Elvensty Read online

  “How do you stomach that place?” Khomar replied, wrinkling his face in disgust. “I think Grandfather had it right to keep the court at arms length.”

  Kintrye laughed, “I remember Grandfather Ty would always lean over to me when a lord would show up to seek a favor and whisper ‘Snakes look pretty until they bite’.”

  “That’s sounds like Grandfather,” Khomar replied with a grin. “He never did like the court intrigue. He told me that was why he spent most of his time up in his hills.” Khomar smiled at the memory. “So how long are you back for?”

  “I don’t know yet. I haven’t seen Father to find out. He’s been sequestered away since I got here. I don’t know how long he’ll be so I figured I’d catch up with you while I wait.” Kintrye took the opportunity to shove a couple more bites of food into his mouth.

  “Did you find out anything interesting while you were there?” Khomar prodded.

  Kintrye scowled as he chewed his food and swallowed. “Remember Lytal’s boy?”

  “You mean the one you gave a black eye to for slighting one of the servants?”

  “Yep, that’s the one. He was in Jyantral, and if I’d been younger, I probably would’ve given him another shiner.”

  “What did he do this time?”

  “He had gotten close with one of his slave girls and got her pregnant. He cast her out onto the street, but by God’s grace, I saw him doing it and got the full story out of her.”

  Khomar was somewhat surprised to hear that his cousin had actually talked to a girl. Kintrye was notoriously shy around women, and only a girl in desperate need of help could have drawn him out. “What happened to her?”

  Kintrye smiled secretively. “I just pointed her in the right direction. She’s probably on her way to the Wylds by now.”

  Khomar nodded thoughtfully. He had heard rumors of the Secret Path, the network of safe-houses and passages that helped those who needed to escape the slavery and abuse of the kingdom to start a new life. He had long suspected that Kintrye and his father were somehow involved with it. “I bet you’re glad to be back here away from all of that.”

  Kintrye shrugged. “We can’t just keep hiding away from it, though. There seems to be a lot more of this kind of thing going in the kingdom these days. And this isn’t even the worst of it. Someday soon someone is going to have to do something about it.”

  “Someone like you?” Khomar smirked.

  Kintrye grimaced. “Not likely. They tolerate me in the court but just barely. Being the son of the Headmaster of Elvensty only gets you so far.”

  “But you’re also the grandson of Tyrinian,” Khomar pointed out with a mischievous grin.

  Kintrye shook his head and scowled at him. “He’s an Illisyan lord. That doesn’t hold as much clout in the Three Rivers as one might hope.”

  The Illisyan tribes lived in the eastern lands of Jyrya and were generally derided by the more wealthy and sophisticated Jyrye that lived in the lush region of the Saber, Tranya, and Terawk rivers.

  Kintrye swept his hand in front of him as if dismissing the whole topic. “So, are you training the kids again today?”

  Khomar grunted. “Yes, I’m teaching the second and third year students this morning.” He did not feel comfortable calling them ‘kids’ since they were only a year or two younger than his own twenty-one years.

  “Anyone offered you a challenge yet?”

  “Nothing more than a challenge of patience.”

  Kintrye laughed. “Well, maybe I can swing by and give you a hand.” He looked out the window. “I don’t see Father yet, so maybe we can even get in a spar, for old times sake.”

  They wrapped up breakfast and washed their hands in the water bowl on the way out. Students were starting to assemble in the training yard, and some of the young women whose classes would start later were starting to linger by the windows to watch.

  As they came out, they were greeted by Sylas, the academy’s weapons instructor. His once black hair had almost entirely turned gray. He looked thin and old, but Khomar knew from experience the strength and quickness that belayed his appearance. His face lit up when he saw Khomar and Kintrye approaching.

  “Ah, I’m glad to see you two,” he said in way of greeting. “I’d like to give these boys a lesson this morning in the great-sword. Are you up for it?”

  Khomar and Kintrye looked at each other and grinned. When were they not?

