"Awakening: Chapter Two" by Elizabeth Fitzgerald

Glacial blue eyes held Ariel frozen with an expression colder than the river that rushed about her. Their fathomless, icy depths were marred only by a predatory gleam, like that of a wolf sighting the doe that would soon be its prey. And just like the doe, Ariel found her bare chest heaving up and down at a speed her recent exertions could only partially justify.

Consciously she slowed her breathing, still warily eyeing the lean, golden-skinned elf that held her at bay. The dagger he held pointed at her throat continued to wink silver in the mottled morning sunlight, poised to slash open the smooth, white flesh at any provocation.

For several minutes they held their tableau, hunter and hunted, before the masked warrior relaxed his stance, easing the keen-edged weapon away from her neck.

“I am impressed by your tactic,” he told the young elven maiden, stepping carefully away from her. “But there are two flaws in it, one which violates one of the principles we were earlier discussing.”

Ariel felt a momentary relief at the distance that now separated them- a distance, she noted almost absently, that allowed her longsword to strike effectively against him once more. In the split second between the moment the tawny-haired warrior had parried her feint and the instant his dagger had reached her throat, he had stepped in close to her body, rendering her weapon useless without room to manoeuvre.

Finding his student’s gaze still waiting expectantly upon him, the masked elf continued his explanation. “Firstly it is often dangerous to attack an opponent with a technique you are not highly trained in, and though it may work, you run the risk of throwing your only chance into the winds. However your feint and sweep combination was an excellent choice, the first to confound me, and the second to defeat me.”

The Master of the Banshee’s Loft raised his dagger in salute to his pupil once again. Ariel tensed for a moment, nerves stretched tight as she watched the blade’s movements, before realising that her warrior-master was simply acknowledging her skills. Relaxing slightly, she inclined her head in return, sending the soaking sapphire strands of her hair swinging through the air.

“The only flaw, as I am sure you are now aware, is that of the environment,” the supple-bodied fighter resumed his lecture, seeming completely at ease as the cool waters of the river rushed about him and foamed at his narrow hips. “A trip attack, though possible on land, is much more difficult to execute in such a current, and the force and accuracy of such a destabilising blow is far lessened by water pressure.” Pausing a moment, he stopped to watch her reaction to his criticisms.

Cocking her head to the side, Ariel shrugged. Although she was disappointed in herself that she had not seen the obvious flaw in her plan, she filed the emotion away, not willing to give her master the satisfaction of seeing such a feeling on her face. Instead she kept her expression carefully neutral, remembering his own similar lack of expression in combat and using it as an example.

Seeing no reaction, the gold elf admonished the young girl. “Instead consider your environment. What are the properties that you can use to your advantage?”

Ariel took a slow survey of her surroundings. The river she stood in was wide as well as deep, the current swift as it rumbled toward the waterfall further down stream. Though the water was clear as crystal, large grey rocks- worn smooth by such driving force- sent the rush tumbling and foaming in their wake. The ripples produced obscured a clear view of anything that lay beneath.

Above, the meandering river’s path was shaded by the interlocking branches of the great snow pines. Their enormous gnarled trunks provided ample crevices for even a climber of little skill. But although Ariel was far from lacking such skills, the climb would prove of little use to her in this situation, for the nearest branch loomed more than a hundred feet overhead. Far too high to drop on her master from above, she concluded. Not to mention the fact that, unless she found a way to disappear, she would never be able to reach one of the massive trunks without her canny master discerning her intent.

Feeling the first tendrils of frustration, Ariel bit back a sign and allowed her attention to wander back to the water. It seemed to offer the best form of concealment, and it would be concealment the young etrielle needed if she truly hoped to gain an advantage over the Master of the Banshee’s Loft. After all, he had, without a doubt trained for several centuries more than her own modest seven years. An obvious attack would be doomed to instant failure.

As Ariel continued her fierce scrutiny of the world about her, her master took another sudden step back from his place opposite her. Closing his eyes, expression drained from his face swifter than the translucent drops that plunged over the rocky lip not so far away. The dispassionate cast of his features was as familiar to Ariel as the silver embroidery on his mask. When his striking azure eyes opened once more, she knew he was awaiting her action.

Unwilling to begin until she believed she was prepared, the pale-skinned elf felt around the bottom of the river with her feet. She did not dare glance down for fear of revealing her intention, and even had she been able, she knew she would not see anything. The frantic current made sure of that.

