4 Chapter 4: The Sword

Charlotte and Tomas were lying asleep on the chair by the fireplace. Veretta got up early that morning. She had a task in mind. Like clockwork at the crack of dawn, Errik set off out of the house. This time Veretta followed.

It was easy to conceal her steps with a little magic. She followed secretly and soundlessly behind him. He kept walking until he reached the limit of the village line and turned off the small trail into the woods. The woods were silent. The snow had stopped falling and everything was still apart from birds flying overhead.

Suddenly Errik stopped. Once more, he stood still, gazing up at them intently. Veretta had noticed he seemed to always be looking at the birds . However, within a moment, he turned his head back slightly derailing this thought entirely.

Veretta ducked behind the cover of a tree breathlessly. Did he see her? No. He went on walking. Veretta let out an uneasy breath and followed after him.

It hadn't exactly been a plan to follow him but he hardly ever answered a question with more than a couple of words. Now, after the night before, Veretta was feeling anxious. What if the spell had gone wrong somehow?

This man, dark those his eyes were, did not seem like the wizard in the book. Veretta remembered the first time she had laid eyes on one of the books he had written. She had never seen such complex or elegant magic. It was subversive and mad in parts but no other grand wizard had his understanding. But the reason for that....well the stories said it was because he sold his heart to a demon, but Veretta was certain that was just part of the legend.

It often happens that a legend overtakes the man. Though there might be some truth muddled in between the pages of history...

Veretta continued a pace behind Errik when finally he came to a stop in the middle of clearing between the trees. He unsheathed his sword from under his cloak and began to swing. The strength of the blade falling cut through the air and echoed around the empty forest. Veretta crept a bit closer.

He suddenly threw back his hand, pointing the blade directly at her.

"Little necromancer," he said without looking back, "Don't you know you shouldn't sneak up on people with a sword in their hands?"

Veretta froze in place. How had he heard? She was still so far away and coated in magic. Veretta stepped out reluctantly.

"I'm sorry," Veretta said quietly, "I was just...worried,"

"You think I would run?" he returned, "while my life is tied to your hands?"

"No," Veretta stammered, "I just want to see what you do out here all day,"

"Well now you've seen," he responded shortly.

Veretta glanced down at the cold steel in his hand, "why do you carry a sword?" she asked timidly, "you have magic..."

"Because magic is a crutch," he replied, "If you run out of magic, what will you have? If you go into battle, you cannot rest on chance. You must be prepared. Your enemy will be,"

"Is that why you became a knight?" Veretta asked.

"No," he replied, "I became a knight because I was sick of magic. I wanted to run from it but it followed me,"

"Why were you sick of magic?" Veretta stared at him incredulously.

She never thought she would hear such words from the man whose life work was built on magic. The wizard glanced down at the blade, perhaps catching his own eyes with a distant stare.

"All I remember was that I was sick of it," he said at last, "It's strange...Some things come back to me without effort but...The parts that are missing seem to be the most important."

Veretta bit her lip staring down, "I'm sorry. It's because of me this happened to you. Because my magic wasn't good enough,"

It was then that Veretta felt a hand under her chin tilting her face up. Her bright green eyes stared up in surprise, meeting the wizard's light hazel eyes.

"You brought me back to life," he said in a low voice, "Is there a more wondrous magic than that?"

Veretta swallowed, "but I must have made a mistake that's why you can't remember,"

"Perhaps it is better that I don't remember," Errik replied, "It's hurt terribly when I try to,"

With that, he turned and walked back to his position. For a moment Veretta was lost in thought.

"Errik," she said after some time, "Will you teach me how to hold a sword? I know we only have a few weeks, but something must be better than nothing. If it is as you said, I want to be prepared."

Errik gave a smile, "As you wish, little necromancer,"

Veretta set off back to the village excitedly. There was one thing that had not changed about her from childhood. It was the desire to learn. Any new skill gave her a rush. She had never considered learning the sword before but now the offer was there, she would take it.

