-(] His Mother named him ‘Hope.’ His Father named him ‘Despair.’ [)-
The child, Dae, stood in defensive stance before his mother, whom was an Elf warrior as well as a sell sword. He was holding a wooden sword and she a staff.
“Attack!” She commanded him in a powerful yell.
He winced, blinking and swallowed before he narrowed his gaze. He should’ve been use to the way her voice carried, he had always assumed it was the same voice she’d use on the battlefield.
His hesitation was much less by now and he moved in at her at a quick pace even for a child. His sword trailing behind him. She whirled his staff within her hands, crossing her wrists for but a moment as she corrected him, “This again? You know the reach of the staff!”
She corrected him by jutting the length of that staff to slam into one of his shoulders. Contact was made and in what would’ve toppled him over, he used the momentum of his shoulder being thrown back to twist off a heel as he lifted a knee to slam down upon that staff. Surely his weight would do nothing to her to lose that weapon, but it was just a second, a passing moment to allow him to bring that sword around and release it.
That sword went soaring through the air and it’s wooden tip hit her abdomen before toppling to the ground and she lifted her staff, off-setting his weight and toppled him over before whirling it around and slamming it against his chest to wind him and pin him there.
She said nothing, this was a first for him. She always had something to say. Yet, all she did was close her eyes and appear to be pondering his actions. She knew he was smart … he was trying something different, even if it was a bit kamikaze.
She opened her eyes and lifted her staff from him, kicking his wooden sword back over to him. He was panting and slowly, sat up, rubbing his chest. This was also the first time he actually connected an attack to her … even if it would’ve left him dead.
She spoke, “Get up, Dae! Anyone can get off an attack on another, but not at the expense of their own life!”
She continued, “That is foolish, but I understand why you would try it. Using your knee to try to pin my weapon down might have worked had you more weight, but you do not. You are not stronger then I, you are not faster than I, and you are still my child. So, to you I say, get up. Try again, keeping trying until you find your way and become what I’ve always thought of you. You are my ‘Hope’ for this world.”
He, shaken, nabbed the sword in his tiny hand and pulled himself to his feet, “But, Mom … you’re too good.”
She cut his words short with a fierce expression, “No one is too good. Anyone can be defeated through a lucky shot. There is always someone out there that the tides of fate will not bring luck and they will find them at the short end of the stick. Yet, through knowing what you can and can not do will better arm yourself to get rid of the chance known as luck. You can be powerful enough to control your own fate, no matter how hopeless a situation may seem, because you’ve a gift my child … “ She was speaking of what she knew he could do. Though, he didn’t have good control over it, yet.
She turned from him and moved through the tall grass in which was their training field to a weapon rack as she reached for another wooden sword and turned to face him, tossing it to him.
He was barely on his two feet and he barely caught that other sword and fumbled it, dropping it to the ground as he tried to catch it with his left hand. He dipped down and picked it up, holding a wooden sword in each hand. He examined it and angled them certain ways as if he was trying to conceive how he could use such a thing before his eyes drifted to her own sapphiric hues, “This is wrong?”
She shook her head, her hair whipped out into the air, “No! But, explain to me why you believe it to be such.”
‘No!’ - He blinked and was so unsure. He looked back down to the two swords in hand and swung them each in the air, “I do not have enough power in each arm to hit.”
She finally smiled at him, “Correct. What is the benefit?”
He stared at her for a few moments and swung them repeatedly, at different angles once more. He looked back to her so innocently, “I … don’t know.”
She chuckled softly, “It is true, holding a weapon with two hands will bring more control and strength. But, having two weapons, one in each hand awards something more defensive. As many believe it to be an offensive feat, it is really not. The control given to holding a weapon with both hands is usually best. Yet, to dual wield, gives you a small percent of opportunity to parry, deflect an attack with one hand and strike with the other. You do not need strength as strength and control are not so important with two weapons. You have to find your way with them and how you can use them to your benefit. Now, attack - AGAIN!”
Dae’s mind raced with a bunch of different possibilities. He could not get around that staff, he had even tried a suicide move and while he did hit his mother, it was not enough to sway a battle in any real direction except cause him another loss and even a worse one; he’d of died and become useless.
