an explosion of wood and dirt erupted from where he had stood. Will jumped in surprise.

A troll emerged. The ugly, muscular creature crawled out of its secret enclosure exposed by the blast. With a height of nearly ten feet at the shoulder, the troll wielded a massive, spiked club. A thick iron chain attached to the collar that hung loosely around its neck.

The troll looked around stupidly. One of the warriors drew his bowstring back and loosed an arrow. Twang after twang, the bow sang happily as its shots hit their marks. The troll swatted at the arrows, breaking the shafts and driving the heads further into its grayish skin. A woman in the stands shouted rowdily, “Kill him! Get him!”

The troll grumbled angrily and lumbered away from the stinging darts. Another warrior stepped forward to fight the beast. He raised his shield just in time to block a blow from the troll’s club, but the strike proved to be too powerful to withstand. He flew yards into the air and fell upon the ground, stunned. The troll staggered after the fallen warrior. Two of the fallen man’s comrades stepped in between the troll and their friend. They too were swept aside like leaves in the wind by the monster’s club. Coming to, the stunned man scrambled to his feet unsteadily and tripped, falling to the ground. Spotting the troll’s approach, he scurried across the dirt on his hands and knees.

The chain tightened around the troll’s neck as it raised the cruel weapon for the final crushing blow, affording the warrior enough time to roll out of the range of the troll’s club and gather his sword and shield. The troll bellowed, furious at being denied its kill. Wrenching the collar off its neck with a large, three-fingered hand, it roared.

The troll shambled, utilizing its knuckles like an ape, over to the warrior and swept him aside. The resounding crack of bones was heard throughout the arena. The crowd froze. The warrior slumped to the ground, lifeless. His legs stuck out at unnatural angles, and a pool of blood formed around the helmeted head.

A child in the stands began to cry. The spectators rose as one, and mad rush to escape ensued. Tournament officials jumped from the panicking audience into the rink to subdue the troll. Matthew leapt into the arena to help the officials. Fat Harold tried to drag Elizabeth from the arena but she resisted him and leapt after Matthew onto the sand. Standing at his seat, Will was unable to flee, glued to the spot by an invisible force. The troll screeched as arrows and spears penetrated its tough hide. A sweep of its mighty club sent many armored officials soaring into the sky. The monster turned as a sword was thrust into its thigh. It spotted Will, the only remaining spectator, with its beady, gray eyes.

Will stood, as if in a trance, looking into the cold eyes of the troll. Finding strength from some treacherous source in its body, the troll broke the ring of officials and charged towards Will. The terrible beast swung the spiked club at Will’s head. Will barely ducked in time to dodge the blow. Will’s eyes widened in fear as he dove out of the way of another swoop of the weapon. The troll snatched Will with its three-fingered hand, holding Will upside-down and raising its club for a killing strike.

Will shut his eyes and cringed as the troll shuddered. Nothing happened. Will opened his eyes to see his father standing on the troll’s shoulders with his sword hilt-deep in the troll’s neck.

Old man strength, indeed
, flitted the thought through Will’s head.

The monster stumbled and dropped Will. Hitting the ground, Will saw stars dancing before his eyes. Moaning, he fell into the dark grip of unconsciousness.

Will opened his eyes slowly. Lying on a cart padded with rough blankets that bumped along behind the horses, Will’s back smarted painfully. Fighting soreness, Will could not bring himself to move his arms for a moment. Attempting to but unable to sit up, Will fell back wincing. He closed his eyes wearily, trying to clear his head. The noise of hooves clopping along on a dirt road filled his ears; each clop was a dagger in his temples.

Reluctantly, Will opened his eyes again, but the night was dark. Still immobile on his back, he saw nothing but the star-littered sky. As far as he could tell, he was alone with the clopping horses. For lack of better entertainment, Will lay, staring up at a star streaked sky, pondering nothing in particular. When the sky lightened, signaling dawn, Will allowed his eyes to droop and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Initiation

The next time he woke, Will found that he could prop himself up with only minor twangs of pain. Looking around, he recognized his surroundings; Will was in his loft at home. He leaned over the edge of his bed and saw the familiar stone fireplace and walls covered in shields of differing fields and crests. From a seat by the fire, Harold and his thick, bristly moustache were peering at him. Will smiled weakly.

