Shaping Magic (5 page)

“It is not my place to dictate what he does, only to help him on his journey,” said Arden.

“Boy, just tell me what weapons you want, and I will get them for you,” he tried, hoping that he could convince him not to risk his life or limbs foolishly.

“No sir, I must earn them, or it would mean nothing, and I would not be worthy to own them.” Lindon stood his ground, knowing that in his heart this was what he had to do.

Looking past Lindon, toward the door, he said, “Surely you, his grandmother, will stop this?”

“If he had asked me before he made the challenge, I would have tried to talk him out of it, but I have a feeling that I wouldn't have been able to anyway. It doesn't matter anyway; the challenge has been made, and as Arden said, it is not our place to dictate, only to help.” Lindon could hear the disappointment in her tone, but she was right; it wouldn't have mattered if he had talked to her. This had to happen to be worthy to wear those blades.

“Fine, if that is the way it is to be, then that is what will happen. Prepare yourself, Lindon, the first fight starts in half an hour.”

When Lindon left the room, the old man said to Arden, “I hope you know what you’re doing because if he somehow manages to defeat everyone else, you will be the last one to fight. The challenge was to every warrior in the place.”

“I know,” Arden simply said.

When Arden left, he was going to see if he could find out what this was all about, but when he closed the door to the room, Cora was waiting for him.

“I want to go talk to him too, but we must let this play out. Now is not the time to distract him or give him doubt, we can only help; it must be this way, or we risk messing with the prophecy, and that we cannot do.”

“Even if what he does might get him killed?”

“Yes,” she answered with a choked voice. “Even then.”

When Lindon walked into the training area, he was trembling; all the people he would have to fight were lined up on the side of the large space. When he came into sight of the men and woman, he almost backed out of the whole thing, but when he looked to the far wall and saw the swords, he knew that he couldn't.

“Warriors, we have been challenged.” It was the old man; he was seated in a large chair opposite the fighters. “I have faith that you will rise to the task.”

“Alright, challenger, chose your weapon.” Upon hearing that, Lindon slowly walked to the weapons rack. He saw the two old practice swords leaning against the end of the rack. He could tell from the dust on them that they had not been used in a long time. Picking them up, he hit them together to make sure that they were still sound and not rotted from age. Lindon marveled at them; they were perfectly balanced. He guessed that they were made to match the real ones on the wall. With the weapons in hand, he moved to the end of the mat, waiting for the first fighter to step up.

Lindon noticed all the grins and snickering of the fighters. He could tell that most were thinking that it was a joke, and he would go down on the first fight, but he didn't let it bother him. He concentrated on himself and his goal.

The first fighter to step up was a large man with a practice sword. It was by far the largest weapon he had ever seen. It must have been over six feet long and almost half a foot wide. The man's muscles were huge, but he didn't look like he would be very fast. Lindon knew that he couldn't just block a strike from the man. It would just go through his sword and probably bust his arm too.

“Begin,” the old man commanded.

As the man approached Lindon, he had a grin plastered on his face as he said, “This won't take long.” He chuckled and swung the sword in a wide sweep in front of him. Even being only wood, Lindon knew that if he had been in the way of the sword he would probably lose his head.

Lindon didn't flinch as the sword passed in front of him; he just stood his ground waiting for the man to strike first. He didn't have to wait long. In an attempt to startle Lindon, the man shouted and charged, swinging overhanded, but Lindon was ready for the move. As he committed himself to the strike, Lindon sidestepped. As the blade passed beside him and almost faster than could be seen, he struck the man: One sword went to the chest and one to the neck. The man dropped his sword and went down holding his neck.

Lindon didn't want to kill the man only to win the fight, so he hadn't hit with full power and only made the man gasp for breath. Not wanting to be boastful, Lindon didn't even smile. All he did was move to his original place and stand at the ready.

The laughter and the whispering all stopped as the reaming fighters realized that this was no joke, and the boy standing before them knew how to use his weapons. As they helped the man off the mat, another took his place—only this time there was no boasting that this would be easy. Having seen the speed and the ease in which his predecessor had gone down, the new opponent came to stand before Lindon with more caution and a little trepidation.

“Begin,” the old man said again.

This time Lindon moved first, circling to the left to see how the man moved and if he could show any weakness, but the man didn't show anything, instead turning with Lindon. Thinking to catch him off guard, the man lunged suddenly and aimed directly at Lindon's midsection. Lindon knocked the sword away and was about to counter when the man reversed direction and almost caught Lindon on the back swing, but his speed saved him. Jumping back, Lindon was able to avoid it.

Lindon then started his attack, at first slow. As the man's swords would meet his, he slowly increased in speed, not giving the man time to set up for his own attack. He could see the man's eyes were looking for an opening, some kind of mistake that would allow for a quick ending. Lindon decided to give him one, just a slight overbalance.

The man, thinking that he had Lindon extended a little too far, trying to capitalize on Lindon's apparent mistake. As the man reached to try to knock one of Lindon's swords out of his hands, Lindon instead let his hand move up and back as his other sword came up to split the man in the middle, hitting him squarely in the balls. The man dropped instantly.

Again, Lindon didn't say or do anything with his victory; he simply went back to his original position and waited for the next. He knew that he had to conserve all his energy, for that was only two down and still another thirteen to go.

