counted fifteen seconds before the first one he’d shot faded away. OK, he thought, if I exhaust the magic, it takes longer to replenish. Turning the bow back into a sword, he sheathed the weapon.
Taryn picked up his father’s sword and repeated the earlier exercise of cutting into the mountain. The sword cut only eight times before giving out. It had only been two or three minutes since he had made the first cuts in the rock, so it was reassuring to know the magic of his fathers’ sword came back quickly even when it was exhausted. He breathed a sigh of relief; he’d half expected the magic to be gone forever.
With some practice and a little more experimentation it became apparent that he could make Mazer (in that moment he decided he would call his swords by the names on them) cut through almost anything, or not cut through objects if he didn’t want to. Good, he thought, I won’t accidentally cut one of my friends’ swords in half while we’re sparring.
His examinations complete, Taryn began to go through routines with his new swords. Linked more than ever, they responded to the slightest movements as if they were just another muscle in his body. Increasing the tempo and difficulty only made the weapons feel more and more connected to his thoughts and will. After thirty minutes he was using the hardest and most complicated techniques he knew without the slightest hesitation. Slipping in between the trees like a gust of wind, he bent and coiled, swinging both swords out to nick trees and rocks alike. In the middle of a combo he shifted his mother’s sword, sheathed his father’s sword, fired an arrow at the rock wall, and without missing a step changed Ianna back for the next block.
While he stepped through intricate sword routines, his mind wandered miles away from the island he’d grown up on. Out of nowhere, the resolution to find out more about his parents struck him, hitting him so hard he stopped mid swing. He had to find out who they had been, why they had been coming to Sri Rosen, and if he had any other family.
He furrowed his brow and shook his head, Where to begin though ? The only thing he had from his parents was his newfound weapons and the knowledge that his mother was an elf. Maybe Azertorn, the city of the elves . . . ? His thoughts trailed off into nothing.
It was time to leave Sri Rosen.
The thought felt like a blast of icy wind, causing him to take a deep breath and look over his favorite spot for what he knew would be the last time. Trees and solid rock were littered with cuts and slices. Arrows had driven holes through trunks and stone alike. The evidence of his fierce battle had extended all across the ledge, and would linger for decades. The sight filled him with sadness, but a thread of excitement raced through him as he turned to get one last look at the view.
More time had passed than he’d realized. It was already early evening, the sun shifting from yellow to red as it sank towards the horizon. Every shade of yellow and orange spilled across the sky and ran together into vibrant streaks of color. Brilliant purple and pink soon appeared, shimmering in the few low-hanging clouds that dotted the view.
Taryn didn’t move until every shred of light was gone, and then stayed until stars began to wink and glitter. Only after the moon started to rise did he finally turn and climb slowly down. By the time he got home it was past midnight, but the soft glow of candlelight flickering in one of the windows revealed someone was inside. Without hesitation he opened the door and strode in.
To his surprise, there were several people in his room. He’d expected his uncle, but Liri and Mae were also present. The girls were seated on the bed while Murai sat in the only chair. Empty bottles of ale and crusts of bread sat on the desk and beside the bed.
Nobody spoke for several moments until Taryn broke the silence. He almost didn’t say anything, but he knew he had to share what had
Taryn picked up his father’s sword and repeated the earlier exercise of cutting into the mountain. The sword cut only eight times before giving out. It had only been two or three minutes since he had made the first cuts in the rock, so it was reassuring to know the magic of his fathers’ sword came back quickly even when it was exhausted. He breathed a sigh of relief; he’d half expected the magic to be gone forever.
With some practice and a little more experimentation it became apparent that he could make Mazer (in that moment he decided he would call his swords by the names on them) cut through almost anything, or not cut through objects if he didn’t want to. Good, he thought, I won’t accidentally cut one of my friends’ swords in half while we’re sparring.
His examinations complete, Taryn began to go through routines with his new swords. Linked more than ever, they responded to the slightest movements as if they were just another muscle in his body. Increasing the tempo and difficulty only made the weapons feel more and more connected to his thoughts and will. After thirty minutes he was using the hardest and most complicated techniques he knew without the slightest hesitation. Slipping in between the trees like a gust of wind, he bent and coiled, swinging both swords out to nick trees and rocks alike. In the middle of a combo he shifted his mother’s sword, sheathed his father’s sword, fired an arrow at the rock wall, and without missing a step changed Ianna back for the next block.
While he stepped through intricate sword routines, his mind wandered miles away from the island he’d grown up on. Out of nowhere, the resolution to find out more about his parents struck him, hitting him so hard he stopped mid swing. He had to find out who they had been, why they had been coming to Sri Rosen, and if he had any other family.
He furrowed his brow and shook his head, Where to begin though ? The only thing he had from his parents was his newfound weapons and the knowledge that his mother was an elf. Maybe Azertorn, the city of the elves . . . ? His thoughts trailed off into nothing.
It was time to leave Sri Rosen.
The thought felt like a blast of icy wind, causing him to take a deep breath and look over his favorite spot for what he knew would be the last time. Trees and solid rock were littered with cuts and slices. Arrows had driven holes through trunks and stone alike. The evidence of his fierce battle had extended all across the ledge, and would linger for decades. The sight filled him with sadness, but a thread of excitement raced through him as he turned to get one last look at the view.
More time had passed than he’d realized. It was already early evening, the sun shifting from yellow to red as it sank towards the horizon. Every shade of yellow and orange spilled across the sky and ran together into vibrant streaks of color. Brilliant purple and pink soon appeared, shimmering in the few low-hanging clouds that dotted the view.
Taryn didn’t move until every shred of light was gone, and then stayed until stars began to wink and glitter. Only after the moon started to rise did he finally turn and climb slowly down. By the time he got home it was past midnight, but the soft glow of candlelight flickering in one of the windows revealed someone was inside. Without hesitation he opened the door and strode in.
To his surprise, there were several people in his room. He’d expected his uncle, but Liri and Mae were also present. The girls were seated on the bed while Murai sat in the only chair. Empty bottles of ale and crusts of bread sat on the desk and beside the bed.
Nobody spoke for several moments until Taryn broke the silence. He almost didn’t say anything, but he knew he had to share what had
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