A/N: Well, hello everyone! This is a Wraeththu story! Yay! I posted this on the Pinkboard site on Forever fanfiction, so it's at two places...woot! Ok, When I wrote this I was still thinking that Pell and Cal would still be Tigrons, though I don't know if they ever show up! This is a samurai-pirate-adventure-Wraeththu story! Please enjoy and review! smooch

1/2/06

Shadowblade

Before I begin this tale, I must make one thing clear: of all the happenings I ever envisaged for my self, the ones that actually happened in my life were not expected! Those of you who read this may scoff, saying that this tale is to far-fetched. Well, it isn't. This all happened! There are so many Wraeththu in this world that many different tribe's secrets and customs will never be known to the public. Many believe they understand everything about our race, but they are wrong. We don't know everything about ourselves; too many secrets are left buried. It will take time, but I'm sure we will find them.

These musings I have wanted to tell to another har, apart from my family, for years. My family all know this too well. Anyway, gentle reader, I did not intend to write such a cumbersome beginning! So now, without further ado, I present the tale of Alexial the Shadowblade…

"Lexi! Lexi, where are you? Niel has been looking for you everywhere!"

It was a glorious spring day. Bees were buzzing around all the brightly blooming flowers in the garden and the sunlight spilled onto everything like molten gold. Being the mischievous harling that I was (and still am, but no harling!); I had hidden behind one of the many rosebushes that grew in the garden of the wealthy Ranake family. Quietly munching on a stolen apple from the kitchen, I prayed to the Aghama that Hazel would not find me.

Alas, the Aghama was probably on a tea break and hadn't heard my plea, because the next thing I knew, my apple is snatched away from my hands. The snatcher frowned at me.

"Lexi, don't steal apples from Seerah in the kitchen! He gets very mad, you know!"

Looking up, I met pouting amber-pink eyes in a round, apple-cheeked face. Hazel, the harling who ran the household. The tiniest, cutest thing you'll ever see, but with all the might of a lion. His long brown hair framed his impish face as he placed the hand that wasn't holding the apple on his hip. Only four years old, but what a personality!

I didn't particularly feel ashamed of my actions, so I just shrugged. This incensed Hazel even more.

"Lexi! Papa always told me stealing was bad! Didn't Lexian ever teach you that?" he said, all self-righteous. Lexian was my father who worked for Hazel's father, Darten, as head of his special force. Fighting force that is. In Nemesia, things were peaceful, but my father still had to go on errands to all the villages and towns to make sure things were in order. No one ever spoke of my hostling; I didn't know whether he was alive or dead. I had tried to ask my father about him many times, but my queries went unanswered. As I became older, I realized that this was a subject my father would never touch.

"Alexial, you're supposed to be an adult!" That last word was spoken with derision. Hazel loved to think he knew everything.

I rolled my eyes at him. I had just passed my Feybraiha, but I was still considered a harling, much to my dismay. Hazel never tired of reminding me.

"Look Hazel, can you leave me alone for a while? I don't want to go back to lessons right now," I said, not looking him in the face.

There was silence, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see him tense up and begin to pout again.

"Fine!" he yelled, marching away from me like a defeated warrior putting on a show of pride.

That night, seated in the luxurious dining room, my father dined with us. He was seated at Darten's left, while Sahela, Darten's consort was at his right. Sahela was a stunning har; he had lighter hair than Hazel and his eyes were golden, but the resemblance was there in the soft, pink bow lips and aristocratic look. Golden earrings always hung from his ears and every item of clothing he wore was exotic. He was from the exotic Kalamah. Darten, on the other hand, had short hair, tan skin, with a striking jaw line. He was stern, but quite kind at times. My father had a narrow face, full lips, and bright blue eyes. Many have told me that I have a jester's face, or a face that is at once angelic and mischievous. I don't know about angelic, but I definitely was mischievous! My deep brown hair was long and thick and shone black in the sun, while my green-blue eyes twinkled.

Hazel and I sat across from each other, but wouldn't dare look at one another. I was mad at him for interrupting me, and he was mad at me for being rude to him. Ah, the follies of harlings!

"So Alexial, how are your lessons coming along?" asked my father, his voice warm with fondness.

"Fine," I answered, keeping my eyes on my plate.

"Lexi ran away from lessons today. I caught him eating an apple in the garden," Hazel announced triumphantly.

"Hazel!" I exclaimed, furious that he would mention that in front of everyone, including my father.

My father sighed wearily. "Well, I'm not surprised. You are practically an adult, but knowledge is what you need. You are a very privileged harling, Alexial, yet you don't seem to appreciate it!"

I bowed my head; it hurt to hear him speak those words. The only thing I had feared in the world then was my father's disappointment.

"I'm sorry. I just…prefer to learn by myself. I don't need anyone to help me."

"Stubborn and independent to a fault," said my father, mostly to himself. "So like him!"

I looked up and froze. Could he be talking about my hostling?

Before I could press him any further, Darten began to speak, and my words died in my throat.

"Lexian, I think it may be time for him to study independently, as he wishes. He could also figure out what he wants to do in the world. It is an important time for a young har," he said, smiling.

Lexian gave him a look and sighed again. They were old friends. I could barely contain myself; I hoped this would be the moment when I could finally assert myself.

"All right. Alexial may study independently, as long as he promises to study! I won't have any laziness, understand Alexial?"

"Yes! I mean, thank you father. I promise I will study hard!'

At that moment, we heard a heavy knock at the door.

When Tenshin first walked into the room, I knew him immediately, yet I had never seen him before. It was as though my heart had recognized that he would be my teacher, and I his student before those words were spoken. He strode in as magnificent as the sun; his silver eyes sharp as a hawks and black hair dancing like snakes. He was dressed in tight leather and had a dagger at his hip and a long sword over his shoulder. Graceful as a panther, he presented himself to Darten.

"Greetings Lord Darten, I am Tenshin. I have come to deliver instruction of the blade. I hope I arrived at a good time." His voice was as musical as soft flutes, the tinge of an accent giving his words flight.

Darten raised his eyebrows. "Tiahaar Tenshin, I don't believe I ever requested an instructor."
"Forgive me, my lord. You did not, but"-he pointed at me-"he did."

All eyes turned to me. I was speechless. I had never done such a thing, and I was sure that everyhar knew that.

"I was called here by his heart. That is how I find my students," he said, a sly smile framing his sensual mouth.

"Alexial," began my father sternly, turning towards me, "Is this true? Did you call Tiahaar Tenshin here?"

I shook my head emphatically. I still could not find my voice.

The silence that followed was practically comical. Tenshin stood there, perfectly content; as though he was used to this sort of thing happening. My father was frowning, a sure sign that he was thinking deeply.

Darten suddenly cleared his throat. "Well, Tiahaar, I do thank you for coming all this way. But…I don't think we need your teachings here. Alexial is no longer a harling; he will soon start to study independently."

Tenshin, patient as ever, replied, "That is precisely why I have come. I heard his heart, and so he shall become my student." His words sounded like a chant or a spell. "It is an old custom, or bond, if you will."

"Alexial," said my father, sharply turning towards me. "Would you take lessons from this har? He seems to have come precisely for you."

I searched his face, unsure of what he was thinking. Then I realized that I couldn't say no. It was as though Fate had whispered softly into my ear; he was to be my teacher and I his student.

"Yes. I will take lessons from him." Those words sealed my fate, and a warm feeling ran through me like lightning.

To be continued...cue ominous laughter