THE CHAINED GIFT IV: Sheathing the weapons

The decaying light stopped casting its shadows inside the guard aspirants' quarters. It started to rain; big drops pattered on the stained-glass windows. Caradhar took his time to get to his bed, the only taken one at the time. He removed his armour piece by piece, very slowly; then he sat down and unfastened the clasps of his leather shirt. He looked up, and his gaze got captured by the view of the rain drumming against the pieces of red, grey and colourless glass. For a moment, he allowed himself to remember...

***

When he returned from Ummankor, Caradhar quickly left the group and discreetly slipped inside his bedroom to hide his loot in a safe place. He was almost caught in the middle of his task by the sound of the door, being wide open, and Nestro's figure, leaning against the jamb, with a half proud, half mocking smile.

'Congratulations, cadet. You made it back from Ummankor in one piece; just for the record, I never doubted, not even for a second. That is, your fencing is pitiful, but you surely became agile enough to run for your life.' When he saw his slight frown, the weapon master added, approaching him: 'You know I'm joking; I take very seriously everything I do. I wouldn't send you to face danger if I didn't trust your abilities. And I am very satisfied of what we achieved, you and me,' he said, with suggestive voice, his hand going deep into the hair that covered the nape of his neck. 'Maybe we should celebrate it...' he leant, kissing his neck in that demanding, possessive way of his.

'Maybe we should.' Caradhar's hand, bolder, sneaked inside the back of Nestro's breeches.'Now, if you go to the bed and lie on your stomach, I could start the preparations...'

Nestro's lips remained still for some seconds on the young elf's neck; then they released a soft grunt.

'One of these days you'll make me lose my temper, and I will make you pay dearly for the audacity of your tongue...' he muttered, with sarcasm. 'But if we are going to play, we better go to my room; it has a lock.'

'You're just shivering at the thought of somebody opening that door and finding Nestro, the weapon master, with his back against someone like me.'

Nestro straightened up to stare at the young elf with his deep, dark eyes.

'Yes, you're right: it would be embarrassing for me if it became public that a little thing like you gets me on all fours every time he feels like it; but I also know that many would envy me for having exclusive right to enjoy that red-haired little thing, so... If that's what you want, let's go to your bed.

His eyes and words showed such determination that Caradhar felt a bit inhibited. Without looking away, he slid the intrusive hand outside his clothes and said:

'Your room is better: it has a lock.'

Nestro smiled widely.

Back in Argailias, the young elves' mood was optimistic. It was the final training day and they would swear their oaths of allegiance, wearing the three-coloured armour. Their cadets uniforms would be worn, for the last time, during a ceremony chaired by the Maede himself, as a great honour. When all the cadets were gathered in the hall of arms, standing at attention, Maede Killien made his entrance, very self-assured, surrounded by his escort and followed by his spouse. Her son's gaze followed her with discretion while she walked behind her husband, took a look around the hall, focused her attention on Caradhar for a second and then averted her eyes, pretending she had to fix her sleeves.

The red-haired elf concentrated then on the Maede, whom he had never seen before. His figure and bearing didn't strike him, as he had no special traits, apart from his very fair hair and eyes; but the ones surrounding him were obviously holding their breath and trying to satisfy even his most insignificant wishes at once, their watching faces looking around and then turning back to him with extreme devotion. The vision of his mother showing such behaviour made him raise his eyebrows: a consummate actress... or, definitely, something else, since he could not imagine that Dame Corail possessed such a submissive personality.

The Maede walked towards the cadets; he stared at them for a moment and then spoke.

'Welcome, young cadets. Your captain spoke favourably of you, in your first mission; this in spite of the fact that you couldn't satisfy our Grand Alchemist as well.' He chuckled, his eyes stopping on everyone, evaluating them. 'I like to form my own opinion, so here I am, coming to check by myself the kind of material that we have here. But first... First I want you to kneel before me and swear allegiance, as proof of your loyalty to House Elore'il.'

As if moved by an irresistible impulse, all the cadets went down on their knees. Caradhar, reacting half a second later, imitated his companions and then bowed his head, biting his lips for being the only one lagging behind in the perfectly executed choreography. However, when he dared to glance at them out of the corner of his eye, couldn't help but notice their blank stares; there was something unnatural about it.

It was a traditional part of the ceremony for the future guards to show their abilities in individual combat. Duelling was not Caradhar's strong point, but he relaxed when he saw the opponent that chance had given him: impetuous, predictable, it wouldn't be difficult to feint leaving an unprotected flank; after his foreseeable attack he would expose himself, and the rest would be a question of waiting for the right moment to hit.

