The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 01 - Elseerian (7 page)

While he stepped through intricate sword routines, his mind wandered miles away from the island he’d grown up on. Out of nowhere, the resolution to find out more about his parents struck him, hitting him so hard he stopped mid swing. He
had
to find out who they had been, why they had been coming to Sri Rosen, and if he had any other family.

He furrowed his brow and shook his head,
Where to begin though
? The only thing he had from his parents was his newfound weapons and the knowledge that his mother was an elf.
Maybe Azertorn, the city of the elves . . . ?
His thoughts trailed off into nothing.

It was time to leave Sri Rosen.

The thought felt like a blast of icy wind, causing him to take a deep breath and look over his favorite spot for what he knew would be the last time. Trees and solid rock were littered with cuts and slices. Arrows had driven holes through trunks and stone alike. The evidence of his fierce battle had extended all across the ledge, and would linger for decades. The sight filled him with sadness, but a thread of excitement raced through him as he turned to get one last look at the view.

More time had passed than he’d realized. It was already early evening, the sun shifting from yellow to red as it sank towards the horizon. Every shade of yellow and orange spilled across the sky and ran together into vibrant streaks of color. Brilliant purple and pink soon appeared, shimmering in the few low-hanging clouds that dotted the view.

Taryn didn’t move until every shred of light was gone, and then stayed until stars began to wink and glitter. Only after the moon started to rise did he finally turn and climb slowly down. By the time he got home it was past midnight, but the soft glow of candlelight flickering in one of the windows revealed someone was inside. Without hesitation he opened the door and strode in.

To his surprise, there were several people in his room. He’d expected his uncle, but Liri and Mae were also present. The girls were seated on the bed while Murai sat in the only chair. Empty bottles of ale and crusts of bread sat on the desk and beside the bed.

Nobody spoke for several moments until Taryn broke the silence. He almost didn’t say anything, but he knew he had to share what had happened with
someone
and the people in the room were the only individuals he could imagine sharing something so personal. In halting phrases he began, “I know the names of my parents . . .”

For the next several minutes he explained what had occurred with his swords before the arena fight and a
little
bit about their magic—enough to satisfy curiosity, but not to reveal
everything
about their power. He wasn’t quite ready to share that, and throughout his tale no one spoke.

“I have to go back,” he finished, “now . . . on the next boat.”

Almost immediately Liri stood up. “I’m with you, whatever it takes.”

Mae wasn’t far behind her. “The ship in the harbor is leaving at first light,” she said quietly as she rose to her feet.

Taryn hesitated, a little taken aback by the directness of his friends. “Er . . .,” he began but Liri cut him off.

“You don’t have a choice, Taryn.” she said, her jaw set in a firm line that he knew from experience didn’t allow for disagreement.

Taryn smiled in surrender. “All right, get your things. We’ll meet at the dock an hour before dawn. Liri, would you mind letting the harbormaster know?"

“No problem,” she replied as she slipped out the door, a smile of triumph on her lips. Mae simply nodded and followed her out, leaving him alone with his uncle.

It took a minute before Taryn could look his uncle in the eye, so he took the time to place his weapons on the wall. When he finally did manage to face Murai, the sadness he had expected was there, but there was also something else. Was his uncle happy about his leaving?

“I am so proud of you, Taryn. I know . . . I know . . .” But the rest of his words were lost as Murai bounded across the room and embraced his adopted nephew. “I know you will find what you need.” He let go and pushed him back. “You will always be my family.”

Taryn smiled, swallowing against the surge of emotion. “And you will be mine.”

Then Murai inclined his head. “If I may, I have a few final lessons for you.”

After Taryn nodded, Murai began, his gaze piercing, “You have not been given an easy life, nor an . . . abundance of talents." He paused and gave an apologetic shrug for his honesty. "But it isn't what you have been given that has made you who you are. It is the choices you have made. There are many that have been gifted with much more but have achieved far less. It is your choices—not your ability, that will define your destiny."

