Immortal Swordslinger 1 Read online

  “As do I,” I said, bowing deeply. “My lord.”

  As I walked out of the shrine, I tensed every muscle in my body, half expecting Wysaro to set his guards on me and steal the sword. But they stood perfectly still as they let me out into a bitterly cold, starlit night.

  Without cloud cover, the temperature was plummeting. I decided to run back to the guild, as much for the warmth of the exercise as to reduce the risk of somebody noticing my absence.

  The road wasn’t as steep as the mountain trails Master Rutmonlir made us race along, and the run was invigorating rather than exhausting. I was soon slipping back in through the side gate of the guild, across the training yards, and up the back stairs to my dormitory.

  When I got there, the room was empty. There had been no one in the training yards, which wasn’t unusual for that time of night, but the quiet in the corridors had been more surprising. Where had everyone gone?

  I stowed my sword away before I made my way across the guild, room by room. There was no one in any of the dormitories, nor in the dojo. The courtyard was empty, but I saw a servant hurrying up the steps into the main hall, so I followed her inside.

  The hall was packed. Every member of the guild seemed to be there. The masters stood around the edges of the room, with the most senior on stools on the dais. A handful of disciples were scattered behind the initiates, who filled the rest of the space, those at the back craning their necks to see over each other’s heads.

  At the front, Master Xilarion stood, hands clasped behind his back as he addressed the crowd. “I have gathered you all here for an important announcement. Tomorrow will be the final test for the current round of Augmenter training. For the most gifted and hardest working among you, this will mark the end of your time as initiates. You will graduate to become outer disciples or return to your lives beyond these walls, equipped to wield the power of fire. For the rest, it will still be an important moment, a chance for us to assess your progress and make plans for your future learning.

  “This test will take the form of a tournament. You will compete against each other using all of the skills you have developed—martial, athletic, and magical. Your performance will be measured both by how you fare in this competition and by the observations of your masters. Some of our best and brightest may lose to each other in the first round, but this need not hold them back from graduating.”

  Knowing nods rippled through the room, the whispers of such an event having already made everyone well-prepared for Xilarion’s announcement. So, the rumors were true. There would be a tournament to decide the most powerful initiates.

  “That said,” he continued, “there is a prize to motivate you all. The winner of the tournament will receive a scroll capable of summoning a Greater Fire Golem.”

  Gasps filled the room, immediately followed by excited chatter. I recalled the scroll from Xilarion’s office, but I hadn’t thought of it since. I wished that I was standing with Vesma and Kegohr so that I could ask them what a fire golem was, but if the spell was created by Xilarion, then it would be exceedingly powerful. The others must have shared my conclusion because the announcement had set the room to buzzing.

  Xilarion raised his hand, and silence fell. “The rest of this evening is yours to do with as you will,” he said. “Train, exercise, meditate, do whatever will help you to sleep. Because once you start tomorrow, there will be no rest until the tournament is over.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Morning arrived in Radiant Dragon, and the entire estate was abuzz with activity. I went early to the arena, an open-air stadium with seating for up to 2,000. The seats were mostly empty when I arrived, and a little under a hundred took their seats as the event drew closer. It was evidence that the Radiant Dragon might have once been a powerful guild with many Augmenters, but it had been a long time since then. There were no representatives from clans or local officials; this was strictly an event for the guild’s members, servants, and guards.

  The tournament began with an inspiring speech from Xilarion, and the first matches commenced. I watched with interest as I studied my fellow initiates. I’d spent weeks training and growing stronger while focusing little on the abilities of my peers. Like me, they had grown in both physical and magical strength.

  The chance to fight against our classmates using real steel instead of wooden training swords brought an extra frisson of excitement to the tournament, above and beyond the stakes in place for winning or losing. No one was fighting to kill, but the risk was there, and some blood had already been spilled thanks to misjudged blows and failed parries. My heart raced as each fight neared its climax and one or another of my classmates yielded a moment before matters became deadly.

