Embers

Chapter Three - Dröttning Shur'tugal

The ground was moist and soft with beds of pine needles beneath Arya's bare feet. Around her, the forest was alive with the chittering of squirrels, the songs of birds, the whispers of the trees. She felt the warm tickle of the breeze flit over her skin, play with her river of hair. The world smelled of the tang of the forest, the soothing sharpness of the pines. Summer was coming to Du Weldenvarden, and it promised to bring change.

Arya opened her eyes with a flash and dropped to her knees in a swooping motion. There was a thin whistle as the air where she'd stood a moment before was split by a speeding arrow. Arya leaped to her feet, a brilliant blade, iridescent emerald in color, materializing in her hand. Like the arrow, the swift elf was off on spry feet, flying through the trees towards the source of the attack.

She made no sound, her feet leaving nary a print on the forest floor. Energy sang through her veins, sharpened her thoughts and tuning her movements. She was swifter than the diving hawk, smoother than the winding river. Arya ran through the forest, and never slowed as she whipped her magnificent sword into a flashing arc.

There was a crashing clang as her blade struck the hardened steel of another. Arya didn't even blink, simply pulling back her sword and beginning a dizzying attack of swift jabs and parries. Across from her, her opponent flashed a daring grin as he blocked her every move.

They matched each other's steps, foot for foot, in a powerful dance whose grace both defied and defined the deadly strength behind every move. Ayra swung for her opponent's side. He blocked and carried out the movement to spin her sword and swing in turn for her side. They picked up their speed as each body began to understand the other's style and strategies. Soon, they were a blur of flashing emerald and silver.

Suddenly, there was a shout, and Arya's foe stumbled over a stray pebble. Instantly, she was upon him like a wildcat, her blade swinging with focused aim alternately at his legs and head, keeping him off balance with the incongruous blocking. Finally, Arya darted forward and slipped her sword through a hole in her opponent's defenses, pinning the tip of the emerald blade to his chest.

Instantly, the battle was over, and her foe let his blade drop to his side. He was grinning, and Arya let her lips quirk in a smile as well.

"Well done, Earalas," Arya praised. "You learn quickly."

The young elf at the end of her blade nodded and twisted his hand over his heart, the honorable motion of their race, and said, "Thank you for the mentor-ship, Arya Svit-kona. Without your teaching, I would not be able to withstand the first of your attacks."

"You underestimate your skill, Earalas. Before I began teaching you, you could best many in Tialdarí Hall. You are a formidable opponent."

Arya removed the protective enchantment upon her blade, named Támerlein, and sheathed it at her hip. Earalas mirrored her, as well as unstringing his bow and sliding it into his quiver. He muttered a swift phrase in the twisting, lilting tongue of the Ancient Language, and a moment later, there was another light whistle as his arrow flew through the air straight into the grip of his palm.

Arya nodded towards the north, and together, the two elves started towards their city of Ellesméra. They spent the short trip in silence, content to let the forest fill in the space between conversation. It was comfortable between them, and Arya realized, not for the first time, that she had found a friend in Earalas.

He was younger than she by half a century, but his mind was aged. He had fought beside her mother, the previous Queen Islanzadí, at Ceunon and Urû'baen, and the experience had changed him.

Earalas was a member of House Rílvenar, and had answered the queen's call to arms from his family's home in Ceris. Arya had not met him until after the Battle of Urû'baen, when he had personally guarded the body of the fallen Islanzadí. When Arya had been crowned queen in her mother's stead, Earalas had pledged himself to her, claiming that he had to higher ambition than to serve the Queen and his people. In him, Arya has seen a bit of herself, and she had agreed to take the young warrior under her wing.