The Horns

“We never knew. All we saw was his smile while he taught us to dance amidst the storm.” -The PenKnife, First Lady of the Forge.

    Maya sighed as she set aside the quill, a brief moment spent bemoaning her lack of the more convenient pens her sister had started making at home. A quick wave of her hand as she leaned back dried the ink on the letter before her. There was so much more she wanted to say, to ask, but even her correspondences weren’t entirely safe against the machinations of some of the more powerful members of the peerage. Despite her restraint however, the words she put to paper by her own hand seemed to mock her with their ridiculousness even as she read over them for what would likely be the last time before sending them on their journey northward.

“Dear Ana,

I miss you and everyone already, and I’ve only just arrived at the keep yesterday. I hope the children are all doing well. I have a few more ideas for what we can do when I get back. More importantly though, something is changing. A Blade was lost during the crossing. I don’t know what to make of it. I’ve never even heard of that happening outside of stories!  I haven’t seen him yet but you can be sure I am going to get some answers from him if I have to hang him out the window to do it. I will do my best to drag him back home to let you do the same, but until then I will do my best to keep you up to date.

Stay safe, love you,

Maya

    Tilting the chair back, she let her shoulder length ebony hair fall backwards as she fixed her even darker eyes on the heavy wooden door behind her. Taking another deep breath as she closed them off from the world, she readied herself for the ordeal ahead of her. The monumentally durable, crafted door was still locked, but she knew that wouldn’t stop the one coming for her. A barred door was no match for the person looking to snatch her away from her cozy bedroom. Already she could feel them, hear them, moving swiftly down the corridor towards her door.

    She still flinched at the knock.

“M’Lady Maya! Girl! Urri up and move your sorry self out to the View! You be knowin’ dat your Da be waitin’ for you afore he starts anythin!”

    Letting the front legs of her chair slap back to the stone floor, Maya shook her head with a slight smile at the shrill and heavily accented voice calling for her.  Marrisen was a wonderful woman who had looked after her and her sister for close to ten cycles. She had stayed steady and unimpressed through everything that the young princesses could throw her way, while learning the courtly language necessary to move amongst the nobles without embarrassing Maya’s father.

    Not that it ever stopped the pirate’s daughter from falling back into her more native tongue when she thought it was time to berate the unruly girls.

    Giving another start at the second, louder, disgruntled knocking, Maya let out a short laugh and with a twitch of her fingers unbolted the door behind her. Standing from her desk, she invited her childhood nanny and closest female friend into the room. Gesturing to the already dry letter Maya continued smiling in front of the redhead’s frowning face.

“No reason to worry so much Marri! I’ve already gotten dressed and ready. I was just finishing up a letter to Anallise.  I can head over to meet father immediately.”

    A quiet chuff was the only response she received as Marrisen bustled over, her now slightly aged face locked in a worried frown beneath her somehow still shockingly vibrant red hair. She may have braided it into a neat twist behind her head at the moment, but it never ceased to amaze Maya that it could remain so free of white or graying hair despite everything they had put the woman through in their younger years. Not that it should surprise her, the remarkably short woman was seven rist of bundled ferocity and tenacity, letting nothing stop her from doing what she thought needed to be done. Maya still remembered asking the frustratingly stubborn woman about her determination when she was younger. She hadn’t been able to help herself after Ana had told her about finding Marri studying the Art early one morning. Ana was sure that Marrisen had been up studying the Art that was totally useless to her all night.

    Marri hadn’t even paused while she braided the young princess’ hair when they had asked why she bothered learning about something she couldn’t use. 

“Girls, he told me to take care of you, because he thought you deserved da best, and I can hardly be the best for you iffin i don’ even know a thin’ about what ya’ll are learnin’.   An’ let me tell you young un’s, when someone like him puts that sort of trust in you, you don’t let it down. Not for any… anything.”

    The slightly stilted reminder of their former caretaker had silenced the young girls, but neither ever forgot the conviction in the woman’s voice when she spoke of fulfilling her promise to the young man who had left the mariner’s orphan alone in a castle with two heartbroken and arguably dangerous princesses. Even then she had been trying to lose her accent, the only thing she had left of her past, while learning the most complex subject known to the kingdom, AND dealing with the two troublemakers.  

Maya continued to smile fondly as the woman both she and her sister took as one of their greatest role models checked over her bright blue gown. The fabric was unique to the southern regions they were visiting, but the dress wasn’t new by any means. It was one of her favourites,  so she knew that Marri wouldn’t find anything out of place with the slim gown. Finally allowing her frown to relax a bit as she checked the quick release corset which Maya could undo with a breath in case of emergency, Marri gave one final tug on the hilt of the hidden blade just above her waist to make sure it wouldn’t slip free unintentionally and fell silent for a moment.

    Maya turned her head slightly to see the usually unstoppable force of nature with her head lowered and her hands shaking. Before she could turn to comfort the woman, Marri spoke in the softest voice Maya could ever remember her using.

“M’lady, I know you and your sister never believed the things they said about him, good or bad, and I shouldn’t worry that you might start now. But….”

    Marri paused and took a deep breath before continuing,

“But he’s hurtin’ and don’t deserve anymore than the best from us, so know that I better not be hearin’ about any foolishness comin outa your mouth to him! He cares about you more than most so don’t you dare go makin’ things worse!”

    Maya was taken aback at the look in her nanny’s eyes before turning back forward and responding, her voice flat as she struggled not to turn her frustration onto someone so undeserving of it.

“He has a lot to explain Marri, to us and to the people of the kingdom, but I won’t make an issue of it for now. I know he… he lost someone this time.”

    Her voice caught at the end. It was unheard of after all. For the veil to take someone under the watchful eye of the Wanderer. Yet it had happened. A Blade, an Artist proven worthy of a forged weapon, had been lost.

    After sending Marri off with the letter to the coup, Maya finally left her room and hurried down the corridor towards the front of the greatest fortress of mankind, The Horns. She ignored the stark stone and the flashes of notcolor that surrounded her. The megalith was only meant for one purpose and her father held to that sentiment despite the festive event they were now attending. He did not allow decoration or non-utilitarian accoutrements here at the last great effort to defend, to survive. It was a massive entity of desperate tenacity and unflinching determination, but right now that size was working against her since her room was located in the center of the structure. Marri may have been exaggerating a bit in regards to her punctuality, but it was still not a good idea to make her father or the people wait too long, and the walk from the central rooms out to the View was not short by any means.

    Several slightly hurried minutes later, Maya stepped out of the tight corridor into the gargantuan front hall. Taking a moment to catch her breath and compose herself so close to her goal, Maya couldn’t resist spending a moment to look up and take in the sheer scale of the place once again.

    The front reception hall, contrary to nearly every other cramped passageway in the building, was constructed on the same megalithic scale as the rest of the fortress. As she stared upwards at the ceiling overhead, she found herself unable to make out the Art reinforced stone and metalwork she knew was up there, despite the truly prodigious number of lights adorning the bases of the fifteen foot wide columns holding the  entire structure up. Every column was crafted from the nearly priceless reinforced stonework of the Forgers, and they were the only things holding the massive ceiling up. The walls were not load bearing, instead focused on being as tough and thick as was possible in order to guide any intruders down the nearly thousand rist long hallway. After all, the entire thing wasn’t meant to welcome guests, but monsters. Should the front hall be truly breached, and enough of the columns knocked down by an invading A’run, then they would give way, allowing the ceiling, forged through a masterworking as one singular piece, to drop onto and hopefully kill or at least delay the A’run.

