Chapter One
Arithal
Simketh stepped into the clearing where I was practicing my magic. Well, ‘trying to practice’ was probably a better term. My skills were far better with the sword than with the magic. That is why I was called Silver Blade by many. In Gyssarnith we all had two names. Our true name, mine was Arithal, and our earned name. Our true name we were given at birth, but we earned our new name. What we were called by was each person’s choice.
Simketh looked at me, “Silver Blade, if your skill with magic was as fast and true as your skill with the sword, you could be the warrior.” Just to show him off me shot a ring of fire at him.
He swayed it aside easily with one hand. Even though North Wind and I had been great friends for many years, we were opposites. He had magic beyond what I could hope for, but his sword skill failed.
“I don’t need to be the warrior.” I said, looking down. The warrior went with one chosen companion to fight any time it is needed. A warrior needed grace, skill, a sharp aim and to be highly skilled in magic. Our current warrior, Ruadre Star Hound was of now trying to find our long-time enemy, Firrah, from our enemy clan, Gyssmitor. Our clan was Gyssarnith, and as many years ago as I could count, we had hated each other for a small feud in Eytherdlues.
“I’m sure.” He said, “You know you would delight in the chance to stick your silver blade into the low-lying scoundrel Dark Hunter.”
“Dark Hunter doesn’t deserve to have a blade as fine as Othas in him.” I replied simply.
“But you know you would love the chance. But, enough of this teasing, it doesn’t suit you, lets got to the market and get some lunch.” Simketh said.
“I would, but I promised Mome I would be home by noon.” I said sadly.
“Fine,” He said, “see you around.”
I ran into our home. “Lateness looks bad on a girl.’ Mome said, from behind me.
“I was only late by a minute.” I said, referencing the clock.
“Yes, dear, but many things can change in a minute.” Mome said. “No matter, come with me.”
She led me through the halls to our fitting room. The seamstress sat there. She said, “I will fit you for your gown.” I was having a new gown made for my seventeenth birthday. That was the day we were told by the queen what we would be, be it a farmer, or a seamstress, a baker or such.
I didn’t know what I wanted to be, I never thought about it, because we did not have a choice. That was also the day that anyone could become a warrior. Since me and Simketh and me were only born two days apart, we would be told at almost the same time. My dress was Silver, sleeveless, and ruffled fabric flowed down the sides like water. The material fanned out at the waist. I turned to look in the mirror. I looked like a princess.
I met up with Simketh at the creek. “I have figured out what your problem is, Silver Blade.” I pushed a strand of waist length hair out of my face and behind my head.
“What problem?” I inquired simply.
“Your lack of power, you and I both know that if you found you power source, like most people, you would have tons of magic.”
“You have it easy.” I said sighing, “Like everyone else your magic source is in your name. You get your magic from the wind. But my power can’t come from my name, swords and magic are two opposite things. Face it, I will never find my source. “
“Well, be negative if you want. But I will rejoice, for in two days it will be your birthday, you’re choosing day. Two days after that it will be mine.” He said, smiling.
“Yes, and I know not what I will be.” I said, putting my hand in the cold creek.
“That’s why the spirits will guide the queen to make the right choice.” He said. “Now come, let us go.” He stood up, and took my hand, but released it as soon as I was standing. We walked past many trees, each so tall I almost couldn’t see the top. We passed creatures, that came up to us and allowed us to pet them. The whole time Simketh didn’t look at me, not once.
I returned home and studied my face in our looking glass. My ears, pointed, the trademark of an elf. My eyes were turquoise, my skin fair as a swans. Simketh had brown hair, fair skin and golden brown eyes.
Mome called my name, “Silver blade, where are you?” I ran into our main room. “What Mome?” I asked. “Go put a nice dress on, everyone has been called to the main palace, something is wrong.” I chose my royal blue dress, and then put on a pair of matching shoes. As we walked to the palace Mome was muttering about what possibly could be wrong, how the Queen was supposed to solve these problems, and such. We arrived at the palace. Many were already there. The queen sat on her throne.
A mere fifteen minutes later, she rose. A hush fell over the crowd, “It is to my regret that I must tell you this, but the warriors Star Hound and her companion have died, and their bodies cannot be recovered.” Everyone started talking at once. Never in history had this happened, both dead.
“Furthermore,” the queen said, “no successor was left and I must choose one. As the need for one grows great I will choose quickly, within the week.” She looked over the crowd, a frown on her face, from grief or displeasure at the fact no successor was left, only she knew. “May your lives be filled with magic and your aim be true.” She said the common parting sentence. We all left.
The next day Simketh and I met to spar. As the only spell he failed to do correctly was to protect swords from slicing the skin, I always did it. I put my hand on the sword, and felt a certain rush in my body. The sword glowed, and the edges visibly dulled. The spell wore off in only an hour, so I would have to re-protect them. He stepped into the sun. His sword reflected the bright light. I stepped into the sun also.
“You ready to be beaten, again?” I sneered.
“I have gained skill.” He said.
I ran towards him, our swords met, he was right, he had gotten better, but he was still an easy target, and I was going easy. In on quick movement, he was on the ground, with my sword and his, forming an x over his throat. I picked up my sword and gave him a chance to get up.
“You know you will never beat me, why even bother trying?” I said, running my hand along the simple hilt.
He looked at me, “Maybe I will never beat you, but by training with you, I might hope to beat others.”
“Good luck.” I said under my breath, and then lunged.
This time I actually had to put a little effort to get him pinned down again, and not before almost receiving 3 very close blows.
“You’re getting better.” I said.
“I know,” he replied, “but now it is time to train your magic.” He smiled, and sheathed his sword, as did I, and put it on the ground. The first thing I ever mastered was the undoing spell, for many of my spells had gone horribly wrong.
“Now,” he said, “we will work on the transfiguration spell.” I frowned; I had been working on this for weeks.
He continued, “You know most elves can do this by the time they are 5.”
“Don’t rub it in, I know I am sixteen and I can’t do it, I don’t need the whole lecture right now.” I replied.
I put one hand up, and concentrated on turning him into a frog, though he wanted me to work on transforming trees, not people. I focused, and concentrated. I opened my eyes. Simketh stood in front of me, in the form of a pig.
“Well, not what I intended, but it works.” I said. I took the spell off, and then started running, I didn’t want to know what would happen once he turned back to an elf, but I imagined a whole lot of spells would go flying in my direction.
He chased after me, and shot me with a freezing spell. I froze mid run, he laughed, and then took it off. I laughed too, and then he walked me back home.
When my birthday came I put on my dress of silver. My hair was intricately wrapped around my head, and for luck, my mom put a pearl necklace around my neck.
I was lead to the cave with the crystal water of fate; it was here I would be told. The queen entered.
As she entered I was wondering what I did wrong, for she was frowning. She projected her voice, loud and clear, through the forest, and probably beyond that.
“Due to necessity, and your vast amount of skill with the sword Arithal Silver Blade has been chosen.” Many thoughts ran through my head, but the most dominant was that I was shocked, I was chosen, to be a warrior.
“You will be a warrior’s companion,” she started, my heart sank one hundred levels, I felt like crying and smiling at the same time, she continued, “to your fellow warrior, North Wind.” Simketh came into the cave.
The queen said to us, “Meet me at the palace in one hour.”
“May you magic flourish.” I said. It took all my control not to run out of the cave and cry. I was to be made a warriors companion, not a warrior, to Simketh who couldn’t even keep one hand on his sword.
Remember, it doesn't matter what anyone else says, writting should be something you do because you enjoy doing it.
