Chapter 27: Hidden Memories Part 4

The days spent at New Doru Araeba slowly turned into weeks for Ragin and his dragon. The routine they fell into became a familiar part of their lives. They spent the morning separated, Ragin practicing his skills with weapons and magic while Akaysha learnt all about her own race, finding the best hunting grounds, aerial manoeuvres, strengthening her flame and more. Then they were reunited for lunch. Occasionally Ragin sat with the other trainees, allowing himself to enjoy their company while Akaysha got to know the other dragons that remained in the city. Other times the two of them flew together, taking the opportunity to enjoy the skies.

Every afternoon they joined up with Logan and Sashi, where they learned a great many things about other lands and the people within. Akaysha was schooled in her own magic during this time as well, learning more about its wild nature and how to control it. At first the dragoness was a little wary about what she could do if she let herself get out of control, but after about a week or so she had regained most of her old confidence back, with a bit or respectful fear about the power she wielded.

At night the two of them once again either flew or found themselves in the food hall with the other riders. There were never as many as their had been the first night, as Eragon had sent nearly half of his forces to Alageasia to discover what they could about the threat Tharin meant. Ragin found himself growing closer to the other riders, even developing a grudging respect for how hard they trained in order to catch up with him. Hanzi managed to even disarm him at one point, growing used to the other rider's technique and figuring out a way to turn it to his advantage. As annoying as his gloating was, Ragin found himself slightly proud of his friend. Of course, he never allowed it to happen again, and soundly defeated the elf in their next bout.

As the days passed by Akaysha discovered another interesting development as Ragin grew more comfortable with his surroundings. When he slept his mind began to open more and more often, like the protective shell he had forged around himself was slowly slipping away and memories of his hidden past began to flow out eagerly toward her in his sleep. Every night she found herself waking up with the hum of those memories she so craved, digging deep into each one in near desperation.

The things she found were astounding, and sometimes even frightening. She watched as the path he lead grew darker and darker through Vanir's tutelage. At eleven years old the boy knew dark magics only few could master. He could kill a man with a word, knew the best places to pierce a body for the most amount of pain. He began to go out on odd tasks for the elf, climbing into places only his body would allow and stealing items that seemed barely noteworthy and hiding as the guards went into a frantic panic for months on end looking for those stolen items. Vanir even brought him on a mission or two, slowly beginning to weave in tales of the world around them.

One night Akaysha found herself moving into an even darker recess hidden deep with her rider's conscious. This was a strange memory, as the amount of rage and hatred woven through it was unlike anything she had experienced before. Even the dislike Ragin had for Theaden didn't run this deep. Curious as to what lay behind this specific event that seemed to hold so much weight for her rider she allowed herself to be swallowed up by the memory.

Blood trickled down from the boy's ear as he stared at his opponent, sword grasped in shivering hands that were wrapped in stained red cloth. The blade was nicked and battered, dull after hours of being hammered and dropped to the ground. Once again, as was often the case, his body was sore, shaking from exertion. Sweat rolled down his face, causing him to blink every so often as a trickle found its way to his eye.

Across from him was another familiar sight. Vanir, calm and calculated, his own blade hovering out in his outstretched hand. It was slightly blurred in Ragin's vision, as he wasn't focused on the sword. His eyes studied Vanir's own, just as the elf watched him, both waiting for the signal that the other was about to move.

There was a new frustration within the boy, one that hadn't been there before. For years there had been a steady improvement in his technique with a sword. Despite never being able to defeat his master in a duel he knew he had been getting better. Now, every time he blocked the elf's attacks it didn't jar his arm, and he was able to even read his opponent's body language some of the time. Despite this however he felt as though no matter what he did or how good he got, Vanir was still many times his superior.

Akaysha could see the affect on the young boys mind. He had been training with a sword for over seven years, he was thirteen now. In all that time he had never even nicked the elf's cloak. He had never had the satisfaction of seeing the sword drop from his opponent's hand. All he had felt was the pain and humiliation of being beaten over and over and over again. It was astounding that he had held out for as long as he did, especially now he was becoming older and starting to think more for himself.

Yet now Ragin felt as though he had hit a peak. For the past couple of months he had been battering away at his master, and though he never expected to get through the elf's guard, he expected to at least be getting better. His senses just couldn't follow the speed in which the elf moved, nor could he hold against the strength the elf mustered, nor maintain the stamina needed for their long drawn out spars. Every time there was a clang of metal against stone it was as though a small shred of confidence slipped out of him. It was impossible. There was no way to win.

Ragin leapt forward in a half-hearted stab towards his teacher. Vanir deflected the blow to the right, sending his trainee staggering forward. Ragin let out a yelp as a sharp pain welled through the back of his head from the sharp cuff Vanir gave him with his free left hand.

"That was sloppy Ragin," the elf said, "You know better than that."

The boy grunted, rubbing the back of his head before turning back to Vanir, lowering his sword, "This is useless."