The fights started to blur together Lindon lost track of how many he had done, but after each opponent fell he would return, waiting for the next. He was standing at the ready. Blood poured down the side of his face where he had received a blow to the head from an elbow of the man he had just downed.

His next opponent was the Elf girl. He had forgotten that she was a warrior too and that he would have to face her. There was no stopping now, though she would have to be defeated if he was to attain the swords, and there was nothing that would stop him from achieving them.

He knew that this fight would be his hardest yet because of the grace and the fluid way she moved. It would make it harder to find the right opening. She did not waste anytime on talk but as soon as the old man gave the go-ahead, she came at him with her practice sword weaving. She was truly beautiful to watch.

Not having time to appreciate the girl’s movement, Lindon had to fight hard to keep up to her speed. She could change direction of her blade with very little effort, and her speed was incredible. Lindon was backpedaling for the first five minutes of the fight, but he was able to keep her blade from scoring any hits on his body. Knowing that he was getting tired, she came at him relentlessly.

She was soon getting frustrated, not being able to land any blows on Lindon, for as fast as she could move he seemed to always have a sword ready to block her. Thinking to let him go on the offensive and to see if she could make him make a mistake, she broke off her attack. She didn’t expect Lindon to come at her quite so fast and was almost caught unprepared for his counter.

Lindon had been waiting for her to try to change tactics. He could tell, by the way she was getting flustered, that it would happen. He was ready for when she broke off her attack, and as soon as she stopped her attack, he started his.

She was not ready for his speed; she had watched all the fights before and had felt sure that she had guessed the speed in which he could attack. What came at her was a blur of wood; she was now the one backpedaling, only now with his attack, she couldn't keep up to speed. It didn't take her very long to realize that she was beaten when, with a final flourish of his weapons, her sword was knocked from her hand, and she was sitting on her ass with Lindon standing over her with his sword at her throat.

Looking up at Lindon, she no longer saw the boy in which she had thought of as a foolish man child; now she was seeing Lindon the warrior, and he may be young, but at the moment she had a vision of a great man in the making—one that would change the world with his footsteps or die trying. She knew that if he asked her, she would follow him to hell and back. She was his to command, as she suspected the same as every warrior that he had beaten here today.

Nodding at the Elf woman, he could no longer call her a girl for having fought her; he knew that despite her looks, she was much older than she appeared. He walked back to his starting position and waited for the next opponent.

“Lindon, you have defeated every warrior who lives here, but your challenge was not to just the ones that lived here; it was to every warrior in the building. Here is your last opponent.”

Lindon was not surprised when Arden stepped forward holding a wooden practice sword. He did not make a mistake when he issued the challenge. He knew that he would have to fight Arden to prove to himself that he was worthy to wield the swords. He just hoped that he was fast enough and strong enough to do the job.

When Arden stood in front of Lindon, he said, “My honor will not allow me to throw the fight, I must fight with everything I have to win.”

“I would have it no other way,” Lindon said with a determination that everyone in the room no longer doubted.

When the old man once again said the word “begin,” Arden and Lindon wasted no time. There was no strategy needed; both men had spent many hours training with each other. Each knew the other's weaknesses and their strengths.

Lindon was close to exhaustion having battled all day; even if he had been fresh he knew that he would have to be better and faster than he had ever been before to be able to beat Arden. With the thought of his goal in mind, he was somehow able to go beyond his physical limits and meet Arden's blade with one of his own.

Lindon could see that Arden was angling for the same counter he had used last time they had dueled.  Knowing what was coming gave Lindon a narrow window in which he might be able to score a hit on him. When the moment came, Lindon feigned the same counter and when the expected move from Arden was committed too, Lindon changed direction. Instead of aiming for his ribs, Lindon angled down and struck Arden’s shin at the same moment Arden brought his sword across his body to block the expected strike. Arden punched out a blow that, if Lindon had  done the same counter, would have struck him squarely in the face.

Breathing heavily, Lindon knew that he had to find a way to finish this fight quickly, or he would pass out from exhaustion. With Arden's now injured leg, most people in Lindon's situation would have backed off to catch his breath, but knowing that he couldn't last much longer—and that Arden was such a deadly fighter—Lindon did the only thing he could do: He attacked, and not just a half-hearted one—he went after him with everything, holding nothing back.

Lindon's wooden swords weaved in and out, crossing each other faster than the eye could see. At first, Arden met every one of Lindon's attacks but faster and faster the blows came. At last it was Arden that made the mistake—his injured leg stepped a little to the side of how it should have and gave out. Arden went down, and before he could recover, Lindon had knocked his blade away with one sword and the other stopped within a hairsbreadth of Arden's neck.

Freezing in place, Arden didn't so much as twitch a muscle, he simply looked up at Lindon with an expression of wonder and pride. The student had surpassed the teacher, and Arden couldn't have been happier. Knowing that he had done everything that he could to help Lindon prepare for his destiny, he felt no shame at being bested by this remarkable young man.

The crowd of fighters also felt no shame at losing their bout with Lindon. Each of them knew that he wouldn't have stood a chance against Arden, but not only had Lindon beaten each of them, he then went on and faced a true master of the sword and won. There was not one man or woman who wouldn't give up their weapon to this young master.

Having witnessed the impossible, the old man said in a shaky voice, “Lindon, I apologize for my doubts of your skill in combat. You have proven yourself beyond all expectations. You are now free to clam your prize of any weapon from this place.”