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The cold touch of steel as the sword slipped between my ribs was unbearable. The only remaining attacker stood triumphant as I slowly fell to the floor. With an impotant rage, he held his comrade in his arms as his final breath left his lips. Angered at the loss of his two fellow attackers, he turned to me again. As darkness clouded my vision, I could see the determination in his eyes. He was going to finish the duty he was charged with. He was going to kill me.
He turned his sword and rested the point on my chest. He set his feet so that he would be able to slowly place his weight on the hilt. Slowly, so that my death would not be quick. Slowly, so that I would have to feel the sword press into my heart and end my life. As he pressed down on his sword, the pain grew. He started to twist the blade causing me to arch my back in pain, and in doing so, pushing the blade further into my body.
'This is for the death of my brothers.' His voice was harsh with grief. It appeared that the other two attackers were the survivor's brothers. Both had died by my sword.
One was a clean death, quick and painless, the other was slow. I had cut off his arm, causing him to slowly bleed to death. He was the one who had just died.
He could not have been avenging anyone else. I had only killed three people in my life. Two of these attackers, and my......sister.
The pain was too intense. I was losing conciousness, and my life.
Resigned to death, I shut my eyes.
Death never came.
A strangled cry caused my eyes to open. There stood the attacker. A look of pain flashing across his face. I followed his eyes and saw what he saw. A blade was protruding through his chest. The man fell, sliding off the blade, dead.
Another figure stepped forward. I could not make out his face as pain was blurring my vision. As i lost conciousness, strong arms picked me up and a voice full of sorrow said, 'Lariel.'
The sleep which followed was twisted with nightmares. The surprise on my sister's face as a bolt of magical energy flew towards her, the shock as her life force was snuffed out.
The feeling of bile in my throat as I realised what I had done. I had killed my own sister! I fought against a wave of dizziness to stay standing. The dizziness cleared and I was now outside the house of my parents. The home where I grew up with Amaren, my sister.
Bile again filled my throat as I opened the door and walked into the house to meet my parents. The grief on the face of my mother, the rage that shook my father. They found it hard to accept what had happened, that I, their son, had killed their daughter. Suddenly, I was in the house, but a week later. I was preparing to go and visit Synon, my teacher. I left the house and at a swift jog, warming up for the training at night that Synon had begun.
Halfway there, an armoured Elf blocked my path. As I drew closer, I noticed that the crest on his armour had been covered up. Whatever his master had asked him to do, it was meant to be done incognito. The back of my neck started to tingle, I turned to see another armoured Elf approach me, the crest on his armour was also covered. Obviously, this was an ambush and I was faced with an opponent on either side of me. The battle was joined and a third attacker quickly entered the scene.
The sound of metal striking metal rang through the evening air. Being attacked from three sides, I had no choice but to use the Bladesong, inexperienced as I was with it. I started to twist the flow of battle to my advantage with a low, haunting, tune from my lips, and with the beautiful sound of my sword beginning to sing through the air.
Evidently, my attackers were not told of what this particular young Elf spent his days doing. They were not ready to be attacked by the Bladesong. I capatalised on their slight hesitation, one fell without a sound, and I uncovered the crest on one of the remaining attackers. Before I could get a look at it, I had already turned away and managed to sever the sword arm of another attacker who fell to the ground with a gasp of pain, his lifeblood quickly draining away.
Twisting to face the remaining attacker, I prepared to attack when I saw his uncovered crest. It was easily identifiable. The crest belonged to the Prince of the Elves, Theador Brightblade. My attack faltered at the shock of being the target of an unofficial attack by an Elf of Royal Blood.
The nightmare ended.
Time passed, how much time was impossible to know from the confines of unconciousness. The nightmare returned and played itself over in my head repeatedly. I had not yet woken from the attack induced coma, so severe were my wounds. Death was not a remote possibility.
Smell returned first. It was morning, the smell of dew was distinct. I was overwhelmed by the smell of herbs which almost seemed to smother my breathing with their pungent aroma.
Sound, the beauty of the birds in their morning chorus, and then came sight.
My mother was looking down on me. Grief and worry fresh in her eyes, relief on her face. Turning her head to the door she called, 'Arren! Arren!' My father quickly entered the room, relief and joy on his face, but still his eyes were filled with sorrow from the loss of his daughter.
He kissed my mother on the top of the head, 'I knew you could do it.'
'It wasn't easy,' she replied, 'i'll go and get you something to eat, you must be starving.' With that she took my hand and kissed it, and left the room.
My father seated himself on the stool that my mother had occupied. 'She hasn't slept for three days, so determined she was not to lose another child,' he smiled, 'your mother even refused the help of the other herbalists in the community.'
The smile faded, 'do you know who your attackers were?'
'No father, not by face nor will I by name. They were from the personal army of Theador Brightblade though, if the crest I saw is to be believed. For what reason he would attack me, I do not know.'
'Lariel, we did not want to tell you this so soon after your sister's death. The day she died she had come to us with wonderful news, which was why she went to your place of training. She wanted to tell you herself...'
'Tell me what?' I was beginning to understand what was going on, but I did not want it to be true.
'Your sister was to wed the Prince, the man who ordered the attack on you.'
My misery was complete. Before I had even reached manhood I had lost my sister and gained a enemy so powerfull and influential that I was indeed lucky to still be alive.