    Maya could only marvel at the lengths their people had gone to all those centuries ago, their feats of engineering and ingenuity second only to their bravery in standing here, on the very edge of the Veil itself after the rift had opened. However, she knew that it likely hadn’t been enough. They had turned an entire mountain into a bastion and trap against the A’run, but there had been no illusions among the builders or the many warriors who manned the battlements outside. They had not built this place to win.

    Shaking off the gloomy memories of history lessons learned at her father’s side whenever she was being punished for their latest infraction, Maya made the long trek towards the massive metal doors she could just barely make out at the end of the hall. Arriving before the behemoth of an entryway, she ignored the metal bars the thickness of a carriage spanning their width. She didn’t have a hope of moving even one of them. Bracing herself for the change, Maya quickly twisted the notcolor in front of her, unlocking the small door set into the base of the entryway and stepped out onto the View while shielding her eyes with her free hand.

    Flinching slightly at the sudden roar of noise, she slowly lowered her hand as her eyes adjusted to the glaring sunlight. Stepping out fully onto the massive stone ledge known as the View, she could now make out the source of the noise. As far as she could see, over a hundred feet below her, was a massive crowd of people uncountable in number. Their many brightly colored ensembles blending together into an ocean of humanity that stretched to the very edge of the more recent watchtowers scattered along the horizon. The combined force of their voices swept across the ledge above despite the distance, battering lightly at her eardrums until a flash of notcolor at the corner of her eye cut off the noise. Turning towards the source on her right, she smiled in thanks at the group sitting there.

    Four people rested in a semicircle of comfortable lounge chairs sitting incongruously on the stark stone, just far enough back from the edge to be unseen by the crowds below.  Her eyes first flicked to the one who had just included her in their zone of silence. Jalis Eyrie looked the very definition of ancient, with the canyons criss crossing his face and bald head speaking of countless years spent in service of the realm.   His clear blue eyes, however, retained the youth of a man still infatuated with the world and people around him as he smiled at the young woman and beckoned her over.

“Maya! Perfect timing young lady! Come, come, join us! Your father was just speaking about you and your efforts with the orphans and sighted children of the northern cities. Allison and I have been wanting to pick your brain on the matter for weeks.”

    Moving over with a smile still on her face in response to the kind old man’s words, Maya’s eyes widened slightly as a fifth lounge chair seemed to grow from the stonework and find its place among the others at a gesture from the woman sitting next to Jalis. Allison Eyrie, an islander and Jalis’ wife, was perhaps one of only four or five people in the world with the knowledge and control to create something so complex so simply and quickly. The fact that she had started out as an internal Artist on the Island, only to cross and raise herself up as one of the greatest external artists in their history was considered a miracle by most, considering the impossibility of performing both types of Art. This was further reinforced by the continued rumors that her appearance birthed throughout the north. Contrary to her husband’s aged face, Allison didn’t look a day over fifty cycles, a remnant of her time as an internally focused Artist. Her hair remained as dark as night and only in the last few cycles had any crows feet begun to perch at the edges of her eternally serious face.  Maya may know better, but she could certainly understand why some might think Allison capable of both Arts in light of her enduring beauty, and the impressively tall Artist was beautiful. Long auburn hair framing a heart shaped face that sat above a slim and athletic masterpiece of curves and grace served as a stark contrast to the wispy and aged looks of her beloved husband.

    Unfortunately, while she fully believed that Jalis and Allison didn’t believe any of the kirin dung about shifters, revealing that she and her sister had been taught as beginner Sa’yun would break their oaths in an unacceptable way.

Turning away from the two most powerful Artists of the north with a nod of thanks for the chair, Maya directed a frown at her father sitting across from them.

“Dad, you know as well as I that nearly all of the work has been done by Ana. All I did was mention the idea in passing!”

    King Tarrel Bulwark was an imposing man even when sitting, towering a head over everyone else, let alone when he was standing at his full twelve rist of height. One of his legs was nearly as wide as his daughter’s waist, and his craggy, scar covered face did nothing to reduce his imposing image. Right now however, his blue eyes were crinkled in a smile. He could not have been more impressed with his daughters’ efforts to help those young children who had lost their parents, or even more tragically, had been born with the sight, the ability to perceive the movements of the energy leaking into their world from beyond the Veil. The two girls had created a sanctuary and school within the citadel that housed their family, garnering the funds necessary from different influential merchants and nobles themselves. There they attempted  to help those children cope with either their loss of loved ones or with the overstimulation that would otherwise drive them mad. Time had shown that children simply could not learn to differentiate between what was real, what was physical, and what was simply an energy form. Not long ago there had been a tragically high number of parents lining up outside the academy to have their children partially blinded, while behind those same doors old men tried desperately to learn how to see the world like those children. 

“Oh?” 

He boomed, pride and amusement clear in his tone.

“Then was the Forgemaster mistaken when he spoke of you being the one to sneak  a group of children below the castle to view the formations there?”

    Maya colored in embarrassment and surprise.  Ana had been so sure that she had distracted everyone, and there was no way the Forgers would let a group of children interrupt them ordinarily. 

Before she could respond, she was startled by a quiet bark of laughter from the last remaining member of the group.  She let her head droop even lower as he spoke up. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, despite his voice reigniting all the resentment and frustration of the last ten cycles.

“It’s a good idea actually, and I can see why you and Ana thought of it considering how I started your own training in the sight.  I’ll speak to the Forgemaster

 about setting up a series of simple arrays outside the forges for them to study and concentrate on, although I’m relatively sure that they would have done that if either one of you just asked, even after your little trick.”

    Maya worked to contain her surprise at the statement. Now was not the time to get excited over him supporting the endeavor closest to the sisters’ hearts, or ask what in the world made him think that the ever stern Forgers would listen to the two princesses. They may have acted like another set of parents to the young girls who constantly sought to sneak into the mysterious forges beneath the Academy, but they had been absolute about their rules regarding their work and its secrecy, including all arrays.

    Jalis had different ideas, however,

“Considering how you trained them, Vyrn? What do you mean by that? You know myself and Allison have been wanting to know how you trained the two of them for ages!  We’ve been trying to help kids hold onto the sight without hurting themselves since we took over the academy with almost no success, but you made it seem easy!”

    Jalis had a very undignified pout on his face at this, since he seemed to understand that he was going to get the same response that everyone always got when asking the mysterious  young man any questions. Allison’s chuckle and his own twitching mouth betrayed their amusement at the whole situation however. They had long resigned themselves to trusting Vyrn implicitly regarding any secrets he might keep. However, Maya could feel Jalis’ attitude begin to shift as Vyrn failed to respond with his usual deflections.

Jalis’ frown slowly became more sincere and Allison’s face also slowly morphed into one of slight confusion and worry as the silence stretched itself across their conversation, a blanket of quiet devoid of any witty dismissal or redirection from the long time friend of the kingdom. Maya finally couldn’t stand the Artistically enforced silence any more and turned her eyes towards the man she had been avoiding for the last two days.

His snow white hair was flopped low over his eyes at the moment as he appeared to consider his answer seriously. A piece of Maya noted that it was slightly longer than she remembered from her childhood, but most of her attention was focused on trying not to react to the rest of his appearance.

He was identical.

