Wielder of the Flame (12 page)

Eleanor was watching the shop with Topar up front. Zildjin
and Sesuadra both sat at the table. Sesuadra seemed deeply engrossed in a thick
tome. Zildjin had a number of scrolls laid out in front of him with large
symbols and letters on them in sprawling diagrams. To his left was a mostly
blank piece of parchment with only a few letters written on the top left hand
corner in black ink. An inkwell and a shallow dish filled with fine sand were
also laid before him on the table. He also had his small token out as well next
to the inkwell. He had a feather quill in his right hand. Zildjin would
practice making the strokes of the letter he was working on in the sand. When
he felt ready he would carefully ink the letter on the parchment. He did not
seem to be progressing quickly, but he appeared determined in his purpose.

For a time Marc watched Zildjin. It was strange because the
strokes he practiced in the sand did not seem to form any sort of English
letters, but when he put these strokes on the parchment to Marc they appeared
as letters from the alphabet he knew.

It was magic.

After watching Zildjin write a number of symbols that turned
into letters Zildjin looked at him with a face that said
you better not just
sit there and stare at me the whole time or I will punch you.
Or something
to that affect. Marc got the message and made his way to the bookshelf.

He finally found something interesting, and began to read.

Elves through the Ages:

History, Myths, and Legends

Long ago Elves were born into the
world on that momentous day when magic first came to the world of men, that day
when everything changed, when new life was created, new animals, and plants,
and elements. Elves were brought to the world as a sacred guiding race of
beings with prolonged life, A race who symbolized peace, wisdom, and order in a
world of change and new life. They came, already with knowledge of this new
force called magic that now resided in all things. The Elves, as they said, had
been blessed by the Divines with this revered knowledge and they came to teach
the humans to harness this power, to help them rebuild what had been shattered,
to save humanity from destruction. 

And for hundreds of cycles the two
races lived in peace, learning from one another, mostly the humans from the
elves. Together they survived in the new world, where they fought many gigantic
beasts like dragons, and defended their city from other dark races, the trugs,
goblins, and others.

The human’s great city grew and they
prospered so much so that their city became many cities, and even nations,
until finally they were one vast empire, stretching across the lands bountiful
with food and resources. Always expanding, the combined populace drove out the
wild animals, destroying the forests, the wild creatures’ homes, to create new
cities and crushing the now weak and insignificant goblin and trug nations. And
the people lived in peace and prosperity.

But Elves and humans were too
dissimilar to live amongst one another. The thinking of the both races were too
different. If a problem were to occur the Elvin leaders would say to wait,
arguing that it would solve itself in a matter of ten cycles and how it was
impractical to waste resources and energy to try and fix it immediately. This
is because the Elves have such long lives. But the human leaders would say that
they did not have ten cycles to waste and that the problem needed to be dealt
with immediately. And this is because humans have such short lives compared to
the Elves. And so the people themselves divided.

Eventually the division became so
great the elvin people, being lesser in population because of their long life
and less of a need to have children, could not even leave their homes without
being threatened, mocked, beaten, and even in some rare cases, killed. For many
cycles the humans tortured the elvin race, having long forgotten the things
they had been taught by the once revered people. And they did things,
horrendous unforgivable things to the elves.

After many cycles, at long last the
humans, under a united banner, drove out the entire Elvin race, or as much of
it as could be gathered together, into the hot sands, where the humans hoped
the weak elvin race would die. Some of the elves, powerful magic users and
warriors fought against the humans to save their people and even though they
fought valiantly, they were crushed under the vast might of the dark empire.  

Some say the elves died in the
sands, wasting away to dust, but others believe that they used their magic and
crossed over the Sea of Fire to inhabit an unknown land. Whatever may be the
truth, never again would humans have dealings with the elves.

Eleanor came in a few times to check
in on them, commended Zildjin on his progress and asked questions about
Sesuadra and Marc’s readings, but mostly stayed in the shop.

