Broken Blades Don't Sing (Tales of Ashkar Book One) (3 page)

"You gonna regret it, you bastard", said Tro
with a menacing face. He drew the dagger closer to her, about to
slash. “You gonna regret it.”

"Wait!" shouted Serraemas, extending his hand
toward where both the murderer and his love stood. He looked at the
face of his hope. Her complexion—a mixture of terror and
apprehension—made his heart sink, but she said nothing. Her eyes
searched his for solace. He gave her a look of resolution, hiding
his uncertainty. She brightened, but only slightly, still fearful
for her life.

"Calm yourself, Serraemas, and look for the
right moment", said Zaranet.

Tro grinned.

Finding amusement in the dread that the couple
were experiencing, the cloaked giant relaxed slightly, giving
Serraemas the opportunity he was looking for. "Go on, say your last
wor—"

Serraemas flicked his hand before the man could
finish. In an instant the very first sliver of ice he had
generated—its sharp point still embedded in the ground—launched
toward Tro and straight through the side of the large man's
head.

Tro was dead before he hit the ground.

With a loud thud the second bandit’s body fell
to the cold earth, and blood pooled out of his fatal wound.

Panting, Serraemas buckled under exhaustion and
collapsed onto to his knees. He grasped his staff firmly for
support, though he felt weak. His face was even paler than usual;
he had only recently discovered the powers dormant inside of him,
and it took a tremendous toll on his body to utilize it.

He furrowed his brows.

It's still not enough. I need to master this
power. I almost lost her…

Serraemas glanced at Elena as she sprinted
toward him, tears streaming down her face.

I can't lose her.

"Oh, Serraemas", she said softly before nearly
smashing into him. Elena embraced him tightly as if she hadn't held
him in ages.

"It's okay, Elena", assured Serraemas with
conviction, albeit hoarsely. "You know I would never let anyone
hurt you.”

The two remained in each other's arms for
several moments without saying a word, with the only sound coming
from a cool breeze that rustled the Tarue flowers. Despite the fact
that their sweet aroma was amplified by the wind, Serraemas hardly
noticed the scent. Instead, he focused his gaze and attention to
the inferno that still raged in Lorine. By now, the once seemingly
impenetrable kingdom was razed to the ground, and plumes of smoke
rose upward into the darkness.

High above, a collection of incandescent lights
in the sky caught Serraemas’s eye. Eight bright lights moved
downward, as if sent down from the heavens. At first he thought
they were just shooting stars, but the lights came together in a
circle before flying off in opposite directions and disappearing
over the horizon.

“Wow, such beautiful shooting stars!” gasped
Elena, also noticing the strange phenomenon but thinking nothing of
it. It seemed that she had already dismissed the fact that she had
faced death just minutes prior.

Both of them continued to gaze into the starry
sky. Serraemas brought her closer and squeezed just a bit tighter
as once more his mind shifted to the pain of losing his family.
This world was full of struggles. Yet he had endured, and now he
wasn't helpless. He wielded the power of the elements; the ability
to protect his hope.

Serraemas glanced at Elena and smiled
warmly.

As long as I have you, everything will be
okay.

Chapter
2

335th Dawn of the 4999th Age of Rimas

Another tedious day…

Wu sat with arms and head sprawled over a table
filled with heaps of books, scrolls, and parchments. Being a Grand
Master Magus in the most prominent academy of elementalism in the
world entitled one to arbitrary and menial tasks—something he had
not been privy to when he first accepted the job.

The School of Eight was founded during the
4982nd Age of Rimas by several renown elementalists, most notably
Wu and Graeme Warren, the latter holding the title of Grand
Arcanist. Together, they had formed the foundation of learning the
elemental arts in the vast kingdom of Arcadia, which was named
after the continent it rested upon.

Wu had dozed off, his loud snores echoing
throughout the halls of the third floor of the Bureau of Elemental
Affairs, the northernmost building in the school grounds. Novices
walking by his office occasionally peeped in, but quickly scurried
off lest they tempt the wrath of such a revered elementalist.

The sound of shouting abruptly ended his
nap.

"Hmm?" said Wu aloud drowsily as he lifted his
head up and glanced toward the window. His wrinkled face had
several red marks from burying his head in the endless pile of
books—books that covered nearly every possible topic and conjecture
relating to elementalism. Slowly, Wu stood up, cupped his hands
behind his back, and strode to the window facing south.

Peering out to where the ruckus was coming from,
he noticed a small boy being assaulted by a group of children that
nearly piled onto him in the Courtyard of Brilliance. A young
veri—tall and purple-skinned people that hail from western Ashkar,
far away from human lands—who he identified as Master Doriel Felen
was shouting unacknowledged commands and unsuccessfully attempting
to pull the bullies away with nothing but her own arms.

Wu frowned and shook his head. “Children…" He
casually glanced at the small boy being assaulted, and his eyes
widened. Wu quickly wheeled around and rushed past his door as his
long, flowing robes fluttered behind him. His garment was mostly
dark purple with blue streaks that ran down its length. On the back
was the insignia of the academy, a glowing eye with eight spheres
circling around it.

Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Ice, Lightning, Time,
and Space. These were the schools of elementalism that were taught
by the School of Eight. Naturally, Wu had an affinity for, and
mastered, all of them—a feat only accomplished by one other
person.

Everyone in the hallway froze and turned their
attention to the barging senior. One of his students, a young
fellow named Marcus, smiled and bowed in respect at Wu as he
neared. "Master, I have learned a new spe—!”

