There was a lot of movement in the following days to weeks. Messengers from our immediate neighbour forts, exchanging scout reports. Apparently, various such warcamps have been spotted in the Wild Lands.
Talk was that this could mean that a Horde was forming.
But I had the idea that the plan was to stop it before it took momentum. So far, forward camps were what we spotted. And hobgoblins tend to flock to champions.
I had to take sergeant Gael-Ra's word for it. She was pretty transparent like that.
One day, when I was aiding master Granitehorn in the forge, she came inside and told me to come to the sandpit.
"Better do what she says, lad. Her mood isn't the best of things lately." Master Granitehorn didn't even look up from the anvil, but I could see the ghost of a smile behind the beard. Something was off.
The sandpit. A small practice yard, where we could spar with padded weapons. Padded, so we didn't inflict lasting damage. But not wood, so we could feel the weight of our weapons.
Gael-Ra was in the pit, a number of veterans surrounding her. Including Ricord, it would seem.
As I approached, I noticed a general sense of apprehension.
"Right, kannut, time to address your problem."
"Problem, sergeant? I am not aware of anything I did or didn't do." I chuckled.
Silence. Just a lot of stoic faces… Blast.
"Therein lies the problem, kannut. You aren't aware. And since we don't have the time for anything formal, we'll have to do it the old fashioned way, and pray your instincts kick in. Ricord, sword."
The corporal gave me a sword, naked steel. No padding.
"If you land a hit on me, kannut, I'll deserve it. Now, attack."
I wasn't rightly sure as to what was expected of me here. So, I played it safe and gave a probing thrust.
She easily deflected it and with a look of disgust, clocked me right on my chin. She was a strong woman, part of her being of Orcish blood, but mostly because she was a career soldier. So, it wasn't a lovetap.
"What the hells was that, kannut. You think this is a game? That I like wasting time here when there are a million things to do?"
Some others had shown up to observe me being thrashed. Including our priest, Bennet.
Good, that meant if she knocked me out, at least someone with medical knowledge would be present.
Okay. No games. They had given me only a sword, no shield. Odd, but I'll deal with it.
I recalled something from my younger years. In the smithy, when my father was accosted. I mimicked a stance I had seen a passing Glaive practice, in the hopes that it would scare them off.
How is that for the bravado of a twelve year old.
But…in my defence, I somehow managed to disarm one, prior to that. Regardless, Captain Tarrel had barged in right after. So it hadn't become ugly.
I relaxed and tried to remember… Ah…there it was.
Feet, like this. Blade, angled low like that. Left hand for balance.
From the corner of my eye I could see Bennet, of all people, look surprised. And the sergeant was narrowing her eyes now.
"Well now, kannut. Seems Myra was right, after all. Good. Now, come at me."
I advanced, blade ready. So did she and her blade flashed out. I caught it, much to my own surprise.
Now, slide the blade along and see if you can use that crossguard to disarm her.
Almost. She's too good. But it makes her pause. Good. Now, maybe I can press her.
A quick feint and a jab. It bites. Deeper, maybe, than I intended…and apparently I locked my leg behind her knee. She's surprised at that. Makes moving around a bit more difficult. But it only lasts a moment and she tries to backhand me… I use my knee to lever her away. It works. She stumbles, lightly but enough, and her swing goes wide.
We disengage… Silence… All eyes are on us.
Bennet rushes over to the sergeant, probably to check on her wound. She waves him away.
"I know 'Azur Blade' when I see it. It has been a while since I saw it in battle. Well done, kannut."
She pauses. "That leg lock. That was a smart move. And the unbalancing trick. Equally smart. We live by our blade, but we survive by using our brain."
Bennet, annoyed at being waved away, spoke up. "Sergeant, if I may. It is clear that a Martial Spirit is taking root in our young friend here. He should be sent to the capital for testing. To see how deep the root goes. Scripture, and Law, is clear in this matter."
Gael-Ra gives him the soldier's stare and replies "Is it clear, priest? How certain you are…Ricord…You're up."
Now what…
I watch her leave the sand pit and corporal Ricord enter, carrying two spears and two round shields. He comes over to give me one of each. The spear wasn't a long one. Light and maneuverable enough to be wielded in one hand. He then moves some 20 feet away and arms himself. It would seem he is my next opponent.
"Remember, Kael. The Hoplar Guard. The Ashen Lancer."
We start circling each other. I remember the story he told me, in the forest after my first engagement.
I remember how a path presented itself to make a clean charge. What I remembered too late was how bloody fast this man is. His spear flashing at me, it's all I can do to block it. Suddenly, a sting. Shit. Well…Problems for later. I lash out myself and feel my spear grazing him. Not much, but enough to swiftly reposition myself. Distance is the best option, sometimes. It seems that my back is at one of the practice posts.