  They quickly donned padded linen armor: a coat, breeches, and a cowl to protect them from the inevitable blows from the wooden practice swords. Khomar selected the one great-sword available while Kintrye selected his favored sabers, one for each hand.

  As the two young men stretched their muscles and tested the balance of their weapons, Sylas stepped forward, commanding the attention of his students with his eyes. “Most Jyrye are not strong enough to wield a great-sword effectively, but that does not mean that you will not face one in battle. They are popular among the Auxule, like Khomar here. This will be a demonstration of both the weapon’s strengths and weaknesses.”

  Khomar and Kintrye approached each other near the center of the training yard, and the students started to circle around them a safe distance away. Seeing the fight about to begin, some of the young women had started to come out of the dining hall to stand at the edge of the yard.

  “Start when you are ready,” Sylas said as he stepped to the side.

  Khomar grinned at Kintrye as they stepped toward each other and bowed with his sword held across his chest. He saw Kintrye return the bow, his sabers crossed before him.

  At that moment, the scene around him shifted as Khomar concentrated his thoughts on the battle. Time almost seemed to slow as his senses became sharply aware of his surroundings. He could feel every beat of his heart in his chest, the lay of the armor as it pressed against his arms and legs, and the soft breeze that flowed over his sweaty skin. He could even feel the small rocks that littered the ground around him, and the wooden shaft he held became almost a living thing in his hand, an extension of his own flesh.

  He also became aware of the subtle movements of his opponent, the careful breathing, and the tensing muscles. He could sense a twitch in his neck, the subtle leaning of his body even before his arms or legs would begin their motion. Everything around him disappeared; all that remained was the man before him, the blades that were now spinning gracefully through the air, and the ground between them, all in sharp, vivid clarity.

  Even before Kintrye began to crouch, Khomar had matched his fighting stance, but Kintrye’s blazing speed rapidly closed the gap almost before Khomar could react. At the last moment, he slid his weapon against the approaching wooden saber sending it off course enough for Khomar to step aside and also dodge the second blow.

  Distance was the key. Khomar could not allow Kintrye to get too close as he had just done. He had forgotten how fast his cousin could be! Unable to use the full length of his great-sword, Khomar grabbed the blade portion of the stick with his left hand and deftly parried a pair of blows before slamming the pommel of his sword into Kintrye’s chest, knocking him back. He had only a split second to step back before Kintrye was at him again, but now he could press his advantage of reach as both hands returned to the hilt.

  Immediately, the great-sword began to weave deadly arcs toward his opponent, seeking to knock him off balance. Time and again, the swords moved deftly in glancing blows to send the great-sword away from Kintrye’s body, but each time, the blade swept closer to the mark.

  And then he sensed it: the subtle shift in Kintrye’s stance as he prepared for the surprise move that would have been the end of most warriors. But Khomar stepped aside just as Kintrye lunged, even as his great-sword swung up and around his head. Summoning all of his strength, he brought the wooden shaft downward toward Kintrye’s upheld blade. He sensed as much as saw his opponent’s eyes widen, but he also felt the sudden drop in Kintrye’s legs as the opposite saber swung around.

  There was a loud crash as the
upheld saber shattered under the force of the heavy great-sword which then came down hard on the Jyrye’s shoulder. A split second later, the opposite wooden saber struck just below Khomar’s knee, buckling it and sending him to the ground on one knee. Kintrye had already collapsed on the ground.

  There was a stunned silence as the pieces of wood clattered around them. No one watching them seemed to want to even breathe as they considered what they had just witnessed. The entire sequence had only taken a few seconds.

  Finally, Sylas broke the silence with a chuckle. “One man has lost a leg. The other man has been cut into two pieces.”

  There was nervous laughter from the students as Khomar’s awareness of his surroundings cleared. Kintrye was lying on the ground dazed, his hand instinctively rubbing his shoulder. Pain shot through his leg as Khomar stumbled onto his feet. Kintrye stood as best as he could as a low groan escaped his lips.

