Chapter 3: What It Means To Be a Warrior
"Come on, move faster, Aedan. I would have killed you three times already," Jorab exclaimed as he brought his sword upon him again. Aedan collapsed the shear force of the blow.
"We've been at it for hours," Aedan complained, "Can we take a short break?"
Jorab raced up to Aedan and grabbed him by the collar. "No there are no breaks Aedan," he hissed, "You wanted to be stronger, to carve a name for yourself, then show me that resolve of yours. Attack!"
Enraged by his condescension, Aedan lunged forward with his practice sword. Jorab was unprepared for a sudden strike, barely parrying the first lunge, but quickly regaining control of the field and dealing a brutal slash at his legs. Aedan tumbled as Jorab spun back around and smashed the hilt of his own practice sword into Aedan's face. Blood oozed from Aedan's nose as he pulled himself out of the dirt. Looking at his bruised and battered body, Jorab felt a slight tug of guilt.
"Go wash up, we are done for the day," Jorab said as he slowly turned back towards the house.
"No," Aedan roared! "I am fine, lets keep going. You will not break me that easily old man."
A smile tugged at Jorab's lip as he turned back towards his son, already in a battle stance.
"Very well then," Jorab replied as he charged, "Prepare yourself!"
Weeks passed by in this same manner. Every morning it became the same routine. First the basic chores around the farm and by noon, sword training. It was not long before Aedan was beginning to prove himself as a decent challenge against Jorab's onslaught. But swords was not the only thing Jorab had been teaching Aedan, he was showing him how to harness the true power of a warrior.
"Aedan, what gives a warrior his strength," Jorab asked as they sat drinking some cooling water.
"What do you mean father," Aedan replied, "Isn't it simply physical strength?"
"Well you would be right in that regard if you simply wanted to be a swordsman, Jorab answered, "But a swordsman isn't a warrior. Tell me, what is it that gives mages their power?"
"Don't they gain their power from the ley-lines that course through the world," Aedan replied, having read quite a few books on magic as a child, the subject had always fascinated him.
"You are correct, they channel this power through themselves in a energy called mana," Jorab responded, "But then tell me, how did I do this. Watch closely."
Jorab approached one of the man-sized training dummies they set up, holding his practice sword, his eyes closed in concentration. His body glowed a faint red tint and in one swift movement, he swung his blade with all this might, severing the dummy in half.
Power practically radiating off of him as he walked back towards Aedan, who was shocked to say the least.
"How did you do that father, that glow, are you a mage" Aedan asked, his face demanding answers.
"No son, that was the power that true warriors harness," Jorab replied, "That is the power known as rage."
"What do you mean rage," Aedan countered, "You mean anger gives you that power?"
"Partially", Jorab explained, "All living creatures have the ability to access the ley-lines of our world. Those who can harness mana in its purest form have the talent to become mages, healers, or even shamans like the orcs. Warriors do not use raw mana to perform their abilities, we use a combination of physical energy and magical energy that is formed when we concentrate on powerful emotions. Rage is simply one emotion that can possible bring out this power. Hatred, jealousy, righteous anger, frustration, and even love are all powerful catalysts that generate the power of rage."
Aedan was speechless as he took in this vast amount of information. His very emotions were the fuel that made warriors so powerful.
Jorab further explained that rage not only allowed warriors to do extraordinary feats, but can be channeled to enhance speed, strength, or even stamina itself. The power was theoretically limitless as well, only the willpower of the user could limit it.
"So I will teach you to use this power, but I am not even sure you can. Very few warriors can harness the full potential of rage. I guess we will find out if you have what it takes," Jorab said, standing up.
"How will we do that father," Aedan asked.
Jorab walked a short distance and picked up a rock no bigger than Aedan's fist and plopped it down in his hands.
"Simple. I want you to crush this rock," Jorab casually replied.
"What! You want me to try and break this rock," Aedan exclaimed skeptically.
"No, I want you to shatter it into a million pieces," Jorab replied, walking back towards the house, "Focus on a memory, the one that fills you with the most emotion possible. Let the emotion consume you. Once you feel the build up, release it all at once. Also there will be no dinner until that rock is shattered."
Aedan sat there squeezing the rock for what felt like hours, but nothing happened. There was no red glow, or any feeling of empowerment, there was nothing. Frustrated at this ridiculousness of the concept, Aedan threw the rock a few feet before walking over to retrieve it, exasperated.
"Ok Aedan, you can do this, just focus on a memory," Aedan thought, calming himself, "But which one should I use?"
