It is a strange thing how, even though they ruled for such a long time and stand at the very basics of all our cultures, that the knowledge of their times seemed to have been wiped from memory. Not a single manuscript or book that mentions them uses their names. Maybe the fear of what they could do was enough that the mere mention of their names was shunned? Or perhaps they choose to have no names at all, disregarding everything that made them human…

Excerpt from Rise and Fall of the Seven by Maïz the Wise.

----------------------------------------

Just as Samos had expected, Yara turned out to be a natural at Enhancement. In no time she had perfected the most basic of exercises, enhancing every part of her body separately in quick succession without even breaking into a sweat. He could see the excitement in Serifé’s eyes as she glanced over to Yara occasionally, rarely did she get the chance to work with someone this gifted from the very beginning.

The gravel beneath his feet shifted as he turned on his heels, switching from the fourteenth into the fifteenth form. They had been taught twenty forms thus far, each of them designed for a specific opponent or weapon. Memorizing them came easier with each passing minute. The fifteenth was to be used against spearmen specifically, it required a lot of sideways movement from the body to dodge incoming strikes while also including quick forward dashes to close the distance.

He reached the end of the pathway just ahead of Eder and turned again, falling into the sixteenth form. As he switched directions, he noticed Serifé on the other end talking with Yara. Seems like she had decided to take over the training. Amused, he imagined her indignation if she would be rejected. To his surprise though, Yara jumped and grabbed one of the practice swords lying about.

So far with only wanting to be trained by me, he thought with a smile before concentrating back on his form, this time one that focused on an opponent with daggers.

More often than not, he found his mind drifting away as he went through these forms. From the second the first step or swing was made it required hardly any thought all, coming as natural as breathing. Yesterday’s revelations still lay fresh in his mind, emotions of all types running rampart through each other.

He actually had a family and friends that were waiting for him. A sister that had always looked up to him, a father that had expected him to follow in his footsteps as a thatcher, a mother who had loved him more than anything in the world… Samos doubted he would ever be able to get back to that kind of life. He would return, there was no question in his mind about that, but he wouldn’t be able to stay long. The past three years had been a time of pure freedom and adventure, of making discoveries and developing himself.

No. Before he could even think about returning there were other matters to deal with.

They once again reached the end of the pathway with the final step of the seventeenth form.

“Four more to go,” Serifé instructed as she turned away from Yara who was adjusting her grip on the sword she had picked up. “Four more and then you can rest.”

To her surprise and that of Samos, Eder halted his motions and faced Serifé. “We’ve been doing nothing but going through these forms again and again. I can dream them by now. When are we actually going to do some sparring, get some fighting practice in?”

“When I think you’re ready,” Serifé answered bluntly, locking eyes with Eder.

“I am ready,” Eder retorted in a similar tone, “Try me.”

Seems like his old habits were playing up again, Samos thought amused, secretly looking forward to Serifé himself as well.

A smile that seemed both grinning and mocking at the same time appeared on her face. “Alright then. Let’s see if you can back up those words.”

With a confident strut, she walked onto the pathway and turned to face Eder, she held up her empty hands in a defensive position. Samos had to try his best not to laugh at Eder’s shocked expression.

“What?” Serifé challenged. “Afraid of hurting an unarmed woman?”

Eder admonished himself and stepped into the sixteenth form, used against opponents who used daggers. Good choice, Samos reflected. Bare-handed combat was in many ways similar to fighting with daggers. He made the first swing, aimed at Serifé’s wrists. She casually stepped backwards and avoided the blow without changing position.

The strikes began to follow each other faster, but one by one Serifé dodged them with wide, fluid motions. Her stance was steady, only taking one step back at the time and never losing balance. Slowly, the two of them made their way along the pathway, Eder striking and Serifé stepping backwards and dodging.

When reached the end of the path, Serifé suddenly launched forwards into Eder’s defence and hit both of his wrists with one hand each. The sudden counter threw Eder off balance and his sword went flying into the gravel. Not losing time, Serifé adjusted her stance and kicked Eder in the stomach sending him flying backwards. Even before he touched the ground she had him already pinned down with a dagger to his throat.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

The last thing Samos expected was to hear Eder laughing.

“Well, at least now I’m sure I’m not wasting my time training under you,” he said jovially and with a grin, Serifé pulled him onto his feet.

“Good to hear that,” she responded. “Now start over from the first form.”

Eder sighed, but it showed his growth that he didn’t object. Without waiting for further instructions, and hoping he wouldn’t be part of Eder’s extra work, Samos fell into the seventeenth form and continued where he had left off.

When he finished the twentieth form some time later, Eder just starting on the fourth, Yara had just finished being taught the very first one. Her face was one of pure concentration and determination, hands firmly on the wooden hilt as she swung the sword in precise and fluid motions. Samos had to admit she was doing better than he had initially expected.