Harold
smiled back, his teeth white beneath his dark whiskers. “Well, you’re up. That’s always the first step. Waking up. You took a nasty knock when you hit the ground. Those poor horses had to drag you
and
the supplies home.”

“Will! You’re awake. I was hoping you wouldn’t sleep through another meal. Are you hungry, darling? We’ve got some cider for you should you like something hot,” Elizabeth said, offering Will a steaming mug of cinnamon-colored liquid.

Will sipped at the cider happily. He didn’t feel so stiff after he had finished. He waited a few moments, then Will crawled out of the bed and sat at the table. The drink had woken in him an appetite, and Will suddenly felt famished. Elizabeth placed a plate of mutton and salted venison in front of Will, who wolfed down several large pieces of meat. Fiddling with an ornate dagger, Matthew watched him intently.

“Harold,” Matthew said, not taking his icy blue eyes off his son, “I hate to bother you now, but I cannot wait any longer. Let’s test William.”

“Here, Matthew?” Harold asked, casting a nervous glance at Elizabeth’s turned back.

“Aye, here and now.”

“You never were a patient man,” Harold said with a nostalgic smile.

“A test?” Will protested. “I just got out of bed. I cannot prove anything now,” he groaned.

Matthew’s eyes sparked dangerously in the way they always did when he wanted Will to shut his mouth and do what was asked of him. “Come on, Will, you’ve had plenty of time to rest. Harold is here on official business, and you wouldn’t want to waste his time would you?” The stern voice that warned of severe punishment provided just enough incentive for Will to move.

Standing wearily from his chair, Will shed the blanket draped over his shoulders. He reached for his tunic, but Matthew grabbed him and pulled him out into the sunny yard. A slight wind tickled Will’s bare chest.

“Are you sure you are fit, William?” Harold asked, assuming a position away from the house.

“He’ll be fine, old friend,” Matthew interjected.

Harold looked to Will who, despite his sore back, nodded.

“Watch it, son!” Matthew shouted as Harold thrust his hand forward.

A blast of air knocked Will to the ground. He howled in pain; his sides were still badly bruised. With another stream of wind, Harold sent Will tumbling across the ground like a misshapen ball. Will staggered to his feet.

“Attack, Will! Strike back!” Matthew shouted. Will looked at him incredulously. He turned back to Harold. The moustache quivered just as the man thrust his hand forward.

“What do you want me to do?” Will barked at his father. He was hit by the wall of air again and thrown back.

“Go get him, son,” Matthew answered simply, cringing as Will hit the ground again. Will groaned, furiously, stubbornly fought to gain his footing again.

Will ducked the barely visible jet. As he ran towards Harold, he looked for something to take cover from the buffeting air. The moustache fluttered. Will tripped over something long and narrow. As the wave passed, his hair was tugged by the magic he barely avoided.

What manner of test is this?
he asked himself, spitting out the dirt that had filled his mouth when he’d fallen.

Will looked down at what he had tripped over. A forgotten shovel lay at his feet. Grabbing its handle, Will stood again. Something at that moment took hold of him. Fiery claws tore at his mind. It did not hurt, but Will felt the violence of the action all the same. The unknown force rushed through his veins; he could sense it as a warm tingle in his fingers. Then, Will was not thinking properly, and the power inside of him seemed to take control of his limbs. Will could not resist the power, but he found he did not want to.

“I feel…” he whispered to himself, “dangerous.” He looked up at Harold. The moustache shook again. Will slashed through the air with his shovel. The movement was quick and precise. In his current condition, Will’s movements were swift and effortless. The wind was deflected by the shovelhead. Red sparks erupted as the wind struck the shovel.