Aedan sat there pondering his life. He thought of his anger every time Jorab denied him that chance to travel to Elwynn Forest with him or when he was older, to join the Alliance army. He thought of the frustration and jealously he hid behind a smile as he watched Galin leave for Northshire Abbey. Finally something occurred to him.
"Aedan," Jorab called from the bottom of the stairs, "Come down here, there is something I need to show you."
"Yes father," the ten year old Aedan replied as he scurried down the stairs.
"Come and sit here son, there is much to talk about," Jorab said, a serious expression on his face.
"What is it father," Aedan asked, curious.
"Aedan I should have told you about your birth a long time ago. This discussion is long overdue," Jorab said, but just couldn't find the words, "Aedan…."
"Father, what's wrong, is everything alright," Aedan asked, his bright blue eyes beaming right into Jorab's soul.
"Son, I am not you birth father," Jorab blurted out.
Tears brimmed around Aedan's eyes as he sputtered, "What do you mean, your not my father? Mother wasn't killed by bandits. But her grave is just outside, where are my real parents," Aedan shouted, his sadness turning to anger.
"No, no, Aedan, please let me explain," Jorab said, quickly trying to calm the boy.
Jorab told Aedan the story of how he found his mother on the side of the road, exhausted and near death. Finally, he pulled out the locket she left for him and put it into his hand. Aedan slowly sobbed as he gripped the gold locket, the crest of a 'L' shining on the top.
"So I am a bastard? I have no father and I killed my own mother in childbirth. Is that what your saying," his voice barely above a whisper.
"Don't be ridiculous Aedan," Jorab quickly replied, his eyes resilient but warm, "You are my son, I don't care if I didn't sire you, I love you as my own and so you are."
Aedan sobbing stopped as he heard Jorab's declaration. Jorab pulled Aedan into a tight hug.
"Aedan, never forget, you are my son. And for what its worth, I know your mother loved you just as I do," Jorab said, a tear of his own falling on his cheek.
A single tear fell from Aedan's eyes as he reveled in the memory. His hand grasped the locket around his neck and he love he felt for his father and mother consume it. Jorab looked from the window of the house and smiled as he watched his son glow the red hue. Aedan could feel the power throughout his body, making him feel invincible. Gripping that blasted rock once more, Aedan released all of his emotion and strength into the rock. Even to Jorab's surprise, the rock didn't just shatter, it exploded like a grenade out in all directions.
"Aedan," Jorab called from the house, "I guess you aren't a total failure as a warrior, now get inside. We got steaks for tonight."
It had been a week since Aedan had unlocked the power of rage. His progression was astounding to Jorab, his aptitude for harnessing rage far surpassed his own he had to admit. However Aedan still couldn't beat Jorab in a duel, for what Jorab lacked in talent, he had spades of in experience.
"Looks like your improving," Jorab jabbed as he parried Aedan's broadsword to the side, "At this rate, maybe you will be able to keep up when you're my age."
"Just keep talking old man," Aedan said as they danced about the field with their blades, "One day I'll wipe that smirk clean off your face."
Aedan began channeling rage into his arms to increase the speed and strength of his swings until Jorab began having trouble parrying them all away. Excitement filled Aedan as he nearly broke Jorab's stance.
"I have you now father," Aedan shouted as he brought his blade down over his head pushing Jorab onto one knee, "Yield!"
"Don't think you have beaten me quite yet, brat," Jorab said, the smirk still evident on his face.
Jorab suddenly stomped his feet into the ground, emitting a large radius of electricity which stunned Aedan in his place. Aedan shouted as he felt himself temporarily paralyzed giving Jorab amble time to roll away. The duel continued for just a short while. Every swing Aedan took with this blade felt slower than the last, his speed rapidly decreasing. Finally, Jorab slide to Aedan's side and elbowed him in the gut. With the wind knocked out of him, Aedan collapsed, soundly defeated.
"That was a dirty trick, old man," Aedan said, panting and wiping the sweat off of his blonde hair.
"All is fair in love and war," Jorab quipped as he pulled Aedan to his feet, "Remember that son."
"So…are you going to show me that technique," Aedan asked as they walked back to the farmhouse.
It had been six months since they had begun training, six months of broken bones, bruises, and possible internal bleeding. Aedan rose early that morning, the morning he turned seventeen, to get his chores done early. The sun barely in the sky by the time he was strapping on his leather armor. Today was his final test, he would fight his father in a duel with real swords and should he be victorious, Jorab would give his blessing to leave the farmstead. Eating a hearty breakfast, Aedan reviewed his lessons through his head, unable to relax before the duel.
