The Shattered Path

Chapter 9 - The Promise

The sun was still low in the sky.  Alara was surprised that it wasn't noon yet.  It had been dark when she had received the summons to the academy and she had been sure more time had passed.

The streets of Lankhastaer were crowded, but Alara was too excited to wonder what might have brought so many people out.  She pushed her way through, even bouncing off of a few of the thicker men, though she never slowed.  She could not wait.

It wasn't proper for a young woman to sprint across the city, but she didn't care about such things.  Or so her Aunt would say.  She held her brown skirts up to mid-calf to avoid tripping, and that wasn't proper either.  It didn't matter what people thought, especially not today.  She had to hide so many things about herself.  It felt good to openly break a few rules.  As long as her Aunt Ganie did not see her, it wouldn't matter anyhow.

Reaching the stone wall surrounding her family home, Alara considered climbing it rather than running around to the gates on the far side.  She wasn't a child any longer and doubted that her slippers would find purchase.  The last thing she needed was for her father to see her straddling the wall while wearing a dress.  He had already given her the 'you are a lady now' speech far too many times, and that would be going too far.  And it would take longer, she thought, as she rounded the corner, knocking a young man flat on his back.  It was he who apologized, though she never slowed a step nor showed any concern for her reckless act.

She shoved open the iron gate, smacking it against the stone wall.  Her father would hear that and not like it.  She ran along the cobblestone walkway, ignoring the flowering plants on either side.  Any other day she would have stopped to admire the pretty violets which had bloomed.  She would have to remember to water them later.

Alara raced up the five steps to the red and white double doors.  Red paint was a sign of her family's recent wealth, and each time she saw the two-story home, she remembered the smaller home in which she had grown up, on the outskirts of the city.  It also saddened her; a reminder that her mother was at Traders' Isle earning more wealth.  Yet, nothing could lower her spirits for long on this day.  She flung open one of the double doors, banging another door, and sprang into the dim hallway.

"Father," Alara yelled, straining her voice.  Her enthusiasm grew as she came closer to her goal.  She checked his reading room.  A large oak desk with a cushioned chair sat before five shelves of books, lining two walls.  Though officially he was a sword instructor for the King's guardsmen and the magic academy, he had an impressive personal library.  That was why he knew so many things, she had decided long ago.

Not finding him, Alara frowned for a moment and spun from the doorway, planting her face against his chest.

"Well?" her father asked, raising his eyebrows, hands on hips.  "As if your face did not give it all away."  He smiled a handsome smile.

Her father was a legend in Lankhastaer, and maybe all of Denowith, renowned for his ability with a sword.  Many spoke of his abilities with a blade, often comparing him to another swordsman in Minogradia said to be the greatest ever, though Alara could never remember the name.  He towered a full head above her, his black hair cut short and streaked with gray.  Though he was forty years old, he claimed to be in better condition than most men twenty years younger, or closer to her age.  The claim seemed true enough, particularly since he taught swordplay to wizards and they were rarely fit, if ever.  Although, his muscles were not bulging, he was quite strong, not having succumbed to the easy life which his station had afforded him.  He tended to dress as a commoner, which he technically was, but he attended all of the royal functions and was afforded the respect of a lord.  Today, he wore a plain brown shirt and pants, and a simple leather scabbard held a sword at his side.  However, his sword was fit for a king, with a hilt crafted of silver and gold with rubies, and a blade crafted by the greatest smiths in Laemyn.  That sword doubled their family's wealth, she had heard him say.