"By now you should know, you have been much more than a student for a long time. I have had the privilege of watching you become far more skilled than any other master on the island. For this reason, you must remember to
always
trust your own abilities—yet do not allow that confidence to become arrogance.”

He paused until Taryn nodded again.

Murai’s smile turned sad. “Now for the hardest lesson, the one I cannot teach you.” Shaking his head, he took a deep breath. “As such a gifted warrior, you will face many opportunities to take a life.”

He sighed, his tone changing to one of regret. “Death by the hand of another destroys many things, but nothing is more damaged than the family. It steals the innocence of children, and shatters the hope of sons. It forever scars mothers, and fathers, and rips apart the very fabric of parenthood. The person’s very posterity is erased.” He paused and gave a tiny shake of his head before glancing back at Taryn, his eyes bleak. “Taking a life leaves a hole that cannot be measured.”

Taryn didn’t know what to say. Something in Murai’s eyes made him think that he knew firsthand the meaning of his words, but the thought only had time to flicker before his mind was drawn to the pirate attack where Tiral had been slain.

Unknowingly echoing his thoughts, Muari continued, “I know the death of Tiral still haunts you, but you need to know that it is not your fault. He was too young to fight, and disobeyed his master in doing so.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Taryn whispered, barely able to get the thought out. “If I had killed some of the pirates, maybe he wouldn’t have died. We both know I could have.”

The silence in the cabin stretched for several moments, until Murai said, “I believe there is something in you that rebels against the killing of another, but you should not consider this a curse. Rather it is a gift, and a rare one for a warrior. Unfortunately, many of our trade will kill without a second thought, and their hearts become hardened as a result.”

“However, the lesson you will be forced to learn is when a life
must
be taken. Sparing the life of someone can mean others will perish—especially if it is someone who is more evil than good. As horrible as taking a life is, allowing that person to slay many more is indescribably more abominable.”

“How do you know when to do it?” Taryn burst out, unable to contain the question he’d wanted to ask since Tiral’s death.

Murai just shook his head. “You will need to find your own way to balance this in your life because justice and mercy are—and have always been—opposites. Because of your skill it will frequently fall upon
your
shoulders which to give. Just know that I trust you to make the right choice.”

It didn’t seem like much of an answer, but as Murai held his gaze, he knew it was all he was going to get, so Taryn nodded.

“Lastly,” Murai said, “it is important you recognize that every person is unique, with specific qualities and attributes that make them special. Some are special because of physical skills, sometimes it is a magical skill that sets them apart, but more often than not, it is something . . .
else
that makes them exceptional. This fact is overlooked by many, and as a result only a few are deemed important.”

He paused again, searching for the right words, “
Every
. . .
single
. . .
individual
, is necessary in the battle to do what’s right. You are truly the best fighter I have ever seen, so you will be called upon to defend the innocent—but don’t ever forget that just because a person doesn’t fight, doesn’t mean they aren’t important to the victory.”

When he finished, he smiled and turned away, overcome with a fit of coughing. Something about the way he’d said it made it seem as if it were extremely personal, and for the first time, Taryn realized he knew little about Murai’s past. A pang of sorrow echoed through him as he realized there would be no more opportunities to find out.

Taryn’s throat tightened. “Thank you, for everything. You were a great teacher.”

Clapping Taryn roughly on the shoulders, Murai turned around and grabbed something off the table. Turning back he reached out with a small spoon that had been threaded through a hole in the handle.

“Something told me you would be leaving soon, so I wanted to give you a present to remember your training. This is so you don’t forget to be prepared for anything,” he said, the corners of his mouth struggling to stay in place.

Recalling the morning’s intrusion brought a smile to Taryn’s face, but his uncle wasn’t finished.

“Actually, I have something else for you,” Murai said, still grinning as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a package. “This
might
be a little more useful.”

“I don’t know; I’m sure the spoon will come in handy,” Taryn replied.

