Blade of Erogrund

Chapter 32- Discovery

"Draw a sword," Saracyir ordered gently as she trudged past the rack of weapons, stepping onto the eerily empty Arena. The wind blew off the sea and over the walls in gentle breezes that carried a reassuring warmth coupled with mild saltiness. With every gust a fine layer of dirt and dust blew in small clouds across the stone ground, occasionally spinning into miniature dust storms. 

Mira struggled to step onto the Arena, her legs aching even more with every step. Already they felt like staffs of iron or timber, refusing to move or scarcely even bend. The sun had broken the horizon of the tall wall that virtually encircled the training grounds to usher in the morning but it offered no consolation to her. 

"Must I? I haven't slept in two days..." 

"True," Saracyir said, leaning the sword she had drawn against her hip while she hastily tied her long hair back in a messy knot. "Two long days at that. But I feel that it is most important to further explore this.... Well, whatever this skill you possess is." 

"And could we not do so just as well after a long rest?" Mira inquired, smiling wearily at the elf and lifting one of the impressive swords that stood beside her. 

"What is that saying you Men have?" Saracyir murmured. "'You can sleep when you're dead?' If you are so weary as to feel you can no longer exist then you prepare yourself for a long sleep. Else you have the strength to work with me for a moment or two." 

Mira felt herself laugh at the sentiment for in her muddled state it made no sense. "If you say so..." Her gaze drifted from the elf who stood resolutely across from her to the iron blade that stood out from her fist that held it. "Horrible things, blades. I told Godric that, but..." Her voice faded at the thought of their time by the river when he held her so close. For a moment the wind seemed to contort into the bubbling of Breaker's Bend and she could hear his voice murmuring reassuring words in her ear. She could feel his arms, strengthened by pushing the plow for so long, wrapping her in an embrace that promised security and safety. 

"I should disagree," Saracyir stated resolutely. 

"Hmm?" Mira replied, her thoughts interrupted. 

The elf smiled, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the morning sun. "I should disagree that blades are horrible. Many manner of beasts are equipped with finer weapons than those made by the smithy. Teeth, claws, and most of all a treacherous intellect. What would dissuade these if not for the forgemaster's sword?" 

To this Mira again had no response so instead she gathered her hair and drew it over her shoulder to let the sun shine upon her gore-smeared face. "I suppose you're right." She hefted the sword in her hand, feeling the balance in her arm. "So what have you brought me here for?" 

Saracyir smiled again. This time it reached her eyes until they glowed with the sunlight that shown around her. "You speak as though I have a dark plot at hand." 

"For all I know, you do," Mira countered. 

"Then let us remove those thoughts. Close your eyes." 

A thought of protest crossed Mira's weary mind but it was soon blown away like the salty breeze as soon as she remembered who it was that had given her the order. 

"Good," said Saracyir. Mira could vaguely hear her soft steps on the stone of the Arena. "Now focus on the Voice. Tell me what it speaks to you." 

"I thought you warned me to use it as little as possible?" Mira protested. 

"Without an understanding of it, yes. But if it can be understood and used it may be a great power. Therefore we seek understanding." 

"What if it's something that should not be understood? What if learning more will make me more attached to it?"