He thought and as such, his left hand held that wooden sword before himself whilst the other was rolled within his digits to a ridge-handed, a reverse grip, with the other wooden blade held behind himself. He was calculating the best formula for two weapons. He was a natural tactician and his mother new this. He was a problem solver even at a young age, taking things apart to see what made them tick … He had tried her patience on many fronts.
It was then, he moved again. He rushed in at her, pulling that reverse gripped blade that was held behind him forward and almost connecting it to the hilt of his left hands blade, as if he himself was holding a staff as well. She followed through with a step forward, another whirl of that staff and this time, it came from above, daring to crash into his head.
He lifted that ridge handed blade into the air, catching her staff as it came crushing down against him. A husky breath escaped him during such a labored move. Her attack was too fierce. His knee’s weakened and he buckled the right one out, dropping to it and throwing himself off to the side with his left leg in a roll toward her, the angle at which her attack came, her power was less the closer he got and his ridge-handed sword barely withheld her attack from slamming into his head and probably knocking him unconscious.
Yet, it bought him but a brief moment and as he rolled, his left hands sword came out before her upon his roll ending with it’s blade held to her chest. His hair flew before his face as he stopped and and her upper torso leaned back naturally, avoiding contact but it was still close.
His eyes moved up to her face, his eyes more serious now with an understand of what she meant, even though he didn’t connect like last time … he would not have died and narrowly escaped death and put her in a moment of danger.
She smiled at him and lifted a knee and booted him in the chest, knocking him down to the ground and butting her staff against his neck, “Better. You’ve never dual wielded, but you understand the concept. You’ve finally passed your first test.” … after 78 times of trying.
He grunted, laid flat and ‘dead’ again as this training ‘game’, as he considered it, was rough to win. But, wait? He passed? He, even though the pain of the game, smiled to himself and felt a bit more energetic, the pain subsided and he brought himself to a stand, holding those blades lazily, their tips dragging around the ground as he whirled around and drug groves into the ground, creating the formation of a circle around him before he re-stanced in a pattern she didn’t recognize.
He said, “One day I will create a bubble that no one can penetrate!”
She smiled and took her staff in one hand, letting it rest against her shoulder as she moved to him and laid her free hand upon his head, ruffling up his hair, “That’s the spirit. Your father should be done with dinner. Dusk is upon us, let us head back.”
He beamed up at her with such brilliant innocence before the both of them went back to the weapon rack and put them weapons back. It was proper and he had been taught to do this.
Afterwards, the two of them turned to each other and each bowed before the other and spoke in unison, “It was an honor to see the real you!”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
An hour later, they were back home. The house smelled of sweet and spicy spices, steamed beef and vegetables.
There, Father was, boiling water imbued with spices and meats were strung up before it, carrying moisture and the scent of spices to cure it. The vegetables were in a pot all their own with their own unique spices. He was reaching for a small jar, pulling the cork top and slipping his index and thumb into it to collect a select spice ‘fore he swished his hand like a maestro over the air whilst rubbing his fingers and allowing such spices to pepper the vegetables and meat.
Dae stepped into the kitchen and Mother was undoing her armor in another room. Dae piped up, “Mmm! Smells so good!”
Dae’s Father looked back at him with a rather dry expression, “Training again?”
Dae’s Father watched him a moment before questioning, “Did you do it?”
Dae’s smile was slighted and he straightened out his face, shaking his head quickly, “ … no.”
Dae’s Father continued to stare at him like he was nothing more than a bastardized child before speaking, “Good. You should not do such a thing. It’s the workings of something evil.”
Dae frowned some and muttered in muted defiance, “ … I’m not evil … “
His Father didn’t exactly catch it, but he heard something and spoke up, “What did you say?”
Dae shook his head, “Nothing.”
His Father went back to tending to his cooking. His father was one who sold herbs, he was an exceptional cook and made many tonics that aided peoples ailments. He spoke, “Good. Do you know what a Kyr is?”