Over ten cycles had passed since she had last seen him. She had grown up, matured, even ventured beyond the shores of their land for the sake of negotiations with the many pirate clans living off the Cape of the Spine. She had changed and aged in a thousand ways from the little girl who loved to ride around on the shoulders of her caretaker and best friend. Five cycles she and her sister had spent worshipping the ground he walked on, even if only because he had saved them from either forcibly losing the sight or going mad. He had taught them little secrets and told them wonderful stories that no one had ever heard before. They had been able to live free from all the rules and history that everyone had told them about as long as he was around. He had been their bulwark from everything scary and wrong about the world. He had even taken them deep into the Storm itself to show them just how wonderful even that terrifying force of nature could be.

And then he had left them.

It had been unprecedented for him to stay as it was. Both she and her sister understood that. Normally Vyrn would only stay for a single cycle on either side of the Towers that split their continent in half, teaching those who earned his mentorship before guiding those who had proved themselves as potential Blades or Bulwarks through the Veil itself to arrive on the other side of the continent to help protect humanity from the incursions of violent A’run. It was the only way for them to survive.  No Artist could stand before an A’run and kill it alone. Internalists, or Ie’nun in the old tongue, could match blows with A’run and survive, but they could not restrict them or kill them barehanded, and normal weapons shattered long before they could do any damage to the otherworldly beasts. Externalists like Allison and Jalis, that Vyrn always called A’nun, were capable of restricting and even truly harming A’run, but had almost no method to stay alive with their frail bodies and slow reaction speed  in front of the monsters.

None of that was the real problem though. Even working together, it was almost unheard of for human Artists to kill even the weakest A’run. After the Betrayal the few Shifters that survived had joined together with the last grandmaster of the reclusive Forgers and had constructed the Towers from the ruins of their homes, containing the breach in reality to within the mountain range that split the Continent at the waist. The final act of the last Shifters had saved their world from being plunged into the void between worlds called the Veil by anchoring the massive breach to seven massive towers along the top of the mountain range they used to call home, but only for a time. More and more murderous A’run had used that rip to cross over, and their thirst for the essence of humanity had led the nigh unstoppable monsters to rampage across both the Northern Kingdoms as well as the Southern Archipelago and even the Island itself.  The structure they stood on now was the last desperate hope of the few remaining powerful Artists in the north of holding back the incursions. 

Then the first Wanderer had strode out of the Veil, followed by the last of the Forgers who had somehow managed to survive the disaster.

That was close to 1500 cycles ago. 

Maya and Ana had never believed the legends. They had come home black and blue from fighting with the town children who accused them of being trained by a human A’run. They had ignored every sidelong glance of servants, every frightened sneer directed their way by the different noble families. It was ridiculous after all.

He couldn’t possibly be the same person.

They assumed that he was training them to become a Wanderer as well. They used to argue between themselves about who would get to travel the Veil and save their people. After all, it was clear that he was training them in something entirely different, so it made sense that someone else had taught Vyrn. Obviously the Wanderer was just a hereditary position. 

But he was right there in front of her. Identical.

Not a wrinkle or laugh line. Not an inch of height. Not a shadow of even a stitch different in his clothes. He still wore that odd vest with only one long sleeve, and his cloak remained as patched and frayed as ever. His trousers were still the oddly billowy style that she had never seen on anyone other than Islanders, but of a material that she had never seen on anyone else.

Fifteen cycles. He had spent five cycles with Maya and Ana, and disappeared into the Veil for ten more, but he hadn’t aged a day. He barely looked a day over twenty-five cycles, just as he always had.

Maya knew that most would chalk it up to Internal Arts. Allison was a prime example of the slowed physical aging granted to those who practiced Internal arts. She and her sister had thought the same when they had grown up around him. 

Maya knew better now. She had met and befriended some of the greatest Blades of the North. She had seen how even those men who could move mountains with their fists slowly succumbed to the passing of time. Maybe you wouldn’t notice five cycles, or even seven to eight  if they were particularly powerful, but not fifteen.

Marri was right to worry.

Maya thought to herself.

I’m starting to believe some of those things they used to say about him.

Maya broke herself from her slowly panicking thoughts when Vyrn raised his head and gave a slow, sad smile.

“The sight was always the burden of the Sa’yun, and so I turned to their teachings, in part, to help Maya and Ana. I stopped because the risk was too great for two little girls to bear.”

Maya’s father broke in at this. His jovial tone was lost, replaced by the deep baritone of the Bulwark.

“What do you mean? You trained me and my father in some very unorthodox methods, and his father before that, as well as every Blade to walk past the Towers.   We always kept our oaths and never suffered from any risks beyond passing through the Veil...”

Maya flinched at the catch in her father’s voice when he trailed off before he continued in a despondently pleading tone.

 “What did you do to my daughters, Vyrn?”

(page breaks to denote patreon sectioning.)

Tarrel’s face was that of a child learning that their parents could be wrong, a realization that his world was not the sure thing he had always thought it to be flickering in his usually powerful gaze. As the fear creeping across his scarred mask began to infect her own thoughts,  Maya started to understand why he had always held the young man in front of her in such high regard. He had said it himself. The Wanderer  had trained every King of the north personally, and she now knew that it wasn’t Vyrn’s predecessor who trained her father. Which also explained why her father’s normally commanding tone broke down into near pleading.

Vyrn reached across to pat Tarrel on the arm before turning back to Jalis and continuing,

“I stopped before teaching them any of the Sa’yun’s truly risky methods Tarrel, so you don’t have any reason to be concerned about your daughters, but-”

“Then why couldn’t we help them?!”

Maya’s shout cut through any response from her father or the two Artists at the revelation. She couldn’t care less about them at the moment, however. Her head was already spinning with the realization that the man who taught them strange unheard of dances had probably learned those dances millenia ago. She was struggling to comprehend how the obviously young and joyful man she remembered chasing them through the rain could possibly be some age old monster. On top of that, she was equally confused by the fear leaking from her father’s words. Surely he didn’t believe any of that archaic nonsense? It was all overwhelming.

Hearing that what she and Ana had learned wasn’t actually dangerous….. It was simply too much for her to take lying down.

“Three years! Three years we’ve spent struggling to only teach those orphans enough to save their minds without breaking our oaths to you!”

She was breathing heavily at this point, her fists shaking at her sides as her vision darkened and tunneled out of sheer anger. Vyrn looked into her wide eyes, a slightly morose slant to his gaze, but saying nothing to refute her words.

“Five of them DIED, VYRN! Five Children Vyrn!”

“MAYA!”

She nearly hurt her neck with how quickly she whipped around in surprise at her father’s shout. Jalis’ working held, but the stone beneath their feet showed hairline cracks at the force of his outburst.

She could see his hands shaking as well, despite his attempts to remain controlled, and although she didn’t remember him standing, he was. He also wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at their shared mentor.

“Teacher, please, explain.”

Maya had never heard him sound so angry and defeated at once. As though his world was crumbling, and there was nothing he could do about it. Confused at the sorrow lacing her father’s words, she turned to Jalis and Allison for answers, only to see more questions painted across their faces. Jalis looked as though he had been stabbed. Even though Maya had never taken him for a racist, sheer horror spilled across his face, apparently at the thought of her being trained as a shifter. Allison just looked resigned and determined. Looking more closely at the way the woman was leaning forward with one hand hidden from Vyrn’s view, Maya realized with growing horror of her own that Allison was ready to fight. 

To fight Vyrn!

Now more confused and scared than angry, even if she didn’t want to admit it, Maya turned back to join them in staring at the mystery sitting across from them. All of them desperately waiting for some answers that wouldn’t lead to disaster or more sorrow.

