Eldan looked over his shoulder and found Stal and Amuel standing nearby, talking quietly. Stal looked up as Eldan turned, stepping toward him.
“We thought to walk with you to the medic should you want company,” he said formally, reaching out to take Eldan’s elbow to guide him. “I believe your wounds must require tending?”
Eldan nodded, allowing himself to be pulled forward by Stal’s grip. They worked their way around the last few students handing in weapons, stopping to collect their packs near the door and taking a moment to drink water from a table that had been set with pitchers and cups. Eldan poured a little in his hand and attempted to wipe off the blood on his arm, mostly succeeding only in diluting it and spreading it around. He found himself beginning to recover from the initial, overwhelming wave of exhaustion that overcame him after the spar, but his injuries throbbed with pain and he wanted nothing more than to lie down and go to sleep. Stal offered his arm for support as they readied to leave the now mostly empty room, but Eldan waved him off, walking stiffly toward the door. “I saw your demonstration, you are very good,” he mumbled, a little embarrassed that the boy had needed to help him, and hoping to shift attention from himself.
Stal’s face clouded, the corners of his mouth tugging downward. “I’m afraid it is performative only, and I disappointed our Master and Captain by that admission.”
Eldan puzzled over this statement but Amuel beat him to a question. “I thought your people were known for fighting skills?” she asked, cocking her head to the side to look at Stal, her thick, auburn braid falling over her shoulder.
Stal looked pensive, thinking for a moment before he answered. “The reputation of a city or people does not represent its entire populace. Helios is known as a city of warriors and it is true that most there take great pride in martial prowess. However, it is also a city that sees much value in philosophy, and some there ascribe to doctrines of non-violence. These ideologies may not be popular but they are respected nonetheless.”
As they slowly traipsed down the hall outside the training room Eldan’s attention drifted to the wall where he and Cale had opened the chasm passage. He ran his eyes over the veins within the stone, trying to pick out the pattern he had seen that day, but the wall remained completely mundane, giving no hint to its secrets. Eldan thought he could just make out the faint thrumming beneath, though, his heartbeat buzzing in muted resonance, pulsing throughout his body.
“So you don’t want to fight? I can understand that, it’s not for everyone, but what’s it matter for training? Not like they expect you to go to war here at Court.” Amuel’s voice broke Eldan from his reverie.
Stal sighed, “it’s not just about fighting. I will not raise a weapon or inflict violence upon any being under any circumstance. I did say I would likely fail a portion of our testing, did I not? I learned the dance of the blade, as is customary, but I will not wield it against another even in sport.” The tall boy looked somewhat slightly defensive when he finished speaking, as though he were expecting to be challenged on his position.
Amuel looked thoughtful. “S’why you don’t eat meat at meals, then?”
Stal dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Yes, I attempt to practice non-violence in every aspect of my life. It is a path from which I often stray in ways both small and large, but I always return to seek to walk the path again.”
Eldan looked down at his blood-stained clothes, feeling somewhat ashamed as he listened to the conversation. He was not by nature a violent person but he had just sparred with great pleasure, and the memory of the raw violence he had inflicted on the delta ape was all too fresh.
“S’pose I can appreciate your point of view but hope you don’t mind if I don’t see things the same,” Amuel said, shrugging apologetically.
Stal smiled, seeming to relax. “I have no wish for a world with only a single philosophy, only one where differing viewpoints may coexist with mutual respect and a desire for understanding.”
They reached the bottom of the main staircase and Stal glanced over at Eldan with concern, but did not offer assistance this time. As Eldan began his dogged climb Stal turned back to Amuel. “On the subject of martial prowess, from what I observed your archery skills are nothing less than extraordinary.”
Amuel shrugged again, this time modestly, though Eldan noticed she also straightened her back a bit. “If I couldn’t shoot I wouldn’t eat. Bows are weapons in the mountains, sure, but mostly tools. Had one in my hand soon as I could walk.” She looked a little wistful as she spoke, as though recalling fond memories.
A couple of steps later Amuel turned to Eldan. “Don’t know what to say ‘bout what you did back there. Didn’t see it all but saw enough, no way you shoulda fought like that hurt like you are right now. Not gonna lie, I’m impressed but a little scared of you.”
Amuel laughed as she finished but Eldan could tell she wasn’t entirely joking. He ducked his head, unsure how to respond. “I just got caught up in the spar. Nothing really hurt while it was happening, I didn’t know I opened up my wounds until afterward. I don’t think the Captain was happy with my performance, either.” He was obviously underselling the intensity of the Captain’s animosity toward him but saw no reason to pretend it did not exist. They rounded the top of the stairs and Eldan motioned toward the hallway they would need to take to reach the medical ward.
