Roland wiped the sweat off his brow as he circled Riva. He paid close attention to her footing, watching for any sign of an attack. His own feet moved synchronously with hers, each step equal but opposite, keeping them directly opposed. She grinned as they completed another orbit around their invisible centre. Her stance was poor, and her sword held far too low to be effective. Roland didn’t dare stray from his path.

“Your patience has grown a lot,” Riva commented, stretching her back as she paced. Roland nodded but didn’t speak. His sword remained extended in front of him, his grip firm and his wrists loose. “Do you suppose today is finally the day?” Again, Roland didn’t answer. “Come now, Roland, you should not ignore a lady when she addresses you.”

Nary a sound crossed his lips, but they did twist into the slightest smirk. Riva’s pacing slowed slightly, and Roland instinctively raised the top of his wooden blade. He was ready for her. In the blink of an eye, Riva’s stance solidified, and she crossed the gap between them. Roland stopped dead, lowered his core, and shifted his off foot back.

She swung low, aiming for his legs, but he deftly brought his blade down. A loud thwack sounded out as he pinned her blade to the ground. He let his whole body follow the motion, ducking low as the dagger swung where his face had just been. Riva always rushed with multiple quick and precise attacks. With both her arms expended, a kick would be next to take advantage of his lowered stance. He wouldn’t give her the opportunity.

Releasing the tension built in his legs, he lunged forward, throwing his shoulder directly into Riva’s chest. She staggered backwards. Her balance was incredible. She would recover before most were able to take advantage, so he did not hesitate. Roland swung his blade up, the blunt wood scraping against Riva’s neck, toppling her back. She fell to the earth, Roland standing over her pinning her chest with his sword.

“I suppose today is indeed the day,” he said.

“You can let go of your serious demeanour,” Riva said, smiling. “We both know you want to gloat.”

“I would not dream of it,” Roland said, storing the blade at his waist and extending a hand to Riva. She accepted it, pulling herself back to Roland’s eyeline. “Once is a fluke of fortune. I will gloat when I can best you consistently.”

“You should celebrate your victories,” Riva said. She looked around. A dusty circle in an otherwise green field marked their training ground. The lack of life was not caused by some natural occurrence, but instead by the relentless repeated footsteps of a determined young man. Splinters of makeshift targets were scattered about. Riva looked to the ground. The same ground Roland had become so intimately acquainted with by her hands. Now she finally knew it was comfort too. “You’ve grown a lot.”

“It is all thanks to you,” Roland said, bowing. “I would never have come this far were it not for your guidance.” Riva shook her head. She knew that, even now, they had barely scratched the surface of what Roland would one day be capable of. Unfortunately, today marked a point she had been dreading since their training started.

“Could I join you and your father for dinner this evening?” she asked.

“Of course, you are always welcome. Father would be more than happy to have you,” Roland said, straightening his stance. He looked into the sky. “Dusk is approaching. I need to go to the market before I go home.”

“We can finish here for today,” Riva said, taking Roland’s wooden sword and storing it in a chest she’d placed nearby. From the chest, she also picked up her steel blade and put it back on her waist. “Would you like some company on your way?”

“Of course,” Roland said. The two fell in step next to each other and began the walk into town. A silence rested between them, but it grew progressively more tense. They traded a glance, but neither could place where their discomfort was coming from. They looked around, but nothing was apparent. The fields and trees looked as calm as ever. In the distance, the bustling of the town grew progressively louder. They tried to shrug off the feeling, but it seemed to follow them into town.

Derelict shacks became sturdy homes as they made their way to the town centre, where vendors were eagerly trying to sell the last of their goods for the day. A loose crowd lazily drifted through the square. Roland deftly found a path between them, even with his large frame. Riva followed closely behind.

“Roland! Good to see you, dear boy!” the baker called out as Roland emerged from the crowd. “You are growing bigger by the day!”

“All thanks to my training,” Roland said, gesturing towards Riva. She waved at the baker, and he cheerily waved back.

“No need to be so modest, you have worked very hard,” the baker said. He quickly wrapped up a loaf of bread and three tartlets.

“Only the loaf, please,” Roland said.

“A growing lad needs to eat,” the baker retorted. “The tartlets are a gift for the country’s next greatest warrior. Remember me when you are guarding the King himself.”

“I could never forget your kindness,” Roland said, pulling a few coins from his pocket and handing them to the baker. He took the wrapped parcel and waved goodbye, walking back into the crowd. He stopped by the butcher and a few farmer’s stalls, spending more deira than he meant to. He would need to work hard to make it up to his Father, but he would understand. They had a guest coming, it was their duty to provide a proper meal.

On the way back home from town the tense feeling remained. A scream from a darkened alley put them both into a defensive stance. They tried peering into the alley, but the light fell away unnaturally quickly. Roland walked directly into the darkness, and Riva followed, rolling her eyes slightly. She extended her hands, trying to dispel the darkness. She could feel its presence, but whoever created it had more power than she.

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“Who the hell are you?” A voice in the darkness rang.

“Stow your spell and I will show you,” Roland said, his eyes roaming the darkness.

“I suppose I could do that…” the voice said. Roland heard rapid footsteps move past him on his left, then a thud followed almost immediately by Riva wheezing as the air was driven out of her. She fell to the ground. “Or I could kill you both right here.” Roland kept his breathing level.

“You coward,” he said, closing his eyes and lowering his stance. “You fight like a worm.”

