While the folk outside began their celebrations, the sound of music and merriment echoing across Eon’s Peak, Kieran sat in his room and pulled out his writing materials.
It was time to give the divine hand in his possession a proper examination.
The limb was still warm to the touch, even though it had been nearly a week since his fight with Gir’Amal’s vessel. Compared to the general cold he always felt, Kieran found the warmth almost comforting.
He took his scalpel and ran it gently across the surface of the hand. The blade didn’t leave so much as a trace in the crystalline flesh, but the stars reflected beneath the surface flickered as it passed.
Next, he examined the patterns of stars. He tried to compare them to his memories of the night sky over the weeks he had spent in Lyruna, but didn’t notice an overlap. Still, he made himself a note to compare the hand with an actual star chart in the future. He also took the time to sketch out the stars in his notebook, looking for constellations in the patterns.
He then tried to manipulate the fingers on the hand. With a little effort, he could actually move them. He noted that the patterns beneath the skin didn’t change at all. Kieran took the time to arrange the fingers into a flat position before moving on with his examination.
Running his finger gingerly across the broken crystals of the hand’s stump, Kieran drew in a sharp breath. The crystal was sharper than glass. Even light contact with the rough edges left thin cuts on his finger. He quickly cast Mend to close the wounds before they could drip blood all over the hand and his bed.
The experience gave him an idea.
Kieran focused on Mend again. Then, as he had done earlier that day with the wounded survivor, he forced the healing energy out of himself and into the divine hand.
The crystalline limb reacted instantly. The jagged edges across the stump vanished, leaving behind a perfectly smooth, mirror-like surface. It reflected its surroundings with startling clarity. Kieran stared at it to find his own face gazing back at him, flickering in the candlelight.
After noting the results of the experiment, he tried casting Mend again. This time, though, he got no reaction. He then tried channeling the spell, like he had done with Maim during his fight with the specter. He pooled the energy in his hand until his whole arm started shaking from the pent-up power and accompanying cold. But when he released the spell onto the divine hand, nothing happened.
“Safe to say that it’s no longer alive. Strange that it would heal at all, though,” Kieran mused, turning the limb over in his hand. At least it would be safer to transport, now that it wasn’t so sharp.
Kieran stood up to stretch, attempting to stave off the general ache that wanted to settle into his back. He was aware that this ache was more mental than anything. It was something his brain had convinced itself that it needed to feel after a session of research. Still, it was annoying.
Glancing at his desk, Kieran found that the limb had moved. The fingers had curled back into their original positions.
By themselves.
“Hm. More alive than I thought.”
Kieran picked up the limb and looked at it closely. After a long while, he noticed a tiny movement. It was so small that it felt wrong even to call it a twitch, but it was there.
The ghost of a smile flitted across Kieran’s face.
“Interesting.”
With no ideas on how to proceed further, Kieran stored the limb in his pack and turned to his bed. The celebrations outside were still going. The raucous noises of joy and mirth rang out boldly through the night air, as if in defiance of the current state of Lyruna.
Kieran actually appreciated the noise. Back on Earth, he’d taken to falling asleep while listening to podcasts. So, once he got comfortable, it didn’t take him long at all to drift off.
In fact, the sounds of merriment filled him with a strange sense of… warmth.
—
The following morning, Kieran woke up to frost in his hair. He wasn’t aware of any unusual sense of cold. But when he ran his hand through his hair, droplets of freshly melted water gathered on his fingers.
This seemed… odd. His rest had been normal. None of the gods had visited his dreams.
Maybe one of them was peeking in, he reasoned. Or maybe it’s a sign of growth on my part. More energy flowing through, causing cold…
Still, Kieran didn’t linger on speculation. Nothing else felt strange, so it wasn’t important. He simply prepared himself for the day and headed straight out of the building.
Rah’Na was waiting for him in her usual seat out front, cradling a mug in her hands. The liquid inside was hot enough for wisps of steam to rise from it and disperse into the chill morning breeze.
“Dawn’s greeting, Kieran.” The old wolf’s smile was oddly smug. “I hope you rested well.”Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Kieran raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Good morning. What’s got you so…” He trailed off, waving a hand vaguely.
“I’ve been itching to clash blades with you for a while, Kieran. And although we won’t be using steel today, it’s close enough.” Rah’Na took a slow sip of her drink. “I do hope you’re ready, as I won’t be holding back.”
Kieran actually smirked. He had never seen the old wolf in such a mood and found it rather infectious. “Should I take that as a challenge, then?”
“Oh, please do,” Rah’Na shot back. “And let me know when you’re ready. Our battlefield awaits.”
Rah’Na pointed to the abandoned barracks nearby. Looking that direction, Kieran spotted a few wooden weapons laid out against the training yard’s fence.
“Well, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” Kieran stretched again out of habit. “Although, as I mentioned yesterday, I do have some questions.”
Rah’Na nodded, inviting him to continue.
“When I went to retrieve Alaric, I ran into some Nahra’Drun elves,” Kieran began. Rah’Na’s expression immediately soured. “Is Nahra’Drun a name, a place, or both?”
“Unfortunately for all of us, both.” Rah’Na sighed. “Nahra’Drun is an ancient city far below the surface of Lyruna. Home to many monsters, but most famously the elves you faced. They are one of the invasion’s armies.”
“The invasion?” Kieran repeated. “I thought the invading monsters came from outside Lyruna.”
