Chapter 1

Elden hefted the sword, spinning it along its long axis feeling the balance of it. He studied the blade. It was well worn from many bouts like the one he was about to enter. He’d been learning the ways of the sword for half his life, granted that was only six years, but he believed he had a firm grasp of his basic forms, and an understanding of the flow of combat.

His opponent was his long-standing nemesis: his older brother, Righley. He was Elden’s favorite sparring partner. The last year he hadn’t been around very much, his duties to their father keeping him away from the castle. That was fine; Elden had been practicing a lot and was ready to show him a few things.

He heard the party in the next room quiet down. That would mean his father was about to set the stage, and introduce the fighters for tonight’s celebration. Elden could just make out the words his father was saying through the heavy doors. “Thank you all for coming tonight. As you know, Elden will be departing tomorrow for the Academy for State Craft in Peace Hearth. It is a long journey, and I have been doing my best to prepare him for his education there. To that end, I have issued a challenge to my youngest son. I have challenged him to stand against his brother, Righley in sword combat. Should he win I have promised that I would provide him a buffalo to make the journey with. If he should lose,” there was a pause, Elden had no doubt his father would be drawing the assembled guests into a knot of anticipation. “I’ll arrange for him to be married before he graduates,” his father finished to raucous laughter.

The sudden touch of cold steel on his shoulder startled Elden. “Hey,” he whirled on his brother, “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
Laughing Righley said, “Don’t allow yourself to be. You were too caught up in trying to listen to Father’s build up.”
“I was not. I was thinking about the trip,” Elden lied.
“Either way, you were distracted. If you don’t focus the match will be over before it begins.”
Elden nodded. Always be aware of your surroundings it was a lesson that had been drummed into him, especially the last year. “Don’t worry; I’ll give you a fight you won’t soon forget.”  He smirked.

The door opened behind them, the assembled guests’ applause caught them both off guard, and they shared a smile. Their father’s voice boomed from the great hall, “My son: Righley; our most trusted messenger.”  Righley skipped forward through the double doors and the crowd began hooting and whistling, showing him their favor. “And the Challenged: my most beloved son, Elden.”  Elden walked into the great hall his head down. He hated when his father referred to him that way. It only served to remind him of the loss of his mother, a loss he felt guilty for. No one had ever blamed him of course. In fact, everyone always seemed to go out of their way to tell him it wasn’t his fault his mother had died giving birth to him. But he always felt bad about it.

He entered with his head hanging down. The crowd began chanting his name. He could feel the heat of embarrassment flushing his skin and making the points of his ears stand out against his silver hair. As he entered the “Arena” that had been set up in the middle of the great hall, the crowd closed the opening he and Righley had used to enter.

Elden took a calming breath, and took everything in as he had been trained to do. His father was standing on his dining table, his robes in danger of collecting some of the food on the serving plates, smiling at his sons. The crowd was larger than Elden had thought it would be, perhaps 130 strong. He saw a few trolls, their forms easily picked out amongst the gathering of elves. He even made out a small group of orcs in their guard uniforms trying to look as if they were there to keep order; the excitement on their faces spoke to another reason they were up front. The center of the ring was lit by two of the three large chandeliers in the great hall. As Elden took notice of them, melted wax fell on his shoulder. No more looking up, last thing I need is wax in the eye. Lastly he took in his opponent. Righley was easily two heads taller than Elden and outweighed him by 40 kilos. Otherwise the two had similar builds. They were both quite muscular, though not overly so. Their loincloths were the same dark green that was the background of their family crest. Righley had his blond hair braided at his temples to keep it out of his face, the rest hung around his shoulders. Elden’s hair was in a thick braid hanging from the back of his head.

The two of them raised their swords in salute to each other, then to their father, and took their ready stances. Elden was relieved to see Righley was taking this fight seriously enough that he took a proper stance, not one that would imply his opponent was no threat. The crowd cheered, and their father’s announcement to begin was virtually lost in the din.

They began to circle each other. All Elden had to do to earn a victory was to fight for ten minutes, and hold his brother to three strikes, or keep the score within three strikes. Righley feigned an attack, as if he could tell Elden was considering attacking. Elden side stepped it, but was taken aback by how much distance he had to close to strike his brother’s torso. He doubted himself. Righley, reading the doubt in Elden’s body lunged and thrust his sword into Elden’s belly. There may not have been an edge on the blades, but it was still steel and his belly was flesh. Elden could still feel the point of impact and the heat beginning to spread there that told him, he would have a nice bruise there. The crowd’s reaction was mixed, as Righley announced, “That’s one.” The predatory grin on his face turned Elden’s guts to ice, and his mouth went dry. Elden turned himself so that his body would be in profile, in order to present his brother the smallest possible target.

Elden parried the next series of strikes from Righley. It was obvious Righley was not simply going to let Elden win. Righley changed his tactics by thrusting at Elden’s face. Against training, Elden instinctively closed his eyes. Righley rapped him on the top of his head. Righley had used the flat of the blade, but the shock of the impact was enough to send Elden to the floor. “That’s two, brother,” Righley continued to smile on the verge of laughter.

Remember your high guards. Elden admonished himself. Then he had an idea. He stood up rubbing his head and giving his brother what he hoped was the saddest pouty face ever. It had the desired effect. Righley tossed his head back and laughed. Elden rushed forward and slashed at his brother’s knee, diving into a roll to avoid any counter attack that might come. His sword struck home, and when he came to his feet almost behind his brother, he saw Righley down on his knees, his free hand holding his injured knee.

Elden took Righley’s moment of vulnerability and charged again, yelling as he ran in. Righley waited till the last instant to lift his blade to parry the strike Elden was aiming for his head. He punched Elden in the ribs with the hand that had been clutching his knee. The blow sent Elden reeling back gasping for air. Righley stood, favoring his uninjured leg, and struggled to speak in a voice so that Elden could hear, but not the crowd. “You seek to win this out right, do you?  You could have killed me if your charge had struck true.”  Elden simply glared at him, the effort to catch his breath stealing his voice from him.

A new round of circling began, both brothers thinking of the events of the fight thus far. They exchanged a few test blows. Elden had adopted a strategy of keeping his brother’s wounded kneed facing him, as well as making himself as small a target as possible. He went so far as to bend his stance very low. Elden was unable to capitalize on the advantage he had created in slowing his brother because his own injuries were taking their own toll on him. His head was throbbing with every heartbeat, and it was difficult to breathe.

Righley waited until Elden began to think himself to distraction and pounced. He feinted to his right, and as Elden brought his blade out of line to parry the attack, Righley pivoted on his good leg and wrapped his sword around Elden’s panicked attempt to parry the blow.

The blade’s impact burned across Elden’s back. The only satisfaction he had was seeing Righley lose his footing avoiding Elden’s counter attack.

Elden had lost track of time. He didn’t know how long he had left, but Righley only had two points on him. He could still win this.

Righley pressed a new attack, this time sending a flurry of blows toward Elden. The attacks were aimed all over Elden’s body, his shoulders, his head, his chest, and stomach. Elden was pleased he parried every blow; unfortunately he failed to see the point of the flurry of attacks until it was too late.

Righley had been striking at multiple targets; however, he was attacking on the same angle. When Elden was hypnotized by the pattern of attacks Righley changed the angle of his attack and drove the point of his blade into the flesh behind Elden’s collarbone, and quickly flipped his wrist to bring the blade into Elden’s temple.

  The pair of blows was devastating. Elden’s sword hand lost all feeling, and as Righley’s blade hit him in the temple, he heard his sword clatter to the floor. Elden tripped over his own feet as his vision blurred from the temple strike. His blood roared in his ears, as tears filled his eyes. Righley stood over him, his blade poised to pin him to the floor should Elden make a move. Frustration crushed Elden, as the crowd grew silent. They had decided the fight was over, and Elden had lost. It’s not that he was overly worried about being married before graduation; it was that he didn’t want to lose. Besides, no noble house would allow their daughter to be married off to a man that young.

“Two minutes, remain,” his father said. Their eyes met, and Elden saw the pride in his father’s eyes. The crowd began to murmur, Elden couldn’t make it out, but he was sure they pitied him.

Elden caught Righley glancing at their father after his announcement of the time remaining, and used it as his moment. He rolled under Righley’s legs, narrowly avoiding the downward stroke of his sword.

His fingers closed on the hilt of his dropped sword. He rolled onto his back in time to parry Righley’s strike. Righley began chopping at Elden. Elden wasn’t sure if the restraint he sensed in Righley was due to his having no desire to kill his little brother, or if he was afraid to damage their father’s floor. Whatever the reason, it gave Elden the opening he needed.

After parrying a blow, he rolled on his brother’s sword and the force wrenched it free from his hands. Elden rolled back and thrust upward catching Righley in his solar plexus. The crowd in a collective gasp drew up the wind rushing out of him.

Elden got to his feet as Righley’s injured leg gave out on him as his breath left him. Elden leveled his sword at his brother, and stepped into range before Righley could take a full breath. He rested the blade against his brother’s throat.

Elden was startled when the whole party began yelling their surprise and congratulations. Righley raised his hands in surrender, and smiled at Elden. “Well done,” he coughed out.

The crowd surged forward, and hefted Elden into the air. He lost his grip on the sword after the third toss into the air. Which turned out to be fortunate, because one of the trolls got hold of him and threw him so high he almost hit the chandeliers. It wasn’t till after the seventh or eighth toss that Elden’s father put a stop to the tossing. It was too late though for Elden to maintain control of his nausea, and he vomited as soon as they put him down. Most everyone nearby laughed, which only deepened Elden’s embarrassment. But the serving staff quickly moved in and cleaned it up, and his nurse swooped in to clean him up and get him dressed.

The dinner passed in a blur, Elden didn’t eat much, his spinning head kept his appetite at bay. But everyone came up to their table to congratulate him, and wish him well on his journey. His father introduced each person; though Elden was sure he had met most of them before. Most were family, or were in fealty to his family. A few gave him gifts, which his nurse took and put on a side table. He was grateful when his father dismissed him and he could go off to bed. He was strangely grateful for his aching head, because it gave him something to focus on, instead of the trip tomorrow. And he fell asleep in short order.

Chapter 2

Elden awoke to the sound of his nurse coming into his room.  Ebina made her way over to his bedroom window, and as she opened the curtains she said “Good morning, my dear.  You need to get up and prepare for your journey.”  Light assaulted his eyes, and he rolled over.  He was thankful there was no dizziness from the blows he’d suffered last night, though his temple and head were still tender.

“Do I have to get up now?” he complained.

“I’ve let you sleep in enough already.  The sun is level with the east gate.  You need to start down the trunk by midday.” She removed the blankets exposing him to the cold room air.  “Up.  Up. Up,” she commanded, swatting his backside.

He rolled off the side of his bed, and stretched.  This will be my last morning here until I finish school.  The thought made him look around and take it in.  He saw the history in the room for the first time.  The room was all stone, with only one large carpet that had served as his arena and, on occasion, stage.  The designs in it were there to instruct a child in their shapes and colors, as well as a depiction of the history of the tree, and the kingdom.  As he could recall, the elves had come from a far off land sent out by their king because they were fighting too much.  The king was not unkind however, and gave the departing tribes seven seeds that had been coaxed from their home tree.  He told his children, the leaders of the factions, to go find a place to call your own.  Plant your seeds were the Earth and Sky will nurture them.  So the tribes set off.  It took a long time for his ancestors to reach this place and plant their seed.  But when they finally did it took less than a life time for it to reach a height and gain the strength to hold the homes and fortress of the leadership.  The town below them was first built around the sapling.  

He walked to his wardrobe opposite the window, the wood dark and carved with another history, and opened it.  Looking at its contents Elden wasn’t sure how much to pack.  What he didn’t pack wouldn’t fit him anymore when he returned.  He pulled out a few of his more durable pants, and handed them to Ebina, she folded them and put them in a leather backpack she had retrieved from his pile of gifts on top of his desk.  He took out his favorite shirt to go hunting in.  A garment made from a soft cloth imported from the east.  He handed it off.  He chose a couple of extra shirts and gave them to Ebina, who folded them quickly.  “What do you think, should I take my house shoes, or not?” He asked.

