Kelton winced as the wooden blade smacked into his already purpled arm. Had he not closed his eyes in reflex when he saw Vil'anous find the opening, he wouldn't have taken the second strike to the right thigh. Kelton grunted as once again as Vil'anous drove forward into his chest and forced him to the ground.

"Stay down," Vil'anous said. It wasn't the first time he demanded Kelton remain down.

Kelton shifted away like a snake and rose, ignoring his complaining muscles. It seemed as if his skin flowed loose above a sea of bruises. Nothing was going to make him stay down, not even a giant of a Nagada. He was sure Vil'anous disliked the not-born-right being offered the twin-tails. This was one test Kelton intended to pass.

"Come," Kelton said. It came out weaker than he intended. Vil'anous came forward with the same speed and energy he possessed at the start. A whirlwind of flying blades moving through the air amidst Kelton's blurring vision. Kelton caught the first with a parry, then missed the next three strikes and once again found himself on the ground, new pains merging with old.

"You are done," Vil'anous said.

"Nay," Kelton whispered, then more loudly as he found his feet again. The sun was lowering, its rays weakly finding holes in the foliage. Kelton staggered as he set himself, the wooden blades he held now many times heavier than when they had begun when the sun was high. They didn't rise quickly enough as Vil'anous attacked.

Only twice had Kelton hit Vil'anous with a faux blade, and both were mere taps. The man was skilled beyond anyone Kelton had ever faced. Even the Brothers in Aragonia were sloppy compared to Vil'anous. Unlike Kelton, both of Vil'anous's blades moved with equal determination. Kelton could only effectively use the left like a shield, depending upon his trusted right for strikes.

Kelton accepted a strike to his left side; a vicious open bladed thwap that forced air from his lungs. He could have blocked, yet accepting the pain allowed him to grab a small instance of offense. His left blade thrust forward, causing Vil'anous to swipe it away with his other sword. It went flying into the trees as expected, offering Kelton the smallest of openings. His right blade swung with power and found Vil'anous' thigh with a pleasing audible sound. The music of landing the strike was followed by a series of vicious attacks from Vil' anous. Kelton smiled, the pain a worthy cost to land a real blow, as he once again found himself forced to the ground.

"Done," Vil'anous said. He sounded out of breath.

"Nay," Kelton said, then slipped as he tried to rise. His legs were becoming sloppy, no longer remembering the order of events necessary to stand with confidence. He felt a hand push gently down on his shoulder.

"Done," Vil'anous said again. "The light fades. It is over."

"I have failed?" Kelton asked, his cheek still hugging the dirt. Of all the responses Kelton expected, laughter was not it. He rolled over and found a welcome hand thrust forward to help him to his feet.

"There can be no failure here," Vil'anous said. Kelton was glad to see the sheen of sweat reflected on the man's skin. It showed itself when he shifted in the leave filtered twilight. A sign that Kelton's defeat hadn't been without effort. "Come, they have been waiting long."

No failure? Kelton was confused. Opul had said it was a test given to all who desired the twin-tails. He thought he had to present a challenge to the challenger, declare himself by deed to be worthy of the blades that would be offered. Instead, he had been beaten down time and again with bruises to mark each failure. Only once had he delivered a strike mirroring real damage, and that given at the cost of his own life had the blades been genuine.

Vil'anous had traveled from another tribe, as all the testers had. Kelton had been paired with the largest of the three who had come. He was jealous of Farni, who had been sent into the trees with a woman, strong to be sure, but shorter and lighter than the beast Kelton had to face. Vil'anous was the vision of every hero Gossamer had ever described, and some of the demons as well. Tall, broad of shoulder, and he emanated power with his every move. His etchings covered his face in a design that gave his eyes a look of evil when he frowned, and glee when he smiled. If a man could choose his opponent, Vil'anous was lowest on that list, below that of the demons themselves.

As vicious as Vil'anous had been in combat, he was equally pleasant now that it was done. His words were of changes Kelton could make to his stance, and what Kelton had done right and wrong. It confused Kelton even more since teaching should be offered after each failure, not after a day of them. At least that is how Gossamer had dealt with it.