“This is part of the reason why I taught your daughters you know.”

Vryn looked physically pained as he spoke, as though he was more worried over what he had said than any of them were, despite their exaggerated reactions.

“The first reaction of the three most powerful people on this side of the Towers is not to turn and attack the potential monster in their midst, but to protect her and demand answers.”

Maya only noticed then, as her father’s own muscles tightened in anticipation and both Allison and now Janus readied themselves. They had all moved to place themselves between her and Vyrn, as though HE was a threat to her.

“You can sit down and rest easy younglings, she won’t become an A’run any time soon.”

    Sighing and looking out towards the mountains and the monoliths topping them, Vyrn let out a whisper in response to the puzzled looks, the sound barely reaching their ears and yet clearer than any bell she had ever heard.

“I am **********.”

Vyrn said this with a smile like broken glass crawling across his face as he somehow looked down at her father towering over him. Maya barely noticed her inability to understand his final word as her father relaxed and slumped back into his chair, visibly exhausted, amazement and confusion leaving his jaw hanging slightly open. The two to her right similarly leaned their heads back against their chairs in relief. She didn’t care. Her mind was being focused by razor sharp desperation. All she could hear were the words spilling so casually from the lips of the only man she had loved as dearly and trusted as deeply as her father since she was a child.

“-become an A’run”

    Is that what A’run are? People? People turned to monsters that feed on their own kind? Is that- THE CHILDREN!”

    As the horrible thought screamed to the forefront of her mind, Maya lunged across the gap, crossing between her father and Jalis, prompting them both to lean forward in their seats again, vainly reaching out to stop her.

    Ignoring them both, she seized Vyrn by the shoulders and yanked him forward in his chair, noting idly in the back of her mind her surprise that he allowed her to do so.

“Will they be ok?!”

    Tears were already creeping down her face at the thought.

“Please tell me they will be ok, Vyrn!”

    Vyrn reached up and took both of her hands in his own while smiling. He then reached up and started to wipe off the tears that had escaped while responding.

“They will be just fine Maya. I knew that if I couldn’t stop myself from helping you two with the sight, then there was no way in all the realms that you two would leave other children to fend for themselves. I taught you nothing that could harm them permanently.”

    She couldn’t help herself. She collapsed onto her rump on the stone in front of him. She ignored the chuckle from above her as she leaned her head forward into her hands and let out the breath she felt like she had been holding in her chest for an eternity.

    Rudolph, Elise, Eliot, Andrew, Kallis, Nicit, All of them. They’ll be ok. We didn’t kill them. I didn’t kill them.

    Maya’s relieved thoughts were interrupted by the abrupt arrival of her father’s hands under her arms. He lifted her as though she were still a child, sparing her a small smile of his own as she slunk back to the chair Allison had conjured for her before he turned his stern gaze back on the Wanderer.

“I cannot say how glad I am to hear either of those things, but you still have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.”

    Losing the grin Maya’s concern for the children had elicited, Vyrn nodded at her father and responded quickly and succinctly.

“I understand Tarrel, but as I started to say earlier, I’m afraid I can no longer protect them from walking the path my mother started to craft all those centuries ago.”

        All three of the seniors listening fell silent at this, earlier relief now markedly absent from their gazes. Maya desperately wanted to break the silence encompassing them following the revelations, but looking back and forth between the looks of disbelief and incredulity pasted on all three of her seniors’ faces left her too nervous to dare. She wasn’t entirely sure why the news was so startling to them, but she could tell when her father felt out of his depth. She had only seen it a few times in her life, but the look of almost childish resignation was unmistakable to her. 

    And Vyrn certainly isn’t helping.

    Maya thought, uncharitably, as she looked at the seemingly young man who appeared totally content to sit and wait amidst their astonishment. She frowned at his obvious enjoyment of her father’s discomfort. Pranks were one thing, he was half the reason she and her sister were so much trouble after all, but this seemed far more serious, too serious for him to be playing his usual games.

    Just as Maya was about to risk speaking lest her brain melt from the conflicting emotions streaking through it, Allison broke her self imposed silence for the first time since the discussion had started.

“That’s how you were able to help me wasn’t it?”

    Her look of astonishment had faded into the more familiar visage of cool determination as she stared at Vyrn waiting for an answer. Allison also purposefully ignored the look of near betrayal coming from her husband as he seemed to put puzzle pieces together in his head.

    Vyrn’s grin widened in response to her question but he said no more, although the tacit approval was clear to all four.

    Jalis shook his head and barked a laugh at the response before speaking out.

“Damn am I glad I didn’t push her for an explanation back then. Although it was only because I was too scared I might wake up and find out the beauty had disappeared on my old bones.”

    Her father and Vyrn chuckled as Allison faux punched her husband in his ribs, annoyance clear on her face even though she didn’t attempt to pull away from him as he pulled her close and shaped their chairs together into a loveseat under their combined will. As the still nervous laughter faded, Maya’s attempt to speak was cut off once more, although this time by Vyrn.

    A serious look settling on his face once more, he finally sat up straight and ran a hand through his hair in a rare sign of anxiety before he sighed and spoke to her father.

“I have done all I can to avoid this course Tarrel, but they are up to the task, as I hope this group of trainees is.”

    Seeing her father fail to respond immediately, Maya finally couldn’t contain herself.

“What stormstruck nonsense are you talking about?!”

    Scrunching her face into a slight pout at the surprise directed her way, Maya just kept glaring at Vyrn, waiting for him or someone to explain what the hell was actually going on. It was clear that there was far more to Vyrn’s words than just some unorthodox training he had given to her and her sister, but no one seemed aware that she was being left totally in the dark as to what that something  was.

    Her father was the first to respond to her confusion. Standing once more with a slight grin and a shake of his head, he waved his hand, breaking Jalis’ working and letting the noise of the crowd in.

    Or rather the lack of noise.

    Noting the near silence from below with a nod, her father turned to her and said simply.

“Don’t worry Maya, if what Vyrn said is true, and I have long trusted him with all of our lives, then I suspect much will be made clear after the festival.”

Grinning at Vyrn’s quickly ducked head in response to Maya’s glare at the confirmation of a more delayed explanation, King Tarrel of the Northern Realm settled into his role as leader instead of father while he continued,

“-But all of that will have to wait, since it seems like the challengers are ready down below.”

Grimacing in frustration at the delay in answers, Maya nonetheless joined the other three in standing with her father and walking forward to the unprotected edge of the View. She tried hard not to look straight down as she hesitated only half a heartbeat in stepping with her father and his two advisors out into the open air. The nearly three hundred rist drop was enough to give anyone vertigo, despite the entry door to the famous Hall of Horns being only half way up the fortress’s sheer front.

     It was only after the notcolor Jalis had fashioned into a platform in front of them started to descend that she noticed Vyrn wasn’t with them. Glancing quickly back up at the ledge now slightly above and behind her, she failed to spot him anywhere on the View, or anywhere on the two narrow stairwells snaking  along the great wall to either side of the monolithic structure behind her. They were using Jalis’ working to avoid traversing the highly defensible, and thus very long, stairways, but she wasn’t sure how Vyrn was going to get down the drop without them.

    She started slightly at the feel of her father’s hand on the back of her elbow.

Looking up at the smiling Ruler, Maya saw him point down below them surreptitiously even as he looked out over their people with his typical mask affixed firmly on his face. Ignoring his attempt at appearing royal for his people, since she knew it would only last until the first challenges before he reverted to the now famously informal king that he really was, she followed his pointing finger downwards with her gaze.

