Azalun's sword sliced, snaking out quicker than a whip. But still Golguan's spear stopped it short like it was the easiest act on the continent.
"Is that all you have, boy?" said the old paladin, a smirk creasing his scarred, wrinkled face. "You are making me believe all the months I have used up training you are wasted.
Azalun let out a roar and drew back his blade into a downward vertical cut, which Golguan blocked again.
Golguan smirk grew into a grin, then swung out the spear's butt for Azalun's skull.
The young Myrmidon slid back, barely making it outside the spear's arc. Azalun went to dart into a thrust but was forced to block Golguan's thrust for his face.
Golguan laughed and launched into a flurry of stabs.
Azalun's teeth clenched and his eyes widened as he dodged and darted. He parried and blocked those that came to close while he weathered through them.
"Go Azalun!" yelled a melodic, high pitched voice from the sidelines. A voice Azalun knew belonged to Caralin.
Her words caused Azalun to smile and a wave of confidence to coat him, so he smashed aside a thrust, then back-swung into a horizontal slash for Golguan's skull.
But Golguan blocked Azalun's wooden practise blade with his armoured palm, and before Azalun could slip it back, closed his fingers around it.
"Nice try, boy," said the paladin, then he kicked Azalun in the chest, sending Azalun stumbling back, then smashing against the fence, blasting the wind from his lungs and pain through his back and chest. "But must've seen that attack tried hundreds of times."
Gasping, Azalun slid to sit his arse into the mud.
Caralin's slender, soft hand grasped his shoulder through the fence. "Next time, Azalun," she said in his ear.
"No it won't," said Golguan, his armoured boots squelched in the mud as he approached. "He's still got a long way to go."
"Of course I do," said Azalun, looking up at Golguan.
Golguan looked down at Azalun, his face grim, then he grinned again as he held out his hand for Azalun.
"Don't beat yourself up too much, boy. You are still young, got a lot to learn. I've been at this a long time before you were even born."
Azalun took Golguan's hand and the paladin hauled the young Myrmidon to his feet, like Azalun was made out of straw.
"I'll give you this, boy," said Golguan, clapping Azalun on the shoulder. "You're damned quick."
Azalun felt a smile spread.
"That's enough for tonight, methinks," said Golguan. "You three better get homeward."
Azalun nodded, turned and opened the gate, then stepped out onto the grass, starting for home. as he did Caralin and Tobijorn fell in step with him. Caralin on his left, Tobijorn his right. It was early evening and a clear, amazing cloudless sky where the stars shone so bright they dominated the dark. Their slight light coated the grassy hills and buildings which made up the town of Sakeren in white. As well as the sea which over threw the horizon in the far west. To their backs the eastern mountains towered over them and everything else. The huge mountain range which bordered the countries of Lycia and Bern.
"Can't believe you tried to fight the teacher again," said Tobijorn. "How many times is it now, bud?"
Tobijorn was only a year older than Azalun but towered over him, but the young axe man towered over almost everyone, as almost everyone seemed to tower over Azalun. His arms were almost as thick as Azalun's torso. Unlike Azalun, who apparently looked five years younger Tobijorn, looked like he was ten years older than his twenty years. Also unlike Azalun his orange hair was short and messy, while Azalun's black hair was long and tied into a neat high ponytail. Where Tobijorn's skin was brown from his days spent working the fields but Azalun was pale, for he spent most of his days inside, in study. Tobijorn's face looked like it'd been carved from rock and he was in the midst of growing a beard, which wasn't too bad in Azalun's opinion.
Azalun sighed and shrugged. "I don't know." He knew, but was too embarrassed to say.
"Twenty seven times, now," said Caralin.