“I believe you may have caught the eye of the Weapons Master,” Stal said thoughtfully as they turned into the long, flagstone floored hall. “I noticed her observing your spar with some interest. She is a..difficult instructor to please.” He rubbed his shoulder absently, as though recalling an injury.
“Did either of you happen to see the end of my spar?” Eldan asked cautiously. “The last couple of moves were really fast and it was kind of hard to tell what was happening even though I was the one fighting.”
A flicker passed over Stal’s face as he glanced at Eldan from the side. “I did, and it was difficult to parse as an observer, as well. From what I could gather you employed an unusual movement technique to avoid a certain strike, though I was unable to ascertain exactly how it could have been dodged. You shifted position quickly enough that you appeared to blur momentarily, returning to nearly your original position.” He rubbed his jaw, the restless motion strange for the usually poised boy. “I have seen arts used in Helios that look similar from a spectator’s perspective, but their purpose is different.” He shrugged helplessly, “regardless, the strike was dodged and you landed in position to make a final strike but did not execute the move. I apologize, but I cannot provide further clarity.”
Amuel turned her palms up apologetically. “Sorry, didn’t see any different.”
They reached the medic’s door and Eldan knocked, unsure if he should just walk in or not. He heard shuffling and Usher Wen opened the door with a smile, which fell instantly when his eyes reached Eldan.
“River’s..” he shook his head, “did I not adequately explain how imperative it is that you prevent your stitches from tearing?” He sighed, “come in, come in,” he beckoned, waving Eldan through the door.
Eldan turned back to Stal and Amuel as he crossed the threshold. “Thank you. For everything.” He gave a small wave as the medic closed the door behind him.
Usher Wen sent him straight back to his bed with a set of the soft sleep clothes he had worn the night before, instructing him to remove his tunic so his upper body wounds could be addressed. Eldan sat on the bed, leaving the fresh clothes folded at the foot, while the medic assembled materials on his cart.
Once the medic had the bandages removed from Eldan’s abdomen and shoulder, and had thoroughly wiped them down with water and medicinal liquid, he sat back with a snort, his shoulders shaking as he put his head in his hands. Eldan stared at the medic, bewildered, realizing he was laughing.
Finally Usher Wen composed himself, looking back up. “If I could replicate your rate of healing in others I would be recorded as the greatest Keeper of medicine in the history of Servandor. I will, indeed, need to replace a few sutures, but I need to remove far more to prevent your skin healing around them.”
Eldan looked down at his stomach and then his shoulder and saw the medic was right, the wounds looked significantly different than they had that morning. Two of the large puncture wounds on his shoulder had opened up but all four had rings of new, pink skin around the edges, and the smaller punctures were now shiny, red scars. On his stomach he had several places where sutures had obviously ripped and his skin gapped open, but large sections of the claw-marks had settled into jagged, red lines of scar tissue. The open wounds looked somehow shallower than he remembered, bleeding like new wounds where they had ripped apart but simply not as deep. He blinked at the fresh scars, remembering the stinging heat he felt during the spar, and the energy that had coursed through his body.
Usher Wen made a sound that was part giggle and part sigh as he organized suturing materials on his tray. “The only logical conclusion is that your physiology is simply unique. Have you ever had a major injury before this one? A broken bone, perhaps?”
Eldan shook his head. “Just normal ones, Usher Wen, nothing like that.”
The medic nodded, “and did those minor injuries heal unusually quickly? Well, you might not know what is normal, but did they, say, heal within a day? Two?”
Eldan thought on this, even though he knew something inside him had fundamentally changed at the moment he took a breath underwater, or perhaps that breathing water was the trigger for a cascade of changes that had already begun. He hadn’t been able to take it all in, everything was happening so quickly, but it was becoming undeniable that something impossible was happening to him. He was overwhelmed, excited, afraid.. and so, so lonely. Despite Stal and Amuel’s consistent kindness and the sea of people surrounding him, he had no one he knew and trusted. His eyes drifted toward the drawn curtain around Cale’s bed, wishing he could talk to her, Usher Wen’s question reminding him of all the skinned knees, barked elbows and other minor hurts they had endured on their adventures together.
Eldan suddenly thought of the scrapes he had gotten in the tunnel on his way to Court, forgotten in the wake of his far more serious injuries, and held out his hands, looking at his unblemished knuckles and palms. He rubbed his cheek, finding no hint of the scrape that had been there, and he knew without looking that his knees would be healed, as well.
