Chapter 87

Gwen swung her staff in every direction, slashing at branches all around her in the wood, while Alva sat at the far end of the clearing, very still in the grass, his back perfectly straight, watching. Beside him sat Logel and Andor, both, amazingly still, as if peaceful in his presence. Breathing hard, covered in sweat as the morning sun broke through the trees, Gwen spun and slashed as she had for hours, striking at branches, at imaginary foes, as Alva had instructed her to do, breaking branches, sending leaves flying, the crack of her staff ringing throughout the wood. She ran from one tree to the next, feeling judged in Alva’s watchful eyes.

Gwen still didn’t know what to make of him. He seemed part human, part something else, and while he was boyish, he also had an ancient, timeless quality. She sensed he had lived for thousands of years. She could not understand how he was her uncle, and she was impatient to know more about her mother. What secrets, she wondered, was Alva holding back? When would he tell her?

Finally, Gwen reached out and slashed a branch, breaking it in half, feeling a sense of victory as the large limb fell to the ground. She then turned and threw her staff, aiming for a leaf across the clearing, and was satisfied to see it was a perfect throw.

Gwen, breathing hard, turned and looked at Alva, feeling a sense of victory, and expecting his approval. Yet she was surprised to see him still staring calmly ahead, expressionless. He remained silent, to her dismay, as if withholding his approval.

“I have hit every target and completed every test!” she called out, indignant.

He slowly shook his head.

“You have yet to complete a single test,” he replied.

Gwen stared back, disappointed, confused.

“Not a limb is left standing!” she cried.

He closed his eyes.

“You hit every one,” he finally replied, “and yet you hit none at all. Your mind still impedes you.”

Alva suddenly jumped to his feet, with a speed that threw her off guard. She was shocked he could move that fast. Slowly, he approached and stopped about twenty feet away.

“When you meet your enemy,” he continued, “your true enemy, your mind must be empty. Now, it is full. Take me, for example.”

He raised a hand, and to Gwen’s amazement, her staff, lying on the ground, lifted into the air and flew across the clearing, landing in his palm. She stared back in wonder, as it dawned on her that he had far greater powers than she realized.

“Attack me,” he said, matter-of-factly.

He stood there, across the clearing, relaxed, waiting. He barely moved his hand, and her staff flew through the air toward her. She held out a palm and it landed inside. She looked down at it, speechless.

Gwen stood there, hesitant, not wanting to attack him.

“I will not strike a boy,” she finally called out. “A defenseless one, no less.”

He smiled.

“I am your uncle. And I have more defenses than you shall ever know. Now come!”

Gwen felt she had no choice but to obey, so she rushed forward half-heartedly, raised her staff, and aimed delicately for his shoulder.

But when her staff came down he was no longer there. She turned every which way and found him, to her shock, standing behind her.

“But…how?” she asked, flabbergasted. “You disappeared, then reappeared again.”

“I am waiting,” Alva replied. “Strike me.”

Gwen raised her staff in frustration, then this time swung down with more speed.

Again, she missed, Alva dodging it easily, as if she were swinging in slow motion.

Gwen lunged and slashed, more determined, each time missing him, Alva easily evading her. She drove him across the clearing, her staff whooshing through the air, missing every time. She swung with all she had, her fastest speed, and yet still she could not touch him. She could not believe it; she had never encountered anyone like him.

Finally, as he evaded a particularly fast strike, Gwen stood there, defeated, gasping for air, and realized she wasn’t going to catch him. He was a better fighter than she. She could not understand it. In a bout of frustration, she charged, raised her staff high, and brought it down with all she had, sure she would strike him.

But she found herself stumbling forward, striking air, and, humiliated, landing in the grass on her knees.

Alva stood beside her, smiling down.

“You’re too fast,” she gasped, defeated, on her hands and knees.

He shook his head.

“No,” he replied. “It is your mind that is too fast. You use your mind, and not what lies inside you. You fear the powers within you.”

“Yes,” she admitted, realizing he was right.

Gwen stood and faced him, ashamed. She had never missed a target with her staff in her life, and she had missed him again and again. It was humbling. She was not the warrior she thought she was.

“There are parts of you that you have never explored,” he replied. “You cling to the warrior’s way. And that limits you.”

“Teach me,” Gwen said, eager, her heart pounding, realizing he was alluding to something that had always been just beyond her grasp. “Teach me how to get the power you speak of.”

“You know it yourself,” he replied. “You have felt it before.”

She remembered: Yarons. Her fight against Bandrania. Those moments in battle that had been a blur, when she had not even been aware of what she had been doing.

“I have,” she said, realizing. “When I summoned Yarons, he came. When I fought in Magandi…I felt… bigger than myself.” She paused. “But I could not summon it again. I…lost that power.”

He was silent for a long time, then finally he spoke.

“Why doesn’t your dragon come now?” he asked.

She sensed that he knew the answer, and she desperately wanted to know. But she was at a loss. It was the very same question that had been burning through her mind all these days, ever since she had departed Argos.

“I…don’t know,” she replied.

She looked at him, hoping for an answer.

“Tell me,” she pleaded.

But Alva merely stared back, expressionless in the long silence that followed.

“Try to summon him now,” he said.

Gwen closed her eyes and with all her might, she tried once again to summon Yarons.

Yarons, she thought. I need you. Come to me. Wherever you are, come to me. I beg you.

After a long silence, Gwen opened her eyes, and was dismayed to feel nothing. There came no dragon on the horizon, no sound of screeching, no flapping of wings. Nothing but silence.

Gwen stood there, teary-eyed, feeling powerless. She realized the limitations of her power, and she wanted desperately to learn why.

“If you could summon your dragon,” Alva finally said, “if you could control him, you could end the war that rages inside you, and within Escalon. You could save your father right now. But you cannot. Why?”

She shook her head, unable to reply.

“That is why you are here. That is what you are here to learn. Not this,” he said, grabbing her staff and throwing it down to the ground. He stepped forward and touched her forehead, between her eyes. “But this. The true source of your power. You will never grasp it until you throw down your weapons and start fresh.”

As she pondered his words, she suddenly heard a snarl that raised the hair on the back of her neck. Alva stepped aside, and as she looked past him, into the woods, she saw, approaching, a Salic. She froze. It was a terrifying creature that she had only read about, with a black hide, red eyes, three red horns, and was the size of a rhinoceros. It drooled, revealing its sharpened fangs as it crept toward her.

Alva stood there, his back to it and somehow not caring. And for some reason, the beast fixed its gaze only on her.

“This forest brings forth what we fear the most,” Alva said calmly, not even turning to look. “What we fear to face. What do you fear to face? Who are you, Gwen?” Alva demanded, his voice suddenly booming, deep, filled with authority.

At the same moment the Salic pounced. It charged for her, and she raised her staff and slashed.

But with a single claw swipe it swatted it away.

Gwen stood there, defenseless, as it leapt into the air, its claws out for her chest, and she knew that, in moments, it would tear her apart.