Vil'anous caught Kelton when he stumbled on their way back to the village. Exhaustion and aches were taking their toll. That and Kelton was struggling to grasp the necessity of the test. The confusion found its way to his feet, causing them to miss even the most blatant obstacle.

They emerged to the village's fire in full force. The Nagada had gathered waiting for their return. Farni was sitting on the ground with another of the tested. Both showed purpling signs of their own failures, though smiles marked their faces.

"He knows no end," Vil'anous said to Lin'cy. Kelton plopped down next to Farni, his body thinking of spending the night in that exact spot.

"There is a Vic'aven that learned that well," Lin'cy said with a chuckle.

Opul came forward with a brownish salve she began applying to bruises on his exposed arms. "You should not have gone so long," she whispered in the tongue only they shared. "Your body is still troubled by what came before."

"I thought it necessary for learning the twin tails," Kelton whispered back.

"They wish only to learn your limits," Opul said. The salve began to warm the tender spots, Kelton's muscles eased some of the tautness. "They see things that will guide your training."

"On the sun's rise, these three will leave to claim twin-tails," Lin'cy announced to the tribe. A cheer went up and Kelton felt his pride swell. He wasn't Nagada, but they made him feel like one. "And we have one that will not fall." His eyes moved to Vil'anous.

"Fire-head would have gone to morning had I not stopped it," Vil'anous said. "He has much to learn," he smirked. "and to teach. When the treewalker comes, he will carry the tribe's honor well." He looked at Kelton. "You use only one arm well, that will change. You see patterns after they have struck. We will teach you to see them before. Your strikes declare themselves loudly. Soon, they will hide and come in silence." Vil'anous leaned down and placed his forehead against Kelton's. "The heart of Nagada lies sleeping in your bones, and we will awaken it."

"For the tribe," Kelton responded. They had welcomed him and it seemed a fitting thing to say. When Vil'anous smiled, he knew his response was the correct one.

"Where is my mat?" Kelton asked. He was exhausted and desired nothing but sleep. Opul's hut was rearranged, returned to how it had been before Kelton first arrived. His mat and meager possessions were gone.

"You are a warrior now," Opul explained with a flip of her hand. "You will bed down with a warrior."

"Farni," Kelton said below his breath. The smile Opul tried to hide was proof enough. "Is it a plan between you and her?"

"Aye, and nay," Opul said. "You should not live with an old woman, and I'll not have your training grime about. Farni welcomes you." She raised her hand to thwart his coming protest. "I have made her aware of your desires or lack thereof. She is of mind to change them, yet will respect your will." Opul chuckled. "We will see the strength of that will in the days that come."

"I am thrust away then?"

"Aye, and do not give me that look. Farni nursed you when all thought you lost. Now she offers her hut." Opul gave Kelton a motherly grimace. "It is gratefulness you will show, not the look of a young one who thinks himself slighted."

Kelton sighed. He was being selfish with his desires and hadn't looked from other eyes. Much was done for him and all they expected was cooperation. "You have the right of it. My thanks for sharing what is yours."

"Good," Opul said with a nod. "Now go. She waits for you."

Farni was a bundle of smiles when Kelton arrived. His straw mat was placed alongside hers, not separated by an arm's length as it had been in Opul's hut. Kelton wondered if he should have been more proactive and constructed his own domicile. It would be seen as an insult to do it now.

"I thank you for this," Kelton said, indicating the mat.

"Long day coming," Farni said. They were to travel to the elder village to receive their twin-tales. The last step before training began.

"Aye," Kelton said, still uncomfortable with the new sleeping arrangements.

"We sleep now," Farni said, taking Kelton's hand in hers and walking him into the hut. She pulled close the flap and tied it shut. Enough of the tribe's fire leaked through gaps for Kelton to see her undress. He silently thanked Yanda for ending his reluctance in such things. Soon they were both naked, lying side by side sharing a single thin-hide blanket over the top of them. Kelton turned on his side, his backside toward her to keep some distance.

"You think of another," Farni whispered.

"Aye," Kelton said, thankful that she recognized his reluctance.

"She is far away?"

"Aye."