The medic cleared his throat pointedly, reminding Eldan he was waiting on an answer.
“I..think they have mostly healed normally but a few have been fast? Burns took the longest.” The last Eldan was sure about, as he remembered a few careless burns from the forge or stove that lingered painfully.
Usher Wen nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense. Burns are an entirely different sort of wound and we have tragically little success in treating those afflicted with serious burns even under expert care.” He picked up a bottle and began to pour a draught of the dark liquid Eldan had been given by the ship’s medics.
Eldan shook his head, “I don’t want the medicine, I have to go back for second bell.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
The medic sighed, setting down the bottle. He looked as though he was about to argue but ultimately gave up, motioning for Eldan to lie down. “This will hurt, and I will need you to remain absolutely still,” he said, raising an eyebrow. When Eldan had nodded his understanding Usher Wen picked up his suture hook. “Take a deep breath, and you might want to look away,” he said as he leaned in to begin the process.
Eldan sucked in a lungful of air, turning his head to the side and squeezing his eyes tightly shut. He couldn’t help flinching slightly at the touch of the medic’s cold fingers on his stomach, and again when the needle first pierced his skin. After the first couple of sutures he relaxed slightly, they were painful but quick and regular, and not as bad as he had feared. After a last tug of the thread, which felt extremely strange, Usher Wen snipped the suture and sat back, and Eldan let out his breath in a whooshing exhale.
“I am starting the next set momentarily. Apologies, I didn’t mean you have to hold your breath, just try not to take sudden ones while I’m working. Deep breath in, then out, then breathe normally.” The medic leaned back in as he said this, his cold hands touching back down on Eldan’s stomach.
The remainder of the sutures went quickly and fresh bandages were applied, then Eldan self-consciously worked off his borrowed pants while Usher Wen respectfully busied himself elsewhere. Finally Eldan had himself dressed in a fresh tunic with towels wrapped around his waist, ready for his leg wounds to be assessed. Unsurprisingly, the medic reported that he would need to replace a number of sutures and remove nearly double that amount from healing skin. Eldan craned his head around trying to see the wounds but couldn’t make out much while lying flat.
Finally he was cleaned up, sitting on the edge of the bed with new dressings secure around his leg and wearing the soft, flannel sleep pants with his boots. He wasn’t particularly happy about wearing the outfit back to the training room but he kept losing clothing. He was still chagrined about his only set of swimming clothes having been shredded and cut off, but if he was honest with himself the thought of returning to the river filled him with dread.
Usher Wen came back into the room with two hard rolls and a chunk of cheese wrapped in paper for Eldan to take with him, as the second bell was rapidly approaching. When these were handed off the medic reached into a pocket, and Eldan’s eyes lit up when he was handed one of the fragrant, wrinkled fruit.
“What are these, Usher Wen? I’ve never seen them before I came to Court.” Eldan held the fruit up to his nose, breathing in the scent.
Usher Wen smiled, “ah, these are heart fruit, they occasionally come in on the ships. I am particularly fond of them, as well.”
Eldan tucked the heart fruit into his pack, swinging it onto his good shoulder and lowering himself to the ground. “Would it be all right if I came back to sit with Cale after the assessment is finished?”
Usher Wen’s smile fell, “yes, you may, though I think it may be best that you sleep in your room tonight. We can discuss this more this evening.”
Eldan stared at Cale’s curtained bed, guilt washing over him as he prepared to leave again. The medic placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “She must wake on her own, there is nothing you can do for her right now. If she is anywhere near as stubborn as you, I suspect she would want you to go prove yourself in this test. That said, I am only allowing your attendance at the Ironkeeper’s request. Even as rapidly as your injuries are healing, I would be remiss if I did not say that my advice is that you stay here and rest. The decision is yours, but whether you stay or go, do it for your own needs and purposes.”
Eldan thought back on the conversation he had with Cale on the riverbank as they walked to Court, when she insisted that this was the time when he must bring himself to bear. Usher Wen was right, Cale would want him to go prove himself to the Ironkeeper, and if.. when she woke she would be disappointed in him if he had held himself back again. Resolved, Eldan set his jaw, silently promising Cale he would be back soon. He wanted to stride proudly from the room but instead limped, after a small bow of thanks toward the medic.
