Heir Of The Fallen Flame

Chapter 28: Gifted Hands

The grass still carried droplets of cold dew that soaked through Kael’s boots each time he ran past the training posts. His arms burned. His shoulders burned. Even his fingers ached.

The two wooden buckets hanging from the pole across his shoulders sloshed dangerously as he jogged unevenly around the field.

That alone felt like victory.

A week ago he could barely take three steps without spilling half the water into the dirt. Now he could make almost two full laps before losing balance.

Kael gritted his teeth as the buckets swayed again. “Steady… steady…”

Water splashed over the rim anyway. From somewhere behind him, Liam’s voice thundered immediately.

“I SAW THAT.”

Kael nearly tripped. “It was one drop!”

Liam tuts his teeth in disappointment. Kael muttered darkly beneath his breath and kept moving.

The old man sat beneath the porch roof chewing loudly on dried fruit while sharpening a carving knife against his boot. Beside him rested the dreaded wooden plank he used for “instruction.”

Which usually meant violence. Kael is simply waiting for the one time he'd get the chance to hide that plank or toss it across the hills.

Lyra sat cross-legged near the center of the training field a few yards away from the porch. Her sword rested across her lap while she dragged a whetstone along its edge. The sound blended with morning wind and birdsong.

Kael passed her again during his jog, breathing harder now.

“You know,” he puffed, “normal teachers use encouragement.”

Liam snorted. “And normal students possess talent.”

Kael glared toward the porch but kept moving. The buckets bounced less this time. His steps were still awkward and uneven, but there was rhythm now.

He noticed it himself.

So did Liam.nThough the old man would rather swallow rocks than admit it openly.

Kael finally slowed near the well after several more laps, breathing heavily while lowering the buckets carefully onto the ground.

Only a little water had spilled. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he wiped sweat from his brow.

“I hate these buckets,” he muttered.

Liam chuckled. “They would prefer a better holder too.”

Kael didn't respond, he was way too tired for retort at this point. He rolled his sore shoulders slowly before glancing toward Lyra.

She remained focused on the blade in her hands, dark hair shifting softly in the wind. Sunlight caught the silver edge of her sword each time the whetstone passed across it.

Kael watched quietly for a moment. There was something calming about it. Or maybe strange was the better word.

Lyra always looked less dangerous when she was silent. Then she lifted the sword slightly and tested the edge against her thumb.

Abd…Dangerous again.

Kael walked toward her slowly. “You sharpen that thing more than you sleep.”

Lyra did not look up. “A dull blade gets people killed.”

Kael lowered himself onto the grass a short distance away with a groan. “My hands will be useless by the time we head back to the west.”

“That would improve your sword form.”

He frowned. “I have not even touched a sword yet.”

“Exactly.”

Kael sighed dramatically toward the sky. For a while neither of them spoke. Only the scrape of the whetstone filled the quiet air.

Kael glanced toward her again eventually. “Where are you from?”

The sharpening paused but Lyra resumed a second later. “Why?”

Kael shrugged one shoulder. “I realized I know almost nothing about you.”

“You know enough.”

“I know you stab people very well.”

“That is useful knowledge.”

Kael rolled his eyes. “I am serious.”

Lyra finally looked at him then. Her expression remained calm. She always measured words before giving them away. Even simple ones.

“A village north of Astra.”

Kael blinked. “There are villages north of Astra?”

“There are many things outside the academy walls.”

She returned to sharpening again.

Kael picked at the grass beside him. “Do you ever go back there?”

“No.”

The answer came too quickly. Kael looked at her, eyes scanning her face.

“You hate it?”

Lyra’s hand slowed slightly against the blade. “Hate is a waste of energy.”

“That sounds like something Liam says before throwing wood at me.”

A faint smirk almost appeared at the corner of her mouth.

Kael leaned back on his hands. “I do not remember where I came from.”

Lyra glanced toward him again. Kael stared ahead at the rolling hills.

“Astra is all I know,” he admitted quietly. “The academy. The towers. The training halls. I was an errand boy for years and unfit to become a trainee.”

His expression tightened faintly. “I remember pieces of my life before that. Not much. Faces sometimes. Sounds. Smells. But nothing is clear.”

Lyra watched him silently now. Kael laughed once under his breath.

“It feels strange saying that aloud.”

Lyra said nothing for a moment. “You truly remember nothing?”

“Nothing useful.”

He frowned slightly. “I do not even know if someone is searching for me.”

That thought lingered heavier than he intended. It always had. But since Astra was all he knew as home and Alia, his only family, he had managed to push it aside.

Alia. He hasn't even thought about her in a while. He'd been so busy running for his own life, he didn't find out if she was alive or not.

Well, now that he's killed Ronan’s father, he knew for certain that finding out where she was would be a miracle.

Lyra rested the sword across her knees.

“When I first came to Astra,” she said slowly, “I thought the academy was the whole world too.”

Kael looked toward her.

“But it is not,” she continued. “The realm is larger than the towers. Larger than the council.”

Her gaze drifted toward the distant mountains beyond the hills.

“There are villages that fear magic. Cities ruled by merchants instead of mages. Forests older than kingdoms.”

“The nymphs certainly made an impression.”

“That forest used to belong to something worse.”

