Talla

It’s the first time he’s lost. I wonder how he’s taking it. It would be quite troublesome if he’s depressed about it and wants to go back to shutting himself in his room. Up until now, Von had been dealing with the incredible high that comes with winning after a sudden improvement. It is quite the addictive feeling. But when you suddenly lose for the first time and realize just how far you are from the top…it can be quite crushing.

She would know.

Talla’s hand stopped just short of the doorknob. It had been only a day since Von’s loss to Lobo the day before—would it be strange to open the door to the practice area and not find him there? Yet something inside of her warned her that if she were to not find him there, she would begin to worry. There is so much at stake here. Von has to become the strongest.

“Hesitating, Talla of Bosque?” Lobo asked.

She turned around suddenly to find the Prince of Waterfalls leaning against the wall behind her with his arms crossed. “I have become aware of your situation. Does your heart fear Von’s might waver? Understandable if unfounded concern. You have a mighty problem to deal with.”

“If you sympathize with our troubles, would you volunteer your blade, Lobo of the Noble Companions?” Talla replied, a touch of confrontation to her tone. “Or do you merely mock those with heavy weights to bear?”

“I do not mock, I observe,” Lobo protested. “Any mockery you feel is just a reflection of your reality.” The Prince kept an even tone and maintained the same frozen expression he wore for most of his duel the day before. “The plight of the elves is clear and it saddens me. But my people need me and their prince will not be such a fool as to endanger his life for others.” His words were not harsh, but they were unbending. There was a stony sense to them, as if they wouldn’t change no matter what arguments were put against him. No point in trying to convince him to represent us, then. So much for nobility…though perhaps putting his own people first is a sort of nobility. “It takes one special kind of fool to do so.” His solemn expression did not change but there was almost a hint of fondness to his voice now. “Like so.”

He stepped forward and opened the door to the training room—but only slightly, so the two could peer through it. Two familiar figures stood across from each other, sweating and with swords in hand, oblivious to the world around them.

“No, no!” Master Cycle thundered. “Attacking does not mean recklessly rushing in! Your attack is supposed to be soft. You want to be a bother but not actually put yourself at risk. You don’t have to actually land the attack 90% of the time, just gotta make your opponent believe you will! Got it, kid?”

“Yes!” Von shouted back, standing to his feet. “One more time!”

The two continued their furious practice without noticing their observers. Lobo slowly closed the door and looked Talla in the eye. “Across the nine oceans and over the twelve mountains, there does not exist a swordsman who has not faced the humiliation of defeat. What makes someone different from the rest is how long he stays down on his feet for.”

Silence reigned until Talla found the courage to ask that which she most feared. “Do you think he will become strong enough to defeat Vandyr?”

Lobo held his gaze on her for a moment. “Predictions are the way of degenerate Cloudian gamblers. Only fools speak of certainties in a fight—a stray strike grazing your temple will destroy your best prediction.”

“But you know their abilities, you must be able to make some sort of informed prediction!” Talla demanded. “I do not ask for your help, my prince, only that you answer my question for the soothing of my concerned soul.”

“Aye. That can be arranged.” His words were edgeless and yet Talla felt the tension rise—he was not yet done speaking. “In return, you will answer a question of mine first, however.”

“That is acceptable,” Talla said reluctantly. She narrowed her eyes. “What do you wish to know?

The Prince of Waterfalls uncrossed his arms to bring a thoughtful hand to his chin. “Only this—why do you resort to foreign champions when your coffers suffer?”

Talla felt her ears redden. “My prince, you know the limit of my skills.”

“Aye. I do,” he acknowledged, nodding. Then, more intensely, “Precisely why I ponder the meaning behind your actions.”

“I did not qualify for Blade Valley. My level only amounted to that much—our elven champion, Kai, lost to Von in the top 16—“

He cut her off. “And you lost to Kai in the top 32.” Talla looked up in surprise and Lobo quirked an amused eyebrow. “Does it surprise you that a top duelist looked into his potential competition?”