“As I understand the barracks are wooden buildings, so they won’t be as cold as the stone here, but they aren’t the smoothed polished floors of the castle either.  You might want them to protect against splinters, the school is old after all.” She replied.  “Get dressed in your livery, the one you got for your birthday.  You’ll look great, and it will please your father, and me.”  She reached past him and pulled out the outfit.  “Get dressed; I’ll shine up your boots.”  She kissed him on the spot his brother’s sword had left a bruise and he winced.  She looked down on him and laughing said “That’ll be the only time I don’t go after you for looking like that after I’ve kissed you.  Maybe we can find you a cap or helm to wear.”  She packed his house shoes, and several sets of undergarments.

He wiped his forehead out of habit, and turned to his outfit.  It was woven from the leaves of the tree lined with plush suede.  It was an expensive suit of armor.  He put on the linen undergarment taking care to tie the fasteners so they would lay flat and not cause irritation.  He lifted the chest piece over his head, and tied the fasteners at his sides.  It was not heavy at all; not compared to the chain shirt of his brother’s he had tried on once.  He lifted the right sleeve and marveled how like a hollow shoot it looked.  It could almost be a flute.  He slid his arm into it taking care not to bunch the linen sleeve under it.  He bent his arm, pressing it against his side to hold the sleeve in place while he tied the four fasteners at the shoulder.  He rotated his arm to test the fit, and his knots.  Satisfied he repeated the process on the other arm.  He picked up the kilt and wrapped it around himself, and felt foolish that he hadn’t started with it.  Fastening it and making it comfortable was complicated by the cuirass he had started with.  He did eventually get it together.  Next he put on his green hunting gloves.  Pleased that they were nice enough that Ebina wouldn’t make him change them.  

He turned ready for his boots, and he saw Ebina was crying.  Her tears falling onto his boots, and she was using them to bring up the shine on the leather.  She was sitting on his bed, the whole thing designed to look like an immense bird’s nest.  He stood staring, unsure what to say.  She looked tired. Similar to how she’d been when he was ill two years ago. She hadn’t slept for most of the week he’d had a fever.  She looked at him, and smiled.  She put the boot she was working on the floor and beckoned him over.  “Come here my little lord.” She wiped the streaks off her cheeks with her grey robes’ sleeves.  

He walked over to her, when he was within arm’s reach she scooped him up and lay back with him on the bed.  He cried out in surprise and protest.  “You were a baby the first time we were in this bed together.”  Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn’t blink them out.  She simply stared up at the ceiling.  “Your mother was dead, and my own child was stillborn.”  He looked at her, still and quiet, she had never told him this before and he was unsure if he would be getting some further piece of his mother in her barring her feelings now.  She continued, “I’d only ever worked in the castle’s kitchens.  I didn’t really know your father or your mother very well.”  He frowned, his hopes fading.  “She was very kind to everyone.  Everyone loved her.  She wasn’t as high born a woman as your father could have been married to.  She never mistreated any of the staff.  I… I’m grateful she gave you to us, and that I got to have a son, even if you weren’t really mine.  I love you, Elden and I wish you didn’t have to go.  I wish you were really my son and didn’t have to go off to that damned school.”  She blinked and large tears trailed down the sides of her face.  The tears were soaked up into her headdress that covered her hair.  Her chestnut hair, almost always concealed beneath her white habit.

“I love you too,” he choked out.  “You’re the only mother I’ve ever known, I think I might miss you most of all.  But I have to go.  It’s what my father wants; it’s my duty to my family and the crown.  I shall write you, I promise.” He move in and kissed her cheek.

She smiled at him and squeezed him tightly.  “When I was a girl I dreamed of getting to live here in the castle.  The price the gods extracted to make that dream come true was a steep one to be sure.  But I’m still grateful for the life I’ve been able to lead.” She looked him in the eye, “You’re practically a man now.  Let me give you some advice.”  She grabbed his chin with her hand, and squeezed, “Don’t rush becoming a man.  It will happen in its own time.  Try and enjoy your trip.  This is a grand adventure you’re about to begin.”

“What’s it like down there?” he asked.

“Dark,” she replied.  “It’s not like up here.  We get the light. They live in our shadow.  And it’s not just under the great tree that is darker.  The thick forest canopy also makes twilight out of the day.”

“I can’t wait to hunt in that forest,” Elden interjected, “to be able to fire an arrow without the retrieval twine.”

“There are beasts in that forest that would eat you if they had the chance.  Here you are safe.  Out there,” she paused.  “Out there you are food as surely as what you hunt will be yours.”

