Stroke after stroke, a pair of sharpened bone blades cut into the not-so-tender flesh of a training dummy. Natalie’s blades glowed white with stamina-consuming rage, but it sapped her so quickly that she could only release the one flurry. From a more comfortable position in the shade, her two mentors discussed her progress.
“You say she only been training witchoo for two weeks?”
Tyr nodded. “She’s got potential, no?”
“Hmph.” Prox was never one to admit to anything. He was well-built, even by hunter standards, with Rathalos-red hair and a real knack for dual blades. More than once, he’d been in deep dung for refusing to give an alibi to Guild investigators. Even if Natalie had already managed to achieve the full red of demonization, Tyr doubted Prox would’ve grunted any louder. “So why call me in?”
“I can’t keep teaching her. She chose me before choosing her weapon style and I don’t know anything about Duals besides what you’ve told me. I hate to disappoint her, but I don’t really have any other options at this point.”
“This ain’t got nothing to do with that Dancer girl?”
“It’s the Guild.”
If Prox were anyone else, he might’ve cringed. “That bad, eh?”
“It’s worse.” Tyr got up just as Natalie was finishing another of her still-strained attack combinations. “Natalie, come over here for a minute. I’m afraid that I’ve taught you all that I know about the art of dual blades. That’s why I’ve asked Prox to take over as your tutor.”
Her face contorted with disbelief that soon changed to anger. “You promised!”
“No, I didn’t.” Tyr’s voice was hard enough to snap that anger for a moment. “I agreed to train you, and I have done all that I can. I’m sorry, Natalie, but if you want someone to help you become a better dual blade hunter then you’ll have to train with Prox.”
The tears forming in her eyes threatened to fall at any moment, but Natalie wouldn’t cry in front of her master. She ran past the incoming Sarah, and Tyr could only sigh. “Why did Natalie run away so quickly?” Sarah asked. “Is she off on another training exercise?”
“Not this time,” Tyr had to admit. “I had to turn over her training to Prox.”
“Whatever for? I’d thought that everything was going so well.”
“Tyr insisted I do it. For personal reasons,” Prox interjected. “He can’t teach her no more in the art of dual blades, which I happen to specialize in. Speakin’ o’ which, I got to get to plannin’ how to teach her now.” Prox wasted no time in departing, not even for a goodbye, which left Tyr and Sarah with a silence neither wanted to address.
“How have you been getting along in the village?”
“It’s been lovely. Everyone here is so kind and helpful, even though none of them know of my past. I notice that you’ve been rather busy as of late.”
“The Vharalyn have been unusually aggressive in the past few weeks. No one’s quite sure why, and Elik is getting even less sleep than I am with all of the repairs he’s had to do.”
“I heard. Has the Guild found out anything?”
“If they had, I’m certain the news would’ve reached me by now.”
There was a lot that each felt they couldn’t say. He didn’t add anything about his suspicions of there being secrets; the Guild always had its secrets. She didn’t mention the rumors that he was being investigated, assuming he already knew. Neither would mention how their eyes never met once, because neither wanted to admit to it.
“So, why come here today?”
Sarah brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I just wanted to see you again before I left. It’s been a long time, and you were so kind to me when I first arrived.”
“I’m glad you remember me.”
“I can’t seem to forget you,” she admitted unintentionally. So, quickly, she added, “I’ve been practicing that dance you showed me on my first day. Would you like to see?” Tyr gave her a smile; it was just something small, but it made Sarah feel warm. She curtsied, offering him the same hand he’d once given her. “Would you like to join me?”
“I wish that I could. But the other day I went up against a Lyolyn who really didn’t like me.” Sarah gasped as Tyr showed her the bloody bandages along his right side. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
Forcing herself to trust his words over her imaginations, Sarah stepped slowly into Nifila’s most-difficult local dance. All of her practice showed, but she couldn’t help but feel like she’d never get the hang of the dance, especially not when she was focusing so much on what Tyr thought. “You’ve definitely gotten better,” Tyr said as she finished, “but you’re still a little bit slow. Nevvy certainly talks faster than that.”
Because she was trying to calm her breathing, Sarah didn’t respond right away. She took the seat which Prox had vacated, doing her best to not sit too close. “I’ve also found someone to help teach me how to hunt, since you were occupied.”
“Really? And who have you granted that pleasure to?”
“Black Arrow. She’s one of the Naru…” Sarah stopped when she saw Tyr shake his head. “Is there something wrong with that?”
“Kim and Leona and I have never been on the best of terms. They’re good hunters though, and Kim’s very good at what she does.” He paused, considering his next words carefully. “I suppose this means that you’ve taken up the bow?”
“It does, yes. I was told it suits my body type best.”
“Tch.” Tyr gave Sarah a hard look. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you what suits you. A hunter is meant for whatever weapon calls to her. Not what someone says she’s meant for.”
“And how does one know when a weapon is calling them?”
“You just have to feel it. You try them all until one fits better than the rest. It’s how I came to longswords, and how Natalie learned she wanted to use dual blades.” With a sigh, Tyr rested himself back against the wall of his house. “It’s something so many try to overcome with harsh training; it even works, a little. People have a calling, though, a weapon and a style that they’re meant for.”