“I suppose not. It is natural that you would study Kai’s matches.”

Lobo shook his head. “I did not. I studied your matches. Quite frankly, it was a surprise to me that you lost to Kai.”

Talla dropped her gaze to the floor and stepped away from the man, stopping just before one of the many stone walls. “He bested me fairly.”

“Aye,” Lobo acknowledged. “But fairness is not always true. He did not ask you for it, I am certain, but was he aware you lost on purpose?”

She whirled around in fury. “I did not—“

“Ah, but you did, and let us not argue the obvious.” Lobo’s voice was powerful and Talla felt too intimidated to lie to him. Worst of all, she felt too intimidated to lie to herself. “My question is why. If your people obtaining a Royal Heartbeat was so important, why would you lose such an important match?”

Talla stared at him, wide-eyed and outraged, yet her breath was tight in her throat. Half a deflection had formed in her mind when suddenly the weight of her concerns crashed down at once. Her guilt in Kai’s state, her concern about Von’s skills, her shame at her actions—suddenly, the mighty Wolf before her might as well have been a priest listening to her confession. “My prince must not understand elven culture,” she muttered, “to ask such a question. It would have shamed him greatly to lose to a woman.”

“He would recover from shame,” Lobo dismissed. “Your people will not recover from the Deathless Curse. Talla of Bosque is not weak enough to doom her people out of fear of shaming her opponent.”

Many excuses ran through her head. “They—they would not treat me well in Bosque afterwards. I would be seen as the accursed woman who rid the city of its best duelist. They would see it as a fluke win. There is no guarantee I even would have won if I gave it my all, and then if I lost to Von anyway—“

“You do not believe those reasons. Were it only personal risk, you would have taken it all. If your kind treats you such, then say so, and I will not stand for it.” Lobo walked toward her. She moved as if to get away from the conversation, but he planted an arm on the wall blocking her path. “If elves do not acknowledge your skills, then come to the Waterfalls. You will be given the Eyes of Gold and start anew. The Deathless Curse will not touch you there.”

The Eyes of Gold—that which turned any race into a Wolf. Stories of it were few in Bosque, discouraged enough by elders that even when the rare traveling bard braved the Deathless Curse to visit the plagued city he hardly shared stories about its rare blessing. But Talla had read enough regarding the legend to shudder in both awe and fear.

And just the slightest bit of temptation. “I will not betray my kind,” Talla muttered. “They need me. There are so many people that need me. Would you grant this rare honor to someone who abandons their kind to die?” Reality shook her awake. “Moreover, to turn an envoy of Bosque into a Wolf would be an affront to the City! Why, the Elders would—“

Lobo held up a hand to interrupt her. “It is clear to me that you would not accept it. The offer will stand, however. The Waterfalls will always accept a brilliant swordsman such as yourself.” He studied her eyes for a moment and she shuddered. Those Eyes of Gold feel as though they can strip me down to my very soul. It’s like he knows more than I do about myself. “What is your true reason for losing that match? It is not to avoid shaming him.”

“It is.” This time it was more truthful than the last. She looked up at him and shuddered at what she meant to admit. This would be her first time saying it, even to herself. “My position as second-best in the village did not come without bloodshed.”

Lobo pulled his arm away from the wall and folded it beneath his chest. “Elves do not engage in duels to death with their own kind.”

“They do not. But they take their own lives when shamed in defeat.”

The Prince of Waterfalls regarded her for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Forgive me for prodding, my lady.”

“No, it is a fair question...to a degree. I will insist upon its motive soon.” She paused. “My opponent for the title was a kind elf named Kelle. He would always be the first to volunteer to hunt for others who were too sickly or elderly to do it themselves. He would pray for the forest, treat those suffering from the Deathless Curse. I knew him since I was a child…and we crossed blades. He fell to his knees in disgrace and the villagers would not let him forget it. The mockery grew and—he took his own life.”

