Surrender (15 page)

16-Hawklin

Istar impatiently tapped his foot on the cobblestone. It was already well past dawn, the skies above the courtyard a tangle of orange and pale yellow intermingled with light blue. Stars twinkled in the east, their white speckles melting away in the blue. He was irritated by the fact Krishani seemed to wake later and later each morning. Sometimes he wouldn’t emerge from his room until Melianna had called him four, sometimes five, times. He couldn’t tell what his apprentice was doing; he filled his schedule adequately with a mixture of chores and exercises Krishani could do on his own. The boy should have been progressing, especially now that he didn’t have the Brothers to distract him. The Elmare Castle was empty except for Atara’s apprentice and his daughters. Atara kept a close watch on the girl and when she wasn’t seen in the castle, she was in the orchards. She never talked to anyone.

He pulled his arms into the sleeves of his beige cloak just as Krishani stumbled underneath the archway, still tying the laces to his shin-high boots. His hair was disheveled and there were faint shadows under his eyes. His belt was also crooked and his tunic was twisted to one side. As he hopped along the stone he managed to pull it all together, stood upright and smoothed out his garments.

“Apologies, Elder,” he said as he passed the crystal statues and joined Istar on the sidewalk.

Istar didn’t say anything; he briskly led the way towards the moat and the orchards. There was nothing he could say that he hadn’t said to the boy before, from the way Krishani held himself to the way he tried hard and still managed to fail. Istar thought he had started slow with Krishani, taking training techniques from earlier summers and building up to the bigger things. It was no use though. Krishani reached a threshold and plateaued, always stopping himself before he let go. It was maddening and Istar planned to break that pattern.

They crossed the bridge and Istar quickened his pace down the wide dirt road that led south to Evennses. On the right were the orchards and on the left the hedges, perfectly cut so they were straight and square with turrets rising from them every few feet. Krishani shuffled along behind him. Istar frowned.

“Where are we going?” Krishani asked once they had passed the orchards and were heading into taller trees and thicker underbrushes. This was where the villages of Orlondir branched off from. Istar smelled the hearth fires in the air and heard the sounds of small animals as they flitted through the breaks in the trees. The villagers provided food for the Elmare castle, not that they needed much of it except during the Fire Festivals. Lord Istar and Lady Atara barely ever ate to begin with; being sovereigns of the land removed them from trivial things like that. Food had nothing to do with their essence; their sparks would last so long as Avristar was alive and well.

“Hawklin,” Istar said. He looked over his shoulder but didn’t stop walking. “It’s one of the villages.”

“Why are we going there?” Krishani asked.

Istar narrowed his eyes and turned his attention back to the path. “Hawklin is eldered by Falnir. He was injured in the Lands of Men years ago and came back to Avristar. He was a former champion of our land. What happened to him was unfortunate, but it doesn’t stop him from teaching others what he knows.” The point wasn’t really who Falnir was; he didn’t spar anymore, but he eldered one of the villages where inhabitants of Avristar were allowed to raise their own families. They weren’t subjected to the same tradition as the Children of Avristar. Still, Istar always hoped that strong ambassadors came from the villages. The more presence Avristar had in the Lands of Men the better chances of success they would have for bringing them peace.

He grimaced as he thought about his last conversation with the Gatekeeper, the voice of Avristar herself. Tall evergreens shrouded the entire summit in shadows, nothing but the crystal clear night sky above. He had rubbed his hands together and sparked a fire, which was immediately a twist of white and blue. The voice of the Gatekeeper emerged from the fire, speaking on behalf of Avristar herself. Istar thought that with the pressing threat of the Valtanyana’s return she would call the armies back to Avristar. Instead, she acted as though he was an insolent fool for believing in nothing but hearsay. He tried to plead with her, but she was firm and wouldn’t allow the armies to return without due cause. She was powerful on her own. The Valtanyana had been defeated; there couldn’t be much of their armies left.

Istar was vexed by Avristar’s recklessness, but if she didn’t believe there was a threat to overcome then he couldn’t persuade her any further.

