We stood roughly ten feet apart, but we hadn’t yet engaged. The others were watching us from about twenty feet away. Rafe had a wooden blade in each hand, sized somewhere between a short sword and a long sword. I had no idea where he had gotten them. I also had no idea where he had gotten the wooden long sword he had given me. It was roughly the same length and thickness as Veritas.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

I took a deep breath and centered myself before nodding.

My Danger Sense flashed, and I whipped the wooden sword up. I was just in time because both of Rafe's swords were already swinging towards my head before I had time to think.

Flashpoint.

I felt my body speed up, and Rafe’s attacks suddenly became almost manageable. I was still on the defensive, but now his hands didn’t look like blurs. I could see each sword as it came at me, and I managed to dodge one and swing my blade to block the other.

He kept coming like a whirlwind, furious and unyielding. As the duel continued, his attacks became more and more vicious.

His first successful strike was against my left arm. Pain flared, and suddenly I was numb from the elbow down. Frantically, I swung my sword with only my right hand. My style had to change. I could no longer use the swift two-handed grip I favored with Veritas, so I switched to a more traditional one-handed longsword technique. I found myself wishing that I had a shield.

I saw his eyebrows go up and he hesitated slightly before he came at me again like some kind of unstoppable force. I parried desperately while backing away, hopelessly outmatched. It was all I could do to keep him at bay. Inevitably, the fight ended with me on the short end of the stick.

A slash to my leg and I was limping.

A thrust to my stomach and there was no breath in my lungs.

A smash to the head and everything went bright and then dark.

I lost consciousness, but it must have only been for a moment because when I opened my eyes the other soldiers had just gotten to us and circled Rafe, weapons out and faces hard.

“Wait,” I coughed weakly, “I’m all right. It was just a tap.”

A tap that had stars sparking behind my eyes, but I was sure he hadn’t meant to hurt me seriously. If that’s what he had wanted, there was certainly nothing I could have done to stop him.

Barnabas growled, “That didn’t look like just a tap.”

Looking bored, Rafe held both of his wooden swords in one hand in a lazy droop while scratching his butt with the other.

“Damn,” he muttered. “I hope I don’t have fleas.”

The soldiers shifted uncertainly.

Rafe sighed.

“Oh for crying out loud.”

He held a hand out to me--the one that he had used to scratch his butt. I scrunched my nose and glared at him but accepted his help up.

“See?” I chirped brightly while trying not to sway. “I’m just fine. Just a friendly practice match.”

Looking suspiciously at Rafe, the soldiers put their weapons up.

Rafe made a shooing motion.

“Off with you! I have some tips to give young Paol on his performance.”

Barnabas looked at me, and I nodded at him with an agreeable look on my face even as I read the words that had appeared before me.

Rafe strikes you for 10 damage.

Rafe hits you for 8 damage.

Congratulations! Your Swords skill has increased to level 19.

Rafe stabs you for 15 damage.

Rafe hits you for 9 damage. You have been stunned.

Hmph. If I was still level one, I’d be dead at least two or three times from that fight.

After the soldiers backed away, Rafe turned to me with a smile on his lips, though they didn’t reach his eyes.

“If you see Attributes and Skills, have you been granted any Abilities with your Swords skill?”

“Uh, yes.”

“Which ones?” he demanded.

I hesitated. Should I be telling him this? How much did I trust this unfriendly man?

Rafe saw my distrust and sighed. He bent over and picked up the wooden long sword I had dropped when he knocked me out.

“Okay, I can understand why you might not want to tell me. Normally, I’d say that’s wise--it’s not a good idea for you to go around telling everyone your strengths and weaknesses. It’s up to you what you tell me, but I’m just trying to understand you better. You...make no sense to me.”

I made a decision.

“Flashpoint, Mana’s Infusion, and Danger Sense. Those are my three Swords abilities.”

He gave me a hard look, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Those...are formidable.”

He paused.

“Did you level your Swords skill while we fought?”

“Yes, actually. How did you know?”

“You...seemed to move a little faster in the middle of the duel. It confused me for a moment.”

Wow, he was able to tell when I leveled my skill?

“You really leveled? We didn't fight very long at all.”

I nodded. “Yes. For some reason, my Swords skill goes up very quickly. I don’t understand why.”

He frowned. “It means you have an innate feel for the skill. Though most people can learn most skills, everyone has their personal talents or specialties. One of yours seems to be swordplay--to an almost frightening degree.”

