SWNOVELS Iceblade: Chapter 5
IT IS THE ABILITY TO judge which pieces to exchange and bring into play that reveals the player’s skill and experience in Tican strategy.
From; The Long Game, author unknown.
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I stare at Jantian, wondering what connection the Five Warriors might have with Tican.
“I was taught that the Warriors were heroes who founded Samaran. Our village elders didn’t seem to know any more than that and they seriously did not like me asking questions.”
Jantian sighs. “So much has been forgotten. Or retold in various distortions of the truth.” He settles into Marin’s habitual spot on the low parapet, the last rays of setting sun glowing in a russet halo around him. I listen in stunned silence as he unfolds the story our village elders either did not know or would not tell.
“There were once many Elementals gathered around the four main power places of the ancient world. They used humans as playthings, like living pieces on a Tican board. They watched the struggles and battles for supremacy as they shifted the balance of power back and forth, giving gifts to one group and then to another. From the stone knife to the bronze dagger to the steel blade, the power they bestowed to kill and destroy grew ever greater.
“The humans who lived in the lands that became Samaran finally woke up to the way they were being manipulated and saw that the source of the Elementals’ control was the main power place of Samaran, their home in Maratic.
“A leader came forth, skilled in both the arts of war and in diplomacy. And… in something else. The first Power Mage, Valara. She united the five warring Samarian tribes and directed them into separate but coordinated attacks on each of the five Elementals that were based in the Maratic valley, which in those days was called Eldaran.
“She persuaded the greatest warrior of each tribe to lead the fight against one of the Elementals and then allow himself to be captured. Even in the face of torture and death, each held to their story that their attack was masterminded by another of the Elementals in an attempt to gain sole power over the world. In the space of two days she set the five Elemental power-brokers of Eldaran against each other. They were so used to controlling and manipulating everyone else, they failed to see that Valara had played them at their own game.”
It is a few moments before I can really take this in. I had always assumed the Five Warriors were revered for their fighting skills, protecting the people of this country from enemies. It comes as a shock to discover that their power to fight and kill only served to give credibility to their sacrifice. If Jantian knows this, how have our people managed to forget it? Perhaps the simple stories of war and conquest are easier to remember than those of self-sacrifice. I focus back on Jantian’s account of the rest of the real history.
“That was how Valara defeated the Elemental overlords of Maratic and learned to use its power for herself and her followers. In those days the men and women of her elite guard were known as the Knights of Eldaran and under their rule the whole valley became a wealthy and fortified realm, dominating all the surrounding fiefdoms.” He sweeps a hand across the vista of wide valley beyond the pinnacle of Maratic, now sinking into the blue-grey shadows of dusk.
“What brought it down?” Even as I ask, I have a shivery feeling that I already know the answer. Jantian gives me one of those penetrating looks I find so intimidating.
“You tell me.”
“The power is so difficult to control?”
“Exactly. It took four generations to develop the kind of training we use now and put an end to the power struggles and infighting. The First Knight of that fourth generation gave away his right to rule Samaran, pledging fealty instead to a new line of kings in the capital Corinium. From that time the Power Mages stayed in the background, taking on the role of protectors of the kings. It keeps the two aspects of governance in balance. Eventually the Knights of Eldaran became known simply as the Eldrin.”
I watch the darkness swallowing the valley below, trying to imagine how it would have looked as a powerful country in its own right, but maybe that era is now too deeply buried in the past. It seems to have grown well into its wildness…
Wild places in the forest––
I suddenly look up at Jantian. “But when the Elementals destroyed each other, there would have been a victor, a survivor, wouldn’t there?” I notice the way he is looking at me. There is pity in his eyes.
“I think you can see it now, can’t you, Ariel? Wounded, weakened, driven out of the very place that gave him his strength. Hiding in remote parts of the forest, eking out an existence by gathering what power he could from the offerings of would-be adepts desperate enough to pay the blood-price for his gift.”
“So why do you tolerate him? Samaran would be a better place without the Shadowblade––you know that! Why don’t you kill him?”
Jantian doesn’t react to my lack of deference. Seems he really doesn’t need it for his own self-confidence, simply using it as a way of training his students. And I am not one of them. Not yet, if ever. His question is almost casual.
“Have you tried to kill him?”
I recall the paralysis, the freezing ice-lightning of the Blade’s single touch.
“Only once. See your point.”
“If enough of the Eldrin worked together, we could kill him but we would lose too many in the doing of it. For generations there has been a tacit agreement between the Blade and the Eldrin. He makes no attempt to either retake Maratic or to actively seek out adepts. Usually those who want his gifts are already criminals that we would hunt down and execute in any case. You and your mother seem to have been exceptions. His willingness to risk pain and death to help you is… a cause for concern that the balance of this agreement may be tipping. Something has changed. And we don’t yet know why. Especially why now, just as Samaran has been invaded.”