As he walked with Krishani, the boy became silent behind him, no doubt processing what Istar had told him about Falnir. He didn’t want to tell Krishani what they’d be walking into. Falnir was known for having tournaments between the children during this time of year, and they went on for weeks. It provided some entertainment for the villagers as life was sometimes tedious.

He neared the thin path into the village, the one barely wide enough for a horse and cart, and turned down it, leading Krishani through the squishy black mud. His boots pounded across it evenly, the bottom of his cloak becoming soaked with dirt and leftovers of the morning’s dew. It didn’t take long to reach the village and there was already a crowd conglomerating around the hearth fire. Taller feorns were twisting wooden swords in their hands.

“What’s going on?” Krishani asked. Istar went to move through the crowds, but Krishani dug his heels into the mud and crossed his arms. He had alarm in his blue and green eyes, his pale skin looking more sallow now that he was near the crowd.

Istar smirked. “Come, now, I told them they would get an audience with a member of the Brotherhood of Amersil.” He turned back to the crowd, but the boy didn’t move.

“Why would you tell them that?” Krishani asked, his voice being swallowed up by sounds of the crowd.

Istar knew what the villagers thought of the Brothers from Amersil: Avristar’s best and finest children, meant for greatness. He had been searching for a way to motivate Krishani, to show him what he would become in the Lands of Men, how he would be respected. He had no plans of making Krishani fall into the ranks; he wanted the boy to lead an army. He wanted Krishani to be a King’s General, help him succeed in securing lands and ruling his people. If the boy was patient, if he could surrender his reservations force triumph. Istar wasn’t a fool as to what Krishani’s parable meant, but apparently the boy himself was.

Krishani shook his head and his expression turned livid. “You really think I’m anything like the Brothers?” He spat on the ground, and pulled his arms tighter across his chest.

Istar laughed, trying to keep the mood light. “You won’t be beat.” He went to push through the crowd again as Krishani dropped his arms.

“That isn’t what I’m worried about,” Krishani said as he reluctantly followed Istar through the villagers. It took only minutes to get through the crowd, Istar leading the way. He broke into the center of the village, a series of two-story cabins surrounding the large stone encampment that created the hearth. The cabins had triangle roofs and deep mahogany beams crisscrossed across the fronts to secure them. The craftsmanship was merely for aesthetics, but masterfully executed. Istar thought he could smell the faint scent of roasted hazelnuts, a common snack food.

He glanced at the villagers, then turned back to the hearth and caught sight of Falnir. His scraggly brown hair was speckled with gray and fell to his shoulders. He hunched forward, heavily leaning on one side of his body. He was a feorn, but disfigured, his right leg twisted. Falnir stood near the porch of the mess hall where the villagers all ate dinner together. None of the other cabins had a kitchen. It was easier to have one per village and for everyone to sup together. Istar noticed that Falnir was looking past him at Krishani. The boy’s presence caused gasps to emit from the crowd.

“Is this him?” Falnir asked, nodding towards Krishani.

“Aye, I think he’ll be quite the match for your boy,” Istar said casually. He neared Falnir and firmly shook hands with him. Falnir smelled of tainted water and small game. It wasn’t a pleasant combination.

“Wraynas is ready for him. I trained him myself,” Falnir said. He gestured to a tall feorn inspecting his wooden sword bent over near the hearth fire.

Istar sized him up. “Very well, a fair fight. Is he your champion?”

“He’s won every tournament for the past three summers.”

Istar turned to Krishani, who looked ready to throw up. “Are you ready to test your skills in a crowd?”

“No,” Krishani said, his eyes still blazing like he was going to cause Istar to catch fire.

Istar lowered his gaze and pulled Krishani towards him so their foreheads touched. “I will always do what I must to challenge you. You cannot forfeit the match.” He pulled away and turned to Falnir. “Plus nobody is really keeping score,” he added diplomatically, as though he had every confidence that Krishani would win.

Falnir laughed, a hint of nervousness lacing his chuckle. “Right, nothing to be worried about.”

At that Istar held out his hand and waited while Krishani handed him his cloak and tightened his belt around his waist. Falnir passed the wooden sword to Istar, who then handed it to Krishani. It was lightweight; carved from the branch of a maple tree. Krishani swung it around in his right arm, getting a feel for it. He switched back and forth between his left and right hands, seeing which he preferred. Istar watched him with a scowl as Falnir limped into the middle of the village and neared the hearth fire. He whispered something to Wraynas and then pulled back, motioning for Krishani to approach.

