Illara Chronicles: Swordplay

Father of Fire

"What would you have me do Tal? They need help." Kendreth has always been able to talk Taldren down. He fumed but gave no response. "Haven't we always found a way, together?" Kendreth held out his hand.

Taldren pushed it down at the wrist. "This is different."

"This is our adventure!" Zeal bubbled up in Kelith. "We can work together to save the Kingdom. It's like we always imagined!"

"You are so dense Kelith. You aren't saving anything you're just picking sides in a civil war."

"Lower your voice." Weldren commanded Taldren, who didn't seem to hear. Or more likely didn't seem to care.

"We aren't heros! We aren't invincible - we should get the absolute and entire hell out of this snake pit of a situation while we still can." Taldren spoke loudly.

"I know that I'm not the strongest, or the fastest, but we're special." A wave of sprigs faltering magic washed through him. "Even you can see that."

"No Kelith! YOU are special with your fairys and fireswords, I am just a nobody, who doesn't want to die in the thankless service of a pompous-" In one swift movement Weldren took Taldren by the front of his shirt and pulled him close. In the same instant, Taldren pulled his dagger and pressed its tip just under Weldrens jaw, with a threatening snarl. The blade pulled a trickle of blood down its glimmering face. In immediate response the large guard slammed Taldren twice into the cobblestone wall. He dropped the knife.

"Lower your voice, and mind your tongue." Weldren released him with a shove that left Taldrens back to the wall. "Never draw a blade as a bluff."

"Touch me again." Taldren picked up and stowed his dagger, shaken. The knife could be in his hand again in a flash. "Call my 'bluff'."

Weldren turned away with an exasperated sigh.

Kendreth sheathed his half drawn weapon. Kelith saw the dejection and frustration beaneath Taldrens anger, and couldn't stomach it. What could I say?

Aelandra quietly broke the tense silence. "It isn't safe to stay here. We could go to the smithery. Those heading out into the Glade can stock up on supplies and for any who decide to stay, we could maybe make a plan?"

The Queen gave Aelandra a sly smile. "Look who has become the sensible one of the troupe. Well spoken girl. Weldren, lead the way."

Moving stealthily through the city, Kelith had time to gather his thoughts. They were clouded by fear, but he did his best to push that down. He worried for Taldren, who was building on a streak of bad days. He rolled potential plans around in his head, the queen should stay. The city was far from lost, the bladeward was a smaller force, and the Crownsguard were trained to defend this city. It was only a matter of time before they gained the upper hand, and when that time comes they will need someone to lead them.

His thoughts, like his eyes, lingered on Aelandra. His mind wandered to the ball. "Dance with me" She'd said. She smelled like roses and vanilla. Why couldn't I have just danced?

Immediately there was a pang of guilt as his thoughts wandered deeper into the evening. The pain of hitting the floor. He tightened and released a fist, recalling the broken fingers. Sprig. Please be okay. The essence of her still teetered on the edge of absence. Keliths fear resurfaced, in the form of nauseous nervousness. A cold sweat down his back.

There was the sound of strong wind, mingled with the noise of battle, but no breeze. From between buildings, the group approached an intersection in the road where a fight was finishing. More than ten of the crowns-guard had apprehended a half dozen of the Bladeward, two of which were bound, the others lay dead.