Orn opened his eyes, and as the blur before him came into focus, he found himself looking up into a pair of lovely, emerald green eyes. The beautiful face that surrounded them had broken into a dazzling smile. “Good morning, young master.”
Orn sat up, blinking, still a little disoriented, and a little shocked. “Um…I, ah good morning. Um, can I help you…with something?”
“No. Ah, I mean the lady Venna asked me to fetch you for breakfast, and well, you looked so peaceful. I wanted to watch you sleep a little. Please accept my apologies, young master.”
It was the servant girl from the last time he stayed at Jarl Sigtrin’s keep in Bosberg. She stood up from where she was sitting on the side of the bed, gesturing towards a neat pile of folded clothing on the foot of the bed. “I brought you some fresh clothes,” she said
“Ah, thank you… Um, what is your name?”
“Brigeetha, young master,” she cooed, as she flashed him a coquettish smile.
“I’m Orn. I’m not really nobility or anything, so I don’t know about this ‘young master’ business.”
“Oh, but you are an honoured guest of his lordship, young master.”
“Ah. I see. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Brigeetha. Um, do you, er, think that you could…maybe, give me some privacy?” As Orn said this, he blushed and flashed a short, meaningful glance toward the chamber pot.
Brigeetha looked at him perplexed, but then she followed his glance, giggled and blushed a little, then said, “Oh! Why yes, of course, forgive me, young master.” She then bowed and picked up her clothing basket and flashed him a smile as she exited the room.
Orn quickly checked the door and then used the chamber pot to relieve himself. His mind wandered as he stared out the window. He thought to himself, I wonder if I could make this pot float around when it’s full, and then shuddered as he dismissed that thought. Then his mind drifted to Brigeetha. He had an inkling of relations between men and women as he observed the interactions between his parents and other couples in the village. Not to mention the awkward, budding romance between his brother and Selti. He wondered why Brigeetha looked at him the way his mother looked at his father, because he was sure that she was older than him.
He believed he knew where babies came from. Especially after his father had had ‘the talk’ about being careful with girls. Orn’s father warned him that were he to share his bed, then he had best plan to be married because a child would likely be the result.
A sudden wave of sadness struck him as he placed the chamber pot on the floor under the table and washed his hands in the tub. He thought to himself ‘Soon, father. Soon’. He turned back around and got dressed.
When he entered the dining room, he hesitated for a moment. The table was much more crowded than the last time he was there. And with a much loftier calibre of guests as well. Although from the casual, relaxed air and conversations, it appeared like any common gathering of ordinary folk.
Gereld waved Orn over to a seat between himself and the tawny-eyed Duke Thayn, and said, “Good morning. How did you sleep?”
“I slept well, thank you,” Orn replied, and then upon remembering his awakening, started blushing.
As Gereld regarded him, his left eyebrow arched, and he looked as though he was about to ask a question, but then changed tacks. “I thought we would go down by the water, just a little out of town. I want to see you apply what we have practised on the other elements.”
Orn nodded, grateful that Gereld left his question unspoken. However, he was not so lucky as Thayn voiced Gereld’s thought. “So, how did you wake up?” he asked, a sly smile splitting his face as he looked at Orn. “I arrived just ahead of you, and you know, servants talk. And, well, all the pretty ones talk of you,” he said as he winked at him.
Orn shrunk within himself, wishing he could be anywhere else in the world at that moment. The tawny-eyed duke, seeing his discomfort, laughed and put an arm around his shoulder, “Worry not, nephew. I will teach you the ways of the world.”
A woman’s voice cut sharply across the din, saying, “You most certainly will not!”
It was Venna. Regardless of the difference in status, the rebuke made Thayn flinch like a scolded schoolboy as he met her eyes. Then he flashed Orn a look that he had seen on Erik’s face all too many times from their mother’s sharp tongue. A facial expression similar to the nervous smile one has after one has just escaped a near-death experience.
Venna glared at Thayn for a few more moments and returned to her conversation with Sigtrin.
If he had harboured any doubts about his mother being related to the royal family, that one reaction from Duke Thayn put them to rest.
Orn’s discomfort evaporated as Gereld, Thayn and he shared a laugh discussing his mother’s nigh-on supernatural ability to zero in on any wrongdoing or corrupting of her children, regardless of distractions. Erik chimed in regarding Venna’s uncanny ability to see a person’s eyes through the back of them if they were rolling them at her.
After they had finished their breakfast, Gereld and Orn went to the stables and selected two horses. Gereld had a satchel slung over his shoulder and passed one to Orn.
“What is this?” Orn asked.
“That, dear boy, is your lunch.”
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“Ah. Thanks.” Orn noticed Erik was also there with Venna. He turned to Erik and asked, “Are you coming with us?”
“No. I have to go somewhere else.”
“He is going to the village where he will formally ask for Selti’s hand. Better he do it now, for I feel it will be some time before he has another chance,” Venna chimed in.
“Huh. Well, safe journey Mother, Erik. Will we see you for dinner? Or will you return on the morrow?”
“We will be back sometime after dark, I think. Dinner for us will be on the road.” Said Venna. Erik was trying to mount his horse while hiding his blushing face.
“Well, I shall see you on the morrow, then,” Orn said to them with a smile. He moved around, purposefully trying to position himself where he could look Erik in the face.
“Orn, stop it.” Venna admonished while trying to hold back her smirk.
With that, he and Gereld mounted and rode through the town of Bosberg, out of the east gate, and then down to a cove that had a small beach. They tied their horses off to a tree with plenty of grass around it.