"How impressive", responded Wu sarcastically,
interrupting the young student as he rushed by. Out of the corner
of his eye Wu saw Marcus whip around with a puzzled look on his
face. Wu didn’t have much difficulty in discerning why the student
was so startled, for the Grand Master Magus was hardly ever in a
hurry.

---

"Stop right this instant!" yelled Doriel as she
attempted to halt the onslaught, though her efforts proved futile.
Her gray robe had begun to soak in her sweat, appearing darker with
splotches of the perspiration. Despite her interference, nobody
seemed to acknowledge her presence. Prior to the debacle, she had
spent all morning lecturing students about the history of fire
element and decided to spend her afternoon relaxing in the
courtyard.

Or so she had wished.

The School of Eight, being located in the
melting pot that was the kingdom of Arcadia, housed and taught just
about any civilized race, including humans, veri, kivu, and
seamenders.

Doriel questioned whether that was the proper
choice.

The more savage races like the tusked Dommogin
or the scaly Towrth were not so welcome, for Arcadia was eternally
at war with every dommogin and Doriel had yet to hear of a towrth
that proved itself to be more than just an intelligent animal.

Even so, fights between students were rather
common, and sometimes even fatal when the powers of the elements
were involved. Strict rules were enforced that disallowed the use
of magic on one another in an aggressive manner, though it seemed
that it wasn’t enough. Even the Masters like herself were
prohibited from using spells on students—or heavens forbid—each
other. A circumstance like that would surely be a calamity,
considering the abilities that they wielded and the level of
expertise that they wielded them with.

At the very least there didn’t seem to be any
elementalism involved this time, but Doriel still had to do
something for the poor child. She grabbed two more yelling boys
from the horde and pulled them back, yet she still couldn't stop
the bullies from pummeling the poor boy. There were simply too many
of them; as soon as she let go they would scramble back into the
pile.

All of them seemed no more than twelve ages,
except for one who seemed to be the leader of these bullies. He
stood taller and larger than the rest, and looked to be about
fourteen ages.

Doriel clenched her teeth.

Of course, Damian is behind all this...

A natural aggressor, Damian was notorious for
picking fights with other students, especially those that were
younger, weaker, or of another culture. If it were up to her,
Doriel would have him kicked out of the academy.

You're lucky your parents have influence,
brat. But… I can still teach you a lesson.

She moved toward him, and he finally took notice
of her intentions. A wicked grin flashed across his face. She
wouldn't raise a fist to a student but she would be damned if she
didn’t give him some good old-fashioned discipline—

All of a sudden the horde of bullies was lifted
several feet off the ground. With faces of shock and confusion they
flailed their arms aimlessly. After a brief pause in the air they
were thrown by an invisible force away from where the victim lay.
What had just been a frenzied mob was now reduced to a heap of
disoriented children.

Doriel focused her attention on the small boy
still lying next to her. He had suffered multiple wounds, including
a bloody nose, several bruises, and perhaps a broken rib or two.
His robe was also worn and dirtied, but aside from that she found
nothing that indicated major trauma. Whatever injuries he had
sustained would be easily taken care of.

“Here, let me help”, Doriel said to the boy. She
waved her arms and channeled her energy, and a white mist formed
around her hand. Gently, she glided her hand over the boy’s wounds,
and while he would still need medical attention to ensure that he
was okay, the majority of his bruises and exterior injuries healed
before her very eyes. Unlike many other elementals, hers was a
defensive one, and her abilities reflected that; Doriel had mastery
over healing waters, unshakable earth, and protective gusts of
wind.

The boy moved his arms away from his face,
allowing Doriel to finally take a look at him. She assumed that he
would be crying or otherwise broken in spirit, yet what she saw
shocked her. Fiery, determined brown eyes stared back. Before she
could even help him up he jumped to his feet, then turned his
attention toward the pile of bullies and stuck his tongue out.

"Are you all right?!" Doriel asked, bewildered
at the boy's ability to shake off the beating with such ease.

The boy turned and looked up at her, smiling.
"Is it my turn to beat them up?"

She couldn’t help but let loose a chuckle,
returning a warm smile herself. Doriel then looked around for the
elementalist bold enough to break the school's rules. While she had
technically just utilized her elemental abilities on school grounds
without approval, hers was used to heal. The space magic that was
used on the bullies, while effectively ceasing the engagement, was
used to forcibly act upon another’s will and could have led to more
harm. Doriel gaped as her eyes settled on the exalted man that
stood before her.

"M-m-master Wu!" she stuttered, bowing with
respect. Even though her robe was inscribed with the three spheres
of air, water, and earth, signifying mastery of those schools of
elementalism and an impressive feat by most standards, it was
insignificant compared to the Grand Master Magus. Not only that,
but for him to even involve himself in such trifling matters,
especially regarding novices, caused her a fair share of
apprehension.

Master Wu was an elderly man brimming with
knowledge and wisdom. His long, white mustache and thin beard
nearly flowed past his chest, and his just-as-white hair was
fashioned in a long ponytail. While he had always seemed rather
jovial to her, Doriel couldn't help but feel deceived, as if it was
just a show. He slowly strode toward both her and the boy with a
slight hunch, hands cupped behind his back, and a stern look on his
visage.

"Sometimes", Master Wu began as if reading her
mind, "One must use necessary force even if that goes against our
establishment, Master Doriel."

"Yes, Master Wu", Doriel responded as she bowed
once more. “My apologies.”

Master Wu suddenly lightened his complexion and
laughed heartily. "Then again, a true Master of the School of Eight
understands the importance of rules. Without them, we are nothing
but mindless fools!”