Hmm, maybe I can use this to my advantage. I kick myself off, granting that little bit of extra momentum and charge at him. Shield up, spear forward. I hear shouting, but I am committed. With a thunderous crash I smack into him…
A sudden lull happens. Ricord is bleeding on the ground. And laughing? Yes. Laughing his head off.
He shouts at the sergeant that he was right. Both Gael-Ra and Bennet run to us, Bennet already opening his medkit. With practiced movements, he looks and applies his knowledge to dress our wounds.
Bennet may not be a Blessed priest, but he did know his stuff. He wasn't a happy man now, however.
"Sergeant, this isn't right. The boy shouldn't have been able to use the 'Azur Gust' strike when he did that sudden disengagement. The Martial Spirit of 'Azur Blade' only works for, well, blades… And 'Ashen Lancer'??? The boy shouldn't be able to use that at all. Only one Spirit bonds to the soul. The Scriptures state it clearly."
Gael-Ra was smirking. "Don't forget, priest. That leg lock…that was 'Decisive Fist'. Seems to me your Scriptures are as clear as mud."
Bennet gave her a cold glare. "I know that matters of religion are the least of your concerns now, Sergeant, especially with a Horde of the Red Chant forming. But this is an impossibility. It must be recorded and sent to the Prime Sanctuary."
Red Chant? The goblin horde? That sounds a lot more ominous than anything I've heard so far.
And aren't there Glaives that can do what I just did?
I ask the sergeant and she shakes her head. "It may seem so, to the unpracticed eye. But Bennet is right. What you just did. Only in stories. Or wishful thinking." She barks a laugh. "But, hells. You need whatever advantage you can wring out with what's coming down on us."
***
Bennet was pacing in his room, trying to make sense of what he saw earlier that day.
The boy clearly had been chosen by a Martial Spirit. The problem was, however, that he had been chosen by multiple Martial Spirits. Which was impossible, according to dogma.
If this was true, and he had seen it with his own eyes, that would mean the boy had potential greater than Lady Lyriel, the most powerful wielder of the Spirit of 'Ardea Auria' in recent years.
The Order of the Celestial Pinion, the martial branch of the Sanctuary, their training was relentless.
'Ardea Auria' was a supernatural school of combat, after all.
And her testing revealed she could at least reach Sixth Circle.
The possible blending of combat schools that the boy would be capable of…is capable of, since Bennet had already seen it, the blade technique executed with a spear. And the seamless addition of unarmed techniques.
This was news of the highest order, so he did what anyone else of his rank would have done. He would delegate upwards. He sat down at his desk and prepared his writing kit. So much to say, but the raven that carries the missives can only take so much weight. "Bah," he thought with some bitterness "Had I been one of the Blessed, this would be easier." Then again, then he wouldn't have seen today.
As he wrote his message he was thinking about earlier, with Gael-Ra. It always amazed him how little these frontier soldiers cared about scripture. One would think; being in, not constant but at least certain danger would make them more reflective. But so far, he had seen pragmatism. Which is not bad, of course, but still…
He could understand what she said, about wringing advantage, but like this? With the boy being an anomaly?
Still… the signs were clear. This Horde had Red Chant champions in its leadership. Too many reports confirm it. The Martial Spirit of 'Primeval Furor' was greatly favored with the Red Chant. And hobgoblin champions…that was the most troubling bit of the news. Those beasts are more disciplined than their kin, after all. He saw that his quill was hovering over his sheet of paper, threatening to drop its ink in unwanted places.
"Focus, man." He muttered to himself. First, the missive. Then, everything else. And pray for time.
***
The following weeks were hectic for Kaelen, each and every day they took him to the sandpit.
For training, sergeant Gael-Ra said.
So that he could call upon the techniques whenever he wanted, sergeant Gael–Ra said.
Kaelen, however, thought that the sergeant was taking great delight in beating him up every day.
He was hurting in places he was certain he didn't have before.
One night, he dreamed…
He was at the sandpit.
"Really" he shouted, "Even when I am asleep I can't rest?"
Wait… How? I am sleeping. I know I am sleeping. And this place only looks like the pit.
But beyond the border isn't the rest of the fort. Only fog…? What is going on?
As he looked around he was aware he wasn't alone in this place. There seemed to be…shapes?
Difficult to make out. But they seem to be circling him. Not threatening, just observing.
One seemed to be a bit more distinct. He could spot a sword, longer than the shortsword he was used to.
And then it wasn't… The sword seemed to be shifting between forms. He saw some sort of curved sword and what he assumed was a rapier. But always a blade.
"Who are you? Where am I?"
…Some of us, you already know albeit only just…
…You never left. You are where you are…
"What? I was asleep. I don't have time for this. Tomorrow I have again a glorious day of cuts and bruises to look forward to."
