Sons of Ironstorm - Book 1: Griffon's Rise

Mission for An Answer

A silver flash caught out of the corner of his eye pushed the young man under discussion smoothly forward in time to turn and watch a spear occupy the space he so recently stood in.  Without hesitation he swung his rapier backhanded to deprive the spear of its broad head, the sword’s edge honed razor sharp to easily pass through the seasoned wood of the spear’s haft.  A ghost of a smile touched his lips before being washed away when he saw the haft abruptly spin to become a quarterstaff, hammering down on his wrist with enough force to nearly break it.  Honor, courage and determination were the only things that maintained his grip, pain reverberating up his arm despite the protection afforded him by the steel-backed gauntlet he had been wearing.  Such protection was meager in the face of the blow’s strength, launched by none other Jodhur Askanna, His Majesty’s Master-at- Arms.

A wiry Sylvasin with his full, silver-gray hair in a neatly trimmed da’godei, sharp blue and gold eyes, and a long scar reaching across his left cheek, Jodhur had seen more battles and lived to tell about it than few other warriors in Aquila.  He was an honored battle master, general and swordsman, earning the right to carry an eagle-marked blade many cycles ago.  In the dark cycles immediately following the Exile, as the elves were first learning the full arts of war, the first warrior who was unmatched in skill and ability with a sword had his blade marked with the Eagle of the First Elf, to honor the man who gave birth to their people.

From that day, any who attained the highest level of skill, ability and honor with the blade amongst the elves earned an eagle-marked blade.  Currently only seven existed south of the Yatual, two in Aquila alone, attesting to the tradition and training Aquilan warriors underwent to attain their skills.  And Ciramax faced one in Master Jodhur.

<<Good.>>  The grizzled master-at-arms growled, slowly uncoiling from his ready stance as he drew the spear haft back to stand at ease, the shortened haft becoming a staff against which he leaned.  <<You didn’t follow one mistake by another in dropping your sword.  I’d have given you a sound beating to remind you, if you had.>>

Handsome in the way of his father, and gifted with his mother’s honey brown hair, also pulled into a snug, warrior’s da’godei, Ciramax Aeinwaje was a young man that would never lack female company with his strong, good-looking features.  Brown eyes with suura of gold, bright with intelligence and humor and a ready smile were both his, along with an easy manner and sure wit that made him popular among his fellow warriors as well.

But if any mistook the young prince for a pretty nobleman with little head for anything else, Ciramax quickly disabused them of it.  Not only an accomplished warrior and officer, he also possessed a keen intellect and a mind for tactics and strategy.  Begrudging as his father was with praise, he had well earned the king’s respect as a leader of warriors in battle, at the forefront in many of the pivotal battles fought against Aquila’s enemies in recent cycles.

Ignoring the pain in his wrist, Ciramax threw a quick grin and chuckle in Master Jodhur’s direction.

<<Aye, master-at-arms, you’re right.  But if I hadn’t decided to remove your spear’s head, I wouldn’t of suffered the blow to begin with.>>  He switched his sword from one hand to the other and gave the injured one a shake, finally admitting to the pain it held.

Jodhur added his chuckle to the chagrined prince’s.

<<A hard lesson to be sure, your Highness.  But learnt well, I wager.  Some weapons, even damaged, are weapons still.  And in the heat of battle, desperation is the master of innovation.>>  The wiry elf sobered.  <<If I were to forge a sword from dross, however, Highness, I’d have to say I’ve never seen the like in your counterattack.  To avoid both my strike and remove the spear head took speed, skill and honed reflexes, all of which you possess in great amount, my lord.>>