A cold breeze met with the swift passing of steel glides past Azihre’s cheek following the swing of Finn’s sword. The touch of frozen air to his skin pierces sharp in contrast to the dull blade. He swiftly dodges the attack and counters with a lunge at Finn’s stomach. Finn pulls back and blocks the forward lunge in a single fluent motion. The clash of their swords sting at the hands as the freezing weather wears on their skin. Continuous storms of frost batter the city during the cold seasons. They strike with such ferocity that those within The Sanctum always seem to garner a fear of the wind’s frost lasting eternally. The two carry on with the training nonetheless, their swords swinging past one while the other dodges. The strong wind funnels dirt through its path creating a vacuum of air from within the center. The two sparmates must halt their next swing in order to catch their escaping breath. The sound of steel clashing against another ceasing for a moment in time, before the two continue once more. The sky is a bright gray in the evening, and what little air they have in their supply is thick with frost. The wind brings wincing pain with every passing blow.
“The high winds are going to set in soon enough, shall we finish up here?” Azihre asks Finn, worried a blizzard’s arrival is close.
“No way, not when you haven’t shown me a proper attack. Don’t think I’m so daft, I know you’ve solely been defensive this entire spar.” Finn says while preparing his sword stance once again.
“Fine, but if we freeze to death out here it’s your doing.” Azihre replies while raising the sword above his head, Finn answers with a nod of his head and a smirk. Azihre swings the sword forward to attack, Finn blocks with both hands gripping his sword, then turning and swings to his right in a counterattack. The swords clash once more as the strike is blocked, Azihre steps backwards onto a wooden-covered floor in the corner of the arena. As he steps back his foot gets caught on a protruding busted plank, knocking him off balance. He falls over from Finn’s next blow to his sword, but is able to catch himself with one arm as the other still grips his sword defensively. Another strike in succession from Finn would finish Azihre as he’s being pushed to the ground. Just before Finn can strike once more, Azihre kicks out his legs and swipes Finn off his feet into the mud. They both regain their balance as they stand up and take up their stances. Azihre raises his sword above his head once more. He waits for him to strike, Finn goes for his left side with his blade. Azihre blocks and drives his sword down towards Finn’s waist until he stumbles backwards. As Finn falls to the ground defenseless Azihre lays his blade on Finn’s left shoulder, the iron licking his neck. Finn tosses his sword before sighing in his defeat.
“You fought well, don’t be too hard on yourself. You almost had me beat this time.” Azihre says to sweeten his defeat as he goes to scratch another tally onto a wooden pillar the two have used as a makeshift leaderboard. Though by this point it’s just a sad display with Finn yet to have beaten Azihre.
“You need’nt lie to build my confidence, I know you tripped on that busted plank.” Finn says in a restive voice, his shoulders down in defeat. “At this rate I’m going to be placed as a Magi Servant for the next five years by the Sacred Council.”
From the balcony overlooking the training grounds a sour bird-like voice replies. “Oh I like the sound of that. ‘Finn The Servant’ really rolls off the tongue quite nicely.” Looking up, the two sparmates spot the yapper, Hugo Riner. Hugo was wearing a bright green cloak with golden detailing, ceremonial for graduates who were placed into the rank Highcloak. Azihre has imagined himself many times in such a cloak since his arrival to Erkitemple. It’s soon going to be the end of his second year, and he will be participating in the same events Hugo did to get placed into a rank-class, The Sacred Trials.
“Azihre! Did you hear that? Was that the sound of a stink bug biting my ass?” Finn says sarcastically while reaching back to wipe off his backside. “I swore I smelled something too but- oh- hello Hugo. Looks like that mystery is solved isn’t it Azihre?” Finn jokes again. Azihre laughs at Finn’s mischief, but Hugo troubles to find the humor. His brown eyes sharply squint at Finn while his face snarls.
“Careful blue-tongue, you may have your jokes now but I will revel in the day you fail The Sacred Trials.” Hugo boasts with his hands on his cloak. “My quick sword could slice through you before you could even draw from your sheathe.” He continues his bragging while trying to raise his chest.
