Milius pushed himself to his feet, Ariana, Sirius, and Shakil all rising with him, and drew his sword. The amethyst gleamed brightly in the brilliant rays of sunlight streaming in through the vast gap where the ceiling had once been, and Milius felt a sudden hum of energy in the blade, as though Palpatunde knew exactly what was happening and was just as excited at the prospect as Milius was. His time in the arena, though dark at times, had ended, ultimately, in triumph, hadn't it? He had faced a gargantuan warrior with poison-tipped maces, a dolphin-man hybrid that could fight from underground, and a plankton-sized figure with immense strength, and won — what was one measly block of wood?

But then, a sudden and unpleasant realization dawned on him, bringing him sharply back to reality: those were all living opponents. These wooden warriors carried no life energy within them, which meant that Palpatunde would have no effect on them. Calder, as though he had read Milius’s mind, smiled at him, his eyes twinkling.

“Ah,” he said softly, “you see the problem, don't you?”

Milius did not reply. This was certainly going to be an issue, but he had faced much worse than this before. Surely he could find a way around it….

But his thoughts were interrupted as the Courtyard was suddenly plunged into darkness. Milius looked up; the four dragons were now hovering above them, looking curiously down at the scene below. Verdona, with her crimson, metallic-looking scales and long, thick spines; Vrydius, his grass-coloured feathers ruffling in the wind; Aleia, her smooth, serpentine hide glistening in the sunlight; and Lumeus, his violet, antenna-like plates crackling with electricity.

He gave Milius a little nod and turned his gleaming marble eyes upon the wooden figures ahead of them. The dragon had been much warmer to Milius since their exploits in Phontus’s castle, though admittedly they still had a ways to go, and it was this more than anything that boosted Milius’s confidence.

The Elders had noticed the appearances of the dragons as well, but from the looks of mild surprise on their wizened faces, it didn't seem as though they had planned, or even expected this either. “You will not be working with the dragons just yet,” Basil said. “But it seems that they're interested in watching you. Best put up a decent show, I think. Now — the first thing you will need, is proper attire. The armour, as you may have guessed, is produced by the swords’ magic. So far only Milius has managed to summon the entire suit.” He paused, looking as though the thought irked him.

“The final version of the armour sports shield, helmet, and a visor made of the jewels embedded in the hilts of your respective swords,” he continued. “Right now, I would like each of you to muster all of your powers of concentration, visualize yourself in the completed suit, and focus on your swords.”

Milius raised Palpatunde even higher. This process was not altogether unfamiliar to him, as he had indeed managed to summon his complete suit of armour in Phontus’s arena. He closed his eyes and concentrated, forming the image of himself in his full, silvery, amethyst-plated armour in his mind’s eye — and then a second later he felt the strange and distinctive feeling of having plunged into an ice bath. When he opened his eyes, his vision was once again tinted by the lilac visor shielding his face, and his kite-shaped, amethyst-studded shield appeared on his left arm, the streak of lightning glittering in the center.

Grinning, he looked around. All three of the remaining Knights had managed to summon their armour and shields as well, but only Ariana had managed to produce her helmet and emerald visor. Milius quickly glanced at the Elders, who still looked impassive, except Aaron, who was wearing a very smug smile.

He nodded and spoke to the group at large. “Well, good enough for the first lesson, anyway. Now, you have already been informed of your swords’ capabilities by that smelly, thieving scoundrel, Parluck?” he said. No one replied. Milius stared at him from beneath the visor, remembering how Parluck had said that he had never liked Aaron when they had first met him in the forest, and wondering what could have happened between them in the past. “Some abilities are triggered without conscious effort on the Knight's part,” he continued, not looking remotely abashed. “Others require a more active contribution. This, however, varies with each blade. Stormpyre, for example, channels the power of the air itself: a vast substance that covers or surrounds nearly everything we see in nature. It cannot easily be contained, it flows freely, and lightly. You cannot force the wind to do your bidding — you can only guide it.”

“Each blade requires a different mindset in order to bring out its true potential,” Basil said. “You must attune yourselves to that temperament which best suits your sword, in order to properly bond with it.”