“I’d never heard of that before. Do many hunters believe this?”
“I guess not,” he sighed. “Care to show me what you’ve learned?”
Sarah might’ve died from embarrassment had she had to say yes. Luckily, she had a perfectly good excuse. “I’m afraid I don’t have a bow of my own to show you with. The one I use is one of Black Arrow’s.”
“Would you like one of your own?”
The Smith, Elik, was more than happy to oblige Tyr, even if it was a bit of an odd request. “You’ve brought me more than enough materials over the years to help with projects around town. I’ll even do this one for free if you’d like.”
“Just like last time, I won’t let you do that to yourself. Take the zenny, and get me the materials this one time,” Tyr said, handing over what must have been thousands.
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“As you wish. Have Good Dancer here come around back so I can figure out her pull.” Inside the smithy, Sarah sighed happily.
“This heat, it’s quite incredible.”
“Don’t mind that, just the forge. So, this some sort of engagement gift I take it?”
Even after a dozen comments over the past weeks, Sarah still turned red at the thought. “No. Tyr is just a friend.” And, just as quickly, she felt herself turn blue.
“Ahh, is it a special occasion then?” The smith handed her a plain black bow. “Pull.”
“I suppose so. I’ve recently started my training.”
“I’ll never understand that Tyr. He must’ve personally met every beautiful woman that’s ever been to this town for more than an hour, and yet not a one of them has ever been more than friend to him. If it weren’t for his own say-so I’d think he didn’t even like them.” As Elik spoke he was marking down numbers and gently adjusting her positioning.
“Oh.” She didn’t know what else she could say. Just thinking about Tyr with another woman upset her. It was silly to think she’d been the only woman he’d ever talked to. It was sillier to think that she could’ve been anything to him anyways. She had to go back home and face reality, after all. Still, knowing he’d never been with anyone else was enough to even out her mood. “May I ask a question?”
“Hmm?”
“Why… would everyone assume we’re lovers if Tyr has never had one?”
The Smith laughed. “Desperate hope, I suppose. Everyone worries for him. Hunting like he does is lonely enough, so it’s hard to know he goes home alone too.”
“You all really care that much about his happiness?” Sarah didn’t mean for it to sound like an accusation, but before she could correct herself Elik gave her a slow nod and a sad smile.
“We do.” He took the bow back from her carefully. “And that should be it. I’ll have it done in two hours, maybe three. It’ll depend on the detail work.”
“Then I shall be back for it then. Thank you, Master Smith.”
Tyr was talking to someone when she exited the forge. It was Natalie’s mother. She was hysterical.
“Calm down,
. Just tell me which way she went.”
Sobbing, the woman spoke in such choked breaths that Sarah could only make out the last few syllables. As Tyr took off at a sprint, surely tearing his stitching, Sarah shivered. It was clear what Fretta had said: Natalie had gone to the Vharalyn’s den.
Tyr ran through the fields without a scrap of armor. He didn’t feel the blood trickling down his leg, or hear the gasps of his own labored breathing. All he could think of was getting to Natalie before Natalie got to the Vharalyn. It was his fault she was out here, that she’d run off when a herder had gone out to check on the Aptonoth, and he had to make sure that it was his fault she came back.
If there was anyone to see him, they might’ve said he looked insane. His Azure Cleaver drawn already, glowing red with his soul’s anger, and wearing nothing but his now blood-stained street clothes. If the Vharalyn could understand human desperation, the two scouts might’ve even let him pass. Unfortunately for them, they chose to attack at the scent of blood, and neither made it to the ground alive.
Up ahead, in a clearing he’d scouted a few days ago, the Vharalyn would be lounging in the noon-day sun. They’d have made a kill by now, dragged it back to the Lyolyn and their cubs. There would be blood, but he couldn’t let it distract him. If there was any chance of Natalie surviving, Tyr couldn’t let anything break his concentration.
As his foot fell through the last of the tall grass, he pivoted and brought his sword arcing through the air. Nothing connected, because nothing had attacked him. It was different, yes, but he didn’t have the time to consider why. He focused, took in the clearing. Where he should’ve seen two dozen Vharalyn he saw a bloody Naruka carcass, a silver Rathalos, a limping Lyolyn, and half a dozen dead Vharalyn. He’d been blind to not see it from a mile away, and to not hear it he may as well have been dead.
It was impossible to see if Natalie was there or not. There was too much carnage to pick out a tiny human shape, assuming she wasn’t one of the casualties. Tyr couldn’t calm down, wouldn’t give up even if it meant diving into the middle of everything. He ran around the fight, searching for any signs of her. Surely she’d seen this and gone home. She was smart enough not to get near something this disastrous. Wasn’t she?
He tripped over something in the grass as he circled the battle. It was another Vharalyn body. But it wasn’t bloody like the others. The flesh of the body was so charred that Tyr couldn’t even feel the fur. When he got up though, he knew why there was no fur. Everything living had been melted away, leaving only blackened bones exposed. It wasn’t a Vharalyn though, it was too small.
It was Natalie.
