Sep. 22, 2008 - Chapter 5
Here's a long chapter!!!
(NOTICE: All names, places, and events are likley to change, however and whenever I want because it's my story and it's still one big rough draft:P)
"No, turn your wrist." Trojan looked like a warrior with his smooth, straight blade that was instead of shiny silver, a dull blackish color. Huntram sighed, turning his own blade into an upright position. It was a shorter sword, and very used, but Trojan said it was a good sword. Huntram supposed it was, though he really didn't know the difference between a good and bad sword. It was sharp, even if it was scratched and he should be happy to have it. "Block!" Trojan was saying.
Block. Block. Stay alive. Stay alive. After a few clumsy moves Huntram missed Trojan’s blade and received a smart thump on the leg with the flat of his opponent's sword. "Ow!" He heard a mocking laugh from his brother, who received a glare.
Huntram Shaster decided that he did not like sword fighting.
Dorthain’s gray eyebrows met in a frown and he shook his head in disapproval. "Anticipate the movements. Trojan has used the same attack on you for the last five rounds." The boy nodded, and turned to see how Adrian was holding up. Surely he was doing even worse. Huntram was nearly startled out of his skin when he saw his wimpy little brother leaping nimbly about, parrying Dorthain’s complicated, yet slightly slowed attacks and intermittently putting in some of his own! Dorthain looked pleased with him. What had happened to the Adrian that Huntram had known? Apparently he had disappeared when Dorthain came into his line of sight. His brother seemed entranced with the old man. Watching Adrian fighting with skill impossible for one who had learned one hour ago, Huntram viewed him with a new respect. That miniature eleven-year-old surely had a core of destiny in him. Adrian didn't want to go to Angtanthul; he was afraid. But here he was; learning to fight and preparing himself to defend the magic he held within him. Huntram should accept this new life too. Holding his sword in an attacking position, he lunged at Trojan, parrying and attacking. If Adrian could do it, so could he.
~
“Concentrate on your subject. Try to think like it is thinking” Dorthain instructed Adrian. The boy stared at the fox hiding in the bushes. “I am concentrating.” He whispered.
“Now feel the White Magic. Grasp it.” Adrian stared, seeing nothing for five mintues, unaware that his eyes were glowing an electric blue.
Huntram had failed at this step. He had tried and tried, but could not feel the White Magic. Not at all. Dorthain had not pressed the subject – he said that either you had the gift of Magic in you, or you did not. Huntram just didn’t. But Adrian WAS White Magic. Presently he said, “I feel it.”
Dorthain nodded. “Good. Now concentrate on the fox and the magic at the same time.”
Adrian sat, unmoving for two minutes. “All right.”
“Now call the fox to come to you.”
Huntram waited for his brother to say something, but he did not. He was still just staring. Confused, Huntram looked at the fox. The animals ears pricked up and didn’t seem to raise any sort of question in its mind – it just walked quietly to Adrian, obeying unspoken orders perfectly. Huntram couldn’t speak – his mouth wouldn’t shut.
Adrian seemed awed at what he had done as he carefully stroked the animal. Dorthain looked pleased. “That’s enough, tell the fox to run along.”
“Go about your business.” Adrian whispered to the fox. It happily scampered away.
“You see?” Dorthain said. “The Magic is in you strongly. But you cannot make everything obey you.”
Adrian rose from his knees and brushed off his pants, proud of himself. “Do you suppose – if we meet Them, that is – do you think I could use it to ask the Unhuman to just… go away?”
Dorthain shook his head without hesitation. “No, you couldn’t. The Black Magic is too strong in their minds.” Adrian had suspected that. Dorthain quickly shifted back to business. “Alright, let us scurry! Pack up, clean up, and we’re off!”
~
The daily ritual for Huntram, Adrian, Dorthain, Trojan, and the White Magic consisted of waking at the crack of dawn, riding until suppertime, sparring with swords or practicing Magic, then sleeping covered in their cloaks. While they were still in the Golden Hills, everything was green and birds twittered in the trees. The travelers could sleep out in the open and make fires to cook their food most of the time. They could all call Dorthain by his true name, as no person was ever within a hundred miles. It was almost Autumn, the breeze was cool and pleasant, and the boys became strong and tanned. Over the course of a few weeks, Trojan announced that they "would be able to survive a fight for a time".
