The Black Tower

Chapter 1 – A Noble Beginning

Clack! The sound of wood hitting knee echoed across the courtyard. Panting, his dark sweat-matted hair held back only by two thin braids, the younger man stood wearily, using his practice blade for balance.

“Dar! Light son! It’s been about a year since I started teaching you and you are still trying that stuff. That will get you killed in the bloody Blight! The older and shorter of the two was not the less deadly man. Lyn was a grizzled blademaster and a veteran of many Blight skirmishes as one of King Nachiman’s captains. He had been fighting for longer than the other had been alive.

He sighed. How was he supposed to tell his mentor and teacher that he had gotten distracted by a girl? Darilen Therador stood almost a head and a half taller than Lyn at only eighteen. His shoulder-length black hair was held back by two thin braids rather than the typical Arafellin large twin braids. The steel-cold stare from his icy green eyes contrasted with a face that seemed more made for marriage than for fighting. Stunningly handsome, he had a blade-slender body that was opposite from the stocky frame of his mentor. Quicker, but not as strong as Lyn, he had yet to beat him in the year that they had been training.

Isabel Nachiman was the niece of the King, his younger brother’s oldest daughter and just sixteen. Beautiful beyond belief, she had men fawning over her that were twice her age. Like everyone else, Darilen had fallen for her. She was his younger sister’s best friend and came over to the house often to talk. On occasion she had stopped and said hello but he had not found the words or the courage to say anything back. For all of his good looks, he knew nothing of women and seemed confused when he noticed more than one looking at him in the streets. He thought that it was merely because he was the youngest son of Lord Therador and not because of his face.

“Do you mean to stand there all bloody day? Light! In my day we worked from sunup to sundown with no rest! I want to see The Woodgrouse Dances and Parting the Silk again. If you can’t do that without splitting your head open, I’ll wake you before dawn tomorrow for more blade work!” Lyn said. Lyn was like a father to Darilen, much more than his real father. The Lord Therador hardly bothered with his younger son, preferring to teach his oldest the ways of the nobility rather than teach the sword to his youngest. That responsibility was taken up by Lyn when young Darilen had asked to join his regiment.

He sighed again. Having Lyn as a father meant that the older man was never going to go easy on him. He was far away from being a true blademaster but he thought he was making good progress. Grudgingly he picked up the lathe and begun to move towards Lyn, swinging his sword from his right shoulder down to his left knee and then moved forward suddenly with a thrust towards Lyn’s midsection.

“That was awful. Now try The Rose Unfolds to Cutting the Curtain. We still have four bloody hours of daylight to go. Move!”

Darilen sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon.