Snow of Steel, Rain of Blood Ch. 03

Chapter 3, "To walk and talk"

The second day of the march dawned steamy and wet, the fiery orb glaring on the Marwerl steppes, illuminating the two warriors as they were settling for their second resting of the day. As Drerin went through his customary stretches preparing for their three vutcer training session which was the sole reason for the stop in the march, Furen idly dropped his pack, examining his road worn map, marking off the sedil they had already traveled.

"We should work from far to near on this break Drerin, the next break will be a test for you. If we skip the final break tonight, we'll reach the glowing city of Hagabor."

"Alright then DeiShun, let's get started then; You and your fire and sword versus myself and my deikin. We'll decide the rest when we get there."

As soon as the last words had left Drerin's lips, he was rolling across the dry grass, clutching his battle spear and grimly dodging the viper quick blade in Furen's hand. Regardless of the four other training sessions the two had already had, the dwarf was still caught in awe of the grace and speed the man was able to exhibit with the warblade, wielding the mammoth weapon like it was the thinnest elven rapier. Over and over the young DeiFil was forced to give ground to the imposing Drahen master, futily attacking any point that seemed even remotely weaker than the rest of Furen's solid defense.

A slight frown creased Furen's usually vapid expression, swiftly changing into a grim hard line as he found himself halted in his offensive attacks time and again by Drerin's almost intuitive counter strikes. Something in the back of Furen's mind tickled, trying to push through his focus, but he ruthlessly stamped it down, and renewed his offensive push, culminating in a feinted stroke and reverse which removed the questing leaf blade head from the top of Drerin's spear, forcing the dwarf to change his attack strategy on the instant, going from a basic spear style to the more intricate and intensive tactics of the quarterstaff.

The ironwood seemed alive in the Goreya's hands, both steel capped ends flashing successively at Furen, causing the overwhelming mountain man to use both hands on the massive blade to consistently rebut the flickering ends from rapping his knees, hands, chest or head. The wordless howl which ripped from the dwarf's chest startled Furen, giving Drerin in his battle rage a merest opening with which to press home his aggressive attack, scoring hits quickly and painfully, until Furen broke from his shocked trance and retaliated with a short burst of flame from his mouth. Drerin instantly fell to the ground and rolled, throwing his staff into the downward arcing blade in just enough time that the ironwood was cleft in two, instead of Drerin's forehead.

The two men were on their feet and facing each other before the weapons hit the ground, their hands and feet mere blurs as they danced in a tight circle, flowing through a dance older than time itself, two men intent only on each other, striving for the single purpose of defeating his enemy to prove through victory his superiority. The blur of motion ceased as suddenly as the fight had began, both fighters freezing to look at the other – Drerin glancing carefully at the flame bladed dagger Furen had poised just at the chink in his armour under his left shoulder, and Furen eyeing the deijufkre stationed right beside his head, representing the devastating left hook Drerin had aimed at his unprotected neck.

"Shall we call this a draw then? My blade would have turned your lungs into so much ash, but I fear you fists of steel would have removed my head from my shoulders, yes?

"We can say that," Drerin murmured, dropping his fist as Furen let the blade disapate and the two walked back to their packs. "How about you stop destroying my weapons, eh? The only ones you haven't gotten so far are my deijufkre, the Hammers, my dagger and my sword breaker. That's not because of lack of trying either."

"Sacrifices must be made if you wish to improve. We need to be gone. Gather the steel from your old spear, we'll take it with us to Hagabor."

Grumbling to himself, Drerin carefully packed the steel footing and blade from his now worthless spear into his pack, adding it to the myriad of other steel pieces that covered the top of his bag. As they continued to trek across the windswept plains the two talked of their lives, of their training, and especially of their fighting. Drerin found it strange how the normally taciturn mountain man took pains to explain the signs and occurrences in his life that eventually showed him his affinity for fire, and in the end led him to his first quest – finding a Drahenyu DeiShun, the ice master Loth Rinsar. Furen detailed the beginnings of his training, the constant physical demands, the mental strains, and finally his testing.

"I remember the night well Drerin. Loth had finally decided we could rest for the night. We had trekked halfway up Munjho mountain, and he picked a cave right at the edge of the snow caps. I remember he took first watch, and bid me to sleep until midnight when I would relieve him. I awoke at midnight and found the merest embers left of our fire, all our supplies missing, and Loth standing outside the cave. I walked towards him, and ran into a veritable wall of ice. I pounded on it, bit it, kicked it, I even yelled at it, but it wouldn't dissipate. I finally noticed the scrap of parchment that was off to the side, and I'll never forget what it said: "You have the spark in you, but to escape you must fan it into a flame bright enough to banish the cold and darkness forever." It took me three days before I was able to melt a hole in that wall large enough to walk through, I was determined I would meet Loth on my feet, not crawling on my knees. It was then that my training truly began."

Drerin walked on in silence another sedil after Furen's speech before he finally spoke in response.

"You won't be letting me take the Goreya DeiShun test will you?"

"No Drerin I will not. If you are determined to take it, you must kill me to get to Hagabor alive."

"So I'm to be a Drahen DeiShun then, if I survive your training and tests for me?"