  “Well fought!” called out Sylas as he stepped forward. “Why don’t you two go get some ice on those wounds?”

  They both nodded wearily and made their way out of the circle. Khomar heard Sylas begin to instruct the students. “So what did we learn from that demonstration? You see the strength of the great-sword with its unmatchable reach. It can also cut through armor and bone. But what are its weaknesses?” His voice trailed off as Kintrye and Khomar made their way through the students back to the weapons rack.

  “Why did you have to hit me so hard?” Kintrye groaned, still rubbing his shoulder as he pulled off his cowl.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I did try to pull up,” Khomar chuckled and then winced. He had put a little too much pressure on his injured leg when he had tried to pull off his leg armor.

  “How’s the leg?”

  “I think it’s just bruised. How about your shoulder?”

  “I don’t think you separated it this time.” Kintrye cautiously rolled his shoulder back. He then flashed his cousin a grin. “It was a good fight.”

  Khomar nodded. “You almost had me there at the beginning. I forgot how fast you can move.”

  “The boys aren’t keeping you sharp enough, Khomar,” Kintrye replied, shaking his head. “I think you’ve reached the end of what Sylas can teach you. Have you given any thought to where you might go from here?”

  “I don’t really know,” Khomar shrugged. “Your father did mention going to the eastern tribes to help fight against the Dormankye raids, but that’s a long way away.”

  “What about going to Auxland?”

  Khomar took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m not sure about that either. I don’t have the gift of Healing like my father and my brother. I don’t know what I could do up there except maybe join the army in case the Lanmach attack again.”

  Kintrye put his good hand on Khomar’s shoulder and offered him a reassuring smile. “Well, I’ll pray that God will make clear the path you need to take.”

  They turned to make their way to the medic’s house, just off the dining hall, but there were still groups of women gathered at the edge of training yard between them and their destination. The women were talking amongst themselves while casting occasional glances toward the two men.

  “You know, I should probably go find my father,” Kintrye said nervously as he quickly turned his back to them.

  “Your shoulder must be feeling better then,” Khomar teased him with an impish grin.

  Kintrye scowled at him. “Are you going to the medic?”

  “Sure,” he replied with a shrug. “The girls only have eyes for you anyway.”

  Kintrye’s face turned red as his scowl deepened. “I’ll see you later.”

  Khomar laughed as his cousin retreated, and setting down the last piece of armor, he hobbled his way to the medic, ignoring the women as they stepped clear of his path.

  After visiting the medic and confirming that his leg was, in fact, just bruised, Khomar decided to visit the men’s bath house glad that he did not have any classes until the afternoon. The padded armor was always warm, especially in the summer suns, and he wanted to be clean to visit the chapel. He realized then that he had not mentioned to Kintrye his plan to meet the girl, but he shrugged it off. He could tell him later when he came home.

  He allowed himself to soak in the cold water of the bath, not bothering to heat it. It was days like this that made him miss the cold mountain streams he used to bathe in on hot summer days. Maybe he would go to Auxland when his schooling was completed, even if it was just to visit one last time before going elsewhere.

  Khomar did not get much of anything out of his afternoon classes. “Advanced Fleggish” taught him little more than what he had already learned from the Fleggish population in Auxland. Most of them lived in the city of Nichtal where he had spent a couple summers. Running out of available classes to take in his final year, he had opted for “Analysis of the Great Dormankye War”, but he quickly learned that the stories his father and grandfather had told him in his youth of their part in the war carried far more insight and understanding than the dry lectures that were presented.

  When his last class had finally concluded, Khomar hastily ate dinner before retreating to his cabin to get his Book of the Way. He paused at the door and took a deep breath before making his way back to the quiet stillness of the chapel.