There was a pause in their conversation as they studied each other.  “What will you do now that I am leaving?” he asked.

She sat them up, and reached for his boots.  She stood as she handed them to him.  “I imagine I’ll be released to return to my former home and life,” she said as she walked over to his gifts.  Elden began to pull the boots on.

“But what will that mean for you?  How will you get any of my letters if you’re not here?” he demanded.

“If you were to send them here they would get to me eventually.  It’s not as if I’m going to leave town.  Who knows, your father might even let me stay on in some way and serve in the castle.”  She smiled at him reassuringly.

He knew there was no love lost between his father and his nurse, but for whatever reason his father had never dismissed her.  It had never occurred to Elden that his leaving could mean her dismissal.  She turned around; his letters of credit and gift notes all bundled and tied together.  “Don’t worry about me, my sweet.  I’ll be fine.”  Her smile was only on her lips.

The knock at the door stopped any further discussion about her fate.  The person on the other side didn’t wait for an invitation to enter.  It was Aris, Elden’s tutor.  “Sorry to interrupt, but your letting him sleep in so much has pushed all our goodbyes together.”  He shuffled in.  Elden was surprised to see him in his leather armor.  He had only ever seen it during his lessons on armor maintenance, and rarely on the man.  It had the effect of Elden seeing him as even older than his normal dress and manner made him seem.

Ebina gave Aris a venomous look, “Are you sure he’s not in a hurry to have me out of the palace?”  

“I assure you my dear; the timing of my arrival has nothing to do with the Lord Protector, outside, of course, for his plans for today, which you were privy to.”  He fixed her with a look that Elden had learned meant he had already judged what would come next.  “Was it your intention to sabotage the departure of the convoy?”

Ebina stomped her foot in outrage.  “How dare you accuse me of sabotage?”

Aris met her anger with a smile that deepened his wrinkles.  It was a smirk he wore often in his many years.  “If you would be so kind, m’lady, as to carry his lordship’s things to the great hall, while I have a few words with him alone.  You may blame his delay on me if you wish.”  He moved aside so that she could pass with his backpack and gift wrappings easily.

She collected his bag, and picked up the bundle of parchments in leather.  She turned to Elden as she left, “I’ll see you in the great hall.”  She looked at Aris.  “My lord,” she said in fare well.

Chapter 3

Aris turned and looked down at Elden, his wrinkles accenting the twinkle in his eye.  “Now, how about we talk about your adventure?  Shall we?” he asked.  He walked to the large window and opened it, the hinges squeaking only a little.   “Come here, boy,” he beckoned.   As Elden approached the wind touched his cheeks, and he felt the moisture around his eyes.  The wind smelled of the last of the morning dew evaporating.   “Look there to the north,” Aris commanded, putting his arm around Elden’s back.  “Do you see the line of the horizon?  That point at which you cannot see beyond is at least three days walk from the base of this tree.  Your destination is almost a month beyond that horizon line.”  Aris continued, “In three days’ time you will be beyond the sight of your father’s house.  In three days’ time you will have only your wits, steel, and companions to see you to your journey’s end.”

Elden looked out over the canopy of trees far below them.  For the first time he had a genuine appreciation for what a miracle their tree was.  For how large an area his father was tasked with administering.  He knew that if you could see the tree you were under its protection, and thus under his father’s.  All that he could see to the horizon was his father’s responsibility, and would soon be his as well.  He was going to school to learn how to administer and defend a vast holding such as this.  Elden knew it would never fall to him alone, he would only ever share the burden with his father and brothers after his father’s death.  “Have you ever been to Peace Hearth?” he asked Aris.

“Once, a very long time ago, yes.  I was a much younger man then.”  Aris seemed to be lost in thought.

“Is it a big city?”  Elden pressed.

“Oh, I imagine it’s filled in to the wall since I was there; which would make it a sizable city indeed.  I would say the area within the walls is about equal to the city below.”

“How long ago was it that you were there, master?”

Aris smiled at him, “I had seen about 100 winters when I was there.”

Elden did some fast arithmetic and said amazed, “500 years ago?”

Aris nodded, “Thereabouts, yes.  So my firsthand knowledge of the city is far out of date.”

