Volume 2: Arc 1: Chapter 5

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Early chapter for a reason. I know I said blocs but my summer schedule is more hectic than I thought it would be. So, here is the deal. I'll get you chapters when I can. I'm not promising anything per week. At least, not until my schedule settles down. This may be sometime in August (hopefully). But, I will still get chapters to you so don't worry. They just won't be around a planned timeframe.

As always, please rate here http://www.royalroadl.com/fiction/1666

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October 17, 32 R.E

In the space of a heartbeat, a week passed in Vasat. Rajac felt he was ready. Not ready to win, but ready to have an honorable showing with an expert who was nearing the level 300 threshold.

Frankly, Rajac believed he could have defeated a moderately talented level 200 expert at this point; however, he knew an expert of Dalom’s skill and physical prowess was out of his depth.

If Rajac was like most experts, he would have already left. It was probable, likely even, that Rajac would be made a fool by Dalom; however, Rajac cared little. His reputation, even his name, meant nothing to him now.

What was a name when those who gave it meaning were already dead? A reminder. Nothing more. Pride, reputation, these meant little to a man who had lost more than he had gained.

It was true, he had saved his Race. But for what? At first, they had been mere insurance against the inevitable. Then, they had become something to protect. And what did they do? They hated and feared him while they loved a man…while they loved a man who betrayed them in the most intimate of ways.

His family, he still had not come to terms with them. While they wrote often, it was filled with pleasantries meant to appease rather than heartfelt words so often shared with loved ones. Nisa’s death continued to hang between them like an impassable mountain.

The few friends he had were hard gained but kept at arm’s length. Either due to his station or the void where his friendship with Temos once resided, Rajac was close to none. His most intimate of relations was with strangers whom he shared a beer with on his journey.

This life, this rebirth, it had drained him of who he had been before. He had loved, lost, and been betrayed. But, he had accepted his lot in this life.

To his people, he was a savior. Though, disdain, hate, and fear were all a part of the emotions encapsulated in the Ventros’ feelings towards Rajac. They would never accept him. He was only a hound to be sicced on their enemies when they appeared.

Just as Kankur was a reminder of Nisa to Rajac, Rajac was a reminder of the troubled times to the Ventros. More than a few were glad at his parting according to Yaka’s infrequent letters.

As Rajac walked, his mind weighed down by these mellow thoughts, he absently nodded to the two guards at Dalom’s gate.

And, just as before, he opened the oak-door to reveal the wooden, dimly lit expanse of Dalom’s manor. The fresh scent of cedar hung in the air as Rajac took solemn step towards Dalom who, by his loose-fitting robes of white silk and the intense way he sat while he faced the doorway, expected him.

Dalom was not the cheery man Rajac had met a weak previously. Scowl lines formed on intense, brooding face lined with age and marked by the scars of  his craft. Eyes of steel glinted, sharp, unyielding, in the flickering torchlight.

Rajac’s steps faltered and then slowed to a stop midway between the door and Dalom. He held a tight grip on his sword as he prepared for any eventuality.

As Dalom rose, the screech of his chair against the hard-wood of the floor echoed throughout the elliptical room. Rajac shivered at the sound. Everything from the atmosphere to the man himself was different.

“Boy,” Dalom said flatly as he held the back of his chair in a vice-like grip.

Rajac waited for him to continue as he stood awkwardly while Dalom scowled at him from behind his chair. Silence permeated the air like a shroud.

A loud crash ripped through that shroud quicker than lighting as Dalom threw his chair to the ground where it splintered into a thousand shards. Startled, Rajac blinked once before he stepped directly into the Cadence of Jin.

He was almost too late. Dalom, stood before Rajac, a snarl on his face, and his sword extended in a vicious strike. Rajac flicked his sword up as he backed away. The swords met in a shower of sparks and an explosion of force rocked Rajac back on his heels just as the concussive blow tore through the manor.

Everything in its path was torn asunder. The small table in the corner where Dalom once sat splintered at the impact. The beautifully carved oaken-door, gone. A gaping hole now remained where the door once stood.

And as for Rajac, he was thrown into the wall of the manor with such force that he blasted through the thickly encased wood and mortar. As he toppled out into the garden, he felt a sharp pain in his side. A gasp escaped his lips as he land roughly in a thick patch of carrots.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, clutched his side, and began to rise. Soft footfalls met his ears as he staggered to his feet and blinked, confused.

“From the moment I met you,” Dalom said in a sonorous voice, “I could tell what type of man you were. What type of fighter you were.”

Rajac spun as he looked for Dalom, his hand still clasped to his side.

“And what type of man is that?” Rajac snarled. A bit of his old anger had come back. If there was one thing he hated, it was being toyed with.

“You hold yourself aloof. Never getting involved in other’s business unless it benefits you. When you fight, you make sure you hold the upper hand; otherwise, you look for the quickest retreat possible. I commend and abhor you for those traits.”