"That is my plan, yes." The two continued on in silence after that, each walking in their own thoughts, until finally without any verbal conformation they both stopped and began unpacking for their nightly camp within sight of Hagabor's shining walls.

After the meager dinner and Furen lighting the small smokeless fire for the night, the two men once again squared off for Drerin's training. Now with the dwarf's battle spear reduced to so much kindling scrap metal, the dwarf was forced to lay out his tools beforehand, to decide how he would practice. Settling finally on a sword breaker and his long dagger, Drerin squared his stance and beckoned Furen to attack. Furen's fierce charge and leg sweep took the dwarf by surprise, and set the chagrined man to a flailing defensive counter as he fell. Drerin's wildly swinging swordbreaker glanced off Furen's scalp, drawing the only blood ever shed in any of their training regimens. Drerin scrambled to his feet, swiftly checking himself and his weapons before he turned to Furen to watch the man daub at his scalp while his sharp eyes bored into the dwarf. A swift lick of flame accompanied by the acrid scent of burnt hair staunched the flow of blood, and as suddenly as the two had stopped they picked up their deadly duet, seemingly dancing through the flickering shadows cast by the fire light and moon glow – the silence broken only by half whispered commands from Furen, correcting some miniscule detail of Drerin's attacks or defenses. The practice again ended in a draw – this time with Furen's warblade resting on Drerin's crown as the curled spike of Liptfiw dug between Furen's ribs.

As the two warriors resettled themselves around the sparse fire, their faces alternately clothed in shadow and light, Drerin reopened the subject of his new training.

"Furen, as I have heard, Drahen are warrior mages. What makes you think I have the abilities to call the magiks? You said yourself you knew the flames were in your soul well before you began your training. All I have ever had was my weapons, and before that, my uncle's forge. I have no elemental residing in this rulm."

"Drerin, I declare you my DeiFil. From this point on you are my apprentice, until such time as I acknowledge your right to be my equal – by word or blood. As to your magik, that which declares you worthy of the title Drahenyu DeiShun, we shall reach that in time. Tell me Drerin, what do you know of the elementals. You tell me that, and I will tell you the difference detween a Drahenyu and a Drahensa."

Drerin pulled his cloak around himself tighter, and began in almost a trancelike voice, "The easiest way for a dwarf to speak of such things as you want is for us to tell of our beginning. It is a thing rarely spoken of, so please listen well Furen, for I wish not to repeat it... ahem, while the earth was young, the land was ruled not by the dwarves or elves or Ocgren, but by the elements, fire, earth, sky, and water. From these were born the gods, and from the gods were created the beings who walked the earth. The gods ventured forth and summoning the elementals formed their creatures, Fer brought earth forward and molded it into the dwarves, earth and sky came together and created the elves, and in the darkness of the night fire stole the second dwarf created by Fer and reshaped it, forming it into the Ocgren. In revenge Fer stole the second eye of the Ocgren and hid it deep in the earth sealing fire's power away in the earth. It is said that the sky forge burst forth from this buried eye, and the power it left behind heated the earth and gave us our first forges. Blaywer was born from this melding of earth and fire, and he taught his brother Hingug the art of forming it. Thus, from the acts of Blaywer, Fer, and Hingug, as the final elemental formed – that of the metal. It combined the powers of all the other elements and became lodged in the souls of true dwarven mushve, giving our stone bodies metal cores, and thus making us unbreakable. This is the story of the dwarves arrival, and the root of our undying war against the Ocgren, our twisted brothers."

Furen sat pondering the tale Drerin had related to him until he gave himself a slight shake and quickly described the differences between Drahenyu and Drahensa. He told how they were both Drahen, but the "yu" and "sa" spoke of their abilities. How the "yu" were those Drahen tied to the elementals and their combinations, and how those combined to the so called "pure" elements tended to actually be weaker than those of mixed elements, and how they had to train harder and longer to harness the more potent and untamed powers of the pure elements. The Drahensa were the warrior mages who's powers were those of the mind, telepathy, telekinesis and so forth, and how the most noted Drahen were the Drahensa, not the Drahenyu. The Drahenyu were destined to be great warriors, men of strength and stalwart determination, and therefore would die in the chaos of battle, to be devoured finally by their elemental powers along with the bodies of their enemies around them. The Drahensa were always the diplomats, their powers farther reaching and more commanding than anyone knew. They were shrouded in more secrecy than the entire Teghei nation, no one ever knew how many or where the Drahensa were, but it was well known that the Drahensa were guiding the world, forming it and shaping it as they saw fit.

When Furen finished his explinations, he hefted his warblade, spinning it lightly in one hand where he sat, letting the fire dance along it's edge and pulse with it's phantom brother locked away in the recesses of the metal. "Drerin," he spoke, "look at the blade. This was Loth's sword. He was called the Hoarfrost. He commanded every form of ice you can think of. He and I had been warring for two straight days before he decided to yield this blade to me as a sign of my equality to him. I hope to be able to do the same with you. I said war because that is the only thing I can think of that comes close to describing it. The blade is called Thqilsfre, and I shall give him to you for now. Chew this herb and stare into the fire while you rest him across your knees and hold him. He will help you find your own center, as he helped Loth find his chilling ice and me find my blistering flames."

Chapter 4 – "An Awakening of the Soul"