Gereld then said to Orn, “Go gather up some wood of various sizes, starting with twigs and then several small branches, about half as long as your arm.”
Orn nodded and did as asked. Once he had gathered a sizeable amount on the beach, Gereld built a small fire pile and lit it with his flint and tinder.
“Now that we have a pleasant fire, I want you to focus, much the same as when you were manipulating water. I want you to imagine the fire contained within a sphere, but still burning. Condense it so that the essence of the fire still burns, even though it is divorced from its source.”
Orn stared into the fire and put his thoughts towards what Gereld had instructed. As he did this, Gereld had summoned a cylinder made up of millions of droplets of water to surround them.
Orn’s first couple of attempts resulted in flames lifting away from the fire, and then flaring momentarily before stuttering out. His forehead had beads of sweat that ran down his face as he concentrated.
“Relax, focus and visualise what you want the fire to do, and then reach out to the flames with that thought in your mind.”
Then a large flame rose off of the fire and started spinning until it formed a fist-sized ball that looked like a miniature sun.
“Yes! That’s it.” Gereld encouraged, as he opened up the side of his water shield that faced the sea, and went on, “Now, pick a spot – a wave or a shadow, aim and then imagine the flame shooting into it.”
Orn did as he his master asked and the miniature sun shot toward a random whitecap, hissing as it disappeared into the wave. Breathing heavily, Orn wore a triumphant smile.
Gerald whooped and clapped him on the back, saying, “Well done, boy! Well done! Now, do it again.”
And so, for most of the day, Orn practiced while following Gereld’s directions. He continued practicing with fire, and then they started on air.
Air was different, as it was not practical to manipulate it into spheres. It was an element that involved dragging air from one place to another and creating a flow. By focusing on condensing the flow of air, it could push, pierce, and cut. It could lift or even be used to absorb the shock of a long fall.
As the sun began setting, they called it a day and headed back to the keep for dinner. Orn was exhausted, but alert. He had never imagined something that he used to fear could be something he could gain such control over.
The key thing he learned from Gereld was that to have mastery over elements, he needed to have mastery over himself. To control his emotions, and maintain focus, or he would risk losing control and the result would be much like when he collapsed.
ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ
Vylder was picking up snippets of the Nevan language. He had learned his opponent from his first match was called Mswali. Mostly they talked using gestures, learning that Mswali was from a land far to the south.
Now that Vylder showed his acceptance of his current circumstances, his cell door now remained unlocked for most of the day. There were times for meals and an area where pit fighters would sit together to eat, and they would spend at least half the day training. The trainers and guards treated them well, as they needed to be in peak health. But not from any altruism or kindness, it was a calculated tactic. Healthy fighters had better chances of victory and better chances of putting on a good show.
As Vylder and Mswali trained together, more and more, they gained a feel for each other’s fighting styles, and developed some drills that enabled them to coordinate better. The tactic they used to devastating effect was to use a two-man pugilist combination. Vylder was the left jab with his shield and mace, Mswali was the right cross.
Although their routine was quite regimented, there was some time to rest and recuperate. These times Vylder spent with his new companion, learning Nevan while he taught him Halder. Although he missed his family, Vylder found a few moments to smile, having found an unlikely friend in this strange circumstance.
This evening, the trainer came to tell them something. Vylder could not fully understand him. The trainer seemed to be indifferent to Vylder’s limited grasp of the Nevan tongue and barked the information at him before moving on. Mswali, using a combination of gestures and words, explained to him that the trainer had informed them they would travel to another city come morning, so they needed should prepare.
As he lay in bed thinking, Vylder wondered how many fights it will take until he could go free. He didn’t trust Flavius, because the man never gave him specifics. If he was to even think about escape, he needed to improve his Nevan. Flavius was right, damn him. Without being able to speak at least passing Nevan, his chances of surviving in the Nevan Empire after escaping were dire at best. For the time being, he would have to go along to get along.
ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ
The bedroom door latch slowly lifted, and there was a soft creak as the hinges made a small protest. The door opened just enough for the lithe, negligée clad, strawberry-blonde-haired figure to slip through. She had half her body through the opening when the noise of a woman’s throat clearing broke the silence.
Just as she was about to slip fully into the room, Brigeetha froze. Her green eyes, wide from trying to see in the dark, became wider still. She slowly turned her head to see a blonde woman regarding her with cold, slate-grey eyes. She moved back into the corridor and gently closed the door before bowing her head.
The woman’s gentle but firm grip tilted her face up. Brigeetha’s green eyes meekly avoided the woman’s slate-coloured eyes as they regarded her. The voice that spoke was soft, calm but firm, “What, pray tell, do you think you are doing?”
“I, um, well, I wanted to see if there was anything Master Orn needed, my lady.”
“Ah. Such dedication to your duty,” quipped Venna sarcastically, “I think, seeing as he is asleep, that perhaps we just leave him that way, shall we?”
She answered in a subdued tone, “Yes, milady.” The young girl curtsied, turned, and walked hurriedly away without looking back. Her lustrous strawberry-blonde hair flowed behind her, a testament to the rapidity of her gate. Venna coolly regarded the young girl as she rounded a corner. She allowed herself a small smile and chuckle as she gently shook her head, turned, and moved on to her own quarters.
Brigeetha poked her head back around the corner, a small smile playing about her lips as she watched Orn’s mother move on. She began to pulse and luminesce, becoming fluid. Then, as a glowing column of translucent silver liquid, flowed out of the nearest window and streaked out to sea.