Elden turned to study him.  Aris looked out to the north, but seemed lost in memories.  Elden couldn’t grasp how large a span of time that Aris had been a witness to.  He looked at the black woven leather armor the elder wore.  He had oiled it in times past.  He had to prove he could take care of Aris’s armor before his father would get him his own.  Studying him from the angle he was standing he noticed that Aris had two large, wide bladed daggers strapped to his belt.  He noticed the handles were some kind of bone, and Elden knew he had never seen them before.  “Why are you wearing daggers, sir?”

Aris came to the present.  “I’ve taught you how to think, boy.  How about you put those skills I’ve tried my best to instill in you and reach your own conclusion.  Then you can test your guess by asking a specific question.  One that will be harder for your subject to lie to you about, or at least will be much easier to test if you have been lied to.”  He gave Elden a hard look, his brows furrowed.  Elden thought he must be truly disappointed, his furrows wrinkled his whole forehead bringing his bald head into Elden’s view.

Elden thought about it.  Aris wore armor on special occasions, or when he and Elden were training with steel.  Aris was a good swordsman, good enough that his father and brothers swore by his teachings.  But Elden had never seen him with knives before.  “Are you joining the caravan?” he asked.

Aris smiled, and the short, white hair around his temples moved upward.  “Yes, my lord.  I will be taking you to Peace Hearth.”

Elden considered his answer.  It wasn’t the whole reason he was wearing daggers.  He had answered with a half-truth.  Elden thought about what advantages daggers might have over a sword.  They were concealable, they could be faster, and in a pinch thrown giving a fighter a onetime reach advantage.  Aris had taught him one had to be fast to use daggers, especially when your opponent wielded a longer blade than you, or worse a spear.  Elden didn’t judge Aris to have the speed required to be effective with them.  Then Elden hit on it.  The reason Aris had daggers.  They were lighter than a sword would be.  Aris might not have the ideal speed, but centuries had given him impeccable timing in combat.  Age had sapped his stamina as well; the lighter blades would help him stay in a fight longer, should it become prolonged.  “Are you expecting trouble on the road that you’d bring weapons you can fight a drawn out battle with?” he asked at last.

“Do you think the birds and squirrels you hunt expect trouble before your arrow impales them?  Of course not.  You must always be prepared for trouble, or when it does find you, you will be prey.”  Elden’s gulp was audible.  “The forest is a dangerous place, my boy.  Not only do the beasts hunt its depths, but so too do the cutthroats.  Now,” Aris continued, “I’m sure you’re hungry.  Perhaps we should go meet your father and brother for, well, an early mid-day meal?”

Elden started for the door, but turned as Aris was closing the window.  “Do you think Ebina could come with us?” he asked.

Aris answered as though he had been waiting for that question.  “No, dear boy, Ebina has no place on the road with us.  A mother bear is indeed dangerous when she has her cubs, but Ebina is no bear.  She would likely endanger everyone.”  His dismissive tone annoyed Elden.

“I can’t bear to know she’ll be put out after I leave.  I have to help her somehow.”

“So you would put her in danger to serve your own selfish needs?”  Aris demanded.

“No.  But I would have her comfortable in life after I leave.  She’s losing another child when I leave, Aris.  Do you know how that feels?”

Aris’s laugh was harsh on Elden’s ears.  “Do you?” he barked.  “No, I don’t suppose you do, you’re 12 years old.  But to answer your impertinent question: Yes, I know what it is to lose a son.  To lose more than one? Aye I know that pain as well.  I have lost more than you could fathom.”  Elden heard the genuine hurt in his voice, and anger.  He winced under Aris’s glare and tone.  It seemed for a moment that Aris was going to elaborate on his tale of woe, but he stopped himself.  He breathed a sigh.  “You need to understand something, Elden,” He began as he kneeled to look him level in the eyes.  He held Elden’s shoulders.  “We elves have two ends possible for our lives.  One is to die of injury or sickness while we are still vibrant; this way ends most of us.  The other is to die of the affliction of time; an affliction that the other races feel more keenly than we do.”  Regret seemed to creep into his voice.  “When I was younger and gallivanting around the three kingdoms doing all manner of things in service to our king, I believed I would certainly die of injuries.  I was always in one fight or another; always risking my life for the mission.  When you are young centuries are incomprehensible.  Even after I passed my first one I still believed I would not survive another one.  But here I am; a survivor of more than 600 winters.  Time has all but claimed me.  I asked your father to let me go with you to Peace Hearth so that I may go to where my family lies in rest, and wait for time to do what so many dangers and opponents could not do.”

