way?”
“Yes,” said Arran. “Five Kings of Carlisan, your own ancestors, have been Knights. King Arkan, called Torchbearer, was both King of Carlisan and Master of the Order of the Sacred Blade. He led the war that freed Narramore and Rindl from the rule of the Warlocks.” He took his Sacred Blade in both hands. “Now, let us…”
“What’s this?” Lithon pointed at the glowing gem. “Your sword doesn’t have one. What is it?”
Arran hesitated. “I do not know. It was a gift from my brother. He said it would aid me in my last despair.”
“Last despair,” said Lithon. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“No,” said Arran, “so hopefully I shall not need it, whatever it is.”
Lithon looked at the Sacred Blade. “I’m going to have to kill him someday, aren’t I?”
“Who?”
“Marugon,” said Lithon. “That’s what Alastarius’s Prophecy is about. Me killing Marugon.”
“Perhaps,” said Arran. “He did say ‘overthrow’, not kill. And the Prophecy does not seem…precise. Alastarius Prophesied that you would bring him back from the dead. I think Conmager assumed that you would raise Alastarius back to life. Instead you saw his spirit, told Ally what to do, and that act brought him back to the mortal realm, if only for a short while. And I spent a long time looking for Alastarius on Earth, and I was really looking for your sister.”
Lithon looked at the floor. “It frightens me. Marugon would kill me, if we ever fought.”
“Perhaps,” said Arran again, “but you are only fourteen, remember. You likely will not have to fight him until you are a man.”
“I want to fight him,” said Lithon, eyes flashing. For a moment he seemed much older than his years. “He killed my parents.”
“Then I shall do my best to make you ready for that day,” said Arran. He lifted his Sacred Blade. “Enough talk. I shall call out my move, and you shall respond with the appropriate block or parry. Swing high!” He whipped his Sacred Blade for Lithon’s head. Lithon sidestepped and parried with Luthar’s blade, the swords ringing. “Good! But parry with the flat of your blade, not the edge, lest the force of a foe’s blow drives your blade into your own flesh.” Lithon nodded. “Right swing, low!” He swung, aiming for Lithon’s hip. Lithon parried, the swords clanging. “Good. Middle thrust.” Lithon blocked the thrust and stepped inside Arran’s guard, launching a counterblow. Arran pivoted and caught the blow with a low parry. “Improvising. Good! Now, come at me with the basic thrusts and swings. Try not to chop my head off.”
Lithon grinned. “That would make Ally mad.”
Arran gave him a look. Lithon attacked, working Luthar’s sword through the thrusts and swings. Arran back around the attic, parrying. Lithon’s progress pleased him. The boy’s blows were still clumsy, but very fast. He would become only better with time.
Lithon looked over Arran’s shoulder and blinked. “Ally!” He lowered his sword.
Arran lunged forward. Lithon’s eyes widened, and Arran had his sword at the boy’s neck in a blink.
“Hey!” said Lithon.
“A lesson,” said Arran, stepping back and lowering his sword. “Never take your eyes from an opponent, for any reason. Even a very compelling one.”
Ally snorted. “Flatterer.” She wore jeans and blue button-down shirt, the tail dangling to mid-thigh. “I came up to tell…Lithon!” She rushed forward. “You’re hurt!”
“Huh?” said Lithon. Arran’s blade had left a small cut in his neck. “Oh. I guess I am.” He put his hand over the cut. “Arran must have nicked me.”
“My apologies,” said Arran. “I did not mean to wound you.”
Lithon shrugged. “Oh, it’s okay. I’ll go clean it up.” He sheathed Luthar’s Sacred Blade and propped it in the corner. “Thanks for the lesson, Arran.” Arran nodded, and Lithon disappeared down the stairs.
Ally glared. “You hurt him.”
Arran
“Yes,” said Arran. “Five Kings of Carlisan, your own ancestors, have been Knights. King Arkan, called Torchbearer, was both King of Carlisan and Master of the Order of the Sacred Blade. He led the war that freed Narramore and Rindl from the rule of the Warlocks.” He took his Sacred Blade in both hands. “Now, let us…”
“What’s this?” Lithon pointed at the glowing gem. “Your sword doesn’t have one. What is it?”
Arran hesitated. “I do not know. It was a gift from my brother. He said it would aid me in my last despair.”
“Last despair,” said Lithon. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“No,” said Arran, “so hopefully I shall not need it, whatever it is.”
Lithon looked at the Sacred Blade. “I’m going to have to kill him someday, aren’t I?”
“Who?”
“Marugon,” said Lithon. “That’s what Alastarius’s Prophecy is about. Me killing Marugon.”
“Perhaps,” said Arran. “He did say ‘overthrow’, not kill. And the Prophecy does not seem…precise. Alastarius Prophesied that you would bring him back from the dead. I think Conmager assumed that you would raise Alastarius back to life. Instead you saw his spirit, told Ally what to do, and that act brought him back to the mortal realm, if only for a short while. And I spent a long time looking for Alastarius on Earth, and I was really looking for your sister.”
Lithon looked at the floor. “It frightens me. Marugon would kill me, if we ever fought.”
“Perhaps,” said Arran again, “but you are only fourteen, remember. You likely will not have to fight him until you are a man.”
“I want to fight him,” said Lithon, eyes flashing. For a moment he seemed much older than his years. “He killed my parents.”
“Then I shall do my best to make you ready for that day,” said Arran. He lifted his Sacred Blade. “Enough talk. I shall call out my move, and you shall respond with the appropriate block or parry. Swing high!” He whipped his Sacred Blade for Lithon’s head. Lithon sidestepped and parried with Luthar’s blade, the swords ringing. “Good! But parry with the flat of your blade, not the edge, lest the force of a foe’s blow drives your blade into your own flesh.” Lithon nodded. “Right swing, low!” He swung, aiming for Lithon’s hip. Lithon parried, the swords clanging. “Good. Middle thrust.” Lithon blocked the thrust and stepped inside Arran’s guard, launching a counterblow. Arran pivoted and caught the blow with a low parry. “Improvising. Good! Now, come at me with the basic thrusts and swings. Try not to chop my head off.”
Lithon grinned. “That would make Ally mad.”
Arran gave him a look. Lithon attacked, working Luthar’s sword through the thrusts and swings. Arran back around the attic, parrying. Lithon’s progress pleased him. The boy’s blows were still clumsy, but very fast. He would become only better with time.
Lithon looked over Arran’s shoulder and blinked. “Ally!” He lowered his sword.
Arran lunged forward. Lithon’s eyes widened, and Arran had his sword at the boy’s neck in a blink.
“Hey!” said Lithon.
“A lesson,” said Arran, stepping back and lowering his sword. “Never take your eyes from an opponent, for any reason. Even a very compelling one.”
Ally snorted. “Flatterer.” She wore jeans and blue button-down shirt, the tail dangling to mid-thigh. “I came up to tell…Lithon!” She rushed forward. “You’re hurt!”
“Huh?” said Lithon. Arran’s blade had left a small cut in his neck. “Oh. I guess I am.” He put his hand over the cut. “Arran must have nicked me.”
“My apologies,” said Arran. “I did not mean to wound you.”
Lithon shrugged. “Oh, it’s okay. I’ll go clean it up.” He sheathed Luthar’s Sacred Blade and propped it in the corner. “Thanks for the lesson, Arran.” Arran nodded, and Lithon disappeared down the stairs.
Ally glared. “You hurt him.”
Arran
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