Blackgrave

An hour had passed since Naja left him, and he began to wonder how much longer it would be until she returned. The air had become crisp and cool as the day passed, and now the sun’s glow spilled out through the branches of the trees on the horizon.

Eija stood in between two Shylar trees, studying them both. Can I really cut through two at the same time? He firmly held his blade at his side, looking over the bark and comparing the size of their trunks. If Naja can do four, I can at least do two. Like she said, it's all technique. I just have to drive the blade through both trees, instead of one.

His hand trembled to the thought. No. No. I can do this. Don’t be afraid. Just focus on driving the blade through, don’t let it mess with your mind.

“Okay, here goes nothing.” Eija positioned himself so the trees could be cut with a single strike. With a breath, and a step, he raised his blade above his shoulders, but just as he started to swing, a voice from behind surprised him.

“So, you must be the Initiate,” said the voice.

Eija paused, holding his stance for a moment before turning to face whoever was speaking.

Four figures approached from the treeline. Eija recognized them from the keep. One was a woman dressed completely in her Witch Hunter attire. She wore a breastplate made of brass, with intricate patterns of stars and eyes etched into it. Her hood was down, and her ashen locks were put up in a high ponytail with her bangs covering the right side of her face. Fastened to her belt was a saber with a slight curve to its edge.

The men both wore a long tunic with a belt around their waist and a sword on their hip. One of them was a tan-skinned man who wore his dark red hair swept back to his neck. His beard was bushy and wrapped around his face. At his side was a red wolf with sharp yellow eyes and a white-tipped tail.

The other man was pale and lean and had a simple look to him. He had short, red hair and the inklings of stubble grown on his face.

Eija scanned the three, hesitating to answer. “I am,” he finally said.

“So, you want to be a Witch Hunter then, huh, boy?” The woman stepped closer to Eija, until she was only a pace away.

“Yes,” Eija replied. “I have to, it's the only way I can save my sister.” Eija stared into her crystal blue eyes and felt a terror in his chest. She had a calculating look on her face, as if she were waiting to strike.

“Ohhh”—she turned back to the others—“he wants to save his sister.” She grinned at Eija. “That is really sweet, isn’t it, guys?”

Maybe she just has scary eyes. “Yeah,” Eija said, a smile breaking on his face. “I’m going to become a Witch Hunter and save my—”

Her pale hand struck him as swiftly as a tiger paw. The smack echoed out, and she grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him in close. “Save it, boy.” She thrust him back, sending him crashing into the tree.

Eija gasped as he hit the bark and dropped his sword to the ground from the shock.

“What an idiot,” the tan skinned man added. “Wants to be a Witch Hunter but doesn’t want to kill a witch. We’ve all heard the story—your sister is a witch, she can’t be saved.”

“That’s right,” said the woman. “If you go into this thinking you’ll save anyone, you're an idiot. That's not what we do here. We're killers, not saviors. They tell you to go to a town and come back after you killed whatever the fuck the townsfolk tell you, get your gold, and leave. It's as simple as that.”

“I’m going to save my sister,” Eija repeated. “I don’t care what anyone says.” Eija wiped his face. “If you only came here to pick on me, leave me alone. I have training to do.” He picked up his longsword.

“You dare pick up a blade in front of a Witch Hunter?” Ithena drew her sword in an instant, pointing it towards his throat. “I should cut you down where you stand, boy.” She pressed the sword close to Eija’s neck. “You may don the clothes, but you are not one of us.”

A slight tinge of compassion swept past the pale man of the group. “Come on, Ithena, you just said we were going to give him a hard time. Lets just put the swords away, alright?”

“You saw the boy. He picked up the blade of his own accord. Not my fault he acts without thinking. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on him. Maybe I’ll just give him a few cuts to teach him what kind of life he is in store for.” A sinister smile stretched across her lips as she backed away and slashed her sword in front of her.

“Come, child, let's see that conviction of yours put to the test. Because I’ll tell you this now—if I find your sister, I will kill her and bring you her head in a bag. So, if you want to save her, you’ll have to get through me.”

Fury pumped in Eija’s veins. He squeezed the hilt of the sword, forgetting his own inexperience in favor of his rage. A thought struck him and he paused. “Sure, I’ll spar with you.” He pulled out his dagger and rolled up his sleeve. Just as he was about to make another cut, a voice from above them called out.

