The ground rose up fast to meet him, but as he hit the hard packed earth, he angled his body to land on his shoulder, and within an instant he rolled back to his feet. He heard a shout of approval, but did not look for its source, his attention quite occupied.
At a shade over six feet tall, and a body corded with lean muscle, not many men made Arion Carral feel small. The one before him did. At least a head taller, and sixty pounds heavier, he was a giant in padded leather. The battle ax in his hand, while dulled for training, was nearly the height of Arion himself, and the man wielded it with deadly grace. In comparison, the hand and a half sword he wielded seemed a butter knife in his hand.
After regaining his feet, he charged, sending a flurry of cuts at head, legs and torso. The haft of the ax checked every blow, then quick as a viper, the head darted out. Arion barely turned his body in time, feeling the wind rush past his face. He backed away a few steps and waited. They had been battling for quite some time, and Arion saw his initial strategy of tiring the man out was having little success. Coming up with a new tactic in a heartbeat, he slowly started to circle his foe.
An experienced fighter, his opponent kept Arion in front of him, and the sun at his back. As soon as Arion had the sun directly in his eyes, he did what the big man least expected. He dashed forward in a crouch, using the larger mans height to shield his eyes from the evening sun. The man reacted a touch too slow. Maybe I did tire him a bit, he thought, as he took advantage. He slid the blade of his sword up the haft of the ax, and underneath its head. He shoved his sword down hard, while at the same time Arion himself exploded upward, driving his shoulder into the taller mans gut. The breath went out of him in a great whoosh, and after rising an inch or two into the air, he crashed down hard upon his back. In a flash, he was upon him, blade pressed to his throat. "Do you yield, sir?" He asked, never taking his eyes from the mans face. After he gained his breath, the big man said, "Aye lad, I yield. Congratulations."
With a broad grin, he leapt to his feet, then reached down to give his instructor a hand up. As Sir Andrew rose, the other recruits surged forward to offer Arion congratulations. However, the first man there was his father, Alyn. He was of a height and build with his son, though older. A lined, but still handsome face stared at him with pride, grey streaks in his red gold hair. Stormy grey eyes looked into his sons bright, icy blue ones. He was wearing the arms and armor of a member of King Thoras own Royal Guard, having been granted leave to watch his sons final trial on his way to becoming a warrior of Stromgarde. With tears in his eyes, he said, "Your brothers and I are so proud of you, and I know that wherever your mother is, she is smiling down on you with that twinkle in her eye."
He kissed his son upon the forehead, and Arion hugged him fiercely in turn. Then the other boys were on him, tackling him to the ground. His best friend, Arad, was punching him in the shoulder. "I'm the one taught you that move you used on Sir Andrew at the end. Maybe I ought not even need to fight, and pass my trial purely on combat brilliance." Arion laughed, "If by taught, you mean I used it on you so many times I perfected it, then I suppose so." Arad smiled his wolfish grin, "I just wanted to give you the practice, that's all." Arion laughed again. Sir Andrew pushed his way through the crowd. " An excellent fight boy, I never expected that you would charge directly into the sun." He chuckled.
As he pushed the long, silvery hair from his face, he grew more serious. "You have successfully passed your final trial. In a weeks time, you shall sit with your new brothers in arms, and receive your first assignment. It has been an honor to watch you grow as a warrior. For Trollbane!" Arion echoed, "For Trollbane!", slamming a fist into his chest in salute. After Sir Andrew and his father departed to watch from a respectful distance, the other boys swarmed in once more. Looking around, with the setting sun giving everything a blood red glow, he wished this moment could last forever. It was his seventeenth name day.