Vanir raised an eyebrow, his own weapon still held at the ready, "I fail to see where you have drawn this conclusion."

"All we do is spar! I'm not getting any better, and all you do is throw me on my arse time and time again for three hours! Every single day! I'm done!" Ragin gritted his teeth angrily, his knuckles turning white as he clenched the hilt of his blade.

"You're done?" the elf laughed, "You are done when I say you are done boy. Though, I suppose you do have a point. This is just sparring."

Ragin nodded his head, a little hesitantly, not expecting his teacher to agree with him so readily, though there was something in the way Vanir spoke that made him think that it wasn't quite as over as he wanted to believe. His master said a quick word over the blade, returning it to its usual sharp edge. Usually this meant the training session was over.

The boy sighed softly and turned his attention to his own blade, about to cast the spell himself. It was his quick reflexes and still raging adrenaline that saved him. The soft pad of a foot forward warned him, and nearly before he had time to think he was ducking under the swift sound of a sharp blade ringing through the air where his head had been. He let out a sharp cry of surprise, staggering backwards before more attacks came his way and holding up his sword in shock.

He stared at the elf wide eyed, a new surge of adrenaline rushing through his body followed by a deep nervous fear. There was no doubt in his mind. If he had moved a second later, Vanir would have killed him.

"Wh..what... what are you doing?" the petrified boy stuttered.

"You said sparring was useless. I agree. We aren't sparring anymore," the elf's gaze bore down on the boy, causing him to take another step backward.

Vanir took a leaping step forward, bringing his sword down in a strong overhead. Ragin reacted, gripping his own blade with two hands and shivering as the stroke battered him backwards, another large nick being scored in his weapon. The boy managed to regain his balance, quickly putting as much distance between himself and the elf as he could, breathing heavily.

"St...stop... I don't want this," he said, his fear growing.

"No, I suppose you don't," Vanir said, making a slow and calculated advance, "but I do not think you want to die."

Ragin shook his head, suddenly spouting tears.

"Then guard yourself boy," he attacked again.

The human met him with a helpless defence. Only his fear kept him going as he blocked blow after blow from his master, slowly being driven back toward the far wall. More tears began to flow. He didn't know why Vanir was doing this, why the elf had decided to finally kill him. All he knew was that he needed to stop the relentless onslaught. Every time he met Vanir's blade with his own he felt his grip on the hilt get looser and looser.

Suddenly, after an especially hard hit, Ragin couldn't hold on anymore. Vanir smashed the blade from his hands. It hit the ground, skipping away from the two of them. Ragin sobbed, but Vanir didn't relent. He stepped forward, thrusting his own sword toward the boy's stomach. It was like everything slowed down. Akaysha's young rider, with no other options, reached for the one thing that could save him.

"Skolir!" Ragin cried out.

Vanir grunted in surprise as he met with a surprisingly solid resistance. The tip of his blade had stopped in mid-air, mere inches away from the boy's stomach, stopped by an invisible shield. Taking advantage of his master's momentary distraction Ragin made a break for it, putting some distance between himself and the elf, managing to pick up his sword again. He held it shakily in front of him, murmuring a couple of words to remove the dull edge.

Vanir chuckled, beginning to advance on him again, "Well done. You won't be so lucky next time."

"Please... please," Ragin began to beg, backing away from the advancing elf, "I don't want to do this. Please... I'll do whatever you want. I... I won't complain about sparring again."

This time the elf laughed out loud, "So, as soon as you are faced with death, you shake and pee your pants like a coward. I guess you are like your father after all."

"Wh... what?" Ragin sniffed, quickly wiping away a tear but keeping his eye on Vanir.

"Let me tell you a story young warrior," Vanir grinned, slowly moving forward, "You see, it was a about seven years ago now, when I took on a rather interesting assignment. It wasn't one of the most difficult I had ever achieved, but certainly a rather strange situation. It was a young couple, one of them being a half-elf, and the other a human woman. I forget their names. They had started causing trouble for the Black Hand, and were close to discovering some very closely guarded secrets. Usually this wouldn't be a problem, as magic has a way to deal with the memories of these sorts of people. But, the half-elf had some skill in magic himself, and was able to defend against any attempt to tamper with his wife's and his conscious. So, I made sure to keep them silent the only other way I knew how. It wasn't a difficult kill. They tried to fight back... but you know how that goes don't you. When I had sent them both to the floor, the half-elf begged for his life. Not even his wife's! Disgusted I slit his throat, and hers, before setting fire to the building. It makes a murder a little less obvious. It could have easily have been an accident."

With every word he spoke Ragin's dread grew further and further, the fear he felt draining away, replaced by a fevering anger as the implications of Vanir's words grew plain for him to see.