Dae had moved to the old wooden table that they ate dinner at. One of the legs was off-set so the table often teetered if things were not arranged upon it to balance it out or if someone put them elbows upon the table. So, there was a no elbows policy they had. Dae watched his Father work his magic as his Father strained the vegetables, collected the meat and began to mix it in an entirely separate pot. He was creating a stew. Dae answered, “Kyr is what our tribe calls demons?“ Like he should’ve known and felt guilty for such.
Dae’s Father, never looking back upon his son and continuing to stir the strew, shook his head. “Partially true. But, the word ‘Kyr’ means ‘despair.’ Creatures that bring us such … You are such a creature.”
And thus, the name Dae’kyr was born.
Dae looked puzzled, tilting his head as his hands remained in his lap, even if he wanted to place them on the table. He knew the strict rules of his family. “I am a ‘Kyr?’ But, Mom calls me ‘Dae.’ ”
His father nodded, stirring that strew once more. Bowls and silverware had already been arranged on the table when he plucked the pot of stew up and turned, making his way for the table and setting it down upon it. A huge scoop-like spoon was already there and he began to scoop up the soup and fill each of the three bowls that were there, “Yes, you are both. It depends how one see’s you. Your mother believes you to be the light of ‘Day.’ ( Dae? ) I think you a ‘Kyr’, a creature of the night.”
He pulled that pot from the table and went to place it back above the fire he was cooking on to allow it to simmer, he muttered, “I don’t know how my son would’ve ever become such a thing. Perhaps … a curse has befallen us.”
His father, thought his tones were low enough to not be heard, but he did believe Dae to be such and though Dae did hear, he said nothing and looked down to his soup. He always loved his fathers cooking.
His mother stepped back into the room, dressed in loose garb meant for sleep as she combed her hands through her hair and pulled a chair from the table to seat herself in it. She spoke, “Finally! It’s been a long day. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
Dae’s Father turned and smiled at her as he, too, seated himself at the table and spoke with love toward her, “I’ve been prepping it since morning. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”
She shot him a smile, “I’m sure I will.”
Dae watched the two interact. He never understood how the two met up or got along. They were so very different … One was technically an alchemist and the other a warrioress. But, he liked seeing them like this. It made his world warm.
Dae’s Mother nodded, picking up the silverware and digging in, “Let’s eat!”
As they ate, idle chatter came to light.
The Father spoke, “What did you two do today?”
The Mother responded, “Training.”
Dae’ chimed in, merrily, “Day 78!”
The Father looked displeased and continued to stare at his wife, pausing in his eating, “Why do you train one who could bring us and the world such despair? You already know what he can do … “
Dae, too, stopped eating as he watched the two, his fathers tones were different then normal …
His mother, pulled a knife and rolled it in her hand and pointed it at Dae’s Father playfully, “You still believe such things? Our child is sweet, considerate, and caring, less vastly intelligent and tactical. I’ve seen many on the battle front who do not possess what he has and he is not even a man, yet.”
Once more, the Father had a dry expression of doubt. He shook his head, lifted a hand up to push that knife aside, “His gift is not natural. It’s something else. It’s something that even that even if something from the seven hells appeared before us … would not know what to do with. He is a - - - “
She didn’t allow him to continue on as she suddenly twisted that knife against his hand as he tried to move it away, cutting his palm and correcting him as she saw fit, she was such a warrioress, “You do not speak of our child like that. He may have a gift that we and everyone else does not understand. But, we do NOT look at him as outsiders do. We are all he has. He support and help him grow into something great. From this moment on, we do not speak of this at this table as if we are consorting with an enemy. This is not diplomacy, this is family. How dare you … bring such negativity to our child.”
The father winced as his palm was cut and he paused for but a moment. Staring at her with disbelief … She chose their child over him? The man of whom she loved? He did not understand it and scorn was written all over his face. He plucked a napkin from the table and held it against his palm as it began to fade from its sheer white to a crimson.
His look was something unforgiving and he did not finish his meal as he sat up from his seat and turned away, beginning to clean up the kitchen in silence.
Dae’s Mother looked back at Dae. Dae had a look of confusion, he did not know what was happening as he looked back to his Mother and she only smiled at him and spoke softly, “You did good today. Now, eat.”