    Below the four of them, on the now rapidly approaching ground, Maya could make out a large clearing amidst the seemingly endless crowds. Right against the base of the monolithic fortress that sat at the center of the southern barrier, there was a small open space where six figures stood. Five of them stood at military attention in a line, with their backs to the crowd and facing the Sovereign of the north while waiting patiently with hands clasped tightly behind them as they watched the royals descend from the View. 

    Maya couldn’t contain a sigh as she spotted the only other figures standing alone in the clearing.

    Vyrn was standing just beyond the five prospective blades, alone amidst all the thousands of people, facing away from the four of them as he showed to the young girl on his shoulders something he held cupped between his hands.

    How-? No, I should have stopped being surprised by him long ago.

    Ignoring how in the world he might have beaten them to the ground, as well as the vertigo that came from the view of the ground rushing rapidly towards them, Maya took another deep breath and waited to see what exactly was going on.

Five is far too few…

    Once they reached the ground, there was an immediate din of shuffling onlookers and softly spoken complaints as most of the crowd had lost sight of the royals. King Tarrel the Bulwark ignored it all as he strode forward until he stood only a dozen rist from the five potential Blades. They alone remained in absolute silence and rigid attention  with their bare arms behind their backs as they awaited the judgement of the only man still alive to have his feats sung in every village and town on both sides of the Veil.

    “Who comes!”

    Her father’s words shook the ground itself, causing many in the crowd to drop into a crouch, as the Monolithic fortess behind him, with its formations keyed to the royal line, amplified his words to echo across the crowd before carrying them down the continent spanning wall spreading like wings spread to either side of its menacing face.

    To everyone’s surprise the first to step up was not one of the trainees standing at attention. Instead the little girl hopped off Vyrn’s shoulders, spinning to face the royals as she did so. Maya felt her eyes widen and her jaw drop as she finally got a good look at what she had assumed was a child.

    Her dirty blond hair was tied back and high in a warrior’s tail, exposing crystalline green eyes and a mouth baring what seemed a perpetual grin. She walked to stand before the other trainees with a confident and peppy step, although she failed to hide the Artist’s grace she so obviously possesed, or the knotted, sinewy muscle Maya could now see spreading across every inch of exposed skin. Maya felt her own eyes begin to water as she took in how the otherwise friendly visage was marred by three massive scars stretching up from the depths of her tunic to finally end in a twisted mass of flesh that was half of the reason her mouth was stretched into an eternal grin.

    The warrior, for that was surely what she was, took her place before her squad and slowly raised her closed fist above her head. There was a pause amidst the dying breeze, as it seemed even the wind itself held its breath for their response.  Then, with a deepening of her permanent smirk, the warrior dropped her fist, and on cue, she and her fellow trainees responded to the Bulwark’s query,

“We, the Broken, have come!”

Maya couldn’t hide the surprise that flashed across her own face at their chosen title, but her father didn’t waste a single moment before once more shaking the earth itself.

“Why have the Broken come!”

This time the prospective Blades needed no prompt from their commander. Not a single one of the stalwart young men and women flinched in the face of her father’s thunderous roar as they responded with one voice. 

“We have come to be reforged!”

This time their own roar began to match the Bulwarks in shaking the ground as the crowd began to enthusiastically join into the storied tradition on the final word. Maya felt a grin matching those she saw throughout the crowd spreading its way across her own face despite her best efforts. She could feel the energy of the crowd and the power of the moment coursing through the very air. Even the notcolor seemed to pulse in excitement. She managed not to join in as well, but it was a close thing.

“And what would you have us make of you then? Broken as you are?”

The last part wasn’t traditional, but the smile on the monarch’s face allowed everyone to understand the poetic addition for the kindness it was, a nod to their struggles in the veil, and everyone understood….

….and responded.

“WE WOULD BE MADE INTO BLADES!”

If Maya had been surprised by the strength of her father’s voice when it was boosted by the crafted fortress, then she was floored by the strength of this… thunderclap, this cacophony of synchronized sound. Even as she found herself screaming alongside the crowd, she could feel a shaking in her bones as the sound poured over her, the notcolor around them now definitely dancing amidst the huge outpouring of emotion as even the seemingly endless crowds beyond the reach of the fortress walls joined in supporting those young warriors brave enough and skilled enough to step forward to protect… everything.

Maya had never seen or felt anything like it. The unity, the energy, the pure, almost desperate conviction of not just these warriors but of every single person there to fight! To survive!  was overwhelming. The sheer conviction and unity of purpose the diverse people of the south were displaying was shocking.

Not a single turning earlier she had been questioning her father’s adamant decision to keep the monolith so utilitarian and devoted to its savage purpose. She understood it very well now. These people, this entire region, was completely unlike the rest of the northern continent. They were located next to the Tower’s themselves, between the danger of the Veil and the rest of humanity. They lived on the very edge of life and death, acting as the shield and levy for the rest of the world.

Looking out over the still roaring crowd, Maya realized just how deeply they understood the significance of their location, and how much they prided themselves on it. Many of the Nobility farther north had scoffed when Allison had told them to take care in dealing with the southerners, for each and every one of them was a warrior. Maya had long considered noble arrogance foolish, but only now, as she watched a six year old girl gaze at the commander of the Broken with near rabid fervor and continue screaming despite her voice being shredded and little more than a whisper, did she comprehend just how deeply flawed and fatal such idiocy could prove to be for anyone facing the southern peoples. 

As the roar and drone of the crowd slowly began to die out, she found her musings interrupted by a slight disharmony amidst the powerful atmosphere. A confused murmuring could just barely be heard amongst the crowd closest to the prospective Blades, and she noticed her father’s face now held a solemn and questioning frown. 

Before anything else happened, her father broke tradition once more and continued, more quietly, although still booming, with a different line than the expected call for action.

“Two of the Broken have not answered, and so I ask once more, what would you have us make of you?”

She was shocked.

“Two of them didn’t answer?”

Maya looked around the crowd in confusion. None of this was choreographed or included in what she had been taught of the Southern tradition for welcoming the warriors to the northern continent. Peering out into the crowd she recognized similar confusion plastered across many faces. However, she was also able to make out small clusters in the crowd who seemed to be having a radically different reaction to the surprise.

Focusing on one such group in particular, she saw that it was a family unit, surrounding an incredibly elderly man who was so clearly a veteran Blade it was almost laughable to see him without a weapon on his back. His weatherworn face was creased into something she could only describe as disbelief…. And overwhelming hope. His eyes were locked on the two trainees even as his mouth moved, apparently explaining something to his family as their faces all began to shift to match his own.

Maya tore her gaze from the group, her confusion deeper than ever amidst the growing noise of the crowd. She watched as the trainee on the far right of the line up stepped forward to stand alongside his captain. Raking her eyes across him, she was nearly as surprised by what she saw as when she realized the small girl, woman, was the captain of the trainees. Every warrior trained on the Island across the Veil was lean to a certain extent, every attempt made to keep themselves mobile and limber. It was impossible for most, however, to hide the mass of muscle they built up over the years of physical exertion and sparring. The one female among the four still at attention, a redhead with a face of stone, was a perfect example, and probably weighed more than half the men at the event. Despite her modest height and slim waist, her broad shoulders and rippling forearms gave the truth of her identity away immediately. 