“Why do you say I make no sense?” I asked plaintively. Would I finally get some straight answers? Veritas still refused to answer a lot of my questions, but it looked like Rafe knew the same things she did.

He shook his head.

“It’s because you're a non--normal,” he answered. I could tell he had meant to say something different from normal and changed it mid-sentence.

“That’s why the words are white when you look at me?”

He grunted in affirmation.

“Normals can’t see the words we do. They don’t understand their attributes or skills or abilities the way we can. For them, someone with a strength of twenty vs someone with a strength of ten just means that one of them is a lot stronger than the other. They don’t understand how it’s quantified.”

Quantified? Did he mean how attributes were measured?”

I interrupted, “But how do they get their abilities then? When I leveled up in Swords, I was offered a choice of three options from which to select an ability. Or do they not get any abilities at all?”

“For normals, there’s no choice--no conscious choice at least. People just get an ability that is somehow naturally tied to their personality or their style of fighting and they assume it’s something they’ve divined from all the fighting or training they’ve been through. Maybe they do choose it somehow but don't realize it.”

“Then that means I’m not a normal!” I exclaimed.

He shook his head slightly as if to himself.

“It just doesn’t make any sense. Attributes...skills...abilities… You see them all. And that should be impossible.”

Under his breath, I heard him whisper, “Is something broken? Has something finally gone wrong after all this time?”

We had walked back to our horses and grabbed some hard biscuits from our saddlebags to eat. I looked Rafe up and down. He had made an effort and cleaned himself up, though there were still a few food stains on his collar.

“How old are you?” I asked.

He didn’t answer at first.

“Too old. Let’s just leave it at that.”

His eyes looked tired and haunted. We chewed in silence for a while. Would he tell me anything more? Hopefully, I asked, “What is the Stricture of Mercy?”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing. Nonsensical. Just foolishness from someone I knew a long time ago.”

Obviously another of the Two Hundred. Maybe my benefactor? Almost certainly my benefactor.

“You say it’s foolishness, but you refused to have anything to do with me until I told you about it. What is it?”

He glanced at me.

“It’s…a command in a way. It suggests that we of the Two Hundred should treat non--normals like equals. Like ourselves.”

Again, he was going to say something different from normals but stopped himself.

“You didn’t mean to say normals. You were going to say something else. What was it?” I pressed.

He shook his head. “It’s nothing. You probably wouldn't believe me even if I told you.”

Argh! I wanted to hit something or someone! I quickly buckled Veritas on and placed my hand on her hilt.

"What was he about to say? I know you know."

Who was saying what?

I flushed as I realized belatedly that I hadn't been holding her during the conversation, so she would have no idea what I was talking about.

“Well,” Rafe said. “If I’m here to help you, one thing I could do is teach you how to use your sword. You have a decent foundation. We can probably move on to some more intermediate training.”

Clearly, his skill had been greater than mine. He had pretty much been toying with me.

“And you certainly have an affinity for it. You’re not even level twenty in your Swords skill and you held me off for over fifteen seconds. I’m impressed.”

“Fifteen seconds?” I said incredulously. “You’re impressed I stayed alive for fifteen seconds?”

“I was shocked you even managed to block my first attack. Was that your Danger Sense?”

I answered back with a question. “Do you have Quick Draw? Is that how you got your weapons out so fast back at the tavern?”

He nodded, so I answered back in the affirmative to him.

“You have good reflexes,” he remarked. “Let’s build on what you’ve started and get you some more Swords levels. We can train and spar during rest periods or before breakfast or after dinner. Sound good to you?”

I nodded eagerly.

“We can do that until we reach Michael,” said Rafe. “Maybe he’ll know what to do with you because I surely don’t.”

Barnabas called to us, and we mounted our horses.

As we continued on, Rafe began to make small talk with me, asking me questions about Spiral Castle...the Realm of Shadow...my status…

He was finally loosening up. I could tell because he dropped a couple of jokes in between all his questions. Crude, obnoxious jokes, but I still couldn’t help laughing. After a while, Barnabas let his horse drift over and joined us.

I still didn’t know much about this Rafe, but he was very strong and seemed to be on my side.

I put my hand on Veritas.

“C’mon, talk to me! What is this guy hiding? In fact, what are you hiding?”

All I received was silence.