Not wanting to disturb her, he moved to the benches lignin the pathway and sat down to rest, trails of sweat trickling down his face. The sun had almost reached its zenith and yet, despite the hours of practice they had already put into the day, Samos felt only a little exhausted compared to the first day. Absently, he wondered if Serifé’s training was the only reason for this sudden increase in durability.

With a final grunt, Yara finished her form as well and moved to join Samos. His belly made a jump as she sat down, turned and put her head on his lap staring up at him.

“I would never have taught this training would be this satisfying,” she said whilst breathing heavily. “I feel like I can let everything out and not worry about anything.”

Samos nodded as he moved his fingers through her hair. “I know what you mean. I like to think it’s some sort of meditation to clear the mind and kind of… reset everything.”

“Eder, what are you doing?” Serifé’s voice called out sharp suddenly.

Both Samos and Yara moved to look at Eder. He stood still as a statue in the midst of one of the forms, his bulging eyes staring at the two of them.

“When…” he whispered incredulously.

Yara gave a deep sigh and muttered something that resembled boys before laying back down. Samos only shrugged and grinned at Eder who shook his head in disbelief and continued the form. He couldn’t really blame Eder, he himself had a hard time believing his situation. Sure, they had always been close since the day of Testing in Ters, but given their circumstances he had never thought it possible for there to be something between them.

But here we are, he thought satisfied as her black hair ran across his fingers.

“I could get used to this,” Yara said softly, eyes closed.

“Not if it were up to me,” Serifé suddenly spoke from behind them, startling them both. He had not sensed her coming closer. “Before midday I want to see you do first form without thinking, Yara. As long as the sun is up, either me or Ehli decide how you spent your time. And it won’t be dilly-dallying mind you.”

With an over-exaggerated sigh, Yara sat back upright, gave Samos a quick kiss on the cheek and moved to pick up her practice sword again. As she walked away, he noticed Serifé giving him a stare that he interpreted as something along the lines of no distractions.

“Enhancement practice is done for the day, Samos,” she said eventually. “The rest of the day will be spent on Absorption.” She hesitated for a brief moment. “And Ehli wants to have you training seals with her in the evening, so keep that into account.” She didn’t seem too pleased at the prospect of him having less time to train under her.

A tingle

It took Samos a moment to register what he had just felt, but it had definitely been there. In ways it was similar to the tingle he had felt many a times before, but this time there was something different about it. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that Yara had stopped practicing her forms as well and was rubbing the back of her neck.

Had she felt it too?

With a quick glance at Eder and Serifé, he noticed neither of them seemed to have felt it. Knowing what it could mean he stood up quickly and reached for his sword.

“Samos, what’s wrong?” Serifé asked confused, her eyes darting around to look for any danger she might have missed.

“I’m not sure…” he answered, “but something is happening.”

The tingle came again, stronger this time. It pulled on him, wanted him to follow.

“Samos?” Yara asked as she approached. “Are you feeling it as well?”

“Feeling what?” Serifé asked, the tension in her voice growing.

Samos nodded. “Take your sword, Serifé, and follow me,” he commanded without thinking. He was about to apologize for his tone when she nodded sharply and went to take her sword from its stand.

“Lead,” she said simply. “Eder, follow us! Question are for later!”

It showed of his character when he made along with them, not a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

The tingle pulled on Samos. To the north, well away from the Conclave. They ran down the spiral staircase in the centre of the building and through the entry hall, ignoring questions from surprised bystanders. They charged into the streets and turned straight north.

“I don’t know what awaits will be good or bad,” Samos said in between paces, “but be prepared either way. It’s something or someone powerful.”

The closer they came, the stronger the tingle grew and before long, they found themselves at the arrival platform of the northernmost elivet that lead to the ground below the city. The chains were rattling, the gears turning and the cage came into view as it rose above the platform.

In it stood a single man.

He seemed to be about Samos’ age. His black hair was short-cut, a full beard masking the majority of his gentle-eyed face. He carried no visible weapons and was dressed in simple traditional Nakin garbs. His pale skin though marked him as clearly not one of the tribes.

“Seems like I finally found it,” he spoke softly in an accent Samos did not recognize. The tingle had died out the moment he had made eye-contact with the man.

“Who are you?” Serifé insisted. “How did you find the city?”

The man smiled. “I am called Asmund, I’ve come a long way from Eiriksfell to find this place. It has been calling to me for some time now.” He fixed his gaze on Samos and Yara. “And it would seem I4m not the only one.”

“Again,” Serifé said, a touch of… anxiety in her voice. “How did you find the city?”

“How could I not?” Asmund asked, his smile never fading. “This place is like a beacon to people like me.”

“People like you?”

He nodded and again looked at both Samos and Yara. “People like us, I should say. We who have four Talents.”