Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Alderian entered the armory with a strange sense of thrill and excitement.
He went straight to the shelf where he had left the sword embedded with suns; in his curiosity to discover his own abilities, and while testing the other weapons in the place, he had barely touched it since the day he discovered it.
“So your name is Karivan, Sword of the Suns.”
As he spoke its name, Alderian had the clear sensation that the sword vibrated faintly in his hand.
Perhaps he had imagined it, but he knew that the swords of old had souls of their own.
He brandished it skillfully. He no longer needed to put himself in an imaginary battle situation to execute complex actions with a weapon, but he was still far from fully understanding what he was doing.
He went out into the garden, to a corner he had adopted for training lately, and executed what he considered an offensive movement.
It was difficult to practice by himself, and he had never even seen a real sword fight, so he could not push himself to a limit that would allow his skills to grow.
Then he smiled. He already had a plan.
Not even an hour had passed when his training partner arrived. He looked at him with a hint of doubt, but there he was, willing to listen to his madness.
“I heard you have a death wish,” Elarión said as soon as he descended into the garden.
“Not yet, but thanks for your concern,” Alderian replied jokingly. “Thanks for coming. You’re a loyal friend.”
“Yes, yes… I’m here for the Herald, not for you. Although I can’t imagine how you want me to help.”
This time Alderian did not take him by surprise; instead, he showed him a pair of practice swords. Elarión shook his head vigorously, yet he did not reject the sword Alderian extended to him.
“You are skilled, I know it. I can’t advance any further if I don’t train with someone, and I can’t think of anyone but you to help me improve. I only have seven days.”
“You’re crazy, Alderian. Everyone in A’aru is talking about the duel. The General is no amateur; he has fought all kinds of creatures in the last centuries, and you intend to defeat him? Alderian, listen to reason—”
“I have no other choice. Didn’t you hear they put an entire squad watching Augustine?”
Elarión clenched his fists. “I heard.”
“Then you know it too… They will sacrifice Augustine’s family one by one.
The Guardian of Threads already knows she has an anomaly.
She doesn’t know what it consists of, or how serious it is, but she’s playing the hunting game.
With this explanation I made up, I can buy us a little more time, at least until we understand what is happening with Augustine. ”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’m not sure, but the anomaly keeps changing, and she is slowly changing too. She took the form of Aldana in one of her dreams. That’s a major break in the Oblivion, don’t you think?”
“I knew she was different since she saved Ana. I believe the Herald comes to break the Order.” He stood in a guard position, raising his sword. “I will help you. I will keep my promise and protect her in every way possible.”
Alderian laughed quietly. He knew he would say that.
They began a duel that started cautiously, as if testing each other, but soon transformed into a vertiginous encounter.
It was difficult to follow their movements, and both seemed equally excited by the match.
Beyond the pressure of the duel, Alderian was genuinely enjoying the wildness he experienced in combat.
Elarión was warming up and attacked with increasing ferocity. He fought like an experienced warrior and cornered him against one wall. A contained fury was emerging savagely; Elarión was not holding back as he fought.
Alderian smiled. That was exactly what he needed. He counterattacked with force, wondering how he could awaken the dormant power of Karivan. He felt it vibrate in his hands, but it was a fleeting state, and he didn’t know how to interpret it.
“Karivan, wake up!” he exclaimed as he fought, but there was no answer.
“Who are you talking to? Focus on me!” Elarión shouted, attacking angrily.
Alderian could barely block the impact of the blow dealt to him; the force of it made him stumble back.
Elarión continued to lashing out at him relentlessly, and Alderian had less and less room to maneuver.
Desperate, and without knowing exactly what he was doing, he performed an alchemical transmutation—disappearing from where he stood and reappearing behind Elarión, who barely had time to protect himself with his wings.
Alderian stepped back, panting, while Elarión straightened up, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
“Interesting,” was all Elarión said.
“Let’s try fighting in the air,” Alderian said.
Both rose a few meters from the ground. Alderian gave Elarión no respite and lunged at him, sending him crashing down. He saw him get up immediately and flash him a resentful glare.
“I like that expression. Attack me with everything you’ve got,” Alderian provoked.
Elarión rose swiftly above him and dove to attack.
It was difficult to use wings defensively in the air, but Alderian performed a somersault while intercepting the weapon with them.
Elarión was a fighter who adapted quickly and soon understood how to move with the sword.
He lunged at Alderian again, who traced a circle with his sword in the air as he spun.
When he faced his opponent, the blade shimmered like a flame of incandescent white fire.
Elarión stopped dead, bewildered.
“What are you doing? What is that?”
Alderian looked victoriously at his sword.
“Meet Karivan,” he replied airily, as if he had already won a battle.
His satisfaction lasted only a few seconds, as the glow of the sword quickly died out.
“Congratulations, you’ve invented the shortest-lasting torch in A’aru. The General will kill you before you light it again,” Elarión commented bitingly.
Alderian did not answer. He simply watched him leave his sword on the ground and walk away. Before taking flight to leave, Elarión said without looking back:
“I’ll be back tomorrow.”