"Of course, their brat was out at the time, luckily for him, and wasn't caught in the fire. As I watched my handywork burn the building to the ground I began to realise something. That same brat had arrived, and was now crying. I really didn't think much of it then... but after a moment's thought I decided that since the kid had nowhere to go, he might make a good apprentice. If nothing else he could at least be a useful tool for getting into those small nooks and crannies."

Ragin didn't let him say another word. With a scream of rage he rushed the elf, his sword striking through the air at a speed he had never achieved before. Vanir was still too fast however, deflecting the blade and striking with his left hand. He grabbed the boy by the scruff of his shirt and hurled him the way he had been running. Ragin flew through the air for a couple of moments, before grunting as he hit the ground, rolling to break the fall. He staggered to his feet again, blade poised and ready.

"I'll kill you!" Ragin screamed in the ancient language, "I'll kill you!"

Vanir laughed, not at all perturbed by the oath, "That's the spirit boy."

With another cry Ragin rushed him again. There was another clash of blades as the apprentice went on the offensive, striking again and again. He performed every trick he knew. He fainted an overhead, turning it into a forehand. He switched hands partway through the fight, before being forced to switch back again. Back and forth they swung their blades, Vanir with a fierce grin and Ragin with a deadly grimace.

It came to an end all too quickly. Ragin locked blades with his master, teeth bared like a dragon. They struggled for a moment, Vanir quickly gaining the upper hand with his superior height and strength. It was then the boy stepped slight to the right, pushing left with his sword. Surprised at the sudden movement, Vanir lost balance for but a moment, and Ragin slid his blade upwards, sliding the cold sharp metal along the bare skin of Vanir's bare upper arm.

The elf hissed in surprise, regaining his composure and knocking away the blade before Ragin had any time to continue his advantage. The boy staggered back, body wide open to an attack, and Vanir capitalised on the imbalance. He stepped forward and punched Ragin in the chest hard, using his sword hand, sending the boy onto his back and cracking several ribs in the process.

The young rider groaned out loud, gasping for air. It felt as though his lungs had collapsed, and he couldn't breathe for a good couple of seconds. He coughed, and then sucked in a blissful mouthful of air. The relief was short lived however as the act of breath caused a severe pain to run through his chest. He groaned again.

"Well done boy," Vanir said with a grim smile, "You earned your first hit."

Akaysha couldn't exactly see as Ragin's vision was very blurred with all the pain, but she knew the elf was talking about the cut Ragin made along his left forearm. It took a couple more seconds for her rider's vision to clear, and when it did he was met with the pointed blade of his master, set right above his chin. That same fear from before came swirling back.

"That was the most impressive fight I've had from you yet, I'm impressed," said Vanir, "Unfortunately you did just swear under oath to take my life."

Ragin opened his mouth to talk but found he was still to winded to do so. He gulped nervously.

"Oh don't look so flustered. I encourage it," the elf's response astounded Ragin, "However, if you do so I want you to swear that when you do finally kill me, it will be face to face, in a fight like we just had. Not in the middle of night with a dagger or magic. Deal?"

The boy couldn't answer, still shocked with silence.

"Deal?" Vanir insisted, pressing the blade under Ragin's chin.

"Deal," Ragin gritted his teeth as he swore in the ancient language, "I won't kill you, unless its with a sword, face to face."

"Good," the elf grinned, stepping back.

It took him but a moment to heal Ragin's wounds, before he put his own blade away, "That's enough for today. We will continue tomorrow. Keep practicing your magic until I get back."

With that Vanir turned away from the young boy, grabbing a cloak from a nearby hanger and swinging it over his shoulders. Ragin watched him go, still seething. Vanir had killed his parents. The thought continued to run through his head like a pounding drum. He got up, returning his sword to the weapons wrack, before slumping to his bed. He watched as Vanir opened the secret door into their hideout, and once again found himself swearing he would kill the elf.

Akaysha withdrew from the memory, finding herself utterly stunned at what she had just witnessed. She stared at her rider, studying him. Vanir had killed his parents. Part of her wondered whether that was just a story the elf made up to get Ragin riled up enough to keep fighting. It had worked. But some part of her knew that what the elf had said was the truth.

She shuddered softly, curling up around herself and closing her eyes, trying to fall back to sleep. The dark hatred connected to that memory was now understandable. It was as though her rider's demeanour was beginning to make sense, even more sense then it had before.

She turned to look at Ragin once again, another question assaulting her. Had her rider succeeded? Had he defeated and killed the elf? If so how? Even now, seven years after this event, he definitely was not skilled enough to take down someone of the likes of Vanir. So what had happened then? The question continued to haunt her well into the night before she finally found a restless sleep. 

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Hey guys! New chapter! Finally! I am so sorry for making you wait this long. It's been a struggle writing this summer, and I don't know why. This chapter was certainly difficult, as I had to write it more than once. But all well, I got it out, and hopefully this revelation made the wait worth it. Next chapter out soon! Hopefully! See Ya!

Pennator^^