…We know you are asleep. Oh, how we know…
…But before you wake, allow us to show you…
The shape with the sword suddenly became more solid. So did its sword.
A sword appeared, point down, in the ground before Kaelen.
Kaelen did not feel hostile intent. But he had the distinct feeling he better grab that sword.
Like when he was sparring with the veterans. No hostile intent, but he better defend himself, lest more bruising would occur.
No sooner he had picked up the blade or the shape was upon him. Now that he could see it better, it too seemed to be shifting. A tabard and a plumed hat, wielding that rapier. Heavy armour with a longsword. Flowing robes dancing with some odd shaped straight sword. Always a different form with a different blade.
"Amazing what you can pick up", Kaelen thought, "when you feel pressed."
…You are too focused on where the blade is…
…Read my intent, read my movements and know where the blade will be…
Was this thing moving faster now? And what's with the blue glow?
Pay attention, Kaelen…Don't look at the glow.
Back and forth they went. Kaelen had the impression that the shape could crush him whenever he wanted.
Then, suddenly, he could see it. Not where the blade was, but where it would be. He moved his sword and a distinct clang resounded.
…Finally. Again…
Wait? What? And again, the figure was pressing him.
But it came easier this time. The point where he could feel where the blade will be.
Finally, the shape stopped its onslaught.
…I am certain you have grasped my technique. 'Web of Azur' is now yours to use…
"Your technique? What do you mean, your technique?"
The shape became less distinct, but its blue glow became more intense.
"You are the Martial Spirit of 'Azur Blade', aren't you… You are real…"
…This is indeed how this world knows me. And yes, we are real…
…I took first root in you, so many years ago. And finally, you have started to use my techniques…
…Consider this a gift…
Kaelen woke up in a cold sweat. Web of Azur?
That day in the sandpit, he found that reading the intent of his peers was far easier than that of the Spirit.
That day ended with no extra cuts or bruises.
***
Sergeant Gael-Ra was looking at Kaelen sparring in the pit. Well, "sparring".
It seems to her that the kannut picked up something new along the way. So far not a single blade had hit him.
And he had dealt out some punishment. Possibly he had had enough of being a punching bag.
Yet, she felt it necessary. She didn't want to just hand him over, not when she could use every soldier now with the Red Chant looming in the distance.
Bennet had come to her in the past weeks. Said he had sent a missive to the Capital.
Damn his eyes… Well, what's done is done. It would take some time for someone to show up to claim and test the boy.
In the meantime, she could further instill the soldier's spirit in him.
Heavens knew most Azur Blade practitioners were ceremonial at best. And yet… she had heard that it wasn't always like that.
From the sandpit she could see Doric, one of the kannut's squad, take a tumble. The leg lock trick.
Decidedly not Azur Blade. Dirty fighting. Just the way she likes it.
Just as she thought that she couldn't be surprised anymore…
When the kannut showed up, with the correspondence from Myra, a personal letter was amongst the official documents. Myra, amidst old friend banter, had said that the kid probably had a school taking root in him.
But he had knocked one of the Baronet's Guards on his ass.
Using a different school than she had previously witnessed in him.
So, before others could take action, and put those things together she had "volunteered" him to the Border Command.
Safer for the boy to be away from nobles and clergy.
Gael-Ra recalled that Glimmerdeep had a Sanctuary with a Blessed Matron.
A sharp clang from the pit, followed by a snap of metal breaking. She looked over. Ah, the boy had sundered a sword. Granitehorn will love that…
She felt a dull ache behind her eyes. The dwarf had been royally pissed that she had taken th'only longshanks that knew 'is way around the forge, dammit… Well, he had been cursing in dwarvish, as well. But she prided herself in not knowing the language.
Still… Khaldgan Granitehorn had made a good point. Something about tempering steel.
Left in the fire too long, it would grow brittle.
She sighed. The boy needed a rest. And possibly, a drink.
***
Kaelen sat on his bunk, dressed only in fatigues. He didn't really know what to do. Earlier that morning corporal Ricord had told him the day was his own. That was new, but not unwelcome.
At least he had an extra day now to heal some of the punishment he had received the past month.
Not an idle youth by nature however, he decided to go to Master Granitehorn's Forge.
As he entered the workshop, Khaldan looked up, gave a grunt and pointed him towards the area where the leather were maintained.
Kaelen smiled a small smile. The highest of praises from the dwarf. The maintenance was relatively light work and the grunt…well, that was an entire conversation with emotions laid bare for all to see.
Kaelen lost himself in the familiar motions, letting his mind wander.
That dream. That was something. The spirits he could see at the edge of his vision, but the Azur Blade he saw fully. And he fought with it and learned from it. That parry technique had them gaping when he first used it.