Silence fell, but Lobo did not allow it to reign the moment. “It was not your fault, my lady. It was an honorable fight.”

“What purpose is there in honor if it results in someone’s death?” Talla spat out. She let more of her fury out of her voice than she meant to. “Is it supposed to bring me comfort? To rid me of my guilt?”

“Yes,” Lobo told her solemnly. “It is ill comfort, yet it is all I can offer.”

She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “I do not think my abilities right now are able to best Vandyr. Even if they were, do you understand what that would do to Kai? He already loathes himself for the state he’s been reduced to. If—if he were to find out I was stronger than him all along, if I of all people were the one to gain the honor of defeating Vandyr…he would not live through the night, I know it. And he’s my best friend.”

Lobo looked at her sternly. “And you would sacrifice your people for your best friend?”

“No,” Talla muttered. “I would not. And that is why I ask—do you think Von can defeat Vandyr?”

He regarded her thoughtfully. “Yes. It is a possibility, but only that. I cannot promise you more. His level is quite weak at the moment, but if he continues to progress at the rate he did before…there is a chance.” There is a chance I could defeat him as well, you want to say. But you won’t. Talla’s hand curled into a fist. *I know…I know! But I can’t…can I? “*It was not mere avoidance when I said only fools predict certainties. Even if Von were the ‘Von of the Past’ as he calls it, I would not say he would be certain to defeat Vandyr. I would have given him 55% odds at best. You understand my point, yes?”

Train yourself to fight Vandyr if Von fails. “Yes.”

“Good. Forgive me for bringing up such a painful topic, my lady. If you will excuse me, I must take my leave—the weather will allow for easy traveling out of Stormhelm today.”

She grabbed his arm. “Before then—I must ask another question.” Talla narrowed her eyes at him. “Why do you care so much about Von fighting Vandyr? Do you want him to be as strong as he was before so you can earn back your honor in a rematch, is that it?”

“That is part of it.”

“And the other?” Talla insisted. “I was truthful with you, my prince, it is not unreasonable to expect the same from you.”

He considered this for a moment, then nodded. “Von of Redgrave and I were acquainted before he lost his memories. He was my greatest of rivals. And—“

“And?”

Lobo of the Noble Companions showed a genuine smile for the first time. “And he was my very best friend in this world.”

The Redgrave Carriage

A few days later Von and Talla were ready to set out toward Bosque. She had prepared herself for another arduous journey and was surprised to find a carriage waiting for them, loaded with all supplies they might need. The inside was luxurious and warm, a set of curtained windows allowing them to peer into the outside world and a table between two leather seats giving them chance to drink tea on the way. “Ridiculous,” she muttered. Even a few hours into their trip she hadn’t gotten used to it. “How absolutely ridiculous. A carriage?”

Von smiled at her. “Would you prefer walking through the snowfall, my fair lady?”

These days it did not annoy her as much when he called her ‘my fair lady.’ It felt as though he only did it when trying to annoy her. And to his credit, Talla effectively did the same back to him. “It only shocks me the luxury that non-elves can live with,” she grunted, then hesitated. I haven’t told him what to expect yet. If he has no memories, he will be shocked about Bosque. Talla knew she would have to tell him that, but instead found herself saying, “Is it truly fine to leave before your brother arrives?”

Von turned away from her to gaze out the window. “Better than fine, it is ideal. He will have arrived by now, his raven confirmed as much.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Do you not want to meet your brother?”

“Not yet. I have not seen him since I woke up from…since I lost my memories.” His voice grew softer, quieter. “I always respected my brother. And he always respected me too, even when I didn’t deserve it. Mother told me he has been so proud of me since I became a legendary swordsman…it will not do to let him see me in such a state.”

Talla nodded slowly. “Perhaps you misjudge your brother. He will only be glad to see you up and well.”