So Jantian is not simply trying to forge me into a weapon against the Emperor. He is also trying to discover how the Shadowblade or Maratic, or both, fit into the Usurper’s plans.
And he sees me as the key to finding the answer.
It explains why my latest disaster has been met with painful exploration and analysis instead of summary execution.
I’m aware that this does not necessarily mean forgiveness. And I’m under a debt to give what help I can.
I force myself to go over every detail of my encounters with the Shadowblade. “Something still doesn’t feel right. Doesn’t fit together. Jantian, you told me yourself you think of Elementals in terms of an ice avalanche or storm, or wildfire. Destructive but random. I felt that, but also something more focused. In the Blade’s case at least, it was a hatred of anything Rapathian, enough for him to risk some kind of deadly curse by helping me, by telling me Alina was unharmed so that I knew I had time to heal Marin.”
Jantian leans forward, a sudden fierce concentration on his face as if I have contributed something new and essential.
“Ariel, think carefully. Did that information make you change what you were planning to do?”
“Yes. I… knew I didn’t have to rush off to save my sister so I could stay with the Eldrin and use my healing skills to save Marin first.”
He nods slowly in agreement. “Because the Blade knows as well as we do that Marin is key to defeating the invaders. That fits with his hatred of Rapathians. But I think you just figured out something else as well?”
Jantian seems to almost know what I’m thinking before I know myself. Or maybe he is simply using Maratic’s power to push me further into my own memories. The answer is obvious, although it is something I feel reluctant to even discuss.
“The way that gaining the Blade’s power corrupts any human who tries to wield it… I think it might go both ways. Elementals acquire greed and a lust for revenge from their association with humans.”
Jantian shows no surprise. “That is something I was starting to suspect. I told you that origin story exactly as it was recorded in the Samaran archives, but I am well aware that all accounts are told from the perspective of the storyteller. No doubt the inhabitants of the ancient world felt that they were victims of capricious gods, but the violent Elemental forces of nature were probably no different than they are now.”
“So you think every interaction could increase the corruption in both directions?”
He shakes his head. “I have no way of knowing for sure, but I would advise you to avoid further contact with the Blade at all costs.”
I shiver. “I don’t need any additional encouragement for that.”
The red flickering of torches lights the towering rock wall above us and I look round to see Lania’s bier being carried out of the cave.
“Time to go.” Jantian moves to join the line of Eldrin following the pallbearers. The procession of torches files through the tunnel to the outer courtyard and down the twisting path to the foot of Maratic. The pyre is waiting, a dark hulk of heavy wood embodying the last finality of death as Lania’s body is reverently lifted and laid out on its surface.
I don’t want to be here. I know everyone’s eyes are on their dead lieutenant but I can’t help feeling their accusing thoughts are still directed at me.
Or is it just my own guilty conscience?
The heat and flames cut into my introspection. I try to focus on sending Lania to the next paradise instead of just thinking about myself. It seems an eternity, standing here waiting for everyone to leave, not daring to be the first to go while my eyes flood with tears that have little to do with the smoke billowing from the pyre.
At last the crowd starts to diminish and I look round to find Trengar standing alone in the flickering shadows. He and I are the only ones not moving back towards the hill. This is something I must do, although with my luck I will probably only make things worse. I walk over and look up to face his stony expression.
“Trengar, I’m sorry. I lost control and made a bad judgement. I put my whole team at risk without the justification of killing the Emperor. I thought I could cut my way through to him but I failed.”
He doesn’t speak for a few moments. I can almost feel his struggle with the grief and anger inside him.
“Ariel, it wasn’t your fault. It was those murdering invaders, may the Five send them to hell.”
I sense from the tension in his voice that he is trying desperately to believe what Marin has been telling him. Eldrin training. Point the anger at the enemy and use it to enhance the power you already have. A dangerous technique, as I have learned to my cost. With only the two of us here it feels awkward trying to excuse myself and escape so I follow him back to the training cave.
Trengar walks inside and picks up two training blades. He stands watching me. His eyes are dark, almost black. In the flickering light of the torches they are like hollows of night sky boring into my soul. I don’t want to think about what he might see there. He tips his head towards the rack of blades.
“Go ahead.” He sees my hesitation. He must know I am expecting him to try to kill me. He knows what I can do only too well. Is he trying to force me to take him out in self-defense? We both know that even with training blades it is entirely possible––I almost drove a blunted sword through his throat only a few days ago. Maybe I should just walk out of here and hope he doesn’t lodge the dull point of his blade in my back.