    The trainee now staring her father down was an entirely different story.  Standing nearly as tall as her own mountain of a father, he stood in rather stark contrast to the royal giant, as well as the four would-be blades at attention behind him. Maya  easily noticed how toned the little muscle he had exposed was, but he was willowy.  Almost impossibly thin for someone who was supposed to be a warrior, he was something of a paradox in Maya’s eyes. Next to those mountains of muscle and flesh, he looked as though a strong wind would blow him over the horizon. 

“... but still…”

Maya had been impressed watching the deadly grace the undersized captain had displayed while moving. She was an unstoppable force rolling across an invisible battlefield, which was amusing considering her stature, but this man was something else. 

Looking into the dark green eyes blazing out from beneath pitch black locks of hair as they challenged, as they dared her father to deny him his request, Maya couldn’t help but shiver. When he had moved to close the short distance separating him from his captain, every instinct that Maya’s many combat trainers had tried to instill into her screamed for her to flee, to move, to do something, because she was in immediate, mortal danger. It didn’t seem to matter to her hindbrain that he was unarmed and over twenty rist away, it knew that the predatory grace he used to flow across the grass meant that if he wanted her dead, she would be, despite the distance between them. 

    Steeling her mind to the sensation she had only felt from a select few elites she wasn’t supposed to know about, Maya continued studying the angry looking trainee as he responded, alone, to her father’s question.

“Lord Bulwark, I wish to walk the path of the Flight.”

    His softly spoken words were surprising considering the intensity of his gaze, but his voice carried across the field unimpeded. The entire crowd had quieted in reaction to him stepping up to answer, and the brittle silence stretched for several long, unbroken moments following his words. Looking for the same veteran as before in her confusion at the unfamiliar term, Maya found him quickly, although now he stood in front of his family, hand grasping at a weapon that no longer hung beside him. This time there was no determination or hope flitting across his weathered face. Instead, she saw only pure amazement on the elders face. Turning to glance at Jalis and Allison on her father’s right, she saw similar looks on their faces as well, their gazes fixed on the extraordinary lad.

“This is a difficult path you have chosen Jonathan.”

    Her father’s words, spoken in a lowered, sympathetic voice, were nonetheless still enhanced by the formations and shattered the fragile silence mercilessly. Maya was somewhat mollified to notice that she wasn’t the only one among them to flinch, startled by the volume in contrast to Jonathan’s quiet voice.

    Before her father could continue, the diminutive captain of the Broken hopped up lightly and smacked the back of the young man’s head, bowing him forward and eliciting a rather unmanly squeak.

“Idiot, that’s His Majesty, have a little respect!”

The silence returned in the wake of her breach of protocol, even King Tarrel letting his mouth drop open slightly at the young woman’s odd behavior. Not bothering to address the oddness of her rebuke of her teammate, the captain quickly spoke her own piece in a powerful, sweeping voice.

“Your Majesty, I want to follow in your footsteps. I would be made into a shield, a Bulwark, to protect my comrades and our people.”

Before Maya or the crowd could react to all the strangeness unfolding before them, King Tarrel, the Bulwark of the North, burst into laughter.

“HAHAHA! Very well Terra, I assume the good Wanderer has already arranged for the training of young Johnathan, and I will personally accept you as my student.”

    His smile was almost feral as the crowd reacted with gasps and scattered cheers to his words. Staring the girl down, he nodded at her once when she matched his unflinching gaze before looking out over the crowd and continuing.

“I welcome the Broken to the North, and promise to help you as I may on your chosen paths. However,....”

Pausing, he swept his arm before him, gesturing to the throng of people already beginning to churn in excitement at the return to the more familiar script.

“My opinion means little if my people do not approve of you, so prepare yourself! The warriors of our southern border are stronger than any other, and they will demand everything from you.”

Raising his hand in a fist above his head, the King spoke the words the southern crowd had so desperately been waiting to hear.

“LET THE CHALLENGES BEGIN!”

    Maya waited impatiently next to her father while Jalis and Allison directed the local Spears, A’nun who had earned their forged weapon, in creating the challenge ring and stands. Ordinarily she would be fascinated by the complex interplay of forces as the Artists manipulated the notcolor, the Aether, to shape the grassy savannah in front of the fortress to raise up massive earthen stands. The earth flowed like water under their ministrations, the central area sinking down and flattening out, while the excess earth was moved to the edges of the space partially encircled by the two stone staircases leading up to the view. It was a tradition dating back to the very first challenges to have the crowd view the fights from the staircases as the soldiers almost certainly had back then. Of course the crowds nowadays vastly outstripped the size of that embattled and demoralized force, so the A’nun would shape the temporary stands to help house the excessive numbers. The Blades and Spears stationed on the southern border always stood on the stairs themselves in honor of those warriors, and this no doubt helped to police the crowds during the excitement.

    Today, however, she couldn’t manage to shake her thoughts from the oddity of the Broken’s arrival. Their name was strange enough without all the other pageantry and terms she had never heard before. Vyrn always brought potential Blades through in groups of seven, supposedly out of respect for the seven Towers. When these close knit groups arrived, they would present their proposed title to the Sovereign of the North to seek his approval. They would have done the same with the Council that ruled  Sadras, the island beyond the Towers, before they left for their crossing. Ordinarily though, they would choose natural phenomenon or creatures that matched their training focus in the south. The kirin, stormsurge, and even windwalkers were names chosen when Maya was younger. A large part of the approval process was actually to make sure each unit had a unique name since they would almost certainly be assigned together for the next decade or more. Additionally, once they completed their training at the northern academy of A’suhold they would choose their banner. Although she supposed their new choice for a name made sense considering they had lost one of their number during the crossing.

I do wonder what name they presented to the Council before leaving though.

    All the other oddities were what truly occupied her thoughts at the moment however. Flight and Bulwark were terms she had never heard applied to artists other than her father before today, and she had always assumed he was called that because of his exploits when he was younger. Here they obviously referred to potential paths though, just like modern Blades and Spears. She had no idea what those paths might entail however. Blades were Ie’nun, and Spears were A’nun. It was just supposed to be an honorific for Artists who had proven worthy of defending humanity and wielding a weapon created by the reclusive Forgers she and Ana used to pester as children. There wasn’t another path outside of the shifters, the Sa’yun, and all of them had died out thousands of cycles ago.

Not to mention that girl. She’s obviously no child, but she is so small for an Ie’nun.

    Maya purposefully ignored the sense of fear she had felt from the intense young man now standing alongside his comrades. The six teenagers had relaxed somewhat in the commotion following the King’s announcement. The captain was joking around with the four normal potential Blades while the moody Johnathan stood silently to the side, although Maya noticed a smile crease his lips every once in a while at what was said. It was still uncomfortable for her to think of them as younger than her. She would be nineteen cycles old this year, two cycles older than the typical age for Artists to cross, but she still knew only the most basic of external arts.  Her father had forbidden both of the sisters from attending A’suhold in the North and becoming formal A’nun. They had always assumed it was so that Vyrn could return and finish their training, but as the Storm had come and passed, cycle after cycle, their hope had waned. When they had turned seventeen, that hope had morphed into resignation. 

    Despite all her best attempts, hope was sprouting within her once more, however. Vyrn had returned, and she was learning that there might be other paths to walk. Ways of painting the world and herself that just might let herself and her sister become the heroines they had always wanted to be as children.

And if he doesn’t want to teach us I’ll make him.