"I am not," Farni said. Her arm encircled Kelton's chest, and she moved close, parts touching his back in a pleasant way. "We sleep this night. In time, she will seem farther." With that, all her movement stopped. There was no overt attempt to engage in a joining, and little would have been needed to convince his body. She desired more than his parts; she wanted his agreement. Kelton relaxed into her arms. It wasn't a horrible place to be. The test made sleep easy, as did the comfort.

The elder village didn't have the haphazard construction of Kelton's village. Huts were lined around the central fire, the locations were chosen for orderly concerns as opposed to the whims of the hut's occupant. It had taken two days of hard travel to reach the village, a distance that surprised Kelton and added to the honor they bestowed on him when he had woken from the beast's attack.

Unyvon'ar smiled in his crooked way as Kelton approached. Other elders rose from around the fire as all work in the village slowed to watch the new warriors arrive. Some of the elders struggled to gain their feet, helped by younger men and women. It was an odd display as the helpers themselves seemed less than healthy. Some missing limbs, others with faces not symmetrical, as if they were born addled or had suffered a considerable injury. One helper, a man as young as Kelton, limped on a twisted foot to an old woman who gratefully accepted his help to gain her feet. None remained sitting, though Kelton thought many should. The Nagada honored their warriors.

Vil'anous moved forward and whispered something to Unyvor' ar, which caused a chuckle to emerge. Vil'anous lined up Kelton, Farni, and Hy'nal in front of the fire. Hy'nal was a thin boy, now a man, the third who would receive the twin-tails. Unyvon'ar signaled Vil'anous to speak.

"Bonded ones, we forever thank you for your care of our tribe. Without you, the Treewalker would find our memories weak, and our hearts darkened by it," Vil'anous said with a bow. The younger ones smiled and nodded with visible pride. Kelton realized all the Nagada had duties, and all were recognized for their contributions. It mattered not that they weren't warriors, it mattered only that they filled a need. Care of the elders, and the wisdom they embodied, was essential to the tribe.

"We have three who have come to claim the twin-tails," Vil'anous announced.

"They are welcome," Unyvon'ar said. Many of the elders, the ones whose hearing was still intact, repeated Unyvon'ar's words. Farni was as pleased as Kelton had ever seen her. A smile that wouldn't cease and a happy bounce in her step as the elders led the three behind the first row of huts.

A clearing, dotted by the exposed tops of buried boulders, held lines of spread oiled hides. On top of each, two crossed swords lay, the metal blades dulled by coats of grease. Kelton stopped counting at thirty and guessed that the number was about half. Each set was similar, though the pommels were bound in different thicknesses and shades of leather—swords for any sized hand.

"Claim your story," Unyvon'ar said and waved his hand toward the blades. Farni moved quickly, lifting and sampling the heft of blade after blade. Hy'nal moved more judiciously, using his eyes to skip over many before he would test one. Kelton walked the lines, not knowing what he desired in a sword. Choice had never been an option before.

"Oh, that has a good story," Unyvon'ar said. Kelton turned to see Farni sampling a pair of blades. She brought the pommels close to her eyes.

"Flower?" Farni asked.

"Aye," Unyvon'ar replied. "It was last wielded by one who mothered many. It has a long line of many who have done the same. Myn'ia was the last, and she once birthed and battled the same day. It has been idled for a long time waiting for one such as you. It is called thorn-of-the-flower."

"It is fitting with my dreams," Farni said. She swung them around, all the time glowing as if she was grasping a chest of gold.

"Come," one of the female elders said, waving Farni over. "I know thorn-of-the-flower's story well. I will share it so you may add your own." Farni followed the woman and disappeared between the huts.

Soon, Hy'nal had selected his swords and was led away to hear their tale. Kelton continued down the lines, kneeling time and again to see the small engraved symbol he now knew lay near the hilt. He saw nature etchings of trees, birds, fire, and what looked like it might be a river. None of them jumped out and said, pick me. Sometimes, the pommels were too thin or too thick, though he believed he could get used to any of them.

"This one is still wrapped," Kelton said when he reached the end. A lone set was still rolled in its hide and tied tight.

