Kalsis sat at the long table, a plate in front of him piled high with dishes from all over Albion and his best friend, Rehal, at his elbow. It was the mark of his fourth year at the Heroes Guild; he was sixteen. Rehal, a year older, had brown hair and sharp green eyes. He was considerably better at melee and will training, but none at the Guild could match Kalsis with the bow. Maybe it was that Greyall, the legendary ranger, was his father, or maybe that the bow he used was etched with runes from the long-forgotten Old Kingdom, but Kalsis was already a master of his craft. However, when he and Rehal skirmished, Rehal always seemed to win.
Suddenly, the doors boomed open, and in strode Heartsbane, followed by his fawning admirers. His jet hair whipped in the slipstream, and his pale, mottled skin shone in the firelight. The master student's yellow eyes seemingly burned into everyone's mind, and he arrogantly strode to his seat. A small, new apprentice was sitting at it, and he tried in vain to scramble out of the way. Heartsbane caught him with a fist of will, and sent him flying ten feet down the table. The boy slid to a stop right in front of Kalsis, his eyes gleaming, nothing in them. Kalsis turned and found Heartsbane staring at him, his eyes daring him to challenge. He shuddered with the rest of the apprentices at the table as they thought about the everyday horrors Heartsbane wrought. Kalsis quietly finished his meal.
Kalsis snapped his eyes open and rolled off his bed, grabbing his dagger.
"Relax, it's only me. You're pretty wound up."
He looked up and saw Rehal, his face glowing with suppressed mirth. Kalsis slid his dagger back under his pillow and stood up.
"What's going on?" he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"He's challenged a visiting graduate to a skirmish. Come on, we can't miss it." Rehal was one of the apprentices that were obviously hostile to Heartsbane, and he could never drag himself to say his name. But he seemed excited, and Kalsis listened with interest
They raced through the halls, burst outside and ran down the sun-dappled stairs. A crowd was already forming around the melee ring, and cheering was emanating from within. Kalsis and Rehal shouldered their way through until they were leaning against the chest-high wooden railing. A grown man was inside, dressed in gleaming golden chain mail and had a greatsword across his back. His hands were in the air, and he was calling out to the crowd, which was chanting "Sa-bre Sa-bre".
"A Hero," Kalsis murmured softly, awestruck. Rehal grinned at him.
A dark shadow veiled the sun. Heartsbane stepped out of the Guild into the sudden darkness. He seemed to grow taller in the shadow, taking strength from it. He strode toward the ring, and entered by the gate. Unsheathing his iron katana from his back, he pointed it at the Hero.
"Sabre!" he boomed, "will you accept my challenge?"
"Of course," he said flippantly.
"Then let us begin!"
Heartsbane swung a vicious blow at the armoured hero, which he parried. Sabre loosed a bolt of lightning at the apprentice. The jagged line raced toward him, seeming to jump forward to kill him. Heartsbane contemptuously brushed it aside and sent his own lightning, which Sabre struggled to block. He attacked him with a flurry of blows, backing the Hero against the railing. At last, the apprentice knocked his sword away, picked him up by the collar of his mail, and bodily threw him, breaking through the opposite wooden rail. Sabre wearily lifted his head and surrendered.
But Heartsbane wasn't finished yet. He strode toward the battered form and, taking up his sword, stabbed him in the chest. The Hero let out a soft moan, then died. The victorious apprentice withdrew his bloodstained sword and wiped it on the dead form's armour.
Rehal jumped over the railing and pointed his sword accusingly at Heartsbane.
"You killed him!" he cried, "he surrendered, yet you still killed him!" Rehal failed to see Heartsbane ready himself; he was blinded by his rage. "You killed him!"
Heartsbane struck. Lightning leaped from his clenched fists, catching Rehal unawares. He held it, watching with cold satisfaction as the teenager writhed in the blood-soaked dirt. Rehal screamed in pain, his life slowly leaking into the uncaring dirt.
Six hours later, Kalsis was still there, staring up at the velvet sky in shock. Rehal was dead.