Dalom’s voice seemed to pound in Rajac’s ears as he staggered from the pain. His vision swam in front of him and he blinked as his pain began to overwhelm him. At least three of his ribs appeared to be broken by the protuberances he felt under his hand.

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Yet, his mind was still clear enough to voice a fear that had begun to nag at him. Was he wrong about Dalom? Just like this expert had hidden his true power had he hidden his nature? Was he less honorable than Rajac thought?

As Rajac’s blood turned cold, Dalom spoke again.

“Those traits have made you strong and they have made you weak. You rely only on yourself and you defend with all your might. But your attack is flimsy, haphazard, much like your mind.”

Rajac staggered towards the grassland beyond the manor. If he could just leave quickly enough, he could live through this catastrophe.

He felt a hot air at the nape of his neck as he staggered toward the high-grasses between the cobbled streets of Vasat and the manor.

As he gripped his side even tighter, he turned into Martyr’s Fallacy and stabbed at the spot where Dalom stood. Rajac only struck air.

“Komth was right. You do toy with your opponents,” Rajac growled.

He flexed his soul until his eyes shone through with the light of it. Rajac scanned the surrounding countryside as he looked for the scheming expert. Nothing. Only broken walls, splintered remains of refinement, and freshly cut grass. Only the murmur of the morning markets made any sound and they were far in the distance.

A sharp bark of laughter cracked the air like a whip directly behind Rajac. Rajac spun and breathed out a grunt of pain as his innards squirmed in protest.

Dalom stood, a look of distaste on his wide, grizzled face, as he held his sword loosely at his side. Fury rose in Rajac then for the contempt Dalom clearly held for him. That alone might have been enough to send Rajac into a rage in the old days. He would have struck at Dalom wildly and lost his head for his trouble.

These days, it took more. A lot more. Yet, the situation was grim either way.

Rajac willed his Metal Auxiliary Magic into the familiar spikes and threw them at Dalom just as he lunged forward into Martyr’s Fallacy and lanced his sword with a streak of Fire Elemental Magic so bright it would have blinded anyone who stared at it for too long.

An explosion rocked the air followed by a second concussive blast that rent the ground in two. The smooth plain of grass rose three or four paces while the ground under Rajac shook with the pressure. He stumbled and fell to one knee, unable to stand any longer.

As he grit his teeth and closed his eyes, a soft coating of dust speckled his face and nose followed by a soft chorus of footfalls.

“I only teach, my boy. It’s just that no one likes to learn.”

Rajac opened his eyes and saw a hazy image. He lightly flexed his soul and the image came into sharp focus. As a smile played on Dalom’s face, his white robes drifted lazily in the wind, the dark shadows all but forgotten.

Rajac snorted. A depressed sorrow laced his words as he pressed a hand to the ground to support himself.

“You call this learning? All I experienced was something few could overcome. Something so monstrous, something so calamitous few would understand how to. I just did my best.”

“There. That is your problem,” Dalom said as he walked over and gripped Rajac’s shoulder.

“What? My understanding of my limits? I learned that lesson all too well.”

Rajac’s thoughts went towards Nisa and the mistakes he had made with Temos. If he had done things differently, would he be here now? Bruised and bleeding? Or, would he be home? Would he still have a place to call home?

Sorrow welled in him then and a quiet overcame the field torn asunder. Dalom stood, his hand on Rajac’s shoulder, while Rajac knelt. No words passed between them as their shallow breathing created a soft and soothing melody both listened to for a time.

Finally, Dalom spoke.

“Komth, he is different than you. In fact, many experts are like him,” Dalom began in a tone that spoke of experience.

“They live for themselves and only themselves. It is the nature of being an expert after all. Many live long after their loved ones have perished. They have few wants or needs as those are provided by the kingdom they serve. All they have is their pride. Komth has his. You, however, do not.”

Dalom breathed out deeply. Rajac looked up and saw the lines on Dalom’s face grow more pronounced.

“I suppose  I’m like you. I lack the pride that others have. Mistakes in my youth. Too many to count.”

Dalom sighed again.

“Komth’s problem was his arrogance. Your’s…your’s is more complicated. Pride is tricky to fix, much less obtain.”

Rajac lowered his head and said softly, “Pride impeded me in more ways than you could know. I could not see what was right in front of me. Multiple times this has led me astray and the last time, it cost me nearly everything. I have released the shackle that was pride. Now, I walk in the sun.”

Dalom raised an eyebrow as he looked at Rajac’s hooded form.

“I see,” he said dryly as he hefted Rajac’s arm over his shoulder.

“Come along then. Let’s talk about those walks you take in the bright sunlight.”

As Dalom half-dragged, half-led Rajac back towards the manor, Rajac felt tiredness begin to overwhelm him.

As Rajac closed his eyes, his final thoughts were of his sister and of Temos and the open wound than never closed.

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