She dashed into her grandmother's cottage eager scouring about for one of her father's old swords. From the seat beside the fire, Tomas opened one eye sleepily.

"What are you looking for, Veretta?" he yawned.

"A sword," Veretta stepped quickly into the next room.

"A sword, right, right." Tomas closed his eyes for a moment. His eyes shot open, "Wait what did you just say?"

Veretta returned to the main room triumphantly with a sword in her hand. Tomas stared up at her apprehensive.

"What's going on? Are they here?" He sat up straight.

"No, No." Veretta replied impatiently, "Errik is going to teach me how to use a sword," she added eagerly.

"What do you need a sword for?" Tomas glared at her incredulously, "What kind of master wizard uses a sword? Don't you remember what master Rius said? Fight with your mind, not your muscle,"

"I know," Veretta smiled excitedly, "but Errik knows more than master Rius,"

"How can he know more than master Rius? He doesn't look like he's ever cast a real spell in his life! He's probably some mercenary who learned a bit of dark magic and got in as a master through the backdoor!"

Veretta shook her head with a smile, "Just go back to sleep, Tomas. I know what I'm doing,"

She rushed out the door gleefully. Tomas called after her, but she was gone. Charlotte gave a small cough.

"What's all the noise about?" she asked.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out,"

Not long after Veretta left, Tomas set off after her. He had thrown on his cloak and met the cold with a shiver. He stared down at the footsteps in the snow leading off into the forest and followed them. Before long, he heard the clang of metal. It rattled the sleepy forest aggressively. Tomas inhaled sharply, sweeping his blond hair back. Who was this guy anyway? He didn't believe for one second he was a master.

Tomas found the clearing where Veretta and Errik were exchanging blows. Veretta lunged forward with the blade but Errik stepped aside with ease. His foot came under her shins and Veretta hit the ground with a slam.

"Get up," Errik said indifferently, "You were too slow. Do it again,"

Tomas burst forward angrily, "What do you think you're doing?!" he demanded angrily.

He leant down and helped Veretta to her feet. Her face was red and breathless but she gave a weak smile.

"It's fine Tomas. I'm learning,"

"What are you learning?" Tomas rebuked, "How to get kicked to the ground?"

He turned to Errik, "Are you really master?" he asked bitingly, "the mages college teaches non-aggressive combat. What sort of mage are you using a sword?"

"Non- aggressive combat?" Errik grinned, "You mean they teach you how to be utterly useless from the sounds of it?"

Tomas' eyes widened outraged, "Just because we don't engage in fisticuffs, like any other common lowlife, doesn't mean we don't know how to fight. We still have magic!"

Errik tilted his head back with a smug smile, "Then show me your magic boy. I will decide whether you know how to fight,"

Tomas exhaled vehemently. He threw back his hand and a whip of wind wrapped around it. He flung his hand forward at Errik. The wind cut through the forest viciously. Tomas began to smile, but it quickly disappeared as he stared ahead at the empty forest.

"And where exactly are you aiming?" came a voice from behind.

Tomas spun around. His face was met by a fist. He fell to the ground and blood poured from his nose. Errik stood over him with an unsympathetic stare and dark eyes. At that moment, Tomas felt an overwhelming pressure of magic like he had never felt before. He called himself to rise but his body wouldn't listen.

"You... remind me of someone," Errik looked up at the sky, "though I'm certain he wasn't as weak or as insufferable as you. But you bear a passing resemblance. So this time, I'll let you go with a warning,"

"Fuck you and your warning," Tomas spat.

"Then again," Errik's eyes came down icily, "Every time you open your mouth, the resemblance seems to disappear. If it fades completely, I think so will my mercy. So I'd shut your mouth if I were you,"

Veretta came between them, "he didn't mean it, Errik,"

"I did! I did!" came a cry from behind.

Veretta looked back with irritation, "Just go back, Tomas!"

Tomas rose angrily and ran off into the distance. Veretta turned back to Errik. She should have stopped the fight, but Tomas needed to understand. After all, this man was something he should fear. Perhaps, it was better that way. So why did she feel so guilty?