Page 31 of The Truth

Eltoar stood with his hands clasped behind his back, looking down into the yard below where the apprentices trained with the sword. Twenty of them moved through the forms of the fellensír, sharp steel in their grips, sweat slicking their bodies.

Chora Sarn walked amongst them, examining their movements silently while Atara Anthalin stood at the front of the group, moving as effortlessly as water.

“You’re early,” Alvira called from behind him.

“You’re late,” he answered, turning to see her descending the stone steps into the yard. She wore a long black dress, split down both sides, a circlet of gold atop her head, the metal wound into the symbol of The Order at her front. His throat grew dry as she approached, the hairs on his arms standing on end.

Alvira pulled him into a warm embrace. “It’s good to see you.”

“You’ve barely been gone a moon, Alvira.”

“And I’ve spent that entire time with Councillors Matharius and Arnassus, sitting around while they brokered deals.”

“Mmmm.”

“Let’s not sour already, Eltoar,” Alvira said, looking down into the yard. “We’ve been over this a thousand times. The council are a garden that must be tended. Allow me to do the tending, and you can focus your attention elsewhere.”

As she spoke, Alvira turned her gaze to Salara, who was shifting from Patient Wind into Striking Dragon with effortless grace.

“She looks strong,” Alvira said. “One day perhaps she will be as skilled as you in the blade.”

Eltoar smiled, folding his arms. “I would find nothing but pride in that.”

He tilted his head, watching Salara’s every move, and out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Alvira watching him. He caught her doing that from time to time. “Which one is the young man you and Chora never quiet about?”

“Aeson Virandr.” Alvira inclined her head to the corner of the group where a tall, skinny young man with black hair shifted from form to form with effortless grace. What was more, when Eltoar looked closely, he saw the boy’s eyes were closed. He’d been watching Salara so intently he’d not even noticed.

“He moves well.” Eltoar followed Aeson’s movements as the group shifted into sparring pairs and shook his head when young Aeson once again closed his eyes, levelling his wooden blade at his partner. “Arrogant.”

“Oh, listen does the wind when the sky calls the water blue.” Alvira bowed at the waist as she spoke, speaking in the most dramatic tone she could apparently muster.

“Amusing.” Despite his best efforts, a smile slipped through Eltoar’s facade as he watched Alvira’s lips peel into a broad grin.

She caught his gaze and held it, those blue eyes holding the sun’s light.

“Look,” she said, pulling her gaze from his and gesturing to her left.

Eltoar scanned the yard. “What?”

“Higher. The perch to the left of the pantheon.”

Eltoar looked up and over towards the tower Alvira spoke of. There sat a dragon with scales as blue as the Veloran Ocean at night, flecked with spots of white and black and a hundred shades of blues. The creature looked as though they had been carved from the night sky.

“Lyara,” Alvira said. “They have a bond as close as I’ve seen. She is never far and watches over him like a mother.”

“He is seeing through her eyes.” Eltoar shifted his gaze from Lyara to Aeson. The boy was young to be able to move so fluidly while seeing through the eyes of his soulkin. For most, it was a disorienting sensation even for many years after first forming the bond, even more so in the young. Their minds less capable of fully utilising the bond. “How many summers has he seen? Sixteen?”

“Fifteen. Bonded only one year.”

“Look at you,” he said, laughing. “You call Lyara a mother hen and yet you stand here clucking.”

“Careful, First Sword. I am still your Archon.”

“Cluck.” Eltoar flapped his arms like wings. “Cluck.”

“What has you in such a bright mood? Usually I’m the one telling others that a storm isn’t brewing behind your eyes in every moment, but that your face unfortunately just takes that shape.”

He grunted at her, flapping his arms once more and allowing the smile to linger a bit longer on his lips. And at that precise moment, he remembered what he had not yet told Alvira.