Sarran is the most talented, most gifted, most promising, and most arrogant student the ihari-kar has ever seen. Avain is considerably less talented, singularly ungifted, thoroughly not promising, and incredibly obnoxious. But they share a past of pain and isolation and when things go horribly wrong on their graduation day, this powerful bond between them becomes the only hope for the devastated baeleen'kar and their ruined village. The two boys set off together on an epic quest to restore the life and honor of their dying clan, but the seemingly unbridgeable rift between them threatens to shatter everything they work so hard to restore...
Hey. XD This is a novel I've been working on for a while, and I'd really like some feedback on it. It's a bit on the long side when it's all said and done, so if you intend to follow it, you're in for a wild ride full of eight-foot spiders, underwater sword fights, things blowing up, and lots of laughs. If you think you're up for it, please don't hesitate to share your thoughts. XD Here goes.
Silver Shadow
Part One: Shaeen Feen Ila (The Times We Share)
Chapter One
“What were you thinking, putting those two together?! They’ll never complete the yakar!”
“Calm yourself, Emar. That is precisely why we paired them up.”
“You’re setting them up to fail!” The man who spoke, though dwarfed by the high seats and raised dais upon which the five other occupants of the room sat, seemed surprisingly formidable, cloaked in righteous anger and armored in his indignation. The council he stood before could do nothing but mutter and stare down at their shuffling feet. “You are deliberately sabotaging their careers and, worse, ruining their lives!”
The man at the head of the council, in the middle seat of the long table, shot back a swift denial. “Nonsense, Emar. They are healthy lads, and young. They will find a new calling in life, and a new trade to pursue.”
Emar just shook his head stiffly. “You know better. There is no failing the yakar.”
“Now, Emar, we understand that your concerns are legitimate and are not to be taken lightly, but don’t you think you may be overdoing the theatrics just a little bit?” the counsel head leaned forward.
Emar made a sharply negative gesture. “Not a chance! Those boys are far too talented to throw away like this!”
“We admit that they are powerful, and each has great potential. That potential is the reason they must not succeed. If either Sarran or Avain were to become baeleen’kar, the village would surely descend into chaos.”
“So you would sacrifice two young lives…”
“…for the good of the village! Surely even you can see that, Emar!”
But Emar shook his head slowly. “No. I see only a power-mad council seeking its own advancement and using its esteemed position to eliminate all threats.”
“Emar—”
No use. The man was gone.
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“Look, here’s how this is gonna work, Sarran. I’ll go fetch the shikareen, and you can just…wait here.”
“No one can make the yakar alone, idiot. Especially not you. One of the purposes of this test is to teach the importance of teamwork and trust.” Sarran turned to look at his companion.
Avain, who had clearly not listened to a word he said, disappeared from sight just then around a corner of the stony corridor, lit from above by ensorcelled flames along the vaulted ceiling. The yakar had been designed within the confines of a series of caverns and passages drilled deep into the mountain.
Sarran shook his head in exasperation and began to trudge after his ignorant, impulsive teammate. What a drag.
There were four other teams of two taking the yakar today. The first three teams to reach the end and claim the shikareen there would become baeleen’kar…if they could make it back to the village without losing their prize.
That was where Sarran had intended to come in. Whoever returned to the village first won the title, no matter how they had come upon their shikareen. But he had been paired with the infamously incompetent Avain. No matter. Sarran excelled at adapting to his ever-changing environment.
As Sarran passed through the heavy stone door leading into the first chamber, he took note of the two buttons on either side of the wide corridor. The obvious task had, apparently, not been so simple for Avain. By the looks of it, he had attempted to hit first one button, then the other, triggering a trap that had spewed daggers all along one wall. Idiot. But he must have figured it out eventually. A hefty stone and a good sense of timing could easily simulate a missing partner, although Avain may not have possessed the coordination required to press the second button at the proper time...
The next chamber held the bloody corpse of a shapeless, scarlet Meep. Sarran knew a great deal about Meeps; indeed, they had been taught about all sorts of Others at the ihari-kar. The Meeps were not terribly dangerous, if one knew how to handle them. Their main strength lay in their ability to paralyze a perceived threat with nothing but a glare from their main eye, the only one of the seven not set on a long, thin stalk above their heads. Their sharp, three-inch fangs rounded out their arsenal. All one had to do to defeat a Meep was provide an adequate distraction and sneak up on the thing, an incredibly simple task if one brought a friend along, since the stupid creatures could only focus on a single target at a time. But how had Avain beaten this one?