On a particularly fine morning, Adrian was just shoveling in a quick breakfast before the day's ride, Huntram was rolling up his blankets, and Trojan was loading packs of essentials onto his horse. Dorthain looked out on the land. "Two more days of hills, then we ride through the Plains of the West. After a month or more’s ride and we should be in the City of the King. Adrian, take the leaves off of that tree and form them into some shape." Such demands were not rare these days, since Adrian could use magic. Huntram didn't understand how anyone could truly learn it. It was so complicated, so unearthly, so...unrealistic. But his brother had mastered it, for here he was, knitting up his brows as a wind came through the trees and gently stripped the tree of it's leaves. The leaves drifted closer, never hitting the ground, and each went into its place and formed the image of a life-sized man - their father. Huntram laughed, surprised that he could tell who it was, but the merriment was turned to pain at the reminder of the farmer that had always loved them. The boys wondered simultaneously if they would ever see him again. A month’s ride, Dorthain had said. Maybe after that time they would go and find their parents - if they lived to get out of Angtanthul. Huntram brushed away the thought and walked to the horse, preparing to gallop again. He wasn't so prepared to enter the city of the king though. "At least here in the hills nothing ever happens." Huntram thought. The comforting notion was soon interrupted by Trojan's shout of, "Look out!" and the metallic “SHING” of a sword leaving its sheath. Huntram whirled his head around towards Trojan - and it was what saved his life. He had unconsciously dodged a swing from one of Them – one of the Unhuman. It was a huge, deadly creature with a man's body, except almost twice the size and more muscular. He instinctively raised his sword to block the next attack. He met the blade of his enemy in time to parry the next blow. But the force with which the Unhuman struck was enough to knock Huntram onto his back. He quickly rolled to avoid a stab with the end of the weapon. It was more horrific and terrible than any weapon he had ever seen! The boy was on his feet in a twinkling and struggling to stand firm as the Unhuman clashed at him. He had to hold off the attack for a few seconds that felt like hours before Dorthain and Trojan came to his aid. Dorthain took the offensive side; of course, meaning to do no harm while Trojan gave the creature a hard buffet on the head that knocked him senseless. Everyone inwardly sighed in relief. "Mount the horses at once! Leave no trace of the fire. We must away! Where there is one, there are always more." Dorthain was already saddling Amon the horse while Huntram rushed to extinguish and scatter the fire. He noticed Trojan looking at the unconscious Unhuman being out of the corner of his eye. He had a mournful expression and distant attitude. His comrade must be looking for any evidence of his father in that terrible face. But no. One Unhuman's face was as impossible to decipher as another's. Huntram finished distributing dead leaves over the fire and leaped onto Trojan's horse, Nell. By now, Dorthain and Adrian were upon Amon as well, and all were looking at Trojan. "Come lad!" came Dorthain’s almost frenzied yell. "Now!" Trojan seemed to snap back
into the real world and hastened to mount Nell, jostling Huntram. "Sorry!" they both called, as Amon bolted ahead. Trojan whispered a command to Nell. "Onward! We ride!" After the horses were safely galloping away from the area, Huntram asked him, "Are all the Unhuman like that?"
"Like what?"
"Well… huge. And strong." the boy innocently questioned.
“Yes. They are all huge and strong.” Trojan’s voice was tight.
Huntram gulped. “We might need some help if we run into a group of them.”
“We have the Magic. It can save Them.” No one said anything for some time, until
Trojan almost flippantly mentioned, “and we will have help meeting us soon.”
Huntram was surprised. “What? Who?”
Trojan’s face became a confusing mixture of pride, anticipation, sorrow, and joy as he answered, “Brithil Kir. The elf princess of Westdell, the Land of Silver.”
“The princess of Westdell! An elf! Really! I never thought it! Do you know her?”
“Yes.”
Huntram figured that he shouldn’t have expected Trojan to expound upon that. “Are they as beautiful as tales say? Elves, I mean?” Huntram couldn't wait to tell Adrian this news. They had both always wanted to meet one of that noble race.
"Yes... they are." was all Trojan said.
Huntram cleared his throat, and felt a sudden need to change the subject. "Trojan, shouldn't Adrian and I get our own horses?” he felt Trojan’s eyebrows rise. "I mean, you know how you and I always bump into each other and can never make a very fast getaway. It's not very comfortable with two, and I know enough about horses to know that they go faster with one rider."
Trojan seemed to consider it. "I'll speak to Dorthain." he said. After a moment in
which the only sound was the rapid galloping of the horses, the quiet man said, "I must tell you that you did very well against that Unhuman. Avoiding freezing in fear is not something mastered easily." Praise from Trojan was not something to come by every day! Huntram felt his chest rise with pride.
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