Kael blinked. “Worse than forced marriage?”

Lyra ignored him.

Kael studied her quietly, a small smile on his face. “You speak like someone who traveled a lot.”

“I did.”

“With Ronan?”

The question slipped out before he could stop it. Lyra’s expression hardened and Kael immediately lifted both hands.

“Sorry.”

“Yes.”

Kael lowered his hands slowly. Lyra’s eyes remained fixed on the blade.

“We traveled often after missions,” she said quietly. “Mostly because he hated staying still.”

Kael knew that. Judging by the fact that he sure enjoyed using him as his punching bag.

“He spoke too much,” she added.

Kael snorted softly. “That part I believe.”

A small breath escaped her that might have been amusement.

Kael smiled faintly. His eyes drifted toward the sword beside her again.

“You really learned all that from Master Zen?”

Lyra nodded once. “He trained me after Astra.”

Kael stared at the blade with growing curiosity. “Can I hold it?”

“No.”

“What if I am careful?”

“You are never careful.”

“That is unfair.”

Lyra raised a brow slowly. Kael sighed.

“…Mostly unfair.”

She studied him for a moment before finally lifting the weapon slightly and holding it out handle-first.

“Do not swing it.”

Kael grabbed it carefully with both hands, his eyes widened immediately.

“Goodness.”

The sword was heavier than it looked. Kael turned it slowly as sunlight ran along the polished steel.

“It feels…” he wasn't sure how to put it. “Heavy.”

Kael adjusted his grip awkwardly.

“So how do you even start learning this?”

Lyra reached over and tapped his elbows downward immediately. “Relax your arms.”

He straightened again. Lyra sighed.

“Not like that.”

Kael frowned harder while trying again. Lyra stood slowly from the grass.

“Move over.”

He obeyed. She positioned herself behind him carefully, adjusting his shoulders first.

“Your grip is too tense.”

Kael tried ignoring the fact she stood very close now. “Easy for you to say.” he said, his breath brushing over the side of her face.

“You are holding it like an explosive rune!”

“I am trying not to drop it.”

“That fear is exactly why you would.”

Kael blinked. That sounded annoyingly wise.

Lyra adjusted his wrist slightly. “There. Balance.”

Kael moved carefully and the sword suddenly felt lighter. “Oh.”

Lyra stepped back again.

“Your movements follow your breathing. If your breathing panics, your blade does too.”

Kael looked down at the sword thoughtfully. Then slowly attempted a swing which went rather smoother than she anticipated.

Kale glanced at Lyra to see the look of disbelief in her eyes.

“So I am naturally gifted?”

She met his gaze. “No.”

Kael sighed.

“You could lie occasionally.”

Before she could answer, something smacked the back of Kael’s head.

“Ow!”

He spun around furiously. Liam stood there holding another small pebble.

“Your footwork is terrible.”

Kael rubbed his head. “Where do you keep finding stones?”

“The earth provides.”

The old man snatched the sword from Kael’s hands suddenly.

“Again.”

Kael blinked. “You were watching?”

“I watch everything.”

Liam tossed him a wooden practice sword instead. “Steel is earned.”

Kael caught it awkwardly and Liam circled him once slowly.

“Hm.”

“What?”

The old man grunted thoughtfully. “Again.”

Kael attempted the same motion Lyra showed him. Liam immediately smacked his ankle lightly with the plank.

“Too stiff.”

Kael corrected himself and tried again.This time Liam hit his shoulder.

“Too high.”

Kael swung again, implementing the corrections he had just given.

Liam narrowed his eyes slightly. “Hm.”

Kael frowned. “What does hm mean?”

Liam stepped closer suddenly and shoved Kael sideways without warning.

Kael stumbled but caught his balance immediately instead of falling.

Liam’s brow lifted faintly. Kael straightened proudly.

“I did not fall.”

“You nearly did.”

“But I did not.”

Liam grunted again. The old man’s sharp eyes studied him more carefully now. The boy had instinct. That was good enough.

Liam suddenly swung the wooden plank toward Kael’s ribs. Kael jerked backward instantly on reflex.

Liam stopped mid-swing. Lyra noticed the change in his expression immediately.

“What?” she asked quietly.

Liam scratched his beard slowly. “Hm.”

Kael pointed accusingly. “You are doing that sound again.”

The old man ignored him once more. Instead he tossed another wooden sword toward Lyra.

“Fight him.”

Kael’s eyes widened immediately. “That seems unnecessary.”

“It is very necessary.”

Lyra caught the sword one-handed. Kael took several cautious steps backward.

“I would like to remind everyone present that I value my life.”

“Good,” Liam replied. “Fear sharpens attention.”

Lyra stepped into position calmly. Kael raised his practice sword uncertainly. The wind moved through the training field softly. Liam watched from the side in silence

“Begin.”

Lyra moved first. Kael panicked and threw his sword upward awkwardly to block.

Clack. The impact rattled through his arms painfully but he blocked it.

Kael blinked. “…I blocked it.”

Then Lyra swept his legs out immediately afterward. Kael crashed flat into the dirt.

Liam nodded approvingly.

“Aye,” the old man said. “There is hope for you yet.”

Face buried in grass, Kael groaned. “I liked it better before hope arrived.”