I wonder…
Initiates were instructed to enter the yakar unarmed, and, for a moment, Sarran wondered if Avain possessed even less honor than most people gave him credit for. Then he noted the plain steel hilt that protruded from the Meep’s main eye socket and regretted the harsh thought, no matter how well deserved it might have been. The knife was identical to the ones from the trap in the previous room. Sarran wondered if Avain were more competent than he let on, if he had sprung the trap for precisely this reason, if…No. He dismissed the idea and attributed the Meep’s death to sheer dumb luck.
Sarran found Avain in the next cavern.
At first, Sarran could not determine the nature of this room’s challenge. Then he reached the edge of a clever trap hole and crouched down to peer over the rim. The walls were smooth and flawless and round and touched either edge of the chamber. There was no way around. Avain slumped against the far wall, openly exhausted. He was covered in blood, and Sarran doubted all of it was the Meep’s. His clothing was a tattered mess, sliced open from a dozen near misses with the knives from the first room, but the boy did not seem to be badly wounded, just a bit tired. The streaks of blood smeared across the smooth stone at his back gave some indication as to why.
Avain looked up, having finally taken note of his companion. He shook his dark, lank, sweat-soaked hair from his face and glared at his teammate, daring him to say something.
Sarran, who had never been one for words, took the challenge anyway, just because it came from Avain. “Idiot.” He flicked a glance around the room before pursing his lips in annoyance. The walls of the hole stood just the right height for a couple of boys to escape. If they worked together. “We have to do this together.”
Avain staggered to his feet with a monumental effort. “Not…a chance,” he gasped, leaning heavily against the wall. He glared at Sarran, daring him to respond.
Sarran rose swiftly, but hesitated on the brink, poised to leap down into the pit. “It’s the only way.”
“I don’t…need your help…”
Even I couldn’t do this alone. “Of course you do.”
“You’re so…so arrogant…! Everything’s…so easy for you!” Avain lurched away from the wall, his heated glare the same deep black as Sarran’s. But the passionate fire that lit them now set him apart. “I can do…just as well! I can! I just…” He trailed off, swaying unsteadily.
Idiot. Sarran jumped down to join his teammate. “I’ll go first. Give me a hand up.”
Avain did not move.
A bit peeved, Sarran reached for his arm, intending to force Avain to kneel so he could stand on his shoulders and reach the edge. Avain, battered as he was, reacted faster than Sarran would have thought possible, and it took every trick he knew for Sarran to disengage from the spat without losing his balance. Avain glared as he backed off a step.
“Don’t you dare touch me!”
Sarran hid his impatience and tried to look at the situation from a rational point of view. He knew Avain’s story, all about how everyone who had tried to care for him wound up dead.
After the death of his second caretaker, the council had been forced to declare the child old enough to live independently, mostly because no one would take him in. Avain had been granted a room at the ihari-kar. Vicious rumors of guardian demons and otherworldly influence had kept the world at a distance, and only superstitious fear prevented the villagers from chasing him off or killing him outright. Avain had lived all of his young life alone and isolated from the world around him, a stranger in the only place he had ever called home. His seemingly impulsive decision to enroll in the ihari-kar at the tender age of nine and begin studying to become a bael’kar had taken everyone by surprise.
Avain had quickly developed into a wild, uncontrollable class clown. He never did anything right, and everyone suffered for it, making him a very unpopular student. But, when it really mattered, he always managed to squeak by, though Sarran attributed his progress more to pity points than anything else. Sarran had to acknowledge, however, that Avain did at the very least put forth the effort. Many times, Sarran had found himself training long after regular class hours, but Avain had always remained even longer than him. While most kids took five or more years to complete the required training prior to their yakar, Avain had passed every test and fulfilled every requirement in just three. And while this was not unheard-of (after all, Sarran had done the same thing), no one had expected Avain, of all people to do it.