Finally Eleanor returned and declared she had closed the
shop for middag and asked them to help her prepare the meal they would soon
eat.

“And after you finish, out to the yard with you,” She told
them, “Topar will be there waiting.”

“The sword!” Topar said loudly with
a mixture of conviction and respect, “Is the most important aspect of the
warrior.”

It was the beginning of the afternoon. The three boys stood
in the shallow pit of hard packed dirt that made up what Zildjin and Sesuadra
had called
the yard.
It was a simple expanse of earth, marked off in
some areas with some light colored sand to contrast the dark brown of the
ground beneath it, and a number of targets crowded the end of the range. The
three boys stood in a row facing the tall, powerfully built anthro-creature,
the rovaar as Zildjin had named him. Zildjin had also told him that after the
War of Power, there were not many of Topar’s kind still alive. They were suited
up in armor. Marc’s armor felt loose, it was too big for him but it was the
best they could do on short notice. They each held wooden training weapons,
their swords were placed at the end of the yard.

Topar had a deep, growling, gravelly voice. His speech was
slow and methodical. He held a very real finely crafted two handed sword in his
large anamorphic hands. As he spoke he demonstrated a number of moves with the
sword, different forms, and flowing from one stance to another in one smooth
motion as if fighting against an invisible opponent
. Stab. Block. Swing.
Parry. Stab again. Block.
His tail and fur flowed with his movements, the
shaggiest of his fur swayed in the breeze. His ears moved up and down as well
as he spoke.

“It is more than a just a simple blade. It is a part of you
and you are a part of it,” He moved as he spoke, “In these troubled times it is
a necessary tool to defend, not only yourself but everyone or everything that
is important to you. The sword is a weapon, sharp and deadly, and if used
incorrectly, can be just as harmful to its user as it can be to the opponent. A
sword is more elegant than a crude axe. The sword is not intended to simply
hack away at an opponent with brute force, or smash a foe like a war-hammer.”

He stopped his stances and pretended that his sword was an
axe for a moment then shook his head to discourage the action and continued,
“When used with skill it can be efficient—”
Stab.
“and deadly,” He
imitated chopping an enemies head off.

“Since I do not know how much Soren has taught you, and
Eleanor informs me that Marc has no experience with weapons at all,”

The large tiger-man glanced at Marc’s weapon lying near them
in the grass as if to say,
The poor condition of your sword clearly
demonstrates your inexperience with weaponry.

 “I will review the basics. There are four essential things
you should always remember with sword fighting.”

“First things first, you must remember to breathe. It may
sound simple, but in the heat of battle the stresses on your mind and body can
force you to forget proper breathing techniques. Poor breathing slows down your
reaction time, which can get you killed quickly. Second is balance. Relax your
shoulders, remain on your feet, begin and end the fight with proper balance or
it can cost you. Third is timing. A powerful swing will mean nothing if not
timed properly. Poorly timed strikes will either be blocked, which can lead to
a parry, which can lead to an opportunity for your enemy to attack back, or
they can be dodged, which ends in the same way, you, dead. Lastly, and this is
very important, is conditioning. You must condition your body to sustain
vigorous battle. It means exercise, strengthening endurance, flexibility, and
stamina. It does not mean training to become the strongest and biggest warrior
of them all. Strength is not everything, but it does help. A strong body is
nothing without a positive mental attitude and determined willpower. No matter
how big your opponent is if you learn to handle the sword and learn to read the
moves of your enemy, you will be able to fight back, and win.”

Topar paused and sheathed his sword. He retrieved a wooden
practice sword nearby. He faced the boys and fell into a defensive stance. His
tail twitched back and forth distractingly. He was a towering creature,
powerful looking and seriously intimidating. His ears flattened on his head
with his fierce emotions.

“Now, Marcus, attack me with everything you have!”

Marc stood there for a moment, frozen, unsure of what to do.

“Quickly fledgling!” The creature bellowed.

“All will be well,” Zildjin patted him on the shoulder.