“You boast a lot for a man who has never fought outside of training.” Erebus says as he enters from behind Hugo. Donning a similar green cloak matching his rank as Highcloak. The golden details on his are noticeably richer with shine and authenticity than Hugo’s, and match his long gold hair. Erebus matches Azihre in height, but more lean in his build. “How about you take on Azihre right now? Put your sword where your mouth is.” Erebus proposes to Hugo as he lays his hand on his shoulder.
“I do not deny Azihre is a great swordsman, but even he would regret a spar with me.” Hugo says smugly as he turns away from Erebus’ hand. “Should it not be that a blizzard will be upon us any minute now, I would gladly spar with him. Challenge me when there’s not an excuse for you Azihre, I will humbly defeat you.” Hugo says with almost a growl behind his words before walking away and leaving the sparring grounds. Erebus subtly rolls his eyes at Hugo’s arrogance.
“The only person with excuses is you, Hugo.” Erebus says, but is either not heard or ignored by Hugo. “I hope you don’t pay mind to his words, Finn.”
“I never listen to that droney, I just fear for the mage that must go to observations with him by their side. I pray that mage won’t be you Erebus.” Finn says as he shakes the mud off his legs.
“Sorry for getting you all muddy, guess I got lucky I landed on the planks when I fell.” Azihre says to Finn.
“Strange how I’m the one always leaving muddy after a long evening of training. Now I have to wash up in the bathhouse before supper.” Finn says as he removes his wooden training armor.
“I doubt you mind too much, it’s a great excuse to see your favorite gal.” Azihre teases him.
“Favorite gal? Finn you got something for Bathhouse Jenni?” Erebus asks with a snicker.
“No I do not have a ‘thing’ for Jenni, I just happen to be quite the unintentional charmer.” Finn says with a squint of his eyes. “And I don’t want to hear it Azihre, you don’t even have the guts to confess to your childhood crush after all these years.” Finn says back to Azihre with a grin as he starts towards the exit.
“Shut that mouth of yours you frog.” Azihre says as he pushes Finn up the stairs to hasten his exit, his face reddens. “Don’t listen to him, his mouth is just a spillage of jokes with no grate.” Azihre tells Erebus while taking off his heavy wooden chest plate.
“Childhood crush? That wouldn’t happen to be Lorisa, would it?” Says Erebus with intrigue. Azihre’s face flushes even more.
“No of course not. Don’t be silly. Only thing that’s getting crushed is Finn during our next spar.” Azihre says with an uneasy laugh and puffy cheeks.
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” Erebus winks. Azihre sighs a cold breath with a rolling of his eyes. “But only if you have a quick spar with me.” Erebus says with a smirk.
“You do see the weather right? Hugo may be daft but he wasn’t wrong about the blizzard being upon us any moment now.” Azihre questions while pointing out the sky. The wind is picking up strength with every fading second.
“It’s good to practice your sword in every possible condition. Come on, I’m desperate for some training. Noone else keeps me on my toes like you do.” Erebus says while making his way down the steps onto the training grounds. Azihre doubts his words, with Erebus being one of the most famed sword fighters of The Sanctum it’s unlikely to him that he doesn’t get challenged countless times a day. A harsh wind funnels down into the arena, feeling like needles to Azihre’s face, before the sun escapes through the thick clouds and shines warmth into the arena. The wind calms momentarily, and the looming dread of the oncoming blizzard dissipates. A serene feeling not often felt in the days of First Winter.
“One round. No more. And you cannot ever say anything to Lorisa.” Azihre says reluctantly.
“Yes! Just one round. And of course- like I said, your secret is safe with me.” Erebus exclaims excitedly. He puts on his wooden training armor and picks up the blunt steel training sword from the table. The two prepare into their stances. Azihre once again raises his sword above his head. Erebus holds his sword out in front of him, a more aggressive position. The two lock eyes for eternity, the wind gone from existence. Time is almost locked until a rogue snowflake slowly falls, landing on the tip of Erebus’s steady sword. A howling of wind erupts. Quickly Erebus lunges at the right side of Azihre before spinning and striking at the left. Azihre masterfully blocks both attacks before countering with a kick to the chest of Erebus. Erebus slides back but gives Azihre no time to relax as he immediately strikes again at a low swing to Azihre’s thigh. The howling of the wind grows louder. Azihre once again is able to block at just the right time, but doing so leaves himself open to an easy finishing blow. Erebus sees this opening and wastes no time in making the adjustments to follow up and engage. Before Erebus is able to strike his final blow, his vision becomes white. Erebus is blown backwards. White wind encapsulates the training grounds almost immediately and visibility becomes impossible.
