Burning Embers Part I: Origins [Arc 1-5]

Arc 4 Chapter 1

17 years ago...

"Get up, Findaris."

"..."

For what seemed like the umpteenth time, Findaris lay flat on his behind on the ground. As a child, he didn't quite understand why he had to do this, but this was his brother's idea of 'playing'. He had been pestering him to play for days now; bored out of his mind. Unlike his elder brother, he did not have any tutor, nor did he have to undertake any studies. His parents said it was because he was not the 'heir', but he didn't know what that meant. He wasn't the heir? Of course not, he was a boy.

The older brother had finally caved to his protests, and for perhaps an hour now, they had been 'sparring' with wooden swords. It wasn't as if Findaris didn't know how to handle this toy; he had been undergoing some form of training since he was able to walk, but he was no match for the older brother who was taller, smarter and stronger than him. He had always desired to be like him, but when he expressed his desire, all he got was a cold stare and a 'you can't'. He had spent the remainder of the night crying.

Brushing his behind, he climbed back up to his feet. Removing his dark brown bangs from his crystal blue eyes, he fixed his gaze on his brother. His father had taught him a lot, but he didn't understand much of it. Sword 'teckneeks', and all that stuff went completely over his head. But what he had learned was to 'trust his in-stink'. He didn't know what that was either, but he indeed did trust his in-stink, with it being the only reason he could even hold out for this long against his brother who was almost old enough to be Templar.

His brother swung his sword down dismissively, immediately charging at him and striking from overhead. Findaris reacted quickly, barely managing to connect, but the impact jarred his arm and made his elbow go numb.

"Gah!" He shouted in surprise as his legs were taken out from underneath him, landing on his back, the breath knocked out of him. "No fair!"

"Oh don't be a wuss. You need to focus more; you can't just stare at the weapon."

Those condescending words from the one person he looked up to the most stung hard. Findaris leapt back up to his feet with renewed energy, charging at his brother who was at least twice his size. His attempted blow to the side of the head was flicked away lazily, and his follow-up kick to the shin was not even enough to make his brother budge. Realising what was coming, Findaris propelled himself backwards with his short legs, putting as much distance between them as he could.

Taking a deep breath, he advanced again, slowly, carefully this time. This was one of the methods taught to him by his father, the 'cautious charge' or something. Just before he approached, he sidestepped and feinted, attacking from the opposite flank instead. To his great dismay, once again a slight flick of the wrist from his brother parried his weapon, and he stumbled back.

"You can't beat me with tricks I've known for longer than you. A warrior must constantly improvise on the battlefield."

Nodding determinedly, Findaris approached again, charging head on. The brother raised his eyebrows in mild surprise, having not expected him to blindly charge again, and took a step back, slightly bending his knees and leaning forward. Findaris changed directions as he approached, hopping to face the other way and letting his momentum slide him across the ground.

This time, I have him! Or so he thought. Despite the clear surprise, his brother had turned around in time, just in time, to parry his strike aimed at the lower back. This time, he didn't stop there either, striking Findaris' wrist to disarm him. The little boy collapsed to his knees, panting and clutching his left wrist, agony across his face and tears forming in the corners of his eyes.