“Put down your sword, boy.” They all looked up and saw a tall, tan figure nestled in the branch of a tree, a crow on his shoulder. He was naked save for a loin cloth around his waist, his dark hair hung down to his bare chest, and he carried no weapons.

“Kangee the afflicted,” Ithena said as the two locked eyes.

The man jumped from the tree, landing directly in front of Eija. He stood between the three and the boy, folding his arms in front of himself and refusing to move.

“Go spread your wildfires elsewhere. Have you no better things to do?” asked Kangee.

“I could say the same to you,” she replied, waving her hand in front of her. “I see you are still Gremmelt’s lackey. I guess even wild animals such as us are willing to shed our primal nature for table scraps.” She sheathed her blade, saying, “Very well, Kangee. Shelter Gremmelt’s whelp, but when he joins our ranks, not you nor Gremmelt will be there to keep him safe.”

“I suspect he will be capable of that himself when the time comes, Ithena.” Lord Gremmelt approached the five of them with Naja by his side. “Now, I appreciate the extra training you are willing to give young Eija, but, please, let's wait until the boy has had more than a single lesson on how to swing a blade.”

“Just trying to help where I can, Lord Gremmelt,” she replied. “Well, it’s clear you have this under control, we shall take our leave.” As she passed she turned to Gremmelt, adding, “But, I will take you up on that offer. Once the boy is ready, of course.” Ithena closed her eyes and smiled, giving a slight sarcastic nod as she did.

“Of course,” Gremmelt replied.

The three of them left without another word.

“Everything okay, Kangee?” Gremmelt asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “I don’t think she would have done anything to permanently harm him, but it’s hard to know with her.”

“Thank you, again, for watching over him. With all the other Lords out on hunts, and the Commander out in Sossaboro, I have had much to do. Lord Isle and Ros have been busy with compiling lore, so I have been left to take care of the Witch Hunters who are coming and going.”

“You were right to suspect some might come looking for him. I don’t think they will be the only ones, either,” Kangee replied.

“How long have you been up there?” asked Naja. “I didn’t even sense we were being watched.”

He glanced at Eija, saying, “The whole time.”

Eija blushed and awkwardly cast his gaze away. The whole time? So he was up there the entire time and he let them just pick on me? Wait! And he saw me crying in front of Naja?

“Eija,” said Gremmelt to get the boy’s attention. “Naja here has told me you have finally made the cut on your own. Is this true?”

Still grappling with a torrent of emotions, all Eija could do was stammer. “Y-Yes.”

“Very well. Show me,” he replied, motioning toward one of the Shylar trees.

Eija concealed the self-inflicted wound on his arm as he passed by rolling down his sleeve. He moved over to the tree and squared himself up with it as he had before. Okay, here we go.

He took a breath, made his step, lifted his blade high, but stopped just short of making the cut. A flash of Doubt swept over him. What if I only made it last time because I asked Torment to help? What if I can’t actually do it and I need him?

Torment always listens to those who offer themselves.

“One second,” Eija said to them as he unrolled his sleeve again. He unsheathed his dagger and brought the edge to his flesh. Just as he began to dig into his arm, Gremmelt’s hand clasped his wrist.

“If you cling to your Torment, it will cling to you.” His blue eyes were resolute but had a tinge of sadness locked behind them. He let go, somberly adding, “But it is your choice to make. Just remember what happened to Benard.”

Eija looked at the wound on his arm and remembered how many cuts and gashes littered Benard’s. His arm was still fresh and clean, save for the single cut he had given himself.

Torment always listens to those who offer themselves.

“I can do this,” he said, sliding his dagger back into its sheath. He looked at Naja and saw her expression shift from dour to ever so slightly happy. “Here goes nothing,” he said before turning back to the tree with his sword in hand.

Come on, Eija, this is it. The first step to saving my sister. It's all technique, and I've done it once before. Drive it through, don’t give up.

Torment always listens to those who offer themselves.

He took in a deep breath, stepped, brought the sword up over his head, swung it around his shoulder, and with a twist of the hip, drove it through the Shylar tree. As the tree fell to his side, blood oozed from his mouth. Thank you, Torment. He wiped his lip free from blood and drank it from the gash he inflicted on the inside of his cheek.

Eija turned back to the three Witch Hunters, his eyes blazing with resolve. “When do I begin my training?”