"It has a bad story," Unyvon'ar said with his voice lowered to near a whisper. "It is only here because it must be."

"It cannot be chosen?" Kelton asked. The hide looked lonely, sitting apart from the others. Metal knew no past—an odd thing to idle swords due to stories of the past wielders.

"Its story will not be spoken," Unyvon'ar replied.

"But you know the story," Kelton surmised.

"We must know such things," Unyvon'ar said. The other elders nodded solemnly. Kelton shrugged and walked back down the lines, trying to find a set of swords that called to him. They were all silent as if they awaited a true Nagada, someone who could appreciate their story. To Kelton, they were only metal, possessing nothing of the reverence the Nagada placed on them. He felt like a thief, taking what he did not deserve. The swords needed to stay.

"I am to leave here," Kelton said when he reached the first set of swords again. "The story will travel with me - it will leave the tribe."

"Aye," Unyvon'ar agreed.

"I will not end a good story," Kelton said. He pointed to the wrapped swords. "It is best I take a bad story from the tribe and strive to make it good." A gasp came from one of the elders, which was followed by hastily whispered conversation. They gathered as one, each voicing opinions in hushed tones Kelton could not hear. It was a short conference.

Unyvon'ar turned, his crooked smile in full force. "It is decided you have made a wise choice." The other elders were smiling as well. "Only one who is not-born-right could take such a story and make it anew."

"Fire-head thinks well," an old woman agreed. "A stain shall be removed, lifting all other stories higher." The mutual agreement was mirrored in all of the elder's faces.

Unyvon'ar moved forward and unwrapped the blades Kelton had chosen. "These have not seen a warrior's hand since the All-Father placed us in the Waitland." He stood to the side as Kelton came forward to look at the pair of swords that had remained idle for thousands of years. He lifted one and examined the carving at the base of the pommel.

"It is a spider," Kelton said.

"Aye, spiders-bite they are called," Unyvon'ar said.

The blades may not have seen a warrior's hand, but they had been well cared for, as had all the others. The leather wrapped tight around the pommel looked fresh, as did the layer of oily grease that protected the blade itself. The edge was also well-honed.

"Come," Unyvon'ar said. "You will clean the blades as I tell you what I can of the one who wielded them before you."

"Only one?"

"Aye," Unyvon'ar said as he began walking. Kelton lifted the other sword to join the first, and followed. They fit well in his hands, the grips' thickness comfortable in his palms. He took a few subdued swings with his right hand, then smiled. They were part of his story now.

Kelton began wiping the grease off his blades as a shriveled man, seemingly as ancient as the swords, used knotted cords to measure his torso for the sheathes that would adorn Kelton's back. All the while, Unyvon'ar spoke.

"When the All-Father offered the Waitland to the tribe, some desired it not to be so. They relished conquering and the slaves and riches it provided. The nameless one who wielded spiders-bite thought the tribe weak in its new ways and desired a return to the wrongs of the past. He coerced others to follow his wishes and cursed the All-Father's path." Unyvon'ar eyes found the ground. "He meant to undo all, and set Nagada against Nagada." He looked up. "The time-of-settling, it is called. The All-Father's will won out at a great cost." He pointed at the blades Kelton was holding. "Spiders-bite was torn from the nameless one at the end. The taint of him fled the Waitland with his cursed soul." Unyvon'ar shrugged. "Tribeless, he perished alone far away from here. A fate none would wish on another."

"A bad story," Kelton said, agreeing with Unyvon'ar's initial assessment. He examined the swords anew. They still looked only metal to him, but now he understood the distaste the Nagada felt was tied to the blades. A shame, since the workmanship was beautiful, the balance excellent.

"Aye," Unyvon'ar said. "Now it begins anew, as the tribe so long ago." He smiled. "It is thought the All-Father himself wishes you spiders-bite. As the flower grows on a grave, your story will cover the old. A good choice, it was."

"I promise to think on the tribe's ways before I pull them in anger," Kelton said. He lifted one of the blades, twisting to see the light reflect off its clean surface. All-Father's choice or not, they felt good in his hands. "My story may not be grand, but it will not be a bad one."

Unyvon'ar laughed. "It is already larger than most, Fire-head."