Dae listened to her and while he was a bit taken back by what happened, she made him smile and he continued to eat soon after. Several thoughts were in the back of his mind …
- ‘Why are you two fighting? You are not enemies … ‘
- ‘I did good today? Mom … you’ve never said that to be before … ‘
- ‘Dual wield …is it worth it?’
The night ended with Dae going to his room to sleep. At least he tried …
In his parents room, they were arguing. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they had not agree’d upon something. He curled his digits into his blanket, pulling it over his head as he tried to drown out the sounds of their harsh tones at each other …
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Mother was called out in early morning. She was gone to duty. Father was getting ready to scout and pick herbs from the forest.
Dae approached him while he was getting dressed, Dae rubbed his eyes and yawned, “Can I go with you, Pa?”
Dae’s Father didn’t pause and suited up for a trek. Once dressed, he looked back at Dae with a look of judgement, “If you wont do what you do. I will allow you to come.”
Dae smiled softly and hopped from one foot to the other, “I wont! I promise!”
Dae’s Father looked skeptical, “Then, get ready.”
Dae turned and rushed into his room and got ready. He met his father at the door, the two of them set out into the forest to collect herbs. His father had an empty pack strung off his shoulder that rode his hip and Dae had a smaller one on his hip to mirror his father.
They two trekked for quite some time. Collecting herbs along the way before his Father had noticed a rare herb, one not usually found within this environment. He reveled in pleased sound and spoke, “This is a real treat to find this here!”
Dae got excited and wanted his Father to look at him differently, as such … child-esque mirth rushed Dae forward to collect the herbs and he pulled them from the ground with the utmost of care, adorning some sort of attention as he turned to hold them out to his Father as the herbs began to wilt in Dae’s hand …
Dae’s gift that his Mother saw, was his natural absorption of the elements, the curse in which his father saw, was his natural absorption. The rare herbs turned to nothing more than ash in Dae’s hands and his eyes drew wide as he swatted his hands through the air to grab at the ashen debris.
His Father stared down at him with such disappointment and spoke, “You are truly a ‘Kyr.’ … “
Dae frowned as he ruined the herbs and looked back up his Father for some sort of recognition, even if bad. He was only met with the back of his Father’s hand across his face that sent Dae falling to the ground. Even as harsh as his Mother was during training, she had never hit him out of anger …
This was new to him. He did not know how to take it. Now, he was on all fours, he gasped. He did not have the words, nor the understanding of it all. He knew his Father was angry that his natural ability suddenly shown itself and he wasted precious herbs …
Dae spoke out softly in the moment, “ … why do you hate me?”
His Father stood above him and stared down at Dae like he was nothing more then an ant, “Because since your conception, you’ve been something else. You solely are tearing me and your Mother apart. We were fine before your birth. You’ve caused us a lot of unnecessary grief. We’ve had to hide what you do from the rest of the tribe. We’re always covering for you and there’s really no reason for it. You’ve better off if you died. Then, she and I wouldn’t have to put up such effort to defend you … “
Dae could not understand all the words that were said. He was a mere child. All he knew, was that his Father didn’t want him … ever. It was a very hollow feeling.
His Father reached into one of his satchels used to cut herbs, a blade. He turned it on Dae and pointed it at him. “You’ve always been a blight upon us. A curse. It’d be better if you disappeared.”
It was then when an hulking axe came crashing down before the Father, it hit the crowd with fury, causing it to shake and dishevel in a crackling manner. The Mother had returned and caught the last bit of the conversation. She was fully armored, coming back from front-line war as she stared coldly at her Husband.
She spoke, “How dare you say such to our child! How is he to become what he is meant to be with your words of venom?”
His Father, stumbled back a step and dropped that blade and it went ‘tink, tink’ against the ground and he held his hands in the air in surrender before his wife; the warrioress. He said, “He is separating us. He had split us apart. We see him differently, I know what he is.”
