Shadow Master (1st Book)

Chapter 9: Titles, the Arcane, and the Terror of the Blade

Sweat poured down the now twenty year old man's face as he vigorously attacked the training dummy, sword and dagger flashing as he moved gracefully. He saw, from his peripheral vision, his foster father Fendrel and Ayleth who was watching him from afar, judging his movements.

"Halt," Fendrel declared, and immediately Brom Fendrelsson slumped down to the floor, breathless and extremely exhausted. Brom heard Fendrel and Ayleth chuckle, which he responded with a glare, feigning annoyance, though his own grin was a dead giveaway.

"What now?" Brom asked, subconsciously wiping sweat off his brow.

"Do you not need a rest first?" Even after months, Brom was still astonished at the amount of concern Fendrel directed to the both him and Alianor, who has now seen two summers.

"No, I don't."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," He said, exasperated. Sometimes, Fendrel acted as if Brom was still a kid, always worrying about what happened to him, but that's what he liked about him.

"If you say so," Fendrel had this mischievous glint in his eyes, as if he had something planned, and the fact that Ayleth had the same look disconcerted him.

"Well," He asked, pretending not to notice their malicious looks,"shall we?"

"We shall." They answered in unison, smiling slightly, which only served to unnerve the newest assassin more.

"Not your fault if you collapse!" A certain sun-haired woman said, laughing at the end, gaiety radiating off her.

"What will we even do that is so tiresome?" He asked, as they began to walk away.

"Oh, you will see," Fendrel declared,"Now, come." They marched to the adjoining room, to practice whatever was needed.



"I told you," Fendrel chided him later, laughing. "You should have rested."

Brom was on the floor, breathing hard. When earlier he was only exhausted, now he was nearly losing consciousness from fatigue. Ayleth just stood beside, grinning down on him. Both of them seemed to have no care that one of their own was nearly dead with exhaustion, but Brom told himself that he might have only exacerbated the fact.

"Who knew magic is so tiresome?" Brom shouted, though it came only as a whisper, the weariness taking a huge toll on the young man.

"Magic uses your own stamina to power itself." Ayleth stated matter-of-factly,"That is why you needed to regain energy." She grinned sweetly at him, causing the young assassin to feel butterflies in his stomach.

"What's surprising," Fendrel said,"is that you didn't pass out."

"So you wanted me to pass out?" Brom grumbled, still annoyed. He raised an eyebrow, glaring at the two.

"No," This time, Ayleth answered him,"it was just an observation."

"So why didn't it happen, considering the fact that your energy was already spent?"

"The only time that a person can have seemingly limitless amounts of energy was fifteen years ago, a long dead Shadow Mistress. But you became exhausted, so any connection to her is cut off already."

"Wait," Brom interrupted Fendrel from continuing, not particularly caring what the old man said as he asked,"can you please tell me the rankings here? My head is hurting from all those names. Yesterday, Roggar called Yeerlina a Death Maiden. Then three days ago, Glandias and Leoric were called Night Warriors!"

The two veteran assassins chuckled then proceeded to explain their caste system.

"Our lowest rank, for novices, is called Silencers. As of this point, you are the only Silencer." Ayleth explained,"The next one are the Night Warriors. Leoric and Glandias are those. The third one are the Death Knights or the Death Maidens, for females. Me and Yeerlina are those."

"Titles are particularly important here, young one, I will not elaborate."

Brom's curiosity was killing him. Why? Why is it important? But Fendrel himself had said that he will not go further on that topic.

"The second one," Fendrel continued,"are the Dark Prince or Dark Princess. The Terrorblade is the only Dark Prince now."

"Who is the Terrorblade?" Brom inquired.

"Nobody knows his true name," Ayleth answered him,"Nobody, even us. The only thing we know about him is that he was a half elf, thus immortal. He was called the Terrorblade by us because he was just about the best swordsman in all of Magnus. You wouldn't last a minute against him in a sword fight. Anyway, the highest is the Shadow Master or Shadow Mistress. Fendrel is the Shadow Master now."

"How come I haven't seen him yet?" He asked.

They suddenly heard a cold and deep voice announced,"Here I am, young one." The trio turned to come face to face with a man that was donned from head to toe with black. He had a lean stature, and walked proudly and gracefully. All that was that was seen of him was his captivating amethyst eyes. Multiple swords and daggers adorned his back, front and side, presumably black.

"You're Terrorblade?" Brom asked, slightly quivering in fear from this terrifying man. He gave off the air of someone who would kill another just because he was annoyed, and that was unnerving for the young teen.

He told himself never to cross this man.

The man chuckled, his baritone voice echoing in the air,"Yes, I am Terrorblade, young one, and you are Brom Mordredsson."

Fendrel and Ayleth watched the exchange, interested looks in their faces,"Ye-Yes, sir."

Terrorblade now laughed,"Don't be so afraid young one, I'm only the cold killer you might know to my victims." The way he said victims was a bit intimidating.

"Train well, youngling." He patted Brom on the back and proceeded to walk away, making absolutely no sound as he did. The shadows looked like it engulfed him as he vanished from sight, and the tension that permeated the air strenghtened.

The troom was silent for about a minute, Brom was not entirely sure, until Fendrel declared,"Let's take a break first, then we'll continue on your wizardry skills."

He acted as if nothing happened.

"Alright," Brom and Ayleth said in unison, to the surprise to the both of them.

Fendrel nodded, then walked away, leaving the two teenagers in the room.

"So," Ayleth said, bashful,"Would you like to come with me?"

"Uh, yes," Brom said, blushing, and that blush intensified when Ayleth grabbed his hand, and ran, dragging him along. What did I get myself into?