“He would,” Von acknowledged. “But that is all the more why I don’t want him to see me like this. I want to…at least be a little bit stronger. My ranking is my shame right now.” Von was ranked #79 right now last she had checked—though he would likely have fallen to #84 by the time they reached Bosque. “I want to improve it a little before seeing him at least. Even if I can’t get it to what it used to be, if I can show him there is upward improvement…it might be enough.”

“You are remarkably open with me,” Talla said. When Von met her eyes, she diverted her gaze to the floor. “The Von of the Past was a somewhat uncaring man. I met him but a few times, but I do not think he was the type to acknowledge he had feelings much less discuss them. You are more open than that, and I appreciate it.” She paused. “And it shames me that I am not as open with you.”

He shook his head. “Do not feel pressured to speak as candidly as I, my lady,” he told her firmly. “It does me good to speak of those matters aloud. Were it not the case, I would not do so. Quite frankly, I am not used to having someone to talk to besides my books,” he laughed. She laughed as well. “There is no need to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

But there is a lot I want to. I am using you to alleviate my guilt. I could be sending you to your death. She would tell him that. Just…not at that moment. Not aboard the carriage, when he would not be allowed private time to digest the information without her presence. But there were things she had to tell him now. “Do not expect Bosque to be a vibrant city, Von.”

He perked up at the mention of his name over his title. They had by now established an unspoken rule regarding the amount of attention they expected from the other by way of their manner of address. “I was born in Stormhelm. A city covered in snow for the entire year, with buildings full of greystone. You are hardly speaking to a lordling from the south used to bright lights and celebrations every night.”

“I am serious,” she insisted. “The city is in ruins. Our walls are well-kept, but little else is. We hardly hunt enough to feed ourselves and hardly any traders hail from or to our city. You will find all sorts of abandoned houses, unclean streets…and worse. We have lost much of our population to the Deathless Curse.”

Von nodded quickly. “I understand, my lady. I will not shame your people by appearing shocked by it.”

There was an odd quality to aristocratic visits where if one party pretended not to be disgusted by a sight then it was not an affront to the city’s dignity. I always hated that logic.

“We also have lost more people in border disputes. The dwarves are becoming bolder—they know we barely have the force to defend our capital, much less our farming villages.” She shook her head. “It matters little. Once Vandyr is defeated and the Deathless Curse is taken care of, we may take our territory back.” So long as Bosque holds.

“The Deathless Curse,” Von muttered. “I have heard much of it, but like most outside the elven lands I have not witnessed it.”

It was a cruel sort of fate that he would learn of this sooner than planned.

Later that night, their first of the travel, they stopped the carriage to make camp. It was colder outside the carriage and the pair had a vague notion of staying in throughout the night, but a camp was still necessary for the armored guards accompanying them as well as the coachman, and they felt it only fair to help.

“My lord—my fair lady—you two must not help. Get back to the warmth of the carriage, please.”

Von dismissed him quickly and firmly. “It’s already dark—as dark as it gets with this much snow, anyhow. We took too long to reach a clearing, we need to make camp before creatures or bandits can find us.” For as hesitant as he could be, the man could be quite stern about points like this. “My father raised me to not put onto other shoulders that which I can share the burden of.” He smiled. “You remember my father, do you not?”

The Coachman could not keep a grin off his face. “Aye, my lord. I could never forget him. It is only thanks to him that—“

Talla would never learn what the late Prince of Redgrave had done for the coachman. Suddenly a set of pale arms enveloped him in an almost tender embrace. None reacted in time. Talla slowly, absently, considered that the guards were making the tent, and that Von stood beside her. Whose arms are—?

The embrace turned feral in an instant. Its hands sank its fingernails—claws, perhaps—into the Coachman’s chest and suddenly the creature’s head snapped into view, taking a bite out of the man’s neck and killing him instantly.

A symphony of steel played out as every guard—as well as Von—drew out their swords to strike back at the single beast.

“Mother of the Forest,” Talla whispered, covering her mouth. “A Deathless Elf.”