One

Her sword in its sheath, Liuath headed for the training ground where she received her daily training from her elven master: Caelther, meaning arrow protection. It had always felt right to Liuath to have the old master as her trainer. All the other trainers were young and fit, but Liuath had been drawn to Caelther, the elder of her village’s tribe. He could no longer spar like the other warriors, but he taught her and a male elf called Zylas. They battled together every day, yet neither could hold the advantage for longer than a week.

As Liuath approached the grounds, Zylas was waiting for her.

“Lili, something’s wrong. I can’t find Caelther in his house. Come. Quickly.” Liuath followed him into the large cabin that Caelther shared with his elven wife. They went around the various rooms together, calling to Caelther. There was a rustling sound from downstairs. The two were paralysed for a fraction of a second before they ran down the stairs.

“Zylas, Liuath: Where were you?” Caelther commanded in his earthen voice, withered with age. “You know that I have forbidden you from the cabin without me.”

“Where were you though?” Zylas asked as he looked up. He thought that it was pretty strange that his teacher hadn’t responded to their calls; and even stranger that he wouldn’t meet their eyes. Caelther was big on the eye contact thing. ‘Eye contact is the essence of understanding and understanding is the first step to truth’ was his motto. It was inscribed in Elvish on the bough that resided above his house. So it was very odd that he stared misty eyed into the distance, tearing strips off them as he glared.

“That is no business of yours, Zylas. Come outside to practice your sparring now.” He strode out of the kitchen where they stood. “Come. NOW.” He roared. They hastily obeyed his command, drawing their weapons as they did.

Liuath favoured her lengthy, silver-bladed sword. It was thin, but elf-made, so very strong. It was kept sharp by her father, who worked as a wood smith in the forest. It had emeralds encrusted in the hilt, and a black serpent wound its way down from the tip of the sword up to the edge of the pommel. Zylas preferred his flat-edged sword: it was similar in that it was long, but it was stout and gilt-embossed. It had no serpent, but a long, thin white scar which ran the length of the blade. It punctured into a wishbone as it reached to tip of the razor sharp point.

Liuath turned to face Zylas as they reached the sand covered training corral, which used to be used for the training of Caelther’s horses. Caelther’s voice reached them from where he sat above the ring. “Go.” Liuath lunged forwards, feinting sideways before dealing a hefty blow from beneath, but before the blade struck her opponent, it hit the aged metal from Zylas. Zylas’s blade sprung beneath her, tearing the muscle in her quadriceps. With a battle cry of outrage, Liuath launched back from her friend and opponent. She went for the direct kill. A strong blow to the head, which was parried, and then a slice underneath the raised sword of the opponent: this time she hit her mark. A dull thud echoed around the arena and a dribble of blood found home in the sand.

Zylas was no longer her friend. He was an opponent: a rival. A knife that needed sharpening. Liuath prepared for the final attack. She darted sideways and ran the length of the circle. She crouched in her defensive position and prepared for attack. Out of nowhere, Zylas’s blade struck her shoulder, forming a ribbon of blood. Without a sound, Liuath prepared her charge. As she ran, she found her muscles contract. She crouched low and leaped forwards. The sword hit home. “Finish and prepare,” came the voice of her trainer. She and Zylas stopped and bowed to one another before healing themselves with the spell Tanka Harwar. They then loped over to Caelther, kneeling forwards at his command. “Well fought. That is how it should be when you fight. You should never hesitate in a battle, but attack and parry again and again. Never run out of energy. Call the clouds to lend you power if in need. But never give up. Never.” He roared the last word. “A word please Liuath.” He dismissed Zylas.

Liuath settled herself on the log next to Caelther and he stared at her for a long moment. “You did well today.” He asserted, placing his hand on her shoulder. “But there is no time for me to aid you any longer.” He paused, and his hand rested on her head. “You have been chosen to depart now, Liuath. You must go and complete you training. You may return here if it pleases you when you finish your apprenticeship. You may not take anything. You may only tell those whom you would trust with your life. I wish, you well, Liuath, and please take my ring as a gift for the many moons of fighting spirit you have had in Aruthäesia.” He placed a gold ring encrusted with amethyst and diamonds in her palm and bade her farewell.