"Thunderclap, channel rage into your feet and release with sudden force. Whirlwind, focus your rage on the edge of your sword and let it lead you. How do you regenerate again? Never got that one down," Aedan thought, anxiously sitting at the table.
After eating, Aedan walked outside into the field and looked upon his home. Harvest would be in a few weeks, and if all went well, for once Jorab would be doing all the hard work.
"Its hard to believe my time here is almost over," Aedan contemplated, "I wonder if this is how Galin felt before he left."
It was almost a hour before Aedan heard Jorab shout behind him.
"Are you prepared for this boy," Jorab asked, "I won't hold back this time. I need someone to clean out the barns."
"Not this time old man," Aedan replied, determination in his eyes, "Today, I put behind the farmer and embrace the warrior."
"Good," Jorab replied as he tossed Aedan a claymore sword of his own.
Aedan admired the blade as it shined in the sun, it had to of been recently forged.
"I asked Gryan to have one of those made for you," Jorab said, stirring Aedan from his thoughts, "Should you beat me today, Gryan agreed to help you get started. Now lets get started!"
Jorab disappeared in a blur as he charged forwards. Aedan's eyes could barely keep up as he saw Jorab's blade appear aiming at his sides. Quickly side stepping and parrying the blade, Aedan returned with rage-enhanced strike of his own pushing Jorab back across the dirt. Jorab smirked as he dash forwards raising a leg to strike the ground. Anticipating the thunderclap, Aedan jumped into the air and slashed at Jorab's arms.
"Argg," Jorab yelled as Aedan's sword drew blood from his forearm, "Not bad boy, but believe me, this duel has only begun."
"I can't believe he charged and tried to thunderclap me so early, he must of tried to finish it fast," Aedan thought, "Those techniques require a large amount of rage, so he must be a bit winded."
Quickly stirring himself from his thoughts, Aedan charged with enhanced speed at Jorab's back swinging his blade at his lower back. Jorab turned just in time and parried the slash, but returned with a punch from his metal gauntlet. Unphased by the unexpected strike, Aedan rapidly struck again.
Blows were exchanged again, both warriors using their rage to increase their strength. Blow matched blow, parry matched parry, the duel appeared to be in a stalemate until Jorab raised his blade for an overhead strike. Aedan grabbed the hilt of Jorab's blade and kicked him back a few feet away.
"Looks like I taught you well Aedan," Jorab said, panting, "It is nice to see that all my teachings did not go to waste. But I am not done yet, you have yet to see my trump card."
A red glow surrounded Jorab as he channeled his rage throughout his body. This glow, however, was not the faint glow that warriors typically emitted, this aura was pure crimson. Suddenly, four crimson blades appeared surrounding Jorab, circling slowly in a ominous cycle.
"If I am going to win this," Jorab thought, "I need to do it now, this technique drains most of my stamina and will only last one minute."
Aedan, cautious of the blades, but seeing the exhaustion in Jorab's face, charged forward slashing his blade only to be parried by Jorab. Suddenly, however, Aedan felt a second blow upon his blade. Confused, Aedan responded with another attack, only to feel twice the force upon him again. Jorab smiled and began to press the attack. His technique he called "retaliation" was the perfect balanced maneuver. For every strike Aedan made, Jorab could parry and attack a second time. The technique not only enhanced his speed, but also his reflexes. Aedan slowly began to crumble beneath the technique, barely parrying all the blows. Finally with the last few seconds remaining before the technique wore off, Jorab slashed Aedan diagonally across the chest and once down the back, lightly enough to leave only two light wounds.
Aedan collapsed onto one knee, blood oozing down his body, barely able support himself on his own blade. Jorab too felt the exhaustion hitting him and nearly collapsed, but managed to remain standing.
"Its over son," Jorab said, "Maybe next year will be your time."
"No father," Aedan's whisper turning into a shout, "Its not over. You once asked me to show you my resolve. Well here it is!"
With the last of his strength Aedan raised his claymore and threw it with all his might at Jorab. Not expecting the surprise attack, Jorab barely managed to dodge to the side. His eyes distracted by the soaring blade, Jorab could only scarcely see as Aedan charged him. With one final act, Aedan jumped and drop-kicked Jorab in the stomach releasing the last of his rage in a thunderclap. Jorab could barely scream as the electricity coursed through his body, paralyzing every muscle.
As both father and son collapsed, Jorab could barely whisper, "My son, you are a true warrior."