An idea began to take shape, as the words of Ariel’s master reverberated inside her mind. He had turned the distortion of the currents to his advantage by using them to conceal the dagger he now held ready. Why not do the same, Ariel reasoned?

Still clutching her naked longsword in one hand, Ariel slowly sank beneath the waterline, her amber eyes defiantly holding those of her master’s until the last possible minute. Once submerged, she quickly propelled herself to the bottom, hoping that the river’s flow would disguise her movements as much as possible. Time would be short, she knew, for her master would not be so foolish as to remain in his place now that she had disappeared from sight.

Her long callused fingers swiftly scoured the river bed, finally landing on a rock that matched her specifications. Although worn flat, the stone tapered away into a rounded edge, less than an inch thick. Testing its weight, Ariel found that it fit comfortably in her hand. Thus armed, she began the search for her target.

Below, the disturbance was less than on the surface, and with the purity of the water the student of the Banshee’s Loft found that she could view her surroundings with some degree of accuracy. Off in the distance, Ariel could make out the wavering golden shapes of her master’s legs, for the moment remaining still.

Eager not to let her chance slip away, Ariel freed her feet from where she had anchored them under some large rocks. The current immediately picked her up, sweeping her down stream to where the masked warrior awaited. Steering her progress with the occasional kick, Ariel let the fast flowing river carry her toward him, until she finally reached her destination. Immediately she jammed her feet back into the river bed, halting her ride off to the side and a fraction behind his bare, well-muscled legs. Her lungs burst with the air she could not let loose for fear of giving herself away. Now that she was within striking distance, she could not afford to let anything go wrong.

Timing her actions with painstaking precision, Ariel smashed the edge of her more makeshift weapon down on her master’s foot while simultaneously parrying upward with her blade, fearing a strike in retaliation. The dull thunk of stone meeting stone sounded muted in ears filled with water, and the young elven maiden remembered, a moment too late, the spell he had cast to prevent her from doing any real harm.

A second later though the thought was pushed away by a dagger sheering along the edge of her ready longsword. It missed the top of her ear by a hairsbreadth as it shrieked torturously, spitting sparks in protest of its treatment. Shaken by the close call Ariel heaved the blade away with her own.

It appeared, however, that her masked master also had things to worry about. Unpredictable to the last, he had pulled one leg out of the water, hopping about as if injured. Ariel knew that this was not possible, for her attack had not first defeated his enchantment. Still, she recalled occasions in the past where he had similarly reacted to “imaginary” injuries, no doubt to give his students a truer sense of a “real” combat situation.

Taking full advantage of the situation, Ariel lashed out fiercely, bursting up out of the water before the warrior had a chance to regain his guard. Spray exploded into the air, gluing thick blue strands of hair to her face and stealing her sight as it rained back down. Forced to rely on her sense of touch, she felt cool currents dragging at her weapon as it streaked sluggishly upward. Watery fingers pried determinedly at her own, before suddenly releasing their grip to weightless air. Blinded, Ariel braced for impact, knowing it would be like slamming her longsword into a large and immovable boulder, but the impact never came.

Taken by surprise, the young student plunged back into the water, caught partially off balance, but also seeking any advantage the familiar element could provide. However it appeared her time was up. Below the currents, a torrent of bubbles foamed into life a few feet before her eyes, the second explosive splash that accompanied them lost to her water-deafened ears. Between locks of sapphire hair that floated like kelp about her Ariel made out the silver detail of a mask, winking in the subdued light as it clung to the sharp planes of a familiar face.

Alarmed, she instinctively drew back her longsword, intending to knock her opponent out with the pommel. Her strike was prevented, however, by a strong grip that shackled both her wrists like iron manacles. Struggling furiously, the seemingly delicate etrielle fought him to a standstill, neither able to overcome the other. A cloud of bubbles formed about them as breath mingled and melded with breath, before the Banshees’ Master dragged his student to the surface.

Breathing heavily, he released her and took a quick step back to indicate the conclusion of the exercise.

“Quite ingenious, my young apprentice,” he congratulated her.

Almost reflexively, Ariel’s eyebrow quirked upward at the strange new title her master had just given her. It seemed odd, she mused to herself, that he would bestow such a title on her over the others of her Pryde. Although the Banshees were considered by some in the Towers to be elite, she did not find her self any more talented than her companions.

Yet it made an unusual kind of sense, in its own way. Each of the Banshees had their own particular brand of skill, with Ariel considered one of the deadliest warriors of the group, specialising in their master’s favoured weapon- the longsword. Added to that, she was also the student most hated by the barbarians of the Furies Heart. Oddly appropriate when her master’s ongoing feud with the head of the order- Princess Amaralia Mairara- was taken into account, she concluded in amusement.