He shrugs, trying to sound offhand.
“No sparring. Just forms.”
I sigh and pick up my weapons. He salutes, formally, then steps back and starts to follow the paired forms. Even without Maratic’s haunting vibration, the moves are exhilarating and empowering. After a while I start to relax. Maybe Trengar’s invitation was genuine. Maybe he just wants to lose himself in training for a while. I can feel the power of Maratic helping me at a deeper level than simply giving me some time away from the uncertainties of the day and my own guilty conscience.
After an hour I expect Trengar to stop but he doesn’t seem tired. In fact, it feels as if his movements are becoming more powerful as he works through the sequences. His energy seems to be changing, but I can’t quite identify exactly how––except that I’m starting to feel the jarring dissonance again and this time it is around him. Up to now that sinister aspect has been so reassuringly absent with the Eldrin I have practiced with here. Maybe I don’t have experience of the whole spectrum of what they can do. Maybe it’s just the effect of someone trying to overcome grief and anger…
Hell’s gates, I don’t care what it is, it feels all wrong and I want out of here!
I step back and give him a formal salute, blade upright to my forehead.
“Thanks, Trengar. I am grateful for your time and patience.” I don’t wait for a reply, put my training weapons back with the others in the rack by the door and head for the night air outside, the skin between my shoulders twitching in anticipation of a fatal stab. I give one last look behind to see Trengar still practicing, lost in his own world of fierce concentration. A shiver of unease runs through me as I walk slowly back to my isolated nest in the bat kingdom.
A familiar voice comes from the darkness by the cave entrance. “Marin asked me to check in with you. In case you have trouble sleeping again.”
“Deris! Where have you been?”
“Lurking in the shadows keeping an eye on you, like I always do.” The tall Fae warrior smiles and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “What kind of death-wish persuaded you to start sparring practice with someone the size of Trengar?” He steers me towards my straw-lined alcove.
“His idea. But he only wanted to run through the forms. Distraction I suppose.” I hesitate. “His energy felt… off. Maybe I’m just not used to Eldrin working through the same kind of emotional burn-out I’m struggling with.”
“But it worried you enough to call an end to the session?” His voice is soft, full of concern.
I look up at him in surprise. “You have been keeping a close watch!” I hesitate. “Why did Marin delegate to you? Doesn’t he want to talk to me anymore?”
“It’s not you, Ariel. It’s just that after what happened in the lion hunt he doesn’t feel he can make impartial decisions when you’re around. He is trying to keep some space between you for a while. Don’t make it any harder for him than it already is. I know he’s missing you already.” Deris waits for me to settle into my cocoon of soft wolf-fur. “Do you need me to stay with you?”
I want to say no, to tell him I’m just fine, but the buzzing is still there like grit at the back of my awareness and I know I won’t sleep without help. Deris seems able to read my face even though I haven’t put it into words. He eases his slender form into the folds of wolf-cloak and wraps cool hands around my head. The grit seems to slowly wash away.
“Deris, how come you can take away that horrible buzzing but you couldn’t do the same kind of thing for healing when I exhausted myself helping Lupine?”
He thinks about it for a moment. “I don’t know. A few of us were trained to take care of new volunteers who were a bit too open to the power here. I’m familiar with how to do that.” He sits in silence for a few moments. “I arrived back here almost two days before you did. When I had finished reporting back on my conversation with Farang I asked Jantian why he didn’t teach us healing as well. And it is just as Marin guessed. Too risky to go any deeper than the exchange I have just given you. Apparently the Eldrin did use it up to a few generations ago but it caused more fatalities than it saved. Too difficult to judge and control.”
There is something else I want to ask him about Lord Farang. “The way the traitor spoke to you outside the lodge––for a while he had me totally believing everything he said. Does he have the same gift of persuasion as you do? His words didn’t seem to fool you the way they fooled me for a while.”
“No. I can feel it when I’m practicing with someone with the same Fae gift as mine and Farang does not have that. It’s just… politics I suppose.”
“Don’t understand.”
“Some people have a natural talent for guessing what their listeners want to hear and then delivering it in the most convincing set of lies possible. It’s a skill that gets the experts at it to the highest echelons of political power.”
“Ugh. Well, he certainly got there. On both sides at once.”
“It’s a dangerous place to be.”
“For us as well as him.”
“Ariel, don’t think about him or you will never get to sleep.”
“Will you sing to me again?”
I can hear him laughing softly until the laughter dissolves into the lilting cadences of his poetry and I drift into his sound-paintings of sunsets and forests.