  As I watched, I gathered information that would help me triumph over each winning initiate. I cared little for who would win and who would lose.

  Except for when Vesma stood in the center of the arena and bowed to Nakum, a young man who was as short as her but three times as wide.

  “Begin!” Xilarion announced.

  The crowd roared as Vesma leaped over Nakum and landed nimbly in the dirt behind his back. She swung her long, bladed spear around and caught him with the haft of the weapon. The cheers grew even louder as Nakum doubled-over. He quickly recovered and went on the offensive as he whirled his hefty, stone-headed club in wide circles. The weapon built up speed as he advanced. Its momentum seemed unstoppable, a great weight of destruction arcing toward her head. Vesma raised a Flame Shield, but it didn’t look like it could be enough to stop the crushing weight.

  Fortunately, it didn’t need to be. Vesma swung the Flame Shield up and feigned toward her opponent’s head. The move threw him off-balance, and his swing faltered. In that moment of hesitation, Vesma kicked out and struck him hard in the knee. His leg buckled, and he fell. The club slipped from his hand as he went flying across the arena and crashed into the barricade in front of the nearest seats. Then, Vesma was on him, the point of her spear pressed against his neck, and the fight was over.

  I rose to my feet, Kegohr beside me, as we cheered and clapped for all we were worth. To the applause of her peers, Vesma calmly crossed the dirt, bowed to the senior masters, and took a seat among those who had made it through to the next round.

  “Next,” Master Xilarion announced, his voice magically Augmented to carry over the din, “Kegohr versus Veltai.”

  “Good luck, buddy,” I said as I slapped Kegohr on the shoulder.

  He snorted as he rose and hefted his mace over his shoulder. “Luck? I don’t need luck.”

  He stomped down the stairs that cut through the lines of benches, then vaulted the barrier before he landed heavily in the arena. From the opposite stands, Veltai emerged. Sturdy and red-headed, she was one of the tougher women in our class. She wielded a pair of nunchucks, and one stick spun through the air in front of her.

  The two combatants stopped a dozen feet from each other, smiled, and bowed. They had trained together over the winter, and there was genuine warmth in the exchange. I had wondered at one point if their romance had ever become more than a spark, but Kegohr had never suggested it had. In fact, I would have been surprised if he’d ever kissed a woman, and now, he was expected to beat her into submission.

  All the matches I had seen so far had started slowly. The competitors had faced off while they judged each other’s movements and styles, all while waiting for a moment that might give them an advantage.

  Not so with Kegohr and Veltai. With fearsome roars, they charged straight at each other as Flame Shields materialized from their left forearms. They collided in the center of the arena, and flames burst around them as mace and nunchucks crashed into magical shields. The crowd went wild.

  What followed was two minutes of the most intense fighting I had ever seen. Kegohr and Veltai’s weapons flew with remorseless fury as they battered at each other’s defenses until I was amazed that either still stood. At one point, she got a high kick through and sent him staggering back. A momen
t later, they were on each other again as the crash of weapons and the crackle of flames filled the air between them.

  Such energy could never last long. Soon, both began to sag, though they never for a moment stopped fighting. Veltai tried to duck around Kegohr’s side, but he was a moment too quick for her and blocked the way with his Flame Shield. As she shifted her footing, he brought his mace around and swept her legs out. She crashed to the ground, and he planted a foot on her chest as his claws hooked her robe. Veltai grit her teeth as she held up her hands in defeat.

  Kegohr helped her to stand, and the sweat-drenched combatants hugged. They shared warm smiles while they pounded each other on the back. Then, they marched out of the arena with heads held high as they made way for the next challenge.

  Hamon entered the arena and watched the spectators with disdain, a pair of curved swords in his hands. His opponent was Nugi, a muscled warrior in thick leather armor and carrying a spear and shield.

  Master Xilarion announced the commencement of the battle.

  For a long time, the two stood facing each other, Hamon perfectly still while his opponent shifted from foot to foot.

  “I said that you could begin,” Master Xilarion said at last.