Vaguely, Will heard his father shouting with glee, but Will’s attention was focused elsewhere. Taking confident strides towards his target, Will blocked every wind strike, creating a shower of sparks until he was within striking distance of Harold. The fat man huffed and puffed, struggling to find enough energy to continue his magical barrage.

Will raised the shovel and felt it tugged out of his hands. He turned angrily. Matthew smiled at him. His red eyes twinkled at Will. Matthew had wrenched the shovel away, and Will caught the reflection of his own eyes in his father’s. They too burned red like fiery coals.

Will shook his head to clear it of the angry presence. The beast inside retreated without protest.

“Well done, William,” Matthew said, a pleased grin stretching wide across his face. He and Harold left Will alone and bewildered in the oncoming darkness. Walking over to the small pond, Will looked at his reflection. Small ripples distorted his face, but his eyes were clearly blue.

I would have killed him. What monster is this that can take control so easily?
He sat alone until the air chilled him and the sun was low. When the breeze picked up, Will walked inside to the warmth of the fire.

Harold and Matthew sat by the crackling hearth, discussing recent changes in Imperial policy and the various comings and goings of far-off people in far-off cities. Elizabeth was readying her evening tea. Tired and
disturbed, Will sat down at the table with her. His fingers traced the knots in the wood.

“Will, you felt a power in your mind during that test, correct?” Harold asked.

“Yes, I did. Though, if Father hadn’t stopped me I don’t know if I could have controlled it. It felt as if it wasn’t me fighting, but something else,” Will replied. “Am I possessed?”

Matthew burst into laughter at that, and Elizabeth patted Will’s arm, muttering, “No, I shouldn’t think so, darling.” She looked concerned and cast a disapproving glance at her husband’s amused grin.

“What you felt is uncommon, but you are of uncommon stock. It is good that you can feel that power,” Harold said. “For all these years, when Matthew did not send word of your progress, I grew nervous. I see now that my fears were unfounded; you are your father’s son after all.” Harold’s great belly jiggled merrily and his cheeks reddened with mirth.

“What is to happen now?” Will asked.

“The question of an emberling,” Matthew smiled kindly. “A seasoned soldier knows that it is best to fight to the bitter end and let the world decide what happens next. The path before you will open up soon enough. Will, if only you knew what wonders you can perform in the heat of the moment-”

Elizabeth interjected, “It is better, safer, Will, if you do not delve further into these matters today. There has been too much magic flowing in the air this day. If any who are attuned to such things are near, they are bound to notice and flock to this house.” Elizabeth shot her impassioned husband a dark look. “Harold, do you have the information you needed?”

“Yes, and more, my lady. I believe he will do very well at the Academy. This test, for a lad like young William, is more of a formality than a necessity. His acceptance is essentially guaranteed,” Harold paused, thoughtfully. “Perhaps, Matthew should teach him something of his potential while he remains here at home. At the Academy, I’m afraid he may lack the proper guidance one with his, ummm, ability may require.”

If looks could kill, Elizabeth might have struck down Harold right there and then, but instead she merely nodded briskly, “Thank you, Harold, but I’m sure the Academy will not fail him.”

“Only a suggestion, my lady,” Harold said warily, knowing that he tread on thin ice. “With my tests complete, I suppose I must off. Fortune will have us united again soon, surely, but until then, farewell my friend.” Harold got ponderously to his feet, embraced Matthew, and turned back to Elizabeth. “Beautiful Elizabeth, thank you for your hospitality. William, I wish you the best of luck and look forward to hearing of your progress.” Harold clasped Will’s hand.

“Can I not persuade you to stay for another day or two?” Matthew asked. “Surely, you must want to rest a night under a solid roof with a hot meal in that immense belly of yours?”

“No, my old friend. Unfortunately, I have other business that wants my attention. I will review my observations and send word of the results when I can. Farewell.” With that, Harold walked out the door, struggled onto a roan horse, and rode off as the sun set beyond the grassy hills.

Matthew waved from the doorway. When he returned, Matthew suggested that Will rest; they were to hunt tomorrow as their food stores were running low again.