“Now get ready,” Demus said. “You go again … now.” He tapped his walking stick on the grass again, and the wooden warriors burst into motion. This time, Milius was ready for them. Palpatunde’s magic, admittedly, would not be of much help here, but still, Milius thought, it was a very sharp tool, and his enemy was made of wood. He dashed out to meet his foe and the pair of swords met in midair, wood and metal, and within seconds the other fights broke out around him. He glimpsed Ariana’s long red hair streaming behind her as she ducked and wove around her opponent's attacks, slashing wildly herself.

Milius met each of his own enemy’s attacks, taking quick, heavy swings at the statue in return. He quickly realized, however, that this was proving to be entirely useless. Though Milius struck both the warrior's blade and body multiple times, the gashes he made did not seem to be having any effect; the enemy did not even stagger once. It raised one of its large, flat feet and aimed a kick at him — Milius threw up his arm and intercepted with his shield, but the force still sent him stumbling backwards.

He managed to keep his footing — but not for long. As he stepped forward, ready to dive at the opponent again, the entire Courtyard gave a sudden, violent lurch and he flew face forward into the grass. He tried to speak, but the words seemed to have lodged themselves in his throat, which was now vibrating as violently as the floor. He raised his head with enormous difficulty and saw, to his astonishment, that the wooden warrior had not fallen, but was struggling to move as enormous cracks spread along its figure. Milius shook convulsively for several long moments, the sound of the ground being ripped apart reached his ears, along with Ariana’s shrill screams, and then, suddenly, the shaking stopped.

Milius’s head was still swimming but, using Palpatunde as a sort of crutch, he managed to push himself to his feet. “Shakil!” he growled, attempting, with immense difficulty, to keep himself from vomiting.

“Sorry!” Shakil’s voice cried. There was a swish and a thud, and Milius knew that one of the wooden warriors had been defeated. Then another, more unpleasant sound rent the air — someone was vomiting spectacularly in the distance. Milius looked around, his vision slowly coming back into focus, and saw Sirius sprawled on the ground a short distance away, a pool of sick at his head. Ariana was nearer, trying (and failing) to regain her balance. The Elders were standing serenely in the same place they had been before, and one of the wooden warriors was lying in pieces at Shakil’s feet, while the others stood uncertainly around the other Knights.

“A warning would have been nice!” Milius shouted groggily. This was the second time that he had been taken unawares by Oceannerva’s ability to create earthquakes, and though his armour seemed to have dulled most of the impact, it was still an unpleasant sensation.

The Elders granted them a few minutes to recuperate, in which they allowed Shakil to be removed from the field due to his defeating his enemy. Calder wafted the smoke of a burning herb under Sirius’s nose for a full thirty seconds, after which he sprang up, still looking pale but otherwise fine, and they returned to the sparring session. Sirius seemed to have taken his falling ill to heart, and was determined to redeem himself — he was fighting fiercer than ever, as though the wooden warrior had offended him gravely.

Ariana and Milius resumed their fights, too, but from the little glimpses he caught of her, she seemed to be doing much better than he was. As he rolled back to his feet after being struck by a particularly heavy blow, he saw Sirius swing Vulcatrix, which was blazing with magical heat. The blade passed as smoothly and easily through the statue’s elbow as it had the head of the bearlike monster with the scorpion stinger in the underground chamber; but now, Milius noticed, the stump of the warrior's arm was glowing, and the wood from that point of the warrior's body onward seemed to be rotting, slowly and steadily.

But Milius’s attention was diverted by his own foe. They clashed again, but now Milius was being hard-pressed. Panting and sweating, he was only barely evading strikes now.

“The blade channels the power of lightning, Milius,” called Calder, as Milius was pushed away yet again; he quickly turned his head in Calder’s direction to listen to what he was saying, “the power of energy. It can absorb it, but energy, like air, is a force that cannot be easily contained. It must flow, in one form or another.”