“Holy shit!” Erebus reaches out for Azihre. Almost instantly he begins to lose feeling in his hands, but still he manages to find Azihre’s arm. They quickly clutch each other's wrists tightly. “I can’t see the stairs that lead up to the balcony!” Erebus yells out. They both lost their sense of direction the second they fell from the impact of the blizzard. They both look around, and Azihre catches a glimpse of the old wooden door leading to the stockpile of training gear. Every second in the cold is excruciating as frost builds on their skin. Their fingers sting, and numbness spreads on their body like a fast-moving virus. “This gear closet leads inside! Follow me!” Azihre yells back, leading the two. He reaches out in the fog of white wind for the handle to the door. Swiping back and forth until finally his hand slams against the thick wooden plank that is laid across the door’s entrance. With his wrists he’s able to unlatch the plank out of the lock and together they quickly pile inside. Azihre begins to take hot breaths on his hands in hopes of ending the numbing pain. Erebus quickly slams the door shut and drops the inner latch shut before sliding onto the floor out of breath. Azihre also lays out onto the floor and they both begin to laugh. “I can’t feel my fingers.” Azihre says with a chortle.
“Your hair is frozen.” Erebus says to him with a stutter from the cold and a laugh before standing up. Azihre feels his hair, now frozen into tiny prickly black spikes.
“Must be nice having those long waves of gold to keep you warm during the winter.” Azihre says while also working himself up from off the ground.
“Not even this hair of mine can save me from that cold. What are we supposed to do now?” Erebus asks while looking around the dark room, the only means of visibility emanating from a crack of space in the roof of the door allowing in what little daylight survived the beginning of the blizzard.
“Here, there’s a door here.” Azihre replies. On the back wall of the shed there is a thick wooden door with steel fortifications. The door was blocked by rusted swords and shields. Azihre stands up and begins to move the weapons out of the way. Azihre has regained enough finger movement to grip the objects, but as he moves a shield a blade escapes free and begins to fall. Erebus instinctively lunges his hand out to catch it, and the dusty red-oranged blade slices his palm open.
“Shit! What luck I have.” Erebus winces with slight anger. Azihre quickly finishes removing the obstructions and begins to force the door open. Erebus wraps his hand carefully with his scarf.
“Is it broken or can you help me open the door?” Azihre says with a slight jest.
“Your compassion is truly remarkable Azihre.” Erebus jabs back.
“Sorry, I get spiteful when I can’t feel my hands.” Azihre says honestly with a short laugh. Erebus slides one of his arms through the handle to pull while Azihre grasps onto the top of the door. The rust of the hinges screech with every pull on the handle. Blood drips down the handle from the nasty gash on Erebus’ hand. Even with the two of them pulling with all their strength, the door only budges an inch at a time.
“Are you pulling?” Erebus asks.
“I will throw another sword at you.” Azihre replies, again with honesty. Finally the hinges give way and the door slams open throwing the two onto their ass. They rush inside and sitting immediately in front of them lays a chest of unlit torches in the entryway. Each torch a tree branch shaven into a grip with a metal bowl at the top to house the fire.
“So thoughtful yet so incredibly cruel they leave torches here with no way to light them.” Azihre says disappointedly.
“I got it.” Erebus offers, and grabs a torch. His good hand hovers over the top and his eyes shut to focus. In an instant a liquid flame pours out from the palm of his cut hand and lights the torch. Erebus flinches his hand back and bats out the excess flame into the air.
“You couldn’t do that any sooner?” Azihre asks as he lights his own torch using the existing flame. They both warm themselves on the torches and regain full control of their fingers.
“I don’t enjoy burning my hand, even if I’m freezing to death.” Erebus explains. “Also the wind would’ve blown out any flame anyways.” They begin walking down the narrow path of gray brick laid walls.