“I concede it is partially only bad luck that your upward slash did not hit me,” he continued, oblivious to her musings. “The other half I shall rectify. Already you have displayed undeniable logic and quick cunning thinking in addition to your prowess. You challenge conventions and attempt a variety of equally devious techniques. So I shall add one more to your arsenal, if you would like to learn it.'

Ariel nodded mutely, overwhelmed by her master’s uncharacteristic onslaught of compliments.

“Then sheath your blade with the air inside it,” he commanded brusquely, once again all business. “Repeat your upwards slash against me and tell me what you feel is different.”

Equally focused, Ariel followed his instructions, sheathing her blade and immersing herself once more. Under the river’s rush, she took a moment to steady herself, preparing for her task. Then in one lithe movement, she erupted upward. Her sword flew out of its sheath with ease, launching a strike faster than she had ever expected, as she guided it with sure hands. Possessing all the power of an attack above the water, the blade screeched in unearthly triumph as it cut up along the left pectoral of Ariel’s master. Meeting little resistance, it continued its path up and along his jaw, gashing the fine silken material that covered the lower half of his face, before veering away and returning to en guard.

Automatically, the warrior touched a tanned hand to his cheek, trailing it along the sword’s path as he checked for blood. His enchantment had borne up well, for although the mineral cast to his skin had disappeared under the attack, not a single drop of crimson stained his slender fingers. Even the embroidered mask still clung to his features, appearing unbothered by the large slash now marring its surface.

Seemingly satisfied that he had sustained no injury, the master turned his piercing azure gaze on to his apprentice. “And how do you feel about this?” He asked, his tone unusually expressionless, as if his purpose was to make the blue haired etrielle wonder what he meant.

Blinking in surprise at the unexpected question, Ariel replied slowly, "I think I shall never stop failing to be surprised at the unexpected abilities I continue to manifest. Or perhaps it is simply an improvement in skill and technique." She shrugged as if to say that it was all the same.

“Wonderment is truly the virtue of the young,” he observed before offering his pupil a stern warning. “But beware that pride does not become the flaw of this young.”

Ariel nodded once, acknowledging his point. Through long experience, the young elven girl had often found her pride- some would say arrogance- to be her greatest failing.

“If, though, you are intent on learning more of your abilities, please return here at moondark tonight,” the enigmatical warrior offered. Then turning his back on his student, he began retracing his path upstream. He had not gone more than a few feet however, before he paused, glancing over his shoulder at the bare form of his student.

“But do not return without an answer to my question,” he warned ominously, gesturing with his dagger for added emphasis. “Why is it you are still here, trying to learn how to kill?” Each word rolled out of his melodic throat with a deepness and gravity that would make an expansive tomb look like a great place for a picnic.

Hurt knifed into Ariel, grief washing over her afresh at her master’s wounding words. It lit her amber eyes with sharp distress, before she could hide it away under a sheen of ice. Was it not enough that she mourn her mistake with every breath, she mentally screamed her anguish while coolly returning the ruthless warrior’s regard.

Eyes narrowed, he watched her every reaction, studying her in the heartbeats that followed, each moment measuring, assessing. Then finally he resumed his journey, paying her as little attention as the great trees that soared about them both, while he slipped through the water with ease, in harmony with its every bubble and rush.

Never letting her guard down for an instant, Ariel watched his departure with longsword ready in one hand. It wasn’t until he had finally disappeared from sight that she allowed herself to relax somewhat, her fury still boiling inside her. The master was a dangerous elf, a fact she continually reminded herself of. She must always be prepared, for- as he continually repeated to his students- life, like war, was about survival of the fittest. Her own humble beginnings attested to that.

Shaking away the brutish hoards of orcs that had slaughtered hundreds of elven children in her memory, Ariel allowed her anger to slide away. It would serve her no purpose to hang on to it and had only betrayed her too often in times past. Instead she focused on her training, attempting to imitate the way her master had passed through the water.

The water’s caress was cool and comforting, but although she moved through the currents with a grace that exceeded even that of her kindred, something seemed to be missing. An understanding of the water perhaps, Ariel concluded before correcting herself. Or perhaps what was lacking was simply an understanding of the self.

With that thought in mind, Ariel hurriedly rose from the water and began dressing. If there was one thing she needed to face her master this night, it was an understanding of the self.