Azalun frowned and turned to her. He found she was smiling at him and seeing her smiling, chased away his frown, making it morph into a lopsided smile. Caralin's features were both sharp and soft. Her face and mannerisms somehow ran the whole gamut between beautiful and cute depending on the lighting or angle. Now she was beautiful. Her large green-grey eyes seemed attached to his. Her through a fringe of red and gold hair, which fell past her shoulders which covered her left eye. Her full, red lips reminded Azalun of someone, who he couldn't begin to recall. They were like pillows, they seemed the softest, nicest things on the continent of Elibe. Just like Caralin. Her skin was almost as pale as Azalun's. She was the daughter of the town's administrator, sent by the government of their territory, Pharae to see over the collection of taxes. Thus, her family weren't the most popular in town. But Azalun didn't care, neither did his father and neither did Golguan and Tobijorn. Her father was just doing his job and Caralin was too kind and sweet not to like. Caralin carried her bow and quiver at her hip, she was a beyond brilliant archer. She was slightly shorter than Azalun and just as slender as him. Both if them had to rely on speed and agility and skill more than strength and weight than the huge Tobijorn.
"How long did I manage to last, Caralin?" said Azalun, she was learning accounting from her father and like him had a great head for numbers.
"Uhh, about thirty two seconds," said Caralin, tapping her thin chin.
Azalun's smile widened. "That's three seconds longer than my last try!"
"I don't know why you even bother," said Tobijorn, pouting his thin dry lips. "You'll never beat him. He was knight of Bern for gods' sake."
"I know," said Azalun. "But it's a good way to measure my progress. Every new second I last means I'm getting better."
"Y'know he's going easy on you, right?" said Tobijorn. "Or else it'd be over in a second."
Azalun's smile was chased away by another frown. "Of course I know that, Tobijorn. But I enjoy the challenge."
He grinned. "Unlike the challenge I get from you, which is no challenge at all."
Tobijorn pouted again and Caralin laughed her musical, lilting laugh. They'd sparred eighty one times now. Azalun had won sixty seven of them and they'd five draws. Although each fight was hard won, so Azalun was exaggerating. Tobijorn had strength, size and reach over Azalun, but Azalun was so quick and skilled that he was mostly always able to get in close enough to negate Tobijorn's advantages.
"Anyway," said Azalun. "One day I might be good enough to beat him."
"Yeah, maybe in a hundred years," said Tobijorn. "I still think it's just alotta pain and bruises for nothin'"
Azalun and his instinct made him touch his chest. He hissed at the stinging pain which erupted from the bruise.
"Hey Tobijorn," said Caralin. "Why don't you give a try. I bet you won't even last half as long as Azalun."
"Oh no," said Tobijorn. "I know I'll last fifty times as long as Azalun, but I'll still get my arse beat-"
"Well," said Azalun. "You are an axe wielder so you'd have a very slight advantage against him. Although, I do doubt it'd make much of a difference and assuming he uses his spear."
"Mm hm!" said Caralin with an animated nod.
"But, but," said on Tobijorn. "Unlike Mr apprentice teacher here I ain't got my head in the books all day. I've gotta keep from getting beat so I can work."
Azalun and Caralin exchanged a look, they had to admit Tobijorn had a good point.
"Well you have to try once," said Caralin. "Actions speak louder than words, you know."
Tobijorn pouted again and said nothing.
It was then they found the fork in the road, the right lead north and left leading south.
"This is it," said Tobijorn, as he peeled off, he and Caralin lived with their parents in the north, while Azalun lived with his father in the southern most house. "We'll see ya for training tomorrow, Azalun. Let's go, Caralin."
But Caralin didn't follow Tobijorn, instead she paused, causing Azalun to stop too and gazed into his eyes. She did it with a furrowed brow and for so long Azalun couldn't help feel his cheeks heat and to shuffle his foot.
"Your eyes," she said. "I've always found them weird."
"Uhh thanks?" said Azalun with a raised eyebrow.
"I don't mean it an insult, Azalun," she said flinching back while waving her hands. "It's just...It's just-"
"It's just, what?"
"I don't know, it's just I swear that your eyes, they sometimes-"
"You comin' or what, Caralin?" called Tobijorn, who'd stopped a few metres down the road.
"I will be with you in a second!" Caralin said over her shoulder before looking back to Azalun. "It's just...I swear that at times your eyes...they glow gold."