'Your mother did all that she could to save you. This time, her skills were sufficient. Next time, they may not be. She cannot cope with the grief if you were to die as well.
'Over the last few days she has not rested as she tended to your wounds. Myself, I disposed of the bodies of your attackers and made sure that no-one else knew. It would not do for anyone to know that the Prince is lusting after your death. Naturally, Synon has been told.
'We talked about the matter and have decided that you must leave as soon as you have fully healed.'
'Leave? I cannot do that! Father!'
'Do this for your mother. It will be easier for you to live if you left.' I could see that it hurt him telling his own son to just up and leave the place where he grew and trained. In this way, he would have lost both of his children.
'Yes, father. As you say.' Tears welled in my eyes. I had lost my sister, and I was going to leave my family, friends, and my training all behind. All this just to try and stay beyond the reach of the Prince, to stay alive.
My mother returned with some fruits which I greedily devoured. Her face was alight with joy that I had survived the attack. However, she did not know that I was to leave, and I could not tell her, it would break her heart.
Over the next few days I fully recovered and made preparations for leaving. Combined with the fact that I could not find my sword, the thought of disappearing into the night left me feeling hollow and depressed. Sitting in the garden, I watched the sun set with an empty heart. An almost inaudible sound came from behind me, breaking my reverie. There stood my father, my sword in his hand.
'My sword!' Relief must have been apparant in my voice, my father smiled for the first time in days.
'While you were recovering from the attack, before you awoke, it was possible to capture some of your leaking life energy in your sword.'
'What? What have you done?'
'Your sword now has limited ability to heal you, but only once a day. Hopefully, this will help you stay alive, for surely our Prince will learn that you are still alive, and may still seek vengeance. Just touch your lips to the hilt for the magic to work.'
Tears were falling down my cheeks. This was real, I was leaving before even reaching manhood. I took the sword with trembling hands, and sheathed it at my side. I was just a little more complete.
'Please, tell my mother why I am leaving' Tears were falling down both our cheeks, leaving a salty taste on both our lips. I embraced my father, and left.
With an unsure purpose in my step, I left our village. Unsure as to my destination, I followed the setting sun on its course over the hills far beyond the forest.
Hours later, I came across a glade. Aided by moonlight, I saw a figure sitting in the middle. On my approach, he rose and drew his sword, and stood in a fighting stance. Anger welled up inside me, I was already attacked after only leaving home a few hours ago! The Prince's men had found me already! I dropped my backpack and advanced, sword drawn.
Stopping a few feet away, I readied myself and took in the size and frame of my adversary. Taller and heavier built than I, it was easy to tell that he was an Elf, despite the mask covering his face, from the graceful movements of his body. As the moonlight flashed across the attackers sword, I recognised the carvings which adorned its blade. Suddenly, the man's size, frame, and stance seemed all to familiar. Was this the measure of Theador's power? Causing friend to attack friend??
The anger increased as I realised who it was that I was fighting, I had little or no chance of surviving this encounter. Not wishing to delay the inevitable, I lauched into attack. Sword met sword, and the sounds of battle once again filled the night air.
The fight was short. Using my anger against me, my oppenent skillfully disarmed me and knocked me to the ground. Placing the tip of the sword against my throat, Synon removed the mask with his free hand.
'What did I tell you Lariel! Never let anger lead your hand in the fight, it is the sure way to lose! Get up!
'You are obviously not ready to journey into the outside world. Your father knew this and has asked me to continue teaching you the Bladesong until you are capable of defending yourself.'
This hurt. My father thought me unable to defend myself in the world and had asked that my teacher, Synon, continue my training. Hurt was soon replaced by joy. I was to finish my training!
'There is a dwelling nearby where you may live and pracitce what I teach. I will journey there every day to aid and instruct. I cannot neglet my other duties, so I will still live in the village. Follow me and I shall show you your new home'
Retrieving my pack, I eagerly followed.
So my training continued, without magic, but with as much dedication as I would have given the whole of the Bladesong. After training, I would sometimes accompany Synon back to the village under the cover of night so that I could visit my parents.
Sad as she was that I had left, my mother was overjoyed whenever I walked through the door. My father, although pleased to see me and inquiring as to how I fared and how the training was going, seemed increasingly withdrawn. Not the man he used to be, he regularly talked privetly with Synon, and would change the subject were anybody else nearby.
The years passed and I learnt more of the Bladesong. My father withdrew into himself more and more, only Synon knowing what lay behind this.
One day, I returned to the village to visit my parents to find my mother alone. My father was not in the house when she had woken, and his armour and sword were missing, as was food from the kitchen. My mother prayed for his safety, and grieved his absense. With my sister dead, and my father gone, I was the only family she had left, and my visits were altogether infrequent.
A few years after my father's disappearence, no clue had turned up as to his whereabouts, and my training was finally complete. With a final visit to my mother, and yet another attempt to find out from Synon where my father was and what he was doing, I left the forest and began my journey. With luck my experiences would lead to finding my father, and to my redemption in the eyes of some Elves. With the beginning of this journey was the birth of a new Bladesong Guild. Marked with the tattoo of the jaquar, this Guild would teach a style of Bladesong without magic.
My quest was not going to be easy. I knew little, if nothing, of the world outside my village, and I had to watch my back, for there would certainly be servants of Theador Brightblade in the shadows of my journey.