Both intimidated and encouraged Marc was spurred into
action. He took a deep breath, relaxed his shoulders, opened his mouth with a
full out battle cry, and charged the figure before him, wooden sword raised
high.

The next thing he knew there was a loud
clop
of wood
against wood, his stick was flying out of his grip and he was spinning to the
ground. He landed in the dirt with a hard
thud
.

He struggled to breathe and looked up to see flashing stars
of pain across his vision. It was just like getting beat up back in school.
Nothing had changed, he was still a loser.

Suddenly Zildjin and Sesuadra appeared in his line of sight
and they helped him up.

“That was pretty good for a first try,” Zildjin nodded
approvingly. “You are not going to give up after just one go, are you?”

“Truly,” Sesuadra added, “For a first attempt, you clearly
gave it your best. Try again, you will get better.”

Marc nodded.

Sesuadra handed Marc his wooden sword.

“Thanks,”

“Of course, what else are friends for?” Zildjin spoke for
both he and Sesuadra.

His comment may have been said casually but it hit home for
Marc and he smiled.

It felt good to have friends.

“Once more!” Topar called.

Marc turned to face the rovaar with a renewed vigor.

Hours later, the sun had sunk lower
in the sky of late afternoon. Marc trudged into the living quarters of the
Magic Emporium, with the help of Zildjin and Sesuadra, who were very sore
themselves.

Marc gingerly sat in one of the chairs surrounding the main
table. He was exhausted and ached all over. Topar followed behind them, his
tail swishing in just as the door closed behind him.

Eleanor sat at the table, she had closed up shop early.

“How was your lesson, boys?”

“They have much to learn,” Topar growled, “But they have
given a good effort today.”

“Thank you Topar,” Eleanor bowed her head slightly.

Topar bowed his head even greater, responding with only the
silent gesture. 

The large creature left into one of the other rooms.

“The rest of the day is yours now,” She told them.

“I have lost all desires of going anywhere this evening,”
Zildjin said, slumped down in his chair.

Sesuadra nodded his agreement to the statement.

“Nonsense,” Eleanor said with a smile, “After a little
something to eat and drink you will quickly be on your feet and out the door to
explore the city. After all, you have to give Marc more of a tour than just a
wagon ride from the entrance to the docks and here,” She finished.

Zildjin and Sesuadra were nodding their heads in a way that
said,
that is true.

 “Let me get you something to eat.”

For Marc, the rest of the day felt
too good to be true, and yet it
was
true.

After some hearty soup that picked them right up, Zildjin
and Sesuadra headed out, Marc in tow, to show him just how exciting Kolima
could be, especially in its preparation for Itherin’s largest celebration.

He felt so good not just because he was experiencing new
things in a new world and new life that he would never have been able to do in
his previous world, but that he was experiencing them with two kids his age
that had outright called him their friend, and meant it. It was something
wholly new to him, and he relished it. He didn’t want it to ever end.

The days followed the same pattern, readings in the morning
with Eleanor occasionally watching over them, lunch, which they called middag,
afternoons getting sore trying to learn how to swordfight with Topar, and the
rest of the day to explore the city with Zildjin and Sesuadra. But the
recurring pattern did not become boring in the least, because he now had two
friends.

There was just something about the way their personalities
fit. They laughed at each other’s jokes and never fought. Zildjin, being older,
led the trio. Marc and Zildjin mostly talked but Sesuadra would have something
to add every now and then. Nothing was forced, they just naturally became
friends.  

 All the while, in her free time, Eleanor worked on a
suitable set of clothes and gear for Marc. She would frequently measure him,
making sure everything was just right. She made adjustments to Zildjin and
Sesuadra’s apparel as well as needed.

Marc did not enter the silvery realm for many nights. He
would fall into bed exhausted from the busy days and sleep blissfully until the
next morning. By the end of what Marc tracked to be a week’s time his body
began to adjust to the rigorous and demanding schedule. His muscles were
beginning to strengthen and his skin began to look healthier with more sun.

