Dragons of the Elements: Ascension (Dragon of Legend Approved Fan-Fiction)

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter 13: Swordsmanship

Brandi smiled. "Another example you are the human form of fire. Did you think about saying that, Donovan? I doubt it."

"I usually don't think. Stuff just happens." he said back casually. "What... Uhh... What do I do now?"

With an even larger smile on her face, Brandi yelled "TRAINING!" in a girly, preppy tone before dragging Donovan to the lift.

Donovan freaked out at the notion of traveling on this dastardly invention. "No! Not the lift! No, no, please!" Donovan fought. Screaming, arms lashing, teeth grinding, bitterly and destructively he fought.

But Brandi was stronger than him, after her many years of training, and Donovan was overpowered and forced into the lift.

"Going down?" she giggled as the lift dropped downwards. Donovan nearly lost his insides, he felt his lungs pushing on his throat, threatening to be forced out. Every ounce of fear he felt rushed to his head.

Brandi wouldn't know it, for she was enjoying the short ride, but Donovan curled up into a ball in the corner. His eyes emitted a fiery red color, his skin a mass amount of heat.

Vitality's voice echoed through his head. "Calm down, Donny. It's like flying, but without me."

Donovan could not think to answer, the only thoughts flashing through his mind were anger. Hatred. Fear. Despair. He couldn't get these feelings to subside.

"Donovan. Chill. It's over." Donovan heard in his head. He looked up, and saw only Brandi, with her hand in his face, ready to help him back to his feet. He pushed her hand aside, and crawled out of the lift, and towards the main entrance on the bottom floor. Ten seconds after leaving the lift, once he felt he was a safe distance away, Donovan stood up, acting as if nothing happened. "Pansy..." he heard Brandi say under her breath.

Whistling casually, he followed Brandi outside, where he saw a small gathering of students with wooden swords.

To his delight, Donovan saw Marty in the group, dripping with sweat from the training. Quickly surveying the crowd, he saw everyone drenched in sweat. "Must be a heavy workout," thought Donovan. "I wonder if it'll be as tough as surviving in my forest."

Brandi pushed him into the center of the group, suddenly, and ran away laughing like a little girl. Lucky for him, Marty pulled him aside. He handed him his wooden sword, and pushed him back into the circle.

He looked up, nervous. He was surrounded by young riders and people aspiring to become riders. An older gentleman made a motion with his hands, and the crowd backed away, forming a circle around Donovan and the man.

The man spoke in a raspy voice. His lightly tanned skin rippled as his body tensed for a quick spar. His black eyes left the opponent no hint as to where be would strike.

"I am Jeffrey. I am your swordsmanship trainer," the man said.

"Yeah, and?" Donovan replied, testing the man's limits. Amazingly enough, to Donovan, the man remained calm and precise in his motions.

"You may be a legend, but I will still beat you to a pulp. I need to asses your abilities. Prepare to battle me. With that wisecrack, you can expect no holding back."

"Sir yes sir," said Donovan, tensing.

"And begin!" a student in the circle yelled before the entire circle joined in with the yelling.

Jeffrey and Donovan immediately jumped forward and locked their wooden swords. Jeffrey pulled his sword back and swung out, crouching low to the ground in an attempt to slice Donovan's lower legs, tripping him. Instead of falling down, as Jeffrey expected a new swordsman would, Donovan jumped and landed on the sword, holding it to the ground. He pointed the tip of his own wooden sword at the throat of Jeffrey.

Before Donovan's hand could stop shaking, Jeffrey whizzed around and delivered a kick to Donovan's chest. Donovan fell backwards, landing on his back, grasping for air. Jeffrey attempted to slice down at Donovan with his sword, but Donovan pulled his sword up to deflect the slice. Rolling back, Donovan got to his feet in time to deflect another swipe, before twisting to take a swing at Jeffrey's head. Jeffrey ducked and swung in a circle, whipping his sword around to tip Donovan off balance. Donovan saw the sword, and twisted his body to allow for his sword to smack against the other one, yet instead Donovan tripped over his own foot, and fell forward towards Jeffrey.

Jeffrey leapt back, to avoid the falling mass that was Donovan. Donovan crashed, face first, into the dirt floor below him. Before he could react, a wooden sword was pressed into his spine.

"Practice make perfect," he heard Jeffrey say. "But you do have more skill than most of the other students here. Whether it be luck or legend, I admit you are a talented natural. But we shall need to hone your skills."

"Thank... Thank you sir," stammered Donovan.

Several students gawked at Donovan's success; none of those in the group before him had actually come halfway near as close to having a spar that good. Most were defeated within a few swings of the wooden blades.

"Now, class is dismissed. Why don't you all head to the mess hall for some Laiter?" Jeffrey urged. "It has the right balance to return you to normal before the afternoon session."

"Splodge? I'm getting tired of that stuff," said a student. Donovan chuckled, remembering how his mother used to bring game that they caught to the academy for students.

A tear rolled down his cheek. "Mom..." he thought.

"I see you bit the dust before, Donny," He heard Vitality say, an obvious distraction.

"Well I did pretty good, I think," he countered.

"Sure... Enjoy the splodge," Donovan heard, a chuckle that wasn't his echoing in his mind.