The statue advanced on him again. Milius thought furiously as the wooden blade’s swipes became more and more ferocious, as Ariana leapt a great distance in the air behind him and sheared off her statue’s head with a piercing gust of wind. He was the only one left now — Sirius had already sheared his statue cleanly in two, and it lay on the ground, rotting more quickly than ever now. It seemed Calder was trying to tell him something, give him some sort of clue — it absorbed energy … but he already knew that….

Milius ducked under the statue’s arm and swung his left hand forward with as much strength as he could muster. The shield smashed into its face with so much force than an amethyst actually shattered, and, for the first time so far, the warrior lost its balance. Milius planted a kick in its chest, sending it rolling even further, and dashed away, putting as much distance as possible between them so that he could think freely on what he had just heard. The blade could absorb energy … but energy could not be contained … It must flow, in one form or another…

Memories came surging back to him: memories of how the blade somehow became glossier whenever it had absorbed energy, how it thrummed while the energy was inside it. But the blade, always, sooner or later, would fall still … would lose its newfound sheen…. And then it clicked —

“It can release the energy it absorbed?” he called to Calder, as the wooden warrior rose.

“Very good!” beamed Calder. Milius had never spared it much thought before, but obviously, the energy did not remain in the blade forever. It would gleam and hum, but would always mysteriously revert to its original state after a time. The energy had to be released in some way, and, as Calder was trying to tell him, there was a quicker, possibly more forceful, way of doing this. But how would it help now? There was currently no mana in the blade … Unless….

Only way, he thought miserably.

“Wait — what are you doing?” Sirius cried, as Milius raised the blade above his own arm.

“Only way …” he said vaguely, and ignoring Sirius’s further protests, he slit his wrist. He felt a rather curious sensation, as though he had become suddenly weightless…. This time didn't feel nearly as bad as it had in the arena. He had taken a measured amount, unlike the first few times that the blade had fed, greedily taking as much mana as it had desired. His own life force had been stolen by the blade, and yet, he felt a sudden thrill of calm….

The world melted away for a moment, a single, shining moment, in which he saw a wide green field, bedded with beautiful, brightly coloured flowers. The sun was low in the sky, casting a bloody tinge across the expanse of blue … and someone was there. A figure in the distance, who turned. The sun illuminated him from behind, darkening his face, and he made to speak, but just before the words had left his mouth, the vision faded, replaced by the image of the wooden warrior speeding toward him….

But Milius knew what he had to do now. He sent his thoughts directly into the blade, just as he had with the Orb of Triton, and the amethyst glowed a brilliant purple. A ripple of energy flowed through the blade, igniting the gleaming metal as it passed through, and there was an explosion of light: waves of glistening, swirling energy, violet and beautiful, spiraled through the air, crashing into the wooden warrior (who had gained considerable distance in that short time) and blasting him backward. The energy made deep gashes all over his figure, and he fell, unmoving, into the swaying bed of grass.

The Knights erupted into cheers. Calder beamed as Milius had never seen him beam before, and even Aaron and Basil gave grudging nods. Milius looked up and saw Lumeus, who rumbled what Milius hoped was approval, but before he could say anything, Sirius came rushing over and swept him into a rib-cracking hug.

“Sir — you're crushing me!” he gasped.

“Oh! Sorry!” Sirius released him and contented himself with ruffling his hair while Ariana and Shakil came hurrying over as well. Shakil clapped him on his shoulder, and Ariana smiled.

The muffled thud of Demus’s walking stick came again, and all four Knights turned, astonished, to see that he was smiling. “Not bad for a first session, I think,” he said. “Though I must say, I rather thought you would have siphoned mana from the grass around you instead of yourself — but it worked either way, I suppose. I think we can stop for today.”

“In that case, I could use some food, I'm starving,” Sirius said.

“Yeah, me too,” said Milius. They retrieved their fallen magical instruments and Sirius gripped his shoulder and steered him toward the door. Halfway there, however, he looked back.

“Well?” he said, suddenly impatient.

“Well, what?” Shakil said, looking apprehensive once more.

“Are you two coming or what?” And they left the room, Ariana and Shakil, looking rather uncertain, following in their wake.