  Chapter 3

  Aya strolled casually toward the chapel, humming to herself. She was just beginning to really settle into a routine at the academy. She had been apprehensive when her father brought her here, having never left the Three Rivers region before. The Elvensty Academy was on the extreme northern edge of Jyrya where it bordered on the Wylds of Dalmain and was considered part of the region of Illisya. Many of the Jyrye in the Three Rivers looked down on the Illisyans, thinking them quaint and backward, but she was finding that she liked their straight-forward ways. It was a refreshing change from the politically charged politeness of the Three Rivers.

  Her father, Lanye Nytal, was a former graduate of Elvensty and had taught her the fundamentals of using her empathic gift. Because of this training, the Headmaster of Elvensty had tested her to determine which of the first year classes she would still be required to take. Her empathic skills proved to be exceptional, and while she had a good grasp of Jyrye history, her education lacked when it came to foreign cultures and languages. Growing up, Aya had never really considered life outside of Jyrya, but now she found herself taking courses on the Fleggish and Auxule cultures simultaneously. Her schedule required her to take the two classes back-to-back in the afternoon, and the effect of learning about the two diverse cultures in such proximity left her head spinning by the end of the day.

  It was why she looked forward to this time every day since she had found the chapel. It had been the week before classes were to begin and most of the other women had not yet arrived on the island. Having just finished two weeks of extensive testing, she was left to explore her new home. She had found the chapel hidden away in the small wood in the southeastern corner of the island. Aya had been drawn to its quiet solitude and had begun visiting it every evening as she tried to cope with the sudden turn that her life had taken.

  Aya had assumed that she would continue to live with her father in Jyantral until he found someone for her to marry, but all of that had changed when the king ordered her father to leave Jyrya on a special mission. Wanting to ensure her education would continue and that she would be protected, her father had taken her to Elvensty. When he had left, she had the distinct impression that he was not sure he would return.

  So she had used the silence of the chapel to settle her thoughts and to pray. Spending time with God also helped to soothe the loneliness she felt every evening. Skipping most of her entry level classes had resulted in making it very difficult to make friends. Many of the women with whom she shared classes were one or two years older than herself, and most were resentful of her advancement. To make matters worse, she also had not been able to find any other Followers of the Way on campus. At least in the
chapel, she was able to talk to God and remember the stories of His people.

  Though she did not have access to a Book of the Way, the pictures carved in relief on the wooden walls helped her to recall the stories that she had heard since she was child. The carvings were so exquisite, it hurt to see the lack of care given them. It was why she was carrying a jar of oil and cloth with her. She had begun to do what she could to preserve them.

  She glanced up at the suns as the shadows began to deepen. The Crossing would begin that night. Growing up in Jyantral, far to the south, she had not really thought much of the Crossing other than as a time to celebrate. Here, though, she was told it would get very stormy and much colder. She was grateful that her father had given her a cloak when he had brought her to the school.

  As Aya entered the chapel, the first thing she noticed was that the candles near the front were already lit. She wondered at this even as she closed the door behind her and took a few more steps into the room. She froze as a large man suddenly stood up from where he had been sitting in the front row.

  She immediately recognized him as the Auxule man she had seen spar with the Headmaster’s son earlier that morning. His dark auburn hair, muscular build, and six and a half foot frame made him a popular subject among the girls of the school, a fact to which he seemed completely oblivious. His tawny skin stood in stark contrast to his olive-skinned classmates.

  He also wore an odd earring on his upper right ear. It bore a crest of some kind, the emblem of a great sword with a garland of red swordflowers wrapped in a figure eight over the cross-guard. No full-blooded Jyrye would pierce their ears, but she seemed to recall from her Auxule classes that they often wore earrings to identify their family of origin. He was dressed like a Jyrye, however, with a sleeveless leather vest that was laced in the front and flowing khaki-colored pants.

  Aya’s stomach fluttered as the man’s gaze met her own. She realized then that she really should not be here alone with him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone else was here. I can leave,” she muttered shyly as she backed toward the door.