  Still, no movement.

  “Get on with it!” Rutmonlir bellowed. “Or I’ll come down there and knock your heads together myself.”

  The spearman advanced and lunged at Hamon. But the Wysaro Clan initiate stepped aside while whirling on the tip of one foot like a dancer. With one arm, he hooked the shaft of his opponent’s spear and trapped the weapon against his body. With the other, he lashed out, his sword lightning fast, and slashed at Nugi’s side. There was a flash of flame, a spray of blood, and the man sank to his knees as he clutched his torn armor.

  “I yield!” he shouted.

  Hamon turned and walked away as he flicked drops of blood from his sword.

  “Some people don’t know how to play nice,” Kegohr said as he returned to the seat beside mine.

  “Don’t know how or don’t want to,” I replied. “The end result’s the same, but the intention is very different.”

  “Next up,” Master Xilarion announced, “Yo Hin versus Ethan Murphy.”

  I unfastened a buckle at my shoulder and released the sheath that held the Sundered Heart Sword. Since the encounter with Jiven Wysaro, I hadn’t wanted to let it out of my sight, for fear that his agents might steal it. But it was one thing to carry such a powerful weapon to breakfast, quite another to use it against my classmates.

  “Hold this,” I said to Kegohr.

  “Won’t you need it?” he asked.

  I patted the sword at my side, a basic weapon I’d taken from the barracks to replace the one Tolin had given me. “I think it’s better that the rest of the class don’t discover I have a dragon spirit sword.”

  “Liar,” Nydarth hissed in my head. “You are afraid of unleashing your real power.”

  “Both things can be true,” I thought, keeping the words inside, where only she could hear them. “And would you want me to be like Hamon, slicing chunks out of my fellow classmates?”

  Nydarth grumbled but didn’t voice her objections. Good. She might have been a powerful dragon spirit, but I owned the Sundered Heart Sword, so I was her master.

  I walked down the steps toward the arena, and initiates cheered as I passed them. Was it my imagination or were they cheering louder than they had for the previous few matches? Real or not, the difference raised my spirits.

  “Maybe you have learned too much from this guild,” Nydarth spoke up. “All that talk of honor is rubbing off on you.”

  “I suppose you’ll be really annoyed when I tell you I’m not going to use my ash Augmenting either.”

  “Sweet man, what has you so obstinate this day? Those abilities are part of what makes you so special. They are the edge that can let you take on the greatest opponents.”

  “This is a fire guild tournament, a test of whether I can rank up. If I can’t succeed with physical prowess and fire Augmenting, then I don’t deserve to win.”

  “Then, let us hope you actually are as spectacular as I believe you to be.”

  I took the long route down into the arena, around the front of the stands and down the final steps where the masters watched. By the time I reached my position, Yo Hin stood ready and waiting.

  Yo Hin was one of the youngest initiates in the class—short, scrawny, and constantly on edge. He had come in the bottom quarter of every fighting test we had been given and was always one of the last home from a long run.

  But what he lacked in strength and agility, he more than made up for in magical prowess. I knew that I was a powerful Augmenter for someone new to the Seven Realms, but he was powerful by almost any standard. The fire blazed so brightly within him that I could feel its heat whenever he used his Vigor. His raw natural talent was matched by a keen understanding of the principles at play in Augmenting. He knew more than any pupil except Vesma and had even corrected our masters on mistakes in what they taught us, a habit that delighted Master Kyu, but drove Rutmonlir mad. To make the most of all this talent, they had provided him with extra cores, allowing him access to arts and techniques the rest of us lacked. In a straight fight, I could easily have beaten Yo Hin. In a magical contest, he would have beaten me hands down. Bring the two together, and I had no idea how things would pan out.

  We bowed to each other, and I drew my sword. My blade gleamed cold and bright as Yo Hin held a staff half a foot shorter than he was, the ends capped with brass. He looked nervous, but that said nothing about how the fight would be. Yo Hin always looked like he wanted to scurry away and hide.