Now the veterans were a lot more cautious. They had learned the painful way that it didn't really matter what weapon Kaelen had in his hand to call upon strikes or counters; or the stance he entered.
The more pious ones were rattled, yes. But not so much that they didn't want to spar with him.
If anything they were more vehemently trying to subdue him in their matches.
Sometimes Bennet even showed up. Strange fellow. But he knew his medicine. Which made him an asset, really, especially at the frontier.
He wondered if it was like that for everyone who had a School of War take root in them.
The dream with the pit and those spirits. He did wonder, however, so far it seemed that a lot of people assumed he had multiple roots in him. And he had indeed seen other spirits in his dream. But only Azur had talked with him.
A signal horn shook him out of his musings. Wait a sec… Right. Val. She had joined another of the squads temporarily because one of their scouts had fallen ill.
And ever since that day in the forest, when they spotted the camp, she had been restless. Which was unlike her.
Kaelen bid goodbye to Master Granitehorn, who grunted in reply. "Yeah," Kaelen thought, "He likes me."
As the patrol entered the gate, Kaelen immediately saw why the signal horn was used. They were bloodied. Something went wrong. He looked them over as they passed. Val… there she is. He whistled softly; she seemed to be fine. Maybe a bit angrier than usual. Best not approach her now. She'll be at the range this evening. I'll ask her how she is and how it went then.
The rest of the day went by like usual and while Kaelen technically didn't have to help around, he still did. Except for combat drills, those he was barred from. Corporal Ricord had a good, shouty voice and wasn't afraid to use it…
In the late afternoon, when the sun gave a wonderful view over the range, Kaelen went to have a look.
As suspected, Valery was there. She had some friends in the Support squads, those that practiced archery.
But because her stealth and close combat skills were too high to squander on Support, she joined the scouts.
However, she once told Kaelen she liked the bow, so whenever she needed to 'still her mind', as she calls it, this is where she could be found.
She was firing a short recurve bow. He let her finish her quiver before saying something.
"Rough patrol, it seemed." It seemed an understatement, given what he had seen earlier.
She glanced over at him. "It was an ambush, Kael. The bastards jumped us from up in the trees. Bloody gobbes. Laughing like maniacs while swarming us. We were overwhelmed… Some are still there, not even buried."
I joined her in collecting her arrows. She was a good shot, I noticed.
"And you know the worst. The other scout and I were running interference during our retreat.
They let us go, Kael. I'm sure of it. Us surviving in that state? That was a message. Gael-Ra agrees, as well. And Granitehorn thinks it won't be long 'till they attack the fort."
We went back to the firing line. A light breeze had picked up. Probably from the plains more inland.
I felt… something. Like when I was first using the Schools. Something stirring. But not from within this time. Odd…
Valery prepared her shot and let her arrow fly. The snap of the bowstring hung like a musical note in the air…
Now, that was even more odd. I could see it on her face as well.
She nocked, drew and loosed another arrow. Again that musical note.
"Val? Is the bow supposed to do that?" At that point, however, I had an inkling as to what was going on.
"No…no, it isn't." Her voice trailed off. She was looking at the bow with a queer expression.
"Kael. What is going on? It's like the bow is humming to me."
At that point, in retrospect, I said something so outlandishly not 'Me' that Valery gave me a look.
"If the bow hums, listen to its song, Valery Bodkins."
Yeah. She told me later that night. I have never been so glad the darkness hid my face.
However, my words seemed to stir something in her.
Her eyes glazed over as she nocked and drew… The arrow struck the center. In a target partially obscured by two other targets. I had no idea that shot could even be made. But it didn't end there.
She loosed her arrows like possessed. One in a target that was too far for the short bow, I'm sure. And yet that arrow had almost completely penetrated the target.
Distance didn't really seem to matter, nor did the breeze. If anything the winds seemed to guide her shots.
When her quiver was empty, she snapped out of it. Sweat was streaming down her face.
"I think I need to wash up, and maybe have a lie down.
See you tonight at the canteen, Kael. You're buying."
And she took off before I could even protest.
With a sigh I collected her arrows. Those that were still whole, at least. Some had snapped under the stress.
When I took the bow, I did notice that it had become, for lack of a better term, hot.
That night the mood was more subdued at the canteen. Word about the ambush had spread.
As I went to get Val that drink I was intercepted by the sergeant.
Apparently she had decided that I needed a drink as well. So… we all had drinks.
And since I am a lightweight, I only had two. Only seventeen, you know.
I dreamt of the pit that night. Still those spirits, one distinctly blue.
I looked around. One seemed to be manifesting. Different attires, but always with a bow or crossbow even.
As it drifted closer I could hear its voice.
…Thank you for opening the way…
…She will be the first to hear the Squall Song…
…But, this time, not the last…