The second half of the assessment was frustrating but unremarkable after the events of the first half. Eldan was not sure how his performance was received by the Sergeants; he managed to complete all the exercises, but with considerably less speed and accuracy than the other students in his group. He struggled most with archery, his left arm wobbly under the weight of the drawn bow, making his arrows fly unpredictably or fall short. Mercad had positioned himself at the target directly to his side, and several times Eldan caught the boy staring at him after a weak, fumbled shot. Mercad himself took to the weapon quickly, soon consistently landing arrows close to the target’s center.
Eldan handled the crossbow a little more easily than the bow, though he still struggled with his weakened left arm, and thought he may have turned in at least an adequate performance with the spear. He had difficulty sinking into some of the deep lunges and extensions in the spear sequences, but the weapon had enough similarities to the stave that it felt natural in his hands. Unfortunately, he was being assessed among a group of stave adepts, so his performance failed to distinguish him from the pack.
Mercad was split from the group of stave users when they moved on to the sword, to be tested directly by the Ironkeeper herself, eliciting a small stab of jealousy in Eldan. He wasn’t sure why, since Stal and the mace wielding boy’s testing under the Weapons Master hadn’t bothered him, and he pushed down the unreasonable reaction. Sergeant Selan led the testing for the remainder of the group along with a Sergeant Linsky, a broad-shouldered man with dark hair and a rather rakish mustache. Eldan was given a small training sword to fit his small frame, though it wasn’t nearly as short as the short sword in his room. The reminder sent a pulse of cold anxiety through Eldan’s stomach, adding to the worry in the back of his mind about Glade, and he resolved to go to his room that night to check on the blade and, he hoped, the river cat. He had to shake himself to keep from spiraling into darker thoughts, his worries and grief at risk of compounding until he froze up completely.
Eldan’s stave training seemed to work against him in the sword test, and he could tell that even without his injuries he would be no natural talent. He struggled with the stunted reach of the much shorter weapon, and found the stances and sequences awkward and unintuitive. As he repeatedly cycled through the moves they had been taught, Sergeant Linsky came over to adjust his form again and again, moving an arm or kicking a foot into position, or sometimes grabbing him by the ribs or hips to shift his entire body. Sergeant Selan ignored Eldan completely, despite his trying to catch her eye several times. He knew this was not the time or place to apologize or attempt to explain why he fled her rescue in the river, but he had hoped that some kind of understanding might pass between them if she would just meet his eyes.
When the group broke into pairs for sparring practice Eldan fared even worse, reflexively flinching at strikes or meeting them in clumsy, ineffective parries. Once or twice he even threw out a hand to try to block a swipe, and was grateful he was sparring other inexperienced fighters using wooden swords. Despite being accustomed to the feeling of having weapons swinging toward him, he felt somehow defenseless with the one-handed weapon, and unused to such close-quarters sparring. He saw a few of the other sword spars devolve into grappling, and though the Sergeants had demonstrated how grappling might be properly used in sword fighting, the pairs were quickly pulled apart.
Eldan was exhausted to the point that every move required an effort of will, his shoulders and legs aching from exertion and his breathing becoming ragged. He could see the drooping shoulders and sluggish moves of the other students in his group and was relieved when the Sergeants announced that at the end of the next spar they should come up in pairs to get individual feedback and hand in their swords.
After his spar had ended and Eldan had bowed toward his partner, a mousy looking girl whose demeanor hid deceptive strength and speed, he cast around the room to see how the other students were performing while he awaited his turn with the Sergeants. The large group who had no prior weapons experience were unsurprisingly faring the worst, with most obviously flagging from the sheer physical strain of the exercises. He saw that several had dropped out entirely to collapse miserably against the walls, and a few had been given pails for vomit.
True to his word, Stal had performed all of the training exercises but refused to spar, and he now stood by himself performing stave sequences. The mace-wielding boy was in the midst of a spar, swinging his stave like a club toward a terrified boy who was not so much sparring as running away from the wild sweeps, clutching his stave to his chest. Captain Gelth stood nearby, watching the stave spars, and occasionally glancing at Stal with undisguised disgust. Amuel was working with the spear and appeared to have taken to it with great enthusiasm, and was now attacking a training dummy like it was a mortal enemy.
Mercad was still working with the Ironkeeper and he looked utterly spent, red-faced and panting, his tunic soaked with sweat. The Master was not sparring with him directly but had him running sequences back to back while she used her rod to jab and swipe at every point when he opened up his guard. She looked completely casual, simply walking around him at a leisurely pace, but her rod moved unerringly, seeming to flicker into existence at his throat or ribs or elsewhere on his body. To Eldan’s untrained eye Mercad looked skilled, his movements graceful and precise, but the hits came so frequently he wasn’t sure of that assessment.