  “Begin!” Master Xilarion said.

  I raised my arm, summoned a Flame Shield, and advanced toward Yo Hin with both sword and shield in hand. In response, he raised his right palm and closed his eyes.

  Fire sprang from the ground around him and formed a ring of flames. Then, he opened his eyes, and the ring burst outward before a wall of fire rushed toward me.

  I forced the Vigor to flow quickly through me and expanded my shield just before the fire hit. Flame burst against flame like waves crashing against a cliff, and my opponent’s attack sprayed wildly to either side of me. Even though I ducked down behind my enlarged shield, I felt flames lick around me, smelled the tips of my hair scorch, and saw the hem of my robes blacken. Then, the fire wall was gone, and I looked up to see what would come next.

  A ball of fire hurtled toward me, a vastly more powerful version of Untamed Torch. Again, I raised my shield just in time, and the blast hit so hard that it flung me over before sending me tumbling in the dirt.

  I rolled over and back to my feet, sword raised. Yo Hin was summoning fire once more, ready to hurl it at me. It was tempting to channel the power of ash and make myself immune to the flames, the easiest way for me to avoid being badly burned. But I had made a choice to face this battle with honor, and Nydarth’s disdain only made me more determined to stick with that choice.

  Instead, I started running, not directly toward Yo Hin, but in an arc that cut across his front. He launched balls of flame toward me, but his aim wasn’t great against a moving target, and I went fast enough to keep him from landing a hit. Fireballs pounded into the ground and singed the dirt as I ducked and weaved to make it more difficult for him.

  My path was bringing me toward the wall of the arena, around 10 feet from where Yo Hin stood. He might have thought he had me trapped, but he was in for a rude awakening. As I was about to hit the wall, I stretched my leg out and dug the tips of my toes into the gap at the top of a plank. I sprung off from that point, propelled myself into a curving leap, and flew toward Yo Hin.

  He stared at me open-mouthed, and for one glorious moment, I thought I had him. But then, he raised his arm before fire flared in a Flame Shield. My blade slid off the shield, and I landed just beyond my opponent as I twisted to face him.

  Where Yo Hin had been, there was only an empty patch of
scorched ground. I stared for a moment in amazement, then looked up to see a flaming figure rising through the air above the arena.

  Yo Hin was flying.

  I had heard about the Flight martial technique, but seeing it in practice still took my breath away. I realized now what technique he’d been trying to perfect when I saw him training in the practice yard. Flames now coated Yo Hin’s body, so that he seemed to be a figure of pure fire. The air shimmered as it flowed around him and carried him aloft.

  Yo Hin drifted across the arena while shining as bright as the sun. The crowd had gone silent for the first time all day as they stared at him in wonder.

  Now, Yo Hin definitely had the edge over me. The only way I could touch him up there was by using Untamed Torch, and he could use his flight to dodge, or Flame Shield to protect himself. Meanwhile, he could bombard me with whatever tricks he still had up his sleeve, safe from the physical attacks that were my only advantage in this battle. Sure, I could gain height by running up the steps onto the side of the arena, but by the time I got there, he could simply fly to the other side. I could have used a Plank Pillar beneath my feet to vault me into the air, but I wanted to win this match with fire techniques alone. The other offensive option was Burning Wheel. It was a chaotic technique that was almost impossible to control, but I could send a flaming whirlwind toward Yo Hin and hope it tossed him from the air before it moved into the stands. No, that was too risky. The chance of Burning Wheel harming the spectators was too great.

  Then, I thought about Flame Empowerment. Yo Hin looked like the living embodiment of fire, and a simple enhancement of the already burning flame would probably be too much for him to handle. He’d likely fall to the ground while smoke drifted from the charred husk of his body.

  I wasn’t sure whether Master Xilarion would appreciate me reducing another initiate to smoldering cinders, and I liked Yo Hin anyway. I respected him for his perseverance and creativity with Augmenting, so I didn’t want to hurt him too bad.