    Determination turning her eyes stony, Maya followed her father as he strode towards the back of the arena taking shape. Allison had separated from Jalis and the Spears who were finishing the temporary stands. With a wave of her hand, the stone deep beneath the topsoil erupted upwards, forming itself into a raised viewing box separate from the stands. The speed of her working put the rest of the A’nun to shame, taking only a few moments to craft thousands of pounds of material into a comfortable area for the Royals to watch the challenges. By the time the two of them had joined her, she was putting the finishing touches on a small staircase leading up to the box.

    Tarrel thanked her as the three of them ascended the stairs to take their place. From here they would be able to watch the challenges, and the crowds would be able to see the Sovereign from their more elevated positions in the massive stands surrounding them.  

“Allison-”

    Maya’s father cut her off with a swipe of his hand and a stern look. He then gave Allison a pointed look, and the Headmistress nodded before quickly erecting a similar sound barrier to Jalis’ earlier working. Maya watched the notcolor of Aether wrap itself around the Royal box with some suspicion.

More secrets. Hmph, at least it looks like they are planning to answer this time.

    Once she was finished with the sound working, Allison summoned chairs for all three and settled into her own with a weary sigh before speaking.

“You can explain to her Tarrel. I need to rest for a moment if I’m to be in any shape to properly protect the fighters.”

    Allison closed her eyes and leaned back in her ostentatiously comfortable seat, ignoring the wry look on her King’s face. He gave a sigh eerily reminiscent of the one Allison had just released before taking his own seat and gesturing for Maya to take her place beside him.  Maya remained standing.

“Dad, what in all the realms is going on? What is a Flight? For that matter, what is a Bulwark? What are you?!”

    Her words tumbled from her mouth almost too quickly for her to catch her breath. She had been holding back questions almost from the moment she had stepped out onto the View this morning, and she would be damned if she wasn’t going to get some answers.

    Her father gave her a wry grin and answered before she could continue spewing all the questions tumbling around in her head.

“Take a seat Maya. I’ll explain the advanced paths to you, but it will take a few minutes, so you might as well be comfortable.”

    Doing her best not to grumble as she complied. Maya sat and arranged her dress around her while she waited for her father to explain. He didn’t look at her, instead staring out over the crowds and steadily forming arena while he organized his thoughts. Taking a deep breath, he turned a loving gaze on his daughter as he dropped into the almost melodic tone of voice Maya remembered from when he was teaching her and Ana the history of their kingdom as children.

“There are four well known paths for an Artist. The A’nun shape the world, the Ie’nun shape their bodies, the Forgers, the A’tun, shape their minds and tools, and the Sa’yun…”

    He paused in thought for a moment here, a look of sadness flashing across his chiseled features before he continued.

“And the Sa’yun shaped space itself. However, they all use Aether, the energy from beyond the Veil, to do so. They draw it in, and channel it in different ways to accomplish their goals.”

He turned a stern look on his daughter at this point. Maya felt herself straighten in her seat. She may enjoy a very close relationship with her only parent, but he was still her hero. She had always looked up to her father before anyone else, and she couldn’t help but respond to the challenge in his gaze.

“But Maya… Have you ever heard of an Artist walking more than one path?”

Maya felt her own eyes dart to Allison at the question. Allison’s mouth twitched in response to the reference to her own past, but her eyes remained closed. She obviously wanted no part in the conversation. Turning her gaze back to her father, who still stared at her with an intensity she had rarely seen, Maya slowly responded, uncertainty coloring her voice as she spoke.

“It is impossible to walk more than one path… Even changing paths is supposed to be incredibly difficult, since the farther down any path you travel the more difficult it is to ever channel Aether in a different way. Your body becomes attuned to the path as you practice your Art, making it impossible to channel in a different manner. Allison is actually the only person I’ve ever heard of changing her path, let alone practicing two.”

    Here, she paused, suspicion and hope alike beating within her chest at the implication of her father’s inquiry. When she spoke again, it was in a whisper that barely managed to fight its way past her lips.

“At least… that was what we were always taught.”

    Meeting her father’s gaze with her own, she waited. Everyone knew that you could only walk a single path. It was one of the only parts of being an Artist that everyone, from the most base commoner to the highest noble, knew as absolute. An Artist could only follow one path. There were no crossroads for an Artist. The farther down any one path you traveled, the more the others were denied to you. Aether was already incredibly difficult to channel and control, and the instinctive channeling of an Ie’nun was anathema to the controlled conscious methods of the A’nun. She also suspected that whatever method the Forgers used was equally contrary to the other paths. She could feel how serious this conversation was now. The sound barrier began to make more sense. If shifters could become A’run, it made sense that unorthodox paths might have similar dangers. In light of that horrifying thought, Maya found her patience as the silence following her summary began to stretch out between her and her father.

    Tarrel let the silence creep its way through the space between them for a few moments longer before shattering it.

“We lied to you.”

    He closed his eyes and slumped back in his seat at the revelation. Maya felt her own heart clench at the guilt in his voice, but she stayed silent.  She knew their entire society was built on some very important secrets. She was privy to a few of them herself. It still hurt her to hear that they had been kept on the other side of the curtain from her father.

“To be fair to your instructors, most of what you have been taught is absolutely correct.  As you progress down any path, every other path becomes harder to reach, more difficult to understand. However, that is only once you have walked far enough. It is possible, if extremely difficult, to forge a new path for yourself. By not walking far enough down any path until you have walked the same distance down another, you can train your body and mind to start viewing them as two parts of the same path, a new path.”

    He opened his eyes at this point to check her reaction. His gaze tightened slightly at the hope and realization dawning on her at his words. He continued despite his reservations however.

“That makes it sound like you can take two whole paths, but the typical way of accomplishing this amalgamation of Arts is by focusing on one path, and slowly adding specific abilities or functions of another path into it as you develop. It’s easier on the mind to accept just a small addition rather than trying to have two entirely contradictory paths work together. This eventually led to the advanced paths. One of those paths is the Bulwark. I am an Ie’nun, but I have mastered some very specific force and earth manipulation arts of the A’nun to allow me to reinforce my body even further as well as  pin down and fight with A’run entirely by myself. I turned myself into the toughest Artist I possibly could, and that is the path of the Bulwark.”

    He was smiling at this point. The pride in his voice at the title was evident. Maya also felt some real satisfaction at finally understanding just how her father had performed the feats attributed to the beloved King in his youth. Stories about how he had held off an A’run by himself for an entire hour when he was her age used to dominate her time spent around the common folk. The time he had pulled an entire ship ashore during a storm was another favorite among the town children. They always wanted to know how he had done it. She shook off the embarrassment creeping through her thoughts at the memory of the tall tales she had spun as a child to explain her father’s prowess. 

    Her ruminations on the past following the illuminating explanation only lasted a moment however. Her main concern had long settled on the implications for herself and Ana that came along with the first part of his explanation.

“Is that why you and Vyrn always refused to teach us anything more advanced? Because it would have cut us off from learning multiple paths wouldn’t it!? Is he planning to teach us an advanced path like yours?”

    The King couldn’t help but smile at the raw enthusiasm infusing his daughter’s voice. The two of his daughters were both fascinated with the Arts, but Maya in particular was the tomboy. She had always loved the heroic stories of powerful Artists, especially when they were about himself or their wayward guardian. She had dreamed of wading into battle with A’run while Ana threw workings, safe behind her. Maya had even begged Vyrn to take her to the Island at one point, desperate to become an Ie’nun, and then a Blade. He had to throw a small damper on her spirits at this point.