Elden blinked at him.  The weight of what Aris had confided to him crushing him.  “You go to wait to die?”

“No, I go to be with the spirits of my wife and children.  I go to finally find my peace.  I’m retiring is all.  More than 500 years I’ve served the crown.  I think I’m due a bit of peace.  To be honest, your grandfather gave me a piece of it, when he enlisted me to serve in his house.  Being around his children and grandchildren has given me a purpose with a glimpse of what I once had.  But I am ready to go home.”

Elden hugged his sword master around the neck.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.  Thank you.  Thank you for all you’ve given us.”  His voice broke.  It wasn’t as dignified as it could have been, but Elden didn’t care.  Sometimes it was good to be a child; the rules of decorum could be ignored on occasion.

“There, there, lad,” Aris patted his back.  “Don’t worry about me.  It’s my job to worry about you.  There’s no need to concern yourself with the dead.  They don’t suffer anymore.  When I am gone you will remember me, and that is enough for me.”  He removed Elden’s arms from around his neck, and used Elden to get up.  “Let’s go dine with your father.”

They walked in silence through the hallway.  The paintings of Elden’s ancestors looked at them in silent contemplation.  He wondered if any of their spirits still hovered around the castle, and suddenly he was grateful not to be burdened with the gift of magic.  As they continued, Elden recalled a memory he didn’t like to think about too often.

Six years previous, his brothers had come into his room, pulled him from bed and carried him toward the great hall.  As they were carrying him, they told him it was time he started getting ready to go to school.  They pulled all his clothes off him.  He could remember seeing his clothes fly through the air and land on the cold stone floor.  His brothers held him up so his feet couldn’t touch the floor.  He heard the door to the great hall open despite their laughter.  “You’re gonna have to be comfortable being naked in front of strangers.  Your first day at school, they strip you down and make you take a bath.”  They said as they carried him into the room with visiting dignitaries.  “Behold: our house’s next seed!”  There was a smattering of laughter, and some applause.  They placed him on the front table to be displayed.  He held himself to grant some modesty.  

“He’s gonna be a big lad m’lord” came a voice from the crowd.  

“Aye, a strong and worthy addition to the house!”  As soon as his brother’s grip slipped Elden ran for the doors.  And that was the first time he was protected by Aris.

Aris had picked up Elden.  Elden remembered he had been wearing the same armor he had on now.  It was cold and smooth against his naked skin.  Aris wrapped him in his cloak, had whispered for him not to worry and walked out of the great hall.  As soon as they were in the corridor, Aris had put him down.  “Go collect your things, boy.”

“I am the son of the Lord Protector of the Sacred Tree,” he had said.  “I thank you for your help, but I’m cold.  Please carry me in your cloak to my room.”  He always had tried to use the same tone his father used when dealing with troublesome courtiers.  

“I know who you are, m’lord, and your legs will carry you just fine to your quarters.  Now get moving,” and he swatted Elden on his bare backside.  It had hurt.  As if he had fallen out of bed onto the stone floor.  And move he did, tears stinging his eyes.  He had demanded Aris be fired or punished along with his brothers.  His father promised he would deal with Righley and Bertram, but said Aris was staying and would begin my education right away.

Elden looked at Aris as they neared the great hall.  “Do you remember when Bertram and Righley paraded me in front of everyone?”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, “Aye, I do.”

Elden stopped walking.  “I never told you that I overheard them laughing about it a few years later.  They were laughing that I was still afraid to go to the school.  They thought me a coward.  I resolved then and there to never be afraid of anything again.”

Aris rubbed his chin. “Is that when you really got serious about your sword work?  I seem to remember a change in you.  It was abrupt, but I thought my teachings had finally touched you.”

“You helped me learn the tools of courage.”  Elden bowed to him.  “I’m not sure how I can ever repay you for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Be a good man.  Serve your father, and your brothers, and the King when he requires it.  Be the best reflection of your father and me, and of Ebina that you can.  Take from us the best parts, avoid the pitfalls we fell into.  That will be thanks enough for me.”  With that they continued on in silence.