Once the duels were completed, the last part was the long-awaited moment to wear the House livery. Maede Killien, though, had other plans; he turned to his spouse and asked, with a devious voice:

'My darling, let's indulge ourselves in a bit more of entertainment. Did any of our young elves catch your interest?' Much to Caradhar's dismay, she pointed at him. The Maede signalled the captain to come and whispered in his ear; he was without a doubt pleased with the answer he got, as he broadly smiled and approached the young elf, who was keeping his head down. Holding his chin, he made him lift up his face, which he examined with mocking eyes. 'Thus you are my new acquisition, the gifted with whom my respected wife was so kind to presented me... Good, good... I heard that Nestro personally trained you: let's see if he was efficient or kept too many tricks to himself... Face each other for our amusement; no armours, just a couple of solid honest-looking steel swords. Give us a nice show.'

The Maede made himself comfortable to watch the fight while Caradhar and Nestro got themselves ready, removing their armours, just keeping their leather trousers and boots. They chose weapons and tested their balance; the veteran elf's nervous gaze moved from his pupil to his revered mistress, Dame Corail, a detail that didn't pass unnoticed by Lord Killien. Licking his suddenly dry lips, Nestro nodded to the younger elf and they took up positions.

They started crossing swords with caution, measuring each other's mettle and keeping the distance. Yet it was difficult for Caradhar to suppress his frustration: his mentor, much more experienced, knew his abilities and limitations very well. He would be beaten in no time, and the perspective of starting his career in the House with a defeat did not attract him.

But then he realised that Nestro wasn't putting all his heart into the combat. Whatever the reason might be, his mother's influence or his companion's own initiative, Caradhar decided to take advantage; after all, he said to himself, it was just an exhibition. He increased the intensity of his attacks, venturing a couple of two-handed blows that grazed the older elf's skin, who was fighting defensively. Since the boy understood his skills were not enough to disarm his opponent using conventional methods, he tried to use strength and speed, and an unexpected manoeuvre; making the sword spin around him with all his power, he dealt a heavy blow to the weapons master's blade, making him lose part of his grip. Then he quickly swung his weapon in the opposite direction, striking near his adversary's hilt, who dropped his sword and stumbled, falling on his knee. Caradhar pointed his sword at Nestro's neck; both elves turned their heads to their Lord.

With a twisted smirk, Killien glanced at his spouse, stood up and walked towards the fighters.

'Nice scene, my young gifted; as for you, Nestro, what a disappointment... Kneeling in front of an inexperienced kid. I'm not even going to bother to ask if you did it on purpose or you lost your master-stroke. One way or another, you are no longer useful for me, so, boy,' he continued, turning to Caradhar, 'show me a token of your obedience: kill him.'

For a moment, the winner looked at his mother, whose knuckles had turned white due to her clenched fists, slowly closing her eyes in a gesture of resignation. Then he looked down at Nestro, at his hand grabbing his ankle. The elf had slowly closed his eyes, with resigned hopelessness; when he opened them again, he fixed them on the young one. They said many things; they told a world of feelings; but the gifted was unable to read them. He hesitated.

'Didn't... you...hear me?'

The repressed anger contained in the Maede's voice shook Caradhar. His mind worked fast: he understood that, whatever the secret that granted Lord Killien domain over wills might be, it didn't affect him; but also that he couldn't afford to be discovered. With a quick movement of his sword he cut off Nestro's neck; drowning in his own blood, he released his companion and died. His murderer, down on his knee, laid out his weapon between him and the Maede and bowed his head.

Nobody else heard the ruler of House Elore'il, when he turned to his wife and said, with a soft, cruel voice:

'You should know I have ears everywhere, my dear. I won't tolerate anyone who isn't one hundred percent loyal to me in the House. Anyone.'

***

Still the sound of rain; across Caradhar's mind, the parade of silent pictures continued: the oath... The new shiny armour... Blood, and servants discreetly removing the corpse... Looks shying away from him, while his comrades left to enjoy a night of wine and celebration and he shut himself away in his room... The young elf absently lifted a hand and discovered a small red spot on its back: Nestro's blood.

Outside, the storm had become stronger. Caradhar wondered what he should be feeling in that moment; he focused his energy on his chest, almost wishing to feel pressure, heat, pain.

Nothing.

Lightning crossed the sky, and a sparkle of light reflected in his red eyes. For a small moment, they appeared to be alive.

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