"That's why i took a special interest in you." Sidgal Tun propped himself against a tree as he watched Narim hack and slash his cloth target with the practice sword.
"Surely it's not for any ability with a sword." Narim chuckled. 3 winters had passed since his arrival to the keep. The shock of seeing the fair haired winged people roving about the grounds in their birghtly colored garb had long since worn off.
"You are a Tarik, you just weren't built for fighting." Sidgal was thankful Narim had not developed the skill for finding truth in people's words yet. Meticulously, the old ex Tarik spent his days training Narim against violence. A Tarik with Narim's inherent ability for combat and weaponry was likely the most dangerous tool to be possessed either by the north or the south. Narim's tarik was a closely guarded secret. Narim underwent rigorous training to control the flows of emotional energy in and out of himself. He was taught the basics of healing and restoration, both skills not solely unique to the tarik, and often times had many subjects wounded in training to practice with.
There were things Sidgal noticed about Narim, however, that made him worry. Narim had the ability pass certain abilities to others. Shortly after winning the battle against the Admiral's daughter, Ixta, he transferred restoration ability to a girl that had been sent to starvation. With that ability, she was able to train with them. She had told Sidgal the first day she arrived that she had never been able to restore anyone before. Although Narim had never admitted any involvement, Sidgal knew well the boy spent days in the library studying tarik in secret in an effort to find some way to save the girl.
There were other things he could do. Sometimes when he dreamed, his control let go and several people would report having the same strange dream. It was always about an equidan deep in the forest prancing in the morning sun. Also, when he healed, he did not retain some feeling of pain from the wounded as all other Tariks did. Sidgal peered at his own arms, scarred from the many winters of healing badly wounded and taking on their pain. Narim remained unblemished.
The most frightening ability was Narim's talent for detecting manners of speech and fighting skills from his opponents. Once the skills were learned he never forgot them. In the scant 3 years of his training, Narim was already a fierce and wiry fighter. Zchi only knew what kind of foe he would be for someone as he neared adulthood.
The ability to manipulate someone's emotions, learn all their moves, steal their might and energy, and heal themselves afterward, all these would make a warrior that could never be defeated. This was why Sidgal's teachings of peace and benevolence were the key to this boy's future. There was no doubt Narim would either be this land's savior or the land's worst enemy. It was still up in the air. As inherently good as he was, he was still young and far too eager for praise. In the wrong hands, he could be controlled to do much evil.
"Is sidgal sleeping?" Narim asked playfully as he tugged on the old man's beard.
"No, I was just thinking boy. Go back to your footwork exercises for now."
Narim did as he was told, striding left, dodging right. It was like dancing in many ways. As he moved, he couldn't resist asking more questions.
"So you say you only took me on because without your help I could be one of the bad guys one day?"
Sidgal smiled and motioned for Narim to stand close to him. He pointed to a troop of ornately armored soldiers marching along the wall of the keep.
"All those men up there are the strongest fighters this keep has turned out to fight for. They have been trained to believe that they are only worthy of life if they are able to wield a sword for Alagany. They would rather slay their own wounded than jeopardize a victory against the Lasaeri. They are the War Dogs. They are fed scraps and always return from battle wagging their tails for a brief pat on the head. Mindless, all of them.
Do you think any of those men have families or ambitions outside of fighting? " Sidgal asked. Narim paused for a moment, closing his eyes to hear the roaming thoughts of one of the soldiers.
In his mind scenes of bloodshed tore through him. Women cried out in fear as an unseen blade tore through them. He could feel the weight of the blade rippling through him as he made contact with bone. Unwilling to see anything more, Narim tore his mind away and looking up at Sidgal curiously.
"What's wrong with them?"
"They simply are how they are trained to be. They no longer have to ability to understand things that have nothing to do with war."
Narim drove the foiled point of his fencing sword into the cloth target and sighed.
"There is still so much about this world I can't seem to wrap my head around. Sometimes I think I don't WANT to know them."
"Na-RIM" a shout echoed from the entranceway. "I've returned with news." A Mafaeri girl of roughly 10 winters raised a hand in greeting. Her eyes, a haunting shade of emerald far different from the liquid ebony eyes of her kindred, danced in excitement as she told the news. "They've got in a new one. A strange 'Faeri girl who calls herself Mallora. She was captured in Elison searching for someone. I thought this information might be of great use to you." Narim sat hard on his heels. Was this truly HIS Mallora? Had she been searching for him all along? He knew he had to find out.
"I will find out for sure if this truly is the Mallora you've lost." The girl gave the signal of allegiance and turned away.
"Wait, Nassai, what if you are caught?"
"A good thief can never get caught." she winked as she produced a medal of honor and tossed it to Sidgal. These medals were only worn by the admiral and his war dogs, kept under lock and key unless needed for show during social functions. For Nassai to have acquired this meant she had either broken into the Keep's vault or stolen the medal right off of one of the war dogs' breast. Either way, she possessed a stealth unmatched by anyone else at the keep.