The shock tore through him like a piercing pod. He tried to deny it, tried to reason that it was only a cub or half of Vharalyn, but there were no fangs. The eyes sockets were too small, and even if it was a cub the face was too flat. No snout. He wished that it was someone else, but what other child would’ve been out here? Tyr dropped to his knees and ran a hand along the skull. No hair, no eyes, nothing to separate her from any other corpse except the memories. His chakra ran freely down and around his blade, a dark, blood red.
This Los would pay.
With a furious roar, he charged. Vharalyn crowded his path, but they were mere stepping stones. He bounced off one, then another just above a swipe of the Los’s tail, and then he was atop it. The silver wyvern bucked, and Tyr flew into the air. Still airborne, he flipped himself over and pointed his blade earthwards. As he fell and his katana connected, Tyr could feel his sword snapping against the Los’s hide and his rage being shoved back through his arms into his heart. It was worse than a being bulldozed by a Gravios. In a moment, the Rathalos threw him back into the grass with only a hilt left to hold onto.
~~~
Tyr awoke in the infirmary with an old friend and a new one sitting beside him. Nevvy was disquietingly silent. “Don’t tell me I’ve gone deaf,” he said. His voice was hoarser than he’d expected, and he felt strange.
“Oh, thank the Ancient ones that you’re alright. We were so worried that you’d died out there. Not that we thought you would ever die without saying goodbye first, but you were just gone for so long and… We heard that a Silver Rathalos had actually attacked the Vharalyn. Is that true? If so, it’s incredible that you survived at all. I mean, to think that a silver Rathalos would come here of all places. They’re incredibly rare, aren’t they? Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t know. You’ve been here your whole life so how could you possibly know how rare things are outside the walls? Still, I do believe that they’re quite rare and so it might explain the abnormal Vharalyn behavior. Still, I do wonder how we missed…” Nevvy continued talking about anything and everything that had happened over the past few days.
After a band of hunters had rescued him from the carnage, Tyr had been in a deep sleep which nothing had roused him from. Natalie was buried, and all of Nifila mourned the loss. A call was sent out to hunters from distant lands for help slaying the Silver Rathalos. None had answered yet, but they expected someone to arrive any day. Sarah had spent her time in the medical house with him the entire time, and had apparently looked so concerned that the Chief feared she would pass out too. Sarah flushed, but couldn’t deny a word.
“And,” Nevvy finally paused, but it wasn’t her usual pause. There was a difficulty in it that Tyr didn’t recognize from any conversation with her. “Oh, I just can’t tell you. Sarah, dear one, could you tell him for me I just can’t. I can’t do it. I couldn’t even if that Silver Los was here right now.”
Tyr should’ve laughed. Something Nevvy couldn’t talk about had to worth hearing. But he didn’t laugh, he didn’t even feel slightly amused, or even worried. He blamed it on being tired.
“You’re,” Sarah bit her lip and looked away from him, “Being sent away. The Guild won’t allow you to stay here and do any more damage than you’ve done.”
“Ha,” he said, eyes closing again. There was still nothing, no emotion at all. He didn’t even think it was funny, didn’t really know what would be funny. “That figures.”
“You’re not concerned about this, Tyr? I thought for certain that you’d be upset,” Nevyra said.
“Really? Oh, right. I guess I should be.”
Sarah and Nevyra exchanged a look of worry more intense than all the looks they’d seen each other wear while Tyr had been asleep. “Tyr, Good Dancer and I will be just outside if you need anything. But we’ll be within earshot, so you shouldn’t be afraid to call on us. We’ll hear you. I promise.” They stepped out quietly, Sarah watching Tyr for even the slightest movement. He made none.
“I’m afraid he’ll be like this for a while,” Nevyra said. “A long while. When he was found, I’m sure you noticed the broken hilt in his hand, yes?” Sarah didn’t like it when Nevyra spoke like other people. It was too quiet for her.
“I did. What does that have to do with his condition?”
“I’m not certain how much you know about hunting, or of weapons which can channel our chakra through them, but the longsword is one of the most common, and we have to assume Tyr was pushing an immense amount of himself through his sword when it shattered.”
“So, what are you saying? That his chakra broke with his sword?” Sarah was astonished. “Is such a thing even possible?”
“No, it’s not possible.” Nevvy sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than Sarah. “As far as we can tell it’s just extremely weak from the backlash. He’ll be weak, and extremely susceptible to any kind of infection, and more prone to damage, and even most common substances like potions will have a decreased effect, and no one really knows what else. No one’s seen anything like this before.” Nevvy breathed deeply. “I’m telling you all of this because I’m sending him with you, and it will be your responsibility to keep him healthy until his chakra recovers. And I won’t accept any excuses, either. I am not just going to send him off on his own, and I know I have no authority over you in Fahrenn, but I won’t let you out of this village without him. Am I clear on that, Princess?”
Sarah almost smiled at the threat. She wouldn’t have disagreed if she’d been told to by her father. “I understand.”
“Then there’s only one more thing you need to know.” Nevyra’s voice sounded pained, and Sarah thought she saw teardrops in the corner of an eye. “I’m afraid it’s not just that Tyr’s being sent away. He can’t come back.”