Finally Eldan’s turn came to turn in his sword, and he dragged his aching body toward Sergeant Linsky. As he approached Sergeant Selan released the boy the had been speaking with and waved her arm, calling out, “I’ll take this one, Linsky, you get the next.”
Eldan stuttered to a stop, looking between the two officers in confusion and some dismay, wondering why Sergeant Selan wanted to speak to him now after ignoring him throughout the training. Sergeant Linsky looked surprised but shrugged and nodded his assent, waving up the next person in the group. Eldan shuffled over to the long-haired Sergeant, holding his training sword awkwardly as he came to a stop. He swung his eyes up to meet hers, determined to face the consequences of his actions in the river.
Sergeant Selan had her own eyes focused on her ledger, making notes, and she reached out to take his sword without looking up. He handed it over and she stalked away to place it back on the rack, looking around the room past him as she walked back. Finally she stood in front of him with her arms crossed and slowly lowered her eyes to meet his. For a moment they simply stared at each other and Eldan could read nothing in her expression or dark brown eyes. He was acutely aware of how far back he had to tilt his head to match her gaze, feeling even smaller than he usually did looking up at her regal features.
The Sergeant quirked one eyebrow, glancing down at her ledger, “I don’t think I have to tell you that your practice with the sword was weak. If I hadn’t seen you with the stave I would have said you had no fighting ability at all,” she said blandly.
Eldan fidgeted uncomfortably but made no reply. She met his eyes again, resuming, “however, since I did see that spar I am inclined to say that you struggled with the weapon transition and are likely simply unsuited for the sword. Your size limits the length of your blade and a short reach with a short sword will always be at a disadvantage.” Eldan winced slightly, though he could not say he hadn’t had similar concerns.
Sergeant Selan shrugged, looking over his head again, “but then again, you were sparring injured with an unfamiliar weapon so who knows, maybe you would come back and give a better showing in different circumstances. Unfortunately, we don’t have that kind of time in the circuit, so I am recommending you be dropped from sword training.”
Eldan’s heart sank and he opened his mouth to try to plead his case but the Sergeant held up a hand, cutting him off. “Linsky would have told you the same. Most people come in excited about the sword so we talk to them alone to try to let them down easier. For what it’s worth, most people won’t make the cut.” She smiled briefly at her own joke, baring a flash of bright white teeth. Eldan hung his head, knowing the Sergeants were right in their decision. Had his mother not tasked him with learning the sword he would have been disappointed to have failed the test but not unduly so, having lost nothing more than an idle childhood fantasy. Now, though, the promise he had made hung on him like a physical weight, but it was not the Sergeants’ burden to help him fulfill it.
Sergeant Selan leaned down slightly, speaking rapidly in a low voice, “you should know that only a few of us know what really happened out there on the river, or know enough, at least. There are stories on top of stories about it and none of them in your favor.” She paused, glancing up, “you need to watch your back, you’ve drawn attention no one would want, but a couple of us are looking out for you where we can.”
Eldan stared at her in confusion as she stood back up. “Wait!” he hissed, unwilling to let the opportunity pass, “I’m sorry I kicked you and that I didn’t listen,” he said in a jumble, “it was the wrong thing to do.”
The Sergeant glanced around, seemingly worried they had been talking too long, and clapped a hand on his shoulder to steer him past her, speaking nearly under her breath as she did so. “That girl would be dead if you hadn’t, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” With that she gave him a little shove toward the exit and called up the next student in the group.
Eldan stumbled toward the benches where he had left his pack, reeling from the Sergeant’s warning. He had worried that the younger officers might share the Captain’s view of his actions but having his fears realized sat in his stomach like a stone. He didn’t know what to make of Selan saying she was looking out for him, he had thought she would be one of the angriest after he fought off her rescue, and it made the disappointment of not achieving a place in her training group even worse.
As he picked up his pack the noise of the other groups being dismissed rose up behind him in chatter and tired groans, and Eldan rapidly made his way toward the door. He saw Stal waving at him from the far side of the training hall and gave a small wave of apology back, ducking into the hall before the boy could catch up. He broke into a limping run, tracing his way through the halls until he reached the door to the back staircase, leaning against it when he had it closed behind him to catch his breath. He took the stairs slowly, and dodged through the halls, ducking into smaller hallways a few times to avoid groups of students, until finally he reached the medical ward.