Istar watched as Krishani moved forward, his face a mask of stone. Istar didn’t feel guilty for the boy; he would face worse things in the Lands of Men, this was good practice for him. He shifted to the left to get a better view of the battle, and when he could see Krishani and Wraynas directly across from one another, he stopped.

Falnir moved to the other side of the hearth. “People of Hawklin! I would like to welcome Krishani of Amersil to our village.” The people cheered and Falnir waited for it to die down.

Istar smirked; this would show Krishani to focus. It seemed an extreme way to force it, but he didn’t know what else to do. Krishani was too lost in his daydreams to really pay attention.

“Lord Istar of Avristar has called a match between our finest warrior and his. I present to you Wraynas, winner of the Beltane Tournament!” The crowd went wild for Wraynas. Istar nodded to himself as he mentally sized up Krishani’s opponent. This would be a good match.

Falnir didn’t waste time. He called the match seconds later and limped away from hearth, keeping his eyes on the boys as they circled each other.

Wraynas was the first to land a blow to Krishani with the wooden sword. It tapped his shoulder and Krishani briefly fell to one knee. He scraped the ground and rubbed his fingers together, then was back on his feet, twisting around and avoiding the very forward advances Wraynas made towards him.

Eventually, Krishani’s wooden sword met with Wraynas’s and they moved across the dirt in a pattern of blows, each of them defending themselves with skill. Their sparring didn’t get interesting until Wraynas shoved Krishani with his free hand and Krishani fell onto his back. Wraynas was on him in an instant, ready to end the match, but Krishani sprang to his feet, his expression colder, harder.

Istar was curious as to what he was doing. He wasn’t striking Wraynas back; he was only defending himself and not letting go. He seemed focused, but he wasn’t doing what Istar wanted him to do. He turned his eyes away from the sparring match for only a second and that was all it took.

Krishani didn’t even touch Wraynas, but there was a loud crack followed by a rumbling under their feet. The sky darkened with clouds and Wraynas flew onto his back and coughed, blood pouring from his mouth and staining his vest and breeches. Krishani knelt in a ceremonial position, the tip of his wooden sword pointed to the ground. It smoked at the hilt. Krishani panted as the crowd screamed in horror.

Istar rushed to his apprentice. He needed to reach Krishani before the villagers realized what happened and attacked his pupil. He briefly glanced at Wraynas, who was passed out at the edge of the crowd. There was a group of younger maidens fawning all over him, not knowing what to do. Istar placed a hand on Krishani’s shoulder and the boy looked at him, his cheeks stained with tears.

“What was that?” Istar spat.

Krishani’s expression turned from sad to cold. He shrugged off Istar’s hand and stood, throwing the sword on the ground like it was a deadly weapon. “I hurt him, didn’t I?”

“You …” Istar’s gaze moved towards the crowd around Wraynas. Falnir had managed to reach him and was parting the girls and kneeling at his side. “But why would you?”

Krishani looked down at his hands. They were red, but he wasn’t harmed in any way. “I didn’t mean to. I just let go.”

Istar had never actually witnessed what happened when Krishani let go, and he felt punched in the stomach at having to see it there, in a group of villagers. He took Krishani by the elbow and began leading him towards the thin path back to the Elmare Castle. The clouds were darkening overhead and large droplets of water were beginning to splash onto the dirt.

Before Istar could pull Krishani through the crowd, Falnir glanced up and caught them fleeing. “Your boy is dangerous!” he shouted, clearly upset.

Istar glared at Krishani. “I’ll send Hernadette to help Wraynas.” He tried to be diplomatic, but he knew it was no use. Krishani had harmed their champion, and what was supposed to be a fun sparring match had almost turned into bloodshed.

Falnir nodded. “It is no fault of yours, my lord.”

Istar only nodded, then pushed Krishani through the crowd and into the forests. He didn’t say a word as he led the boy back to the Elmare castle, but he was afraid—afraid of what Krishani was and what he could do.

* * *