“You should learn to keep your tongue in check,” the voice said. Again Roland heard rapid footsteps, closing in on him fast. He braced himself, tightening all of his muscles. A blow connected with his stomach, shifting his entire body backwards. Pain radiated through him, but he ignored it. He swung his arms down, grabbing hold of what was in front of him. He opened his eyes. In his left hand was the hilt of a short club. In his right, the wrist of the man who’d struck him. He let go of the weapon and yanked the man closer, grabbing hold of his arm with his other hand.

“Dispell your magic,” Roland said, squeezing his arm tightly. The darkness quickly dispelled. A squat man with greasy hair and a well-worn suit stood before Roland. On the ground was Riva, slowly recovering from the hit. Behind them, cowering against the wall, was a woman clutching her purse. “Ma’am, would you please go fetch the guards, and someone from the church to heal my companion?” The woman’s eyes were still wide, and she did not react. Roland took the man’s arm and twisted it behind him, pinning him to the wall. “He is no longer a threat to you. Please, go fetch a guard so that he can face proper justice.”

The woman seemed to shake off some of the shock, nodding and sprinting away. A few minutes later, minutes filled with the man pleading and threatening, the woman returned with two guards and a sister from the church. The sister tended to Riva while the guards listened to Roland’s story. By the time the man was arrested and Riva was back on her feet the stars were out. Gerald greeted them with great relief when they finally arrived home. After being scolded for being late, Roland helped him prepare dinner, and the three ate. As was tradition by now Roland spoke at length about the day’s training and all he had learned.

“I was certain it was a trap,” he said. “But my instincts were true, and I pinned Riva to the ground.”

“That is very impressive, my son,” Gerald said. “You have grown so much.”

“I owe it all to my excellent training,” Roland said, nodding to Riva.

“Please, take some credit for yourself,” she insisted. “You worked incredibly hard to reach this point, and now that you are here…” She took a breath. “It will not benefit you to train under me anymore.” The table froze in stunned silence.

“What are you saying? I still have so much to learn!” Roland protested.

“Certainly, you have barely started your journey,” Riva agreed. “But I am merely a guardswoman and an ageing one at that. You have so much potential, Roland. You are destined for more than I or this city can offer you.” Roland’s eyes stayed wide. He tried to look to his father for any support, but he only found a sombre expression on his face.

“I knew this was coming,” Gerald said. “Riva and I discussed it the day she asked to train you.”

“I do not understand,” Roland said as he stood, his voice raising along with his body. “I don’t care about destiny. This is my home. I am happy here.”

“Roland, please listen,” Riva demanded, her voice calm but firm. Roland instinctually obeyed the instruction, sitting back down. The fire in his eyes never dimmed. “I have seen a great many things in my life. I have been all over the country and met warriors and sorcerers who could destroy cities, but I have never met someone who could equal you.”

“That can not be true,” Roland said. “My kiln barely burns at all, how could I possibly be counted among the best you have seen?”

“You are not dimwitted, Roland,” Riva answered. “You have known that you are exceptional since the day we met. You have strength and resilience others would not dare dream of, and you will only grow stronger. I want to see how far your potential can take you, but I know I can not be the one to help you there. I have given you all I could.”

“So what do you want me to do?” Roland asked.

“I want you to go to the capital,” Riva said. “I will write you a letter of recommendation. That will be enough to earn you a demonstration with one of the court’s instructors. Once they see your strength they will fall over one another to claim you as their student.”

“And what of you, Father?” Roland asked, turning to face Gerald.

“I would like to keep you here, in my home,” he said, a glimmer in his eyes. “What father would not want his child close by? But I can not stand between you and a great adventure. If this is what you choose, I will support you.” Roland’s gaze shifted between the two people who had shaped him into the person he had become.

“I owe both of you a debt I can never repay,” Roland said, levelling his tone. “Riva, you gave me confidence and pride in who I was. I can not put into words how much that means to me. But I can not do what you are asking of me. This is my home. You are my family. I do not want to leave here.”

“I understand,” Riva said. “If that is what you wish, then I will respect that. I will recommend you to the head guard, so you can work alongside me and help support your father.”

“Thank you, Riva,” Roland said. He breathed deep, expecting the weight that had followed him since training ended to lift. Surely he had only been sensing Riva’s trepidation. The weight remained. The food tasted stale as the hairs on his neck refused to relax.

“What else is bothering you two?” Gerald asked. Roland’s neck cracked slightly as he whipped his head around to his father. “I could tell since you arrived that something was weighing on you. I thought you would relax after our discussion, but I see both of you are still tense.”

“I am not sure,” Riva said. “I feel like…”

“Like we are being watched,” Roland said. “Not just us. I felt it throughout town. Something is amiss.” He stood. “Thank you for the meal, Father, but we can not stay.”

“I agree,” Riva said, following suit. “We should go investigate.”

They greeted Gerald, who cautioned them to be careful, before running back into town. Neither knew why they were running, but they were certain they had to. A few minutes later they were in the city center. Shadows danced in glimmering lanternlight, only barely brighter than the glow of the moon. Roland scanned the environment frantically, mentally listing off everything he saw.

Empty stalls with signs reserving them for the next day’s trade. The board filled with posters from all over the country. Muffled boisterous noise from the tavern. Windows occasionally dimmed as people moved around within the buildings. Animals… did not make a sound.

“Riva, the crickets,” Roland whispered.

“What about the crickets?” Riva asked, matching his tone.

“They are silent,” Roland said. “We are in midsummer, they should be singing.”

“Something is out there,” Riva said, catching up to Roland’s logic. “And it has been for a while.” In the distance, at the far side of the city, a cry echoed out. Not a cry of distress or pain, but something much deeper and more foreboding. A cry of war.