She pulled her great axe from the ground and slammed it into his chest, knocking him flat onto his back and holding it at his throat as she spoke, “Out of all we’ve been through. You allow a child to be your envy. You’re correct, he has split us. He will carry on what we could not. He will do what we didn’t. He is everything we did not achieve in our lifetime. He should be great. We will not see him at his beast, but we should guide him to become the best he will be so that our names will forever be remembered. Our legacy is him, our child and we will only survive through the generations through him … “
Dae’s Father was caught in the chest and knocked back. Dae gasped, raising his hands to his mouth. He didn’t like this, he didn’t want this and he felt like he had done something wrong. Yet, he couldn’t fathom the words at such a young age. His parents were torn over him. He never wanted nor wished for such, he was in an innocent caught betwixt a split between parents …
The Father began to speak, whilst downed, “He is a demon, He is … “
The small village they occupied suddenly shook as a dragon came crashing down into it, destroying half of it as it’s limp and dead body tumbled across the ground like a tornado, smashing through huts and other constructs in which others had made home.
The Warrioress looked away from her Husband in that moment, the both of them had been cut short of their arguement as the warrioress see the leader of their tribe step off that fallen Dragon, pulling his war-fan from it and dropping down back to the ground.
The rest of the Elves surrounded their leader, some were killed, some were not. They all looked upon the Elf that had fallen a dragon with promise hidden behind their eyes.
They knew him as ‘Rune.’ A prodigy among the Elves. One who was always a step ahead, one whom was already better, whom was stronger then anything they had seen.
Supposedly, he had saved them from an attack, even though it came with collateral damage.
The Mother, The Warrioress looked back to where her son was … and her son was gone. She immediately shot a scornful look to her husband. Pulling her axe back and moving away from him. He began to rise up, taking a breath. He knew she was strong, but he never thought she’d choose a child over him …
She called out, “DAE!? Where are YOU!?”
Dae was caught in the crowd of Elves that surrounded Rune. Rune was supposedly a prophet, the best Elf any one had ever seen. He did more in less time then anyone before him. He was a mere teen at this time and had saved this village countless times, he had warded off even greater enemies. Toppling over a dragon was not something people thought he could not do.
Rune was the one who would lead them to greater times and yet, he scouted out the crowd with a passive look before he lifted his hand an’ chucked his war-fan off to the side.
That war-fan whirled through the ground, hitting the other Elves like a razor blade to water balloons, people were exploded in splattering in a mix of blood, muscle, bone, and tattered tissue. That war-fan was ripping the Elves to pieces …
Dae had always looked up to Rune. Rune was the Elf most wanted to be. He was always strong and always there when others needed him. His compassion knew no ends. He was one in which if you had to make a bet, you rode him. He was great and always had been.
Yet, now … Rune was cutting down the Elven camp. Dae couldn’t understand as he suddenly, above all the screaming of the other Elves whom were in disbelief, he called out, above them in his young, high pitched voice, “STOP!”
The ground of the Elven camp was nothing more then rolling crimson of blood along rock and forest, everything was red and Rune caught his war-fan before he turned to the child who was standing before the rest of the remaining crowd who called out to him to stop.
Rune stared down at the child with those amethyst eyes that could see through all. It was then that Dae’s own eyes shifted and whirled around to take on a crimson color and the two stared like at each other like rivals in that moment. A boy before the prodigal Elf.
Rune did not smile at the boy, but took a step forward as he sheathed his war-fan, “ … one who has the power of absorption. How dangerous of your are to us … “
Dae narrowed his eyes on Rune and said nothing.
Rune continued as did his steps, advancing upon Dae, “You do not like this? You don’t approve, child? This is war and it’s casualties are a luxury of such.”
Dae still said nothing, it was beyond his comprehension. Dae could only remain tight jawed before the one he truly looked up to. The one who had always set the standard …
Rune smiled down to the child Elf, “I stare at an unknowing reaper. One who will cull souls to his very whim. I do not approve and - - - “
A loud rip of a roar, a female from the side, screamed out as Rune found himself slashed from his shoulder, down to his hip in a cleave-like move from an Axe as an Elven femme fell from the air, more then likely, from a broad leap.
Rune stumbled back as he eyes the woman, “An interloper? No … you’re just a norm’.”
The female was no other then Dae’s Mother, she held her axe before her child and bared her fangs at Rune, “You leave him be. If you have something to deal with, it will be me!”
