An Inheritance of Fire

Linua half-yelped, then bit down on her tongue as Eros nipped her ear. If he was waking her like this, there was no time to wait and ponder. Linua shook her drowsiness and slid out from under the covers. Her teeth immediately started chattering.

Moving hurriedly, she retrieved her boots from by the fire– she’d left them to dry overnight– and pulled them on. Linua kicked snow onto the smoking firepit and threw her pack over her shoulders, groaning as the straps settled onto her chafed skin. It wasn’t heavy, but carrying it over such long distances was still painful.

Eros took flight as she stepped out from the cave, leaving a trail of darkness as he flew into the night. She could barely make it out. Linua clutched her knife with trembling fingers as the slush-covered ground blurred underneath her feet. Seconds blurred into minutes as she followed Eros to his destination– wherever it was.

Finally, the trail ended. Linua dropped her pack and slumped to the ground, unable to spare a single thought for anything. This was stupid, she scolded herself. The convoy made things seem easy; she hadn’t even seen a monster while with them.

With shivering hands, she pulled a ration bar from her bag. It was still late, but she dared not light another fire. Not with Eros’ warning still so close. Linua grimaced as she bit into the ration bar. It was dry, bitter, and she’d already eaten too many of them. Is this what Seon’s life was like?

No. That was just her projection. Seon was always happy and so full of life– blaming his death on their culture was an avenue of grief that she had already exhausted. Exploring it again would do no good.

Linua stared up into the night sky as she ate. She shared in her people’s vision, but not their affinity for the darkness. She felt uncomfortable and alone in its isolating embrace, forced from one place to the next by its presence like a leaf caught in the river. She hated it.

With a sigh, Linua buried her guilt and self-torment. Even discounting her own survival,

there were more pressing matters. She’d yet to find any sign of the convoy. Even if she didn’t know the route, Eros certainly did– and he had yet to find anything, either. She was sure of it.

With this much of the journey already past, it was shocking she’d yet to find anything. It was the first sign there was something seriously wrong. Please be alright, Sel. She smiled wryly. If anything, between the two of them, he would have an easier time.

Verad’s sword whistled as Selerim swung it through the air. The elf brought her weapon up in response, blocking the strike. The sensation of their clashing blades still struck him as odd; hers was too light, too flimsy, as if there wasn’t enough substance to give it form.

He followed through with the strike, pressing down as their blades met. There was an instant of resistance as Viria tensed, but she sidestepped, letting him push through. As he rushed past, she stepped to the side, striking horizontally as her back foot settled.

Selerim dropped one hand and reversed his grip, blocking the slash with a downturned blade. Good, he thought. The strike was solid and well-timed. The elf girl learned quickly. She would never be as strong or as fast as him– or anyone else from Cress, for that matter– but her reactions were quick, and her wrists were steady.

Selerim’s feet kicked up a cloud of cold powder as he dragged them through the snow. He completely extended his arm as he whirled around. Viria blocked the strike– then yelped as it knocked her off balance, sending her tumbling down into the snow.

Sheathing Verad’s sword in the snow, Selerim leaned over, offering her a hand. “You have good reactions,” he said, pulling her from the thick white crust. “But sometimes that works against you.” He watched as the elf dusted the snow from her hair. “Trying to block something like that without the right stance will just knock you off balance.”

Viria nodded, but her frustration was evident. “No matter how much I focus, it’s hard to keep track of everything,” she said. “Blade, feet, wrists, step back. It’s easy when you lay it all out like that, but…” she sighed. “It’s hard to remember when all you have is a few seconds.”

Selerim half-smiled, remembering how many bruises Corvus gave him over the years. “It’s hard. Everyone has that issue when they start.” He gestured down at the elven sword. “How long will that take to mend?” His last strike had splintered it.

Viria inspected it. “Just a few minutes.”

Selerim thought for a moment. “Let’s stop here for the night.”

“What? But we just started!”

“There’s not much more for me to teach you,” he hitched Verad’s sword to his waist. “I can’t teach you how to use a sword, and I don’t know how much your body can handle. We’ll still spar, but not tonight. Your body needs to rest– it’s an important part of training.” Viria’s eyes were hesitant, but she nodded.

Viria couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t the crackling fire or the howling wind that kept her awake; rather, it was her own restlessness. Their short sparring session left her body alight with excitement; one she had no way to assuage. On the contrary, the anticipation made it worse.

Opening her eyes, she sat up straight, resting her back against the earthen “wall” that surrounded their camp. They’d set up in a ditch of sorts for the night, laying a tarp on the ground while the earth shielded them from the wind.

The fire was nearing its last breath. Viria hurriedly added another block of firewood from the nearby pile. She leaned back as it flared back to life, huddling inside her clock as the fire’s warmth returned.

She slipped one hand inside her garb, running her fingers over her torso’s burned skin. It was rough and ridged; and though she hadn’t looked in days, there would certainly be scarring. At least the pain is gone. The first time she’d sparred with Selerim, each parry sent waves of pain rolling through her body. Those were gone, replaced with a dull ache that stole her breath.

Speaking of which... Viria poked her head out from under her cloak. The hollow was nowhere to be seen. After spending so much time in his presence, his absence felt strange. Where is he? She poked her head up out of their shelter. Cold air immediately washed over her head and filled her lungs. Caught off guard, Viria dipped back down with a cough, only to stand up again, determined not to let winter best her.