“Well I’m glad you are blessed with such an ability, and bless whoever designed this city to include these coverways. I can’t imagine this one’s been used for years.” Azihre says, slowly keeping pace with Erebus who’s leading the way.
“I trust you know which way to go if we encounter a split.” Erebus says with a look of nervousness.
“No need, this coverway should lead directly back to the Sacred Academy.” Azihre replies with confidence. They follow the tunnel’s path, eyes sharp to avoid the many webs that wrap around the walls. For a brief moment there is silence; only the sound of the embers popping and their steps to fill their ears. Just briefly.
“So how long have you had this crush on Lorisa?” Erebus asks with a smirk back to Azihre.
“Must we talk about that of all things.” Azihre rolls his eyes.
“What else are we going to talk about, we’re in a deep dark tunnel perfect for deep dark secrets.” Erebus says with a laugh waving his torch around, as if to validate his words.
“Well how about now that I’ve got you trapped with me, maybe you can give me some tips on using arcane.” Azihre says to change the subject.
“Nothing you haven’t learned in your arcane studies. It’s all about timing really. You have all this arcane built in your chest, they call it Hedle-“
“Hedlenic fluid and it travels through the arclines giving us our ability to connect to the arcane particles in the air, yes I know all this. I’m not asking for a science lesson, I'm asking you Erebus, how do you control arcane so easily?” Azihre cuts off Erebus’ spiel.
“Very studious of you. Like I was saying; it’s all about timing. As you know, when you let the Hedlenic fluid flow through your body, after a certain amount of time it will begin to seep upwards towards your brain. That’s where you encounter the issues of insanity among mages, they struggle to find that balance and after years of arcane-use their minds go mush. So that’s my biggest tip, concentrate and meditate. Find that perfect balance that’ll avoid any arcane from reaching your brain.” Erebus explains thoroughly. “Also there’s the whole ‘controlling how your body interacts with the arcane particles and aligning your body to find the best interaction possible for performing arcane magic’ but that’s all something you don’t have to worry about for the trials.” He adds hurriedly, while focusing once again on the journey through the tunnels.
“Maybe I should’ve just been a miner like the rest of my village.” Azihre says with a sigh and a soft laugh.
“Like ever, you’re one of the greatest sword fighters I’ve sparred with, no doubt the top of your class. Your hands were meant to wield a sword.” Erebus reassures him. “Arcane is tough, but practice is what makes us great, you know.”
“I’ve been studying for the trials endlessly and still arcane is so foreign to me.”
“You’re not the only one, this timing thing isn’t an easy feat. Even some on the council have been known to lose their wits eventually. I cannot explain why I took to using arcane as easily as I did. If I could, I would help you more.” Erebus says again, still trying to reassure Azihre about the difficulty of arcane, while also unintentionally boasting a little. Finally an end to the endless tunnel is in sight as they approach another rusty hinged wooden door. “Let’s hope this isn’t boarded up from the other side.” Erebus says with slight worry. He pushes on the door, and with ease it opens. They both find themselves in a long corridor, Azihre recognizes it immediately.
“The Academy doors are just around the corner.” Azihre says with confidence as the two hasten their walking speed. His confidence pays off with the doors coming into view as they turn the corner. “Well I hope I’m not running too late.”
“Are you meeting Finn and Lorisa at Jorn’s?” Erebus asks.
“That’s the plan, you’re welcome to join.” Azihre offers.
“Maybe next time, I have an appointment with Trostero I need to attend.” Erebus replies.
“I forget how closely tied you are to The Sacred Council already. I could only dream I could make that kind of impression from my trial results.” Azihre says.
”You will, just be confident in yourself.” Erebus reassures him.
“Well do me a favor and don’t freeze to death on the way there.” Azihre jokes and pats Erebus on the back. They exit the Sacred Academy through the coverway that leads to one of many Intersection Buildings, from there their paths diverge. Azihre makes his way through the series of large tunnels full of shops and merchants. Each building has an entrance from the outdoors and an entrance from the coverway tunnels for weather such as now. The coverway is busy with life as many seek safety from the blizzard. He passes through the endless crowds before finally arriving at his destination, Jorn’s Tavern.