"My debt to you, my lord." She called. He never could tell if she meant that statement or not when she said it like that.
"Surely it's not for any ability with a sword." Narim chuckled. 3 winters had passed since his arrival to the keep. The shock of seeing the fair haired winged people roving about the grounds in their birghtly colored garb had long since worn off.
"You are a Tarik, you just weren't built for fighting." Sidgal was thankful Narim had not developed the skill for finding truth in people's words yet. Meticulously, the old ex Tarik spent his days training Narim against violence. A Tarik with Narim's inherent ability for combat and weaponry was likely the most dangerous tool to be possessed either by the north or the south. Narim's tarik was a closely guarded secret. Narim underwent rigorous training to control the flows of emotional energy in and out of himself. He was taught the basics of healing and restoration, both skills not solely unique to the tarik, and often times had many subjects wounded in training to practice with.
There were things Sidgal noticed about Narim, however, that made him worry. Narim had the ability pass certain abilities to others. Shortly after winning the battle against the Admiral's daughter, Ixta, he transferred restoration ability to a girl that had been sent to starvation. With that ability, she was able to train with them. She had told Sidgal the first day she arrived that she had never been able to restore anyone before. Although Narim had never admitted any involvement, Sidgal knew well the boy spent days in the library studying tarik in secret in an effort to find some way to save the girl.
There were other things he could do. Sometimes when he dreamed, his control let go and several people would report having the same strange dream. It was always about an equidan deep in the forest prancing in the morning sun. Also, when he healed, he did not retain some feeling of pain from the wounded as all other Tariks did. Sidgal peered at his own arms, scarred from the many winters of healing badly wounded and taking on their pain. Narim remained unblemished.
The most frightening ability was Narim's talent for detecting manners of speech and fighting skills from his opponents. Once the skills were learned he never forgot them. In the scant 3 years of his training, Narim was already a fierce and wiry fighter. Zchi only knew what kind of foe he would be for someone as he neared adulthood.
The ability to manipulate someone's emotions, learn all their moves, steal their might and energy, and heal themselves afterward, all these would make a warrior that could never be defeated. This was why Sidgal's teachings of peace and benevolence were the key to this boy's future. There was no doubt Narim would either be this land's savior or the land's worst enemy. It was still up in the air. As inherently good as he was, he was still young and far too eager for praise. In the wrong hands, he could be controlled to do much evil.
"Is sidgal sleeping?" Narim asked playfully as he tugged on the old man's beard.
"No, I was just thinking boy. Go back to your footwork exercises for now."
Narim did as he was told, striding left, dodging right. It was like dancing in many ways. As he moved, he couldn't resist asking more questions.
"So you say you only took me on because without your help I could be one of the bad guys one day?"
Sidgal smiled and motioned for Narim to stand close to him. He pointed to a troop of ornately armored soldiers marching along the wall of the keep.
"All those men up there are the strongest fighters this keep has turned out to fight for. They have been trained to believe that they are only worthy of life if they are able to wield a sword for Alagany. They would rather slay their own wounded than jeopardize a victory against the Lasaeri. They are the War Dogs. They are fed scraps and always return from battle wagging their tails for a brief pat on the head. Mindless, all of them.
Do you think any of those men have families or ambitions outside of fighting? " Sidgal asked. Narim paused for a moment, closing his eyes to hear the roaming thoughts of one of the soldiers.
In his mind scenes of bloodshed tore through him. Women cried out in fear as an unseen blade tore through them. He could feel the weight of the blade rippling through him as he made contact with bone. Unwilling to see anything more, Narim tore his mind away and looking up at Sidgal curiously.
"What's wrong with them?"
"They simply are how they are trained to be. They no longer have to ability to understand things that have nothing to do with war."
Narim drove the foiled point of his fencing sword into the cloth target and sighed.
"There is still so much about this world I can't seem to wrap my head around. Sometimes I think I don't WANT to know them."
"Na-RIM" a shout echoed from the entranceway. "I've returned with news." A Mafaeri girl of roughly 10 winters raised a hand in greeting. Her eyes, a haunting shade of emerald far different from the liquid ebony eyes of her kindred, danced in excitement as she told the news. "They've got in a new one. A strange 'Faeri girl who calls herself Mallora. She was captured in Elison searching for someone. I thought this information might be of great use to you." Narim sat hard on his heels. Was this truly HIS Mallora? Had she been searching for him all along? He knew he had to find out.
"I will find out for sure if this truly is the Mallora you've lost." The girl gave the signal of allegiance and turned away.
"Wait, Nassai, what if you are caught?"
"A good thief can never get caught." she winked as she produced a medal of honor and tossed it to Sidgal. These medals were only worn by the admiral and his war dogs, kept under lock and key unless needed for show during social functions. For Nassai to have acquired this meant she had either broken into the Keep's vault or stolen the medal right off of one of the war dogs' breast. Either way, she possessed a stealth unmatched by anyone else at the keep.
"My debt to you, my lord." She called. He never could tell if she meant that statement or not when she said it like that.
