Sleep

Night had fallen over Drenda'al; sputtering torches cast eerie shadows in the halls of the Academy. Tyson lay awake, racked with guilt for his role in pushing Trevor to challenge Shotan even when he knew that Trevor didn't stand a chance against the best student at the academy. He tossed and turned as he replayed the battle in his head.

He had gained no insight, at least none he could use. Shotan showed a mastery of the double-sided blade that Tyson had never seen. He was always in control and always on the attack. His movements were crisp and efficient, he switched between offence and defence seamlessly and there were no wasted motions.

Tyson could not see any discernible flaws in his form. It would be a shame that even after sacrificing Trevor, he might not have learned anything and time was running out. In eight weeks, the best student would be chosen by the Masters and given his Iron link ahead of the others who would get theirs two months after that. He was running out of options.

Tyson kicked the covers from his bed and swung his feet over the edge. He threw a cloak over his body and left the room. Moving silently, he made his way through those halls wrapped in a black cloak, looking like a shadow.

It was forbidden for students and apprentices to leave their rooms after curfew and more so for teachers and students to spar against each other but he needed to face someone more skilled than Shotan in order to overcome him. The curfew was just one of the steps Lord Harkon had taken to reduce the "unfortunate" deaths that seemed to be all too common between rival students in academies. Tyson knew that if he was caught, the punishment would be severe. But this was the only time he could act without fear of being seen by the other students.

He wound his way through the dormitory floor that housed the students until he reached the stairway leading to the upper levels and the Masters' quarters. He glanced quickly from side to side, peering into the flickering shadows cast on the stone walls. He paused, listening for the sound of anyone who might catch him in the halls. He had memorized the routes of the night sentries who patrolled the corridors after dark; he knew it would be almost an hour before they returned to this floor of the temple. But there were many other underlings—kitchen staff, cleaning staff, groundskeepers—who served the needs of the Academy and might be wandering about.

Hearing only silence, he proceeded up the stairs. He made his way quickly past the personal quarters of Lord Harkon, somewhat relieved to see that even the head of the Academy felt the need to close and lock his door at night. He continued on past another half a dozen doors, pausing only when he reached the entrance to the Blademaster Lushchek's room.

He glanced from side to side before knocking softly, taking care not to wake the others. Before he could knock a second time, the door swung open to reveal the Blademaster. For a split second Tyson thought he must have been standing on the other side waiting for him. But that was impossible, of course. More likely the Blademaster's highly tuned reflexes had reacted to the first knock so quickly that he had already crossed the room and opened the door by the time the second knock came.

He was clad in a pair of pants, but his torso was bare, showing a crisscross of scars and tattoos on his upper body. His confused expression confirmed Tyson's assumption that the Blademaster hadn't known he was coming, and the speed with which he reached out to grab Tyson and haul him inside the room confirmed his suspicions about his extraordinary reflexes.

Before Tyson even realized what was happening, the door was closed and locked behind him, sealing the two of them together in the small, dark room. The blademaster lit a candle on a stand by his bed and turned to glare at his uninvited guest.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, keeping his voice low. Tyson swallowed as he prepared to speak.

"I have a favour to ask. I know that you use the same weapon as Shotan... I need you to teach me how to beat him."

"I already teach you what I know... in class."

"That won't be enough to defeat Shotan. I need you to spar with me."

"Lord Harkon has made it clear that students can only spar with each other. You know this," the Blademaster said, crossing his thin but muscular arms.

"Lord Harkon has his own motives contrary to our goals which are aligned," Tyson pressed. "I know that you want to become the hand of the King rather than Lord Harkon and King Valkor is most likely to reward the better teacher. Spar with me in secret. You have nothing to lose."

"Nothing but my time... and reputation if you still taste defeat," the Blademaster replied, scratching his chin. "You just have to find some other way to beat the Orc." His eyes fluttered ever so slightly. Tyson took it as a sign that, despite his words, he was seriously considering the offer.

"I have analysed every strategy, the chances of beating Shotan without this is minimal."

"I am sorry but Lord Harkon must not be defied."

"Alright. I understand that Lord Harkon is your superior so I won't push any further."

"He is not superior to me in any way."

"Forgive me, I misspoke. I only meant that he gives you instructions that you must follow. You served under him in the war from what I heard."

Lord Luschek's eyes narrowed. Tyson knew exactly what he was doing. Beneath Lord Luschek's compliant exterior was a proud warrior that secretly resented the people who stayed out of the action and gave orders from behind. He was content with his station as a member of the ruling council of Endar but he did not want Lord Harkon to rise above him. Rivalry makes a fool out of wise men.

Lord Lushchek considered deeply before nodding. "How badly do you want this?"

Tyson knew that this was the final test. Lord Luschek was a great swordsman and an honourable man. He would not break Academy rules and openly defy Lord Harkon without good cause. He wanted more than proof that Tyson was truly ready for this. He wanted proof that Tyson was worthy of his effort.

"I want justice," Tyson replied after careful consideration. "I want to punish Shotan for what he did to my friend. I want to crush his pride like an insect beneath the heel of my boot just as he crushed my friend."

The Blademaster smiled in grim satisfaction at his answer. "We will begin tomorrow."

***

Early the next day, Tyson stopped by the school of medicine to see what had become of Trevor. The image of him lying motionless, wrapped in bandages and barely clinging to life was haunting. Tyson knew that if he didn't see Trevor the image of his mangled body after the duel with Shotan would keep replaying itself in his mind.

Clarissa was strewn out on the floor next to him. It was clear that she had been at his side throughout the night. Tyson immediately understood that he had underestimated her feelings for him. She sensed his presence and turned around. He was frozen in the doorway by her gaze. Her eyes were red and swollen. The tears had left streaks down her cheeks.