“After the first few invasions, or rather during, some of their forces found places to settle. A base of operations for future invasions,” Rah’Na explained. “The Nahra’Drun may dwell in Lyruna, but they are part of the monsters’ armies nonetheless. Sworn enemies of Tyra’Khul, Veiled Shadow.”
Rah’Na stared into the distance, the steaming cup forgotten in her hand. “That they are so close to the peak is worrying. I can think of no reason for them to venture so far from home, other than chasing Tyra’Khul’s Chosen Contender. Yet Tyra’Khul’s Contender is usually last to reach the Vault. Unless… that Contender is already dead.”
The silence that followed felt heavy.
“What happens if the Contender is dead?” Kieran asked.
“We will have to deal with another set of enemies until Tyra’Khul chooses another.” Rah’Na gave another sigh. “But we can hope it was just an anomaly. We will worry about that later. For now, it is time to train.”
Rah’Na led Kieran to the training yard and had him pick up two wooden swords. Though they were wooden, he could tell they were well-crafted even just by holding them. They were weighty, and barely balanced, but sturdy enough for repeated training sessions.
“Take a few practice swings. With both hands,” Rah’Na instructed, leaning against the low stone wall that designated the training yard. “Get used to the weight and show me your footwork.”
Kieran took a deep breath and flourished both swords in turn, testing their weight. In addition to the issues with balance, the wood somehow felt heavier than either of his weapons.
Then he launched into a series of blows, taking basic swings in front of him while alternating hands and moving slowly forward.
“Your swings are too wide,” Rah’Na pointed out when Kieran completed his combo. “Lower your arms and hold them a little closer to the body. It will make your stance more stable.”
Kieran followed the advice and repeated the combo. After giving him another minor alteration to make, Rah’Na told him to run it again. This loop continued for the next two hours, until Kieran was exhausted by the constant swinging of wooden swords and adjusting his posture. Yet, at the end of it, he felt quite confident that he could at least wield two weapons without leaving himself at a disadvantage.
“You picked up the basics quite well, for only a few hours’ work.” Rah’Na clapped a massive hand on Kieran’s shoulder, nearly knocking him over. “Take a breather. Then we will spar.”
Struggling to get his breathing under control, Kieran looked up at Rah’Na. The old wolf stretched theatrically. Then she grabbed a wooden staff, spinning it with the skill and grace of a fighter who had trained with their weapon of choice all their life.
Suddenly, Kieran felt a lot less confident about this training session.
He took a few minutes to calm his breathing, then squared his shoulders. He’d faced worse training in the army. He wasn’t going to back away from a fight like this.
Rah’Na gave him a proud, fanged smile. “Good, good! Maybe you would have made a good Contender of Defiance as well.”
The two fighters locked eyes with each other and dropped into their stances. Slowly, they began circling the training yard, keeping out of reach of each other’s weapons.
It was Kieran who took the initiative. Holding both his swords to the left and dashing forward, he swung the blades at Rah’Na’s side. He didn’t put his full strength into the swing, though. He knew damn well his first strike wouldn’t hit.
Rah’Na spun her staff in the direction of Kieran’s weapons. Catching both blades from below, the move knocked them off course and left Kieran wide open.
Spinning on her heel, Rah’Na swung the staff low in a retaliatory strike at Kieran’s legs. The attack caught Kieran right above the ankles, using his own forward momentum along with the strength of the blow to sweep his feet out from under him.
Kieran’s world went white with pain as he landed heavily, all the breath knocked out of his lungs. He could faintly hear the clatter of wood against dust-covered stone. A moment later, he realized he had dropped his weapons.
Blinking to clear his vision, Kieran saw Rah’Na was standing over him, her hand outstretched to help him up. He gladly took it.
“A fair call, using both weapons from one side. Leverages their combined weight to push against a single point,” Rah’Na growled approvingly as she pulled the man up to his feet. “Smart, unlike crosscuts. Those only make it easier for your attack to be blocked.”
“And yet I still ended up on the ground,” Kieran countered, staggering slightly before regaining balance.
“Well, you left yourself wide open,” Rah’Na teased. She dropped back into her stance. “Covering yourself is something that will come only with practice. Again.”
The pair spent the next few hours in the training yard. Each duel started in the same way, with both circling around the arena before one made a move.
The exchanges were always quick and brutal. Sometimes Kieran would attack, fail to land to a blow, then get countered and knocked down. Or Rah’Na would launch an assault of her own, overwhelming Kieran with a rapid combo of quick blows before knocking him down. Either way… Kieran ended up on the ground.
Yet with each exchange, Kieran found that he was growing more confident in handling his weapons. He kept discovering small improvements here and there, noting dozens of ways to make his strikes faster and more accurate.
He stopped swinging widely. Instead, he tucked his arms close and only extended his reach as far as he needed to. He adjusted his footing, minutely at first but more and more as the training went on, gradually making his stance more stable.
And with every improvement, Rah’Na matched him. Whatever she may have said in the morning, it was obvious to Kieran that the old wolf was holding back. She only ever utilized as much energy as she needed to knock him on his ass.
Kieran wondered if he would ever be able to land even a glancing blow on Rah’Na.
“Alright, let’s take a break,” Rah’Na finally announced, pulling Kieran up to his feet yet again. “We will continue when you can breathe once more.”
Kieran leaned on his knees, panting. He was covered in rapidly forming bruises, scratches, and a layer of sweat. For the first time in years, it was a true struggle to control his breathing.
“Yeah… that might take a while.”