"They...they do?" said Azalun, scratching his jaw.
"Mmm hmm!" said Caralin with a rapid nod, her pale face bright red. "Well. Uhh I've gotta go. See you around, Azalun."
"Yeah see you," said Azalun, watching Caralin turn to follow Tobijorn and he couldn't help his gaze as it fell to her very nice bum while it waggled away.
When she and Tobijorn disappeared down the hill, the spell of Caralin's bum was broken and he was over taken with confusion.
"My eyes can be gold?" he said, then he turned south and started down the road. "Hmm, strange."
No one had ever mentioned it before. Not even his dad.
The thought of his dad, made Azalun sigh. "Time for another lecture, I suppose"
"Dad," said Azalun as he stepped through the door. He was forced to weave through a few piles of books covering the floor before sitting at the big wooden table in the dining room. "I'm home."
His father's face popped out from the kitchen, his wrinkled face knotted in stern disapproval. Just like Golguan his father's tanned, weather beaten face was coated in scars, which Azalun never understood as he was a teacher, not a fighter. "Hurt yourself much, tonight?"
Azalun shrugged. "Not much more than normal. What's for dinner?"
His father's head disappeared. "You can find out yourself if you're good enough to help me cook, tonight."
Azalun grinned. "Oh no! Actually it seems like Tobijorn hit my arm with his wooden practise axe! It hurts and is so bruised, I can't even move it. It looks like I can't help tonight! I'm so, so sorry dad."
His dad's head appeared again, but his expression still retained it's grimness. "Boy, you are about a good an actor as my pinkie finger. Now get in here and start helping."
Azalun sighed and shrugged. "Was worth a try I suppose," he said before slipping off his seat and joining his father in the kitchen.
"Here," said his father as he pointed at the chopping board covered in carrots, beetroot, potatoes and brusselsprouts. "If you fancy yourself a bladesman, see how quickly you manage to slice those up."
Azalun nodded and slid a knife from the small sheath at his hip and began cutting away.
For the next few minutes they were silent, Azalun struggling in his head to find something say to his father. To break the silence which seemed permeate through him like some sort of poison that seeped through his skin.
At first he wanted to ask the tried and true: "how was your day, dad?" But him and his father had spent most of the day together, first at the school teaching the local children. Then afterwards studying language then the history of Lycian league, during the tumultuous first decade after the War with the Dragons, so that was pointless.
"I...I managed to last three more seconds in a sparring match with Golguan, today," he blurted.
His father grunted, he seemed about as interested as a cow chewing cud.
"Yeah," said Azalun. "He even said I was 'damned quick,' nice eh?"
His dad grunted again.
Azalun frowned, he'd already sliced most of the vegetables, but was going slow on purpose, wanting to avoid the next, surely more boring, chore he was going to be given once done.
"Hurry it up with those damned vegetables," said his dad so suddenly it made Azalun jump and almost cut his finger with his knife. "We haven't got all bloody night. The chicken's already prepared. I had to wash those bloody vegetables, which you should've done. Now, hurry it."
"Y-yes dad," he said speeding up.
There was another long weighted pause, it only lasted a few seconds before Azalun broke it with a nervous laugh when another thought hit him.
"What's so funny?" said dad.
"Oh nothing," said Azalun. "It's just Caralin said something funny just before."
"Oh yeah? What did she say?"
"She said that my eyes sometimes glowed gold."
Azalun couldn't see his father, could feel the anger and tension burst from him.
"Dad? You okay?" said Azalun, looking over his shoulder, finding his father had stopped and was glaring out the window. Azalun could see his father's reflection in the glass and it was somehow grimmer than usual, so grim it seemed to make Azalun's lungs freeze.
It took what seemed an age before his father deigned to reply. "Yes, I am fine, my son. Just get back to work."
"I uhh, I've already finished, dad."
His father spun on Azalun and the young man was frozen from head to toe by his glare.
"Then bloody well hurry it up and put them in the pot!"
"Y-yes dad," said Azalun as he moved to do as told, wondering.
What the hell was that about?