Supposedly the plains would end after just a few more days of travel, but she had no way of telling, and especially not at night. Everything in the distance was swallowed by the darkness, and all else was obscured by hazy shadows.

“What is it?”

A low voice asked from behind, making Viria jump. She turned to see Selerim seated cross-legged on the ridge behind her. Half-turned towards her, his violet eyes were calm, and his sword rested on both knees.

He stayed still as Viria pulled herself up behind him, sitting so that her back was to his, and her legs dangled down into their camp. He didn’t stiffen, this time. Are we getting closer?

Viria’s breath fogged the air as she stared up at the night sky. It was almost completely dark, save for sparse silver specks that dotted the twilight expanse. “Do they teach you how to deal with it?” She asked, suddenly sure they were awake for the same reason.

“What do you mean?”

She closed her eyes, considering how to answer the question. “The quiet?” She half-asked, half-answered. “It’s… weird. Everything since we left has just been so… crazy.” That last word seemed impossibly insufficient, but Viria couldn’t think of a better one. “I just wanted it all to calm down, but now that it is quiet, I feel like I’m just waiting for something to happen. Like I need to be doing something– but there’s just nothing.”

She paused for a moment before continuing. “In the quiet…” Viria trailed off, then took a shuddering breath. “In the quiet, sometimes I forget that he’s dead. And then, when I turn around, I expect to see him there– and then I remember.” Tears leaked down her face. “I’m sorry,” she apologized weakly. “I know I’m making you remember the worst day of your life. I just… don’t know how to deal with it.”

Viria pulled her knees to her chest. She felt Selerim shift and then settle before answering. “They don’t teach us to deal with it,” he said finally. “It’s important to stay aware. So our mentors teach us how to spend the time in between skirmishes.”

“How so?”

“Most of us have a hobby of some sort. A personal item to keep us occupied. There’s only so much you can do when you’re setting up camp.”

“A hobby?”

She felt the hollow nod.

“What’s yours?

“... a sketchbook and pencil.”

“So drawing?” Viria laughed as Selerim nodded again.

“What?” He asked, caught off guard.

“Nothing, it’s just…” She forced herself to calm down. “Unexpected. Why did you choose it?” The elf asked, hoping to rush past any awkwardness. She felt Selerim shift again before answering.

“I like remembering moments.”

“Moments?”

“Yeah.”

Selerim fell silent before explaining. “I was still little when my father died,” he started slowly. “I started training under Corvus shortly after that. I realized at some point…” the hollow trailed off. Viria stayed quiet, giving him time to find the right words.

“At some point, I realized that I didn’t remember everything I did with my father. That time he spent with me is gone, now, lost to the dark.” He paused. “But the big things, the important moments, I remember like they’re yesterday. When I told Corvus, he told me to hold those moments close. I didn’t want to forget them, so I decided to draw them.” His voice turned bitter. “So much for that.”

“What do you mean?”

“My sketchbook burned.”

“Ah.” That explained why she’d never seen him with it. His friends and his home were gone, and even his memories were threatened. Viria opened her mouth to apologize, then thought better of it. “I promised I’d help you.” She flexed her scarred hand. “I meant it.”

“I know.”

Viria hugged her knees, unsure what to say next. She understood Selerim better after crossing blades with him, but she had no clue which lines to avoid.

“If you want to ask me something, just do it.”

“How’d you know?”

“It’s obvious.” The hollow sighed. “I’m sorry for how I treated you at first,” he started. “But I don’t want you to walk on eggshells around me, either. If there’s something you want to ask, or something you want to say. Just do it.”

“... Alright.” Viria considered her next words. She’d had so many questions lined up, but now that the answers were within reach, they all eluded her. “What weapon did you use?”

“... That’s what you want to know?” Viria could hear the incredulity in Selerim’s voice. She shrugged.

“You said you’re not a swordsman. So what are you?”

“I used a chain and dagger.”

“Do your mentors just know how to use every weapon?”

“No. They teach us the basics, and then we train endlessly.”

“Like what you’re doing with me?”

“More intense. When we’re learning, our mentors teach us from sun up to sun down.”

“That’s a lot of training.”

“There’s no substitute for experience. That’s what Corvus used to tell me, anyways.”

Viria mulled over that before latching onto another question. “What about your pet– Nyx? You called her a Wyrd, I think. How did you tame a Reaver?

“I didn’t.” Selerim shifted as he spoke, and Viria was certain the shadowy bird was in his hand now. “They’re not really tame. They’re our… friends? Companions? It’s hard to explain. Corvus told me that our ancestors learned to live with them to stave off loneliness.” He stopped talking for a moment. “I think I told you that my mother was the village breeder. Nyx hatched earlier than she was supposed to– I met her right afterward. My mom said she’d never seen one bond so quickly.”

Viria could hear the smile in his voice. “You started training as a hunter because of it?”

“Sort of. Duskwings are hard to breed– if I decided to do something else, I’d have to give up Nyx. And I knew I wanted to follow my father’s path.”

“As a hunter?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Yes,” Selerim said simply. “But I feel like I’m doing something when I’m hunting. Looking after others; something good.” His next sentence was filled with longing. “I’ve never regretted the path I took.”

There was something about the way he spoke that made Viria’s heart ache. Although they were the same age, Selerim’s life had been all but planned from the time he was born. That sense of belonging was something she’d never felt.

What will things be like at home?

No matter how many times Viria asked herself that, she could never answer it.