Tossing the package to him, his uncle said, “Maybe, but I thought you might like these in a pinch.” Taryn looked at the package in his hands. It was about the length of his forearm, wrapped in cloth, and a little heavy. Removing the cloth revealed a finely crafted belt with five throwing knives in separate sheathes. Sliding one of the little knives free, he found it not only in good condition but also of excellent craftsmanship, with an intricate sea dragon engraved on the blade. Placing it back in its sheath, he pulled out another, which proved to be identical. He glanced at his uncle with a raised eyebrow. No master on the island taught knife throwing.

“I got them off a pirate that thought his
one
ship could attack the island,” he responded to the unasked question with a smug grin and a twinkle in his eye that suggested it was utter foolishness on the pirate’s part—which Taryn had to admit, it probably was.

“This is a great gift, but I’ve never used throwing knives before,” Taryn said.

“I know . . . neither have I,” Murai admitted as he spread his arms out wide, “but I thought you might like to practice on the ship. It’s a long voyage, after all. I know that if you could, you would learn every style of fighting there is, and I thought you might like to pick up knife throwing along the way.”

“Thank you,” was all Taryn managed to say.
How do you say goodbye, probably forever, to the person who has raised you?

Seeming to sense Taryn’s feelings, his uncle chuckled. “You don’t have to say goodbye to this old elf yet; I will be there to see you off in the morning.” He paused and smiled. “I am happy for you, about your swords I mean.”

Taryn smiled with mixed emotions and nodded in reply.

Murai embraced his adoptive nephew one last time and slipped out the door, leaving Taryn alone in the flickering candlelight.

Feeling numb and drained from the day’s events, he blew out the light and lay down, still fully clothed. Despite the hour, the young fighter didn’t feel tired, and sleep took a long time to come. In a single day he’d found out things about his parents he’d never known, discovered his weapons were magical, and made the decision to leave the island—the only home he had ever known. Overwhelmed by the sheer volume of life changes, he spent the next few hours struggling to let peace overtake him so he could rest.

Sometime early the next morning, Taryn sighed and gave up. Slipping from his bed, he began gathering his things. Aside from the mugs and bottles of ale that his friends and uncle had left, the room contained only a few pieces of parchment, some clothes, a hard leather vest, bracers, a pack, and his weapons on the wall. Everything fit easily into the pack. Then he lifted his swords down from the wall and strapped them onto his back.

Hesitating, he pulled his father’s sword out and called forth the blue fire—which came before he’d finished his thought. Drawing his other sword he changed it to the magnificent bow and allowed himself a few moments to admire the weapons. Then, shaking his head at the irrational thought that it had never happened, he changed Ianna back to the sword and sheathed both weapons. Last of all, he wrapped the belt of throwing knives his uncle had given him around his waist and rotated his torso to see how they felt. He would practice with them later—when he had time.

Before he knew it, he was standing and looking at the room that had been his home since birth. A light breeze gently brushed the drapes, allowing a scattering of soft moonlight through. Despite everything that had happened, it was still hard to leave. His heart aching, he turned and slipped out the door for the last time.

Chapter 4: Throwing Lessons

Cresting the horizon in a sudden blast of light, the morning dawn found Taryn standing in the crow’s nest of the
Sea Dancer
. The lack of mountains had been unsettling at first, so over the last two weeks he’d taken to spending his time in the only elevated place on the ship. It afforded him a peaceful place to think, as well as to enjoy the motion of the ship.

Beneath him, the mainsail stretched in a great white arc as it strained to contain the powerful wind that drove the vessel forward. The
Sea Dancer
had one other smaller mast towards the front of the boat, but its canvas was furled at the moment due to the strong wind. Below and behind him the aft cabin sat with the helm situated above it. A door into the aft cabin led down to the hold and crews’ quarters. At the front of the ship, the forecastle housed the captain’s quarters, with ready access to the deck. In addition, a large ballista stood mounted at the stern, its wood hardened from long exposure to the salty air.