“I don’t know Maya. I always assumed that was his plan, but he has played his cards even closer to his chest ever since the two of you were born. When both of your eyes glowed with the sight, we went to him for help, but while he certainly helped the two of you, he became much more close-mouthed, and spent longer in the Veil every time he went. Then, with no explanation to me or anyone else that I know of, he stopped walking the veil to train the two of you even further in the sight. After that, you already know about how he disappeared for the next ten cycles.”

    At this, he sighed once more. His voice was heavy with equal parts worry and confusion, his brows cutting deep as he tried to puzzle out the machinations of the enigmatic Wanderer.

“He left us in dire straits as you well know. If your negotiations with the clans had not gone so well and let us plan to ship weapons and people around the Cape to Sadras, I’m not sure the cities farther north could have avoided a panic.”

    Maya couldn’t stop her mind from flashing back to those “negotiations”. The clans had asked for her and Marri specifically. No one knew why they would ask for the young royal and her handmaid. However, when they had finally arrived on that storm torn island filled with ramshackle huts and magnificent ship docks, the leader of the pirate Clans, Marri’s grandmother, had only asked one question when the two young women walked into the large wooden hall filled with Clan leaders.

“Does He need our help?”

    Maya was beyond confused at the question, but Marri had responded quickly with an affirmative, and that was all. The clans dispersed after giving an official statement that if Vyrn had not returned within five cycles they would resume their ancient tradition of risking the dangerous journey around the veil, past the Cape of the Spine, in order to bring Artists and weapons back and forth between the Northern Kingdoms and the island of Sadras. It had never come to that thankfully, since Vyrn had returned the next cycle. The journey around the Cape was notoriously treacherous, with nearly half of all ships going down in the storms that plagued the coast around the Veil. 

“The Flight is another advanced path, one even more infamous than my own, but I know little about it beyond the fact that they are one of the few Ie’nun to use bows.”

    Torn from her musings, Maya’s best efforts weren’t enough to keep the confusion from her face at the thought of internal Artists like the Ie’nun using ranged weapons. She couldn’t imagine how it would work, but she was prevented from further questions when Allison suddenly opened her eyes and sat forward in her chair.

    The three of them all turned towards the open field before them as the privacy working around them fell away with a gesture from the headmistress of Asuhold. The crowds were nearly seated. The last few stragglers were being directed to open seats by the Blades and Spears stationed on the ancient staircases. The entire arena had been completed a few moments prior. The massive open space was now free of grass, stone, or any other obstacle, with only the six trainees standing alone with their backs to the Royal viewing stand Allison had erected. Maya could even vaguely make out the cries of food and drink vendors beginning to hawk their wares to the excited crowds as they wandered the stands.

    Maya let her gaze wander over the young warriors once more. The diminutive captain had reorganized the Broken into formation, with her five subordinates  standing at attention in a wide “V” behind her. She noted in the back of her mind that even the cavalier young woman was standing at perfect attention, her hands in the ancient position of readiness and nonviolence behind her back. Following their gazes towards entrance to the Horns and the arena, Maya gasped quietly.

    Just beyond the edge of the arena, at the relatively small opening left by the A’nun, there were nearly a hundred young men and women milling about, their excitement palpable. Each and every one of them wielded a weapon of some sort. Nearly every weapon type was on display among their number. She could make out greatswords, naginata, eschiri, and more as the youngsters began to sort themselves into a line stretching back into the savannah beyond the arena.

    They were not allowed to bring those same weapons into the arena without permission from the king himself, and they were among the number who had joined the hue and cry of the southern people from beyond the Horns. Maya knew that there was likely a massive assortment of tents, stalls and games arrayed beyond the group for the celebration that always followed the challenges, but at the moment she couldn’t muster any excitement at the thought of sneaking away to explore afterwards. 

    All she could focus on were the two figures standing, alone, near the very center of the open yard. She didn’t even notice as Jalis made his way onto the viewing stand to join them. She didn’t acknowledge the three of them joining her to stand at the edge of the platform. She didn’t even remember standing. All she could see were those two lonely figures, standing in silence, the wind whipping their clothes and hair around their stationary forms.

    One was a young man she had never seen before. He was facing towards the fortress, and stood relatively tall, at around ten rist. His brown hair was cropped short in a soldier’s cut, and his muscled form spoke of long hours spent training with the almost ridiculously long sword he held loosely in one hand, the blade stretching out nearly seven rist before him, with the tip hovering only a few ris above the dirt.

    Across from him, in the same ready stance adopted by the trainees far behind him, stood the Wanderer.

    The crowds began to quiet as they took notice of the two men standing at the ready. Even the hawkers stopped their shouting as the murmuring and whispers replaced the shouts and excitement prior . The young man had brought his weapon into the challenge area unprompted by the king, a serious offense that the people were surprised the Blades guarding the staircases had not already punished with a swift beating and expulsion from the event. The Artists arrayed around the stadium stood in stony silence, however. Even more surprising was who stood across from him. The Wanderer usually stood to the side of the challenges, acting as the referee for the fights about to take place. However, instead of his usual cavalier demeanor and authoritative position, he stood as someone to be challenged. His youthful looks made him seem no different than the young warriors arrayed behind him, but every adult and child of the south knew him. Tales of the Wanderer were told across the realms, and he was well known for appearing out of nowhere to visit towns and bring help and teachings to people across the entirety of the southern border. They all knew exactly who he was despite his long absence, and how strange the current situation was.

    Even the murmurings were silenced when the newcomer slowly raised his long blade before him. Pointing the weapon of war at Vyrn across from him amidst the deafening silence broken only by the whipping winds, he spoke, his surprisingly powerful voice echoing across the arena.

“I challenge the Wanderer! He has failed in his duty, allowing my brother to fall-”

    At this, his voice broke. Maya could see the tip of his sword shaking. Although considering his well trained build, she doubted it was out of an inability to hold the sword steady. He continued quickly despite his obviously emotional state.

“-to be lost in the Veil! For this, he will answer to ME!”

    The boy’s voice cracked on the final words, developing into a nearly shrill scream that tore through the air. No one mocked the youngster. There were no jeers or taunts from the crowd. Although no one had made a scene prior to this, everyone present had noticed the irregularity. Six blades had come across the Veil with Vyrn. Not seven. Someone had been lost to the mysterious region splitting the world in half. No one in living memory had heard of it happening, but everyone understood just how dangerous the journey must be. Every cycle countless A’run emerged from the Veil to be withstood by the Blades and Spears stationed throughout the southern lands. How could something that birthed such monstrosities possibly be safe to pass through?

    Vyrn seemed to take no notice of the challenge or the blade pointed at him. He remained at attention, a fragile silence, as sharp as glass, enveloping the crowds as they waited for a response from the Wanderer or the king. Still, none came. The silence stretched and distorted on the windy field. 

    Eventually, even the wind seemed to quiet itself amidst the tense atmosphere. As his hooded cloak fell to stillness behind him Vyrn finally moved, eliciting a small sigh of released breaths from the crowds. Reaching up to his shoulders, he released the strange cloth to pool behind him before walking towards his challenger. Slowly closing the distance with measured steps, the white haired youth stopped only when the quivering blade tip was only a few rist from his own chest. Settling himself into an unfamiliar stance, one hand was raised slowly, palm up, towards the grieving warrior across from him. Standing at the ready, faced with a blade only a single rist away from his hand, the Wanderer softly uttered only  a single word, yet every person heard him as he quietly banished the overwhelming silence.

“Come.”

Next Chapter: A Name Forgotten