Evenings in the city with Zildjin and Sesuadra were
surprisingly fun. Marc did not realize how enjoyable life could be without the
distractions that modern technology had provided for him in his world. They
spent time down by the shore, jumping from the docks, swimming, fishing, and
even catching a few boat rides as the ships were casting off to shore, but
never too far, jumping from the ships and swimming back to shallow waters. They
combed the beach for shells, rocks, and any other trinkets they could find
chasing the waves and letting the waves chase them. The weather was warm, and
even with the sun always low on the horizon they dried quickly.

Aside from the beach Zildjin and Sesuadra found plenty for
the three of them to do. Especially with the city preparing for a large
celebration there were many individuals setting up attractions for the crowds.
There were small games to participate in, treats to eat, plazas with
entertainers performing tricks, and orators giving speeches. It was a thriving
bustling city. And that was not even including the variety of shops to visit
and gawk in. A number of the shop owners eyed the boys warily, aware that it
was likely the three boys had little to no coin to spend on the wares on
display, but the three friends ignored the looks they got. They spent time in
taverns and Inn common rooms listening to fantastic stories and ancient tales
of legend.

One in particular, The Silver Star Inn, was always sure to
draw a crowd. The owner of the Inn paid a pretty price for a legendary bard to
recount only the best adventures and fables. Though it was always busy, if they
got there early enough for even a seat at the back, it was worth it. Marc
noticed Zildjin was perfecting his fiddling around with the medallion, as he
was able to spin the token from the top of his finger to his bottom knuckle
without it hitting the floor. Zildjin would only occasionally put it away now. Marc
found it interesting, and wondered about the magic within the small relic.

Eleanor also finished quickly with Marc’s measuring, but she
struggled on the design with which she wished to incorporate into his traveling
uniform. She spent quite a few days in an uncharacteristically brusque mood,
(mostly about the general untidiness of the boys) she awoke one morning with
quite a smile, her cheery disposition continued for many days afterwards. They asked
her why. She informed them that she had been sparked with a particularly
powerful idea for the clothes she was making for Marc. Whenever they inquired
to see the progress she always let a grandmotherly smile cross her lips and
would say,

“Never cut down a tree in the Season of Cold.”

Marc thought and thought it over but never could figure out
what it really meant.

Sesuadra explained that one should not cut a tree down
without knowing whether it is really a dead tree or not, as it would be a
waste. One way to tell if a tree was dead was if it failed to produce any
leaves during the Season of Warmth.

Marc was beginning to learn of the true depth of wisdom
found in his friend. 

“Mounted combat!” Topar’s voice was
as deep and growly as ever.

The three boys stood in the yard, suited up in their armor,
this time with their own weapons at their sides instead of their usual wooden
substitutes. Three aldoms and a balkar stood in the training ground with them.
Topar’s great size and weight made it impossible for him to sit on one of the
smaller two legged creatures so he had selected a balkar as his mount. The
first aldom’s hide was a subtle mixture of many greens, mostly dark, with dark
tan fur and a light beige underbelly. The second creature had a dark cobalt
hide speckled with azure, it had grey fur and a grey underbelly. The last aldom
had a dark metallic brown hide with splashes of crimson marks. Its fur was a
dark-dark red, almost black, with a light golden underbelly. The four creatures
were geared up with saddles and light armor, mostly on the head, necks, and
legs. Topar had explained to them they would not be wielding their real weapons
just then but he wanted them to spend some time riding the aldoms, to get to
know what it felt like to be suited up with their swords at their sides. They
would switch to the wooden sticks later in the day.

“It may seem a bit early,” Topar continued, his shaggy fur
rustling in the warm breeze, as he sat majestically but alertly on his steed,
“but I do not know how long I will be your Mentor until Soren returns and I
desire to instruct you in as many of the basics as possible.”

He paused, thinking for a moment how he should approach the
lesson.