It really wasn’t all that surprising that the two of them had been partnered up, Sarran mused. No one really wanted Avain to succeed, and pairing him with the youngest and most inexperienced teammate possible should have been the surest way to see him fail. The boy’s flippant attitude and fiercely autonomous nature would have torn any semblance of teamwork to shreds, had anyone else been involved. But Sarran had come too far to fail now. While he understood his teammate’s reluctance to surrender the independent spirit that had sustained him these past twelve years, he simply didn’t care.
I have a job to do, and nothing can interfere with that. I won’t allow it.
Sarran, bracing himself for a second assault, closed the meager distance between himself and his partner. “Let’s do this, Avain.”
For a moment, Sarran thought the conviction in his eyes might be enough to sway his teammate. But then Avain withdrew. “Not a chance. How do I know you’ll help me after you’re up? You could just leave me here!”
“Then you’d be no worse off than you were before. Come on, do you really think this is the worst challenge we’ll face? Bumbling and incompetent as you are, I’d rather have you at my side than stuck down here. Now get down on your hands and knees and give me a boost.”
Avain gritted his teeth in clear reluctance and did not move for a long time. When he finally did, he ignored Sarran’s instructions and cupped his hands before him.
Sarran stepped forward and placed a steadying hand on Avain’s shoulder, gleaning an instant of cruel pleasure when his fingers discovered a deep, ragged wound there. But it would not do to hurt Avain. At least, not yet. Sarran shifted his grip, stepped into the supportive cup, and thrust himself upward, surprised by the strength his companion revealed with a sudden shove that lifted his groping hands to the level of the top edge of the wall. Sarran latched on, and nearly fell back in surprise. His right hand had come down on something sharp. Sarran clenched his jaw and slid a bit to the side, managing to haul himself up onto the rocky ground beyond. He paused for a moment, his cut and bleeding fingers curled into a tight fist, until the pain receded enough for him to lean over the edge and clasp the arm Avain proffered.
As soon as he rolled onto the flat ground, Avain twisted the wrist he held and examined the shallow wound. “You’re hurt.” He grimaced in sympathy.
Sarran jerked away. “So are you.” He turned around, seeking their next path. The brilliant spot of sunlight at the end of the long, straight tunnel hurt his eyes, accustomed as they were to the dim glow of the magical flames.
“We’re almost done!” Avain shouted gleefully. He leapt to his feet and took off down the narrow tunnel.
“Wait!” A feeling of ominous dread settled deep in Sarran’s chest. Something bad was…
It happened so fast; Sarran nearly missed it. An invisible trigger activated with a nearly inaudible click. Avain stopped in his tracks and turned toward the source of the noise. A half-dozen of the plain, razor-bladed knives shot out of hidden crevices in the wall behind him.
Avain whirled about just in time to snatch the leading knives by their hilts, right out of the air, winning himself the moments he needed to skitter away from the other four. What? Sarran did a quick double take. Avain had never been particularly good at working with knives. Where had this come from?
He must have landed on another trigger, but this time, Avain was ready for it. He threw himself backward, executing a sketchy somersault and an equally awkward landing, right on top of a third trigger. Avain fumbled a bit, but managed to avoid serious injury. This could not continue much longer.
A glittering line of knife tips appeared in the ceiling. They would not shoot straight down, Sarran was sure. If they did, they would be too easily avoided. Avain noted the threat, and leapt back, just as any other person would do.
“Get down!”
Sarran was moving before he knew what was going on. He launched himself off the ground and tackled Avain. The pair of them slid together across the rough loose stone and dirt of the cavern floor. One of the deadly little knives caught the fabric of Sarran’s pants, and they jerked to a halt.
After a brief moment, Avain wriggled out from beneath Sarran, making little grunting noises of pain as he picked sharp rocks from his Meep bites and the nicks left by the numerous traps. Sarran pulled the knife pinning him down free and tossed it away with a grimace of disgust. He pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s go.”
Avain watched as Sarran started forward—and fell through the floor. Sarran experienced a curious moment of free fall before he jerked to a halt.
The boy looked up at Avain, who had caught the back collar of his shirt, then down at his dangling feet and the endless void beyond.
“Now we’re even,” Avain declared.
Sarran stifled a sigh. What a drag…
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Edit 25 Feb: Just fixed some typographical errors.
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