Chapter 6 – A Storm of Feathers

A pair of sharp claws grabbed onto his hair, and at the same time two large, black wings blocked his vision. The sheer size and weight of the bird was enough to knock him off his feet. He fell on his back, but somehow managed to catch the legs of the bird before it could claw his eyes out.

The bird struggled. Its wings hit Midhir’s head and body as it beat them in an attempt to free itself. It cawed, then pecked at his hair and chest. When he covered his eyes with his arm, the bird started attacking his arm instead, its sharp beak breaking the skin and drawing blood.

Midhir grunted as he finally managed to grip the bird’s legs properly. With a deep breath, he flung the bird to the side with all the strength in his left arm. An almost comical screech echoed as the bird hit the parapets at the edge of the platform. It seemed dazed for a split second before it shook its head, then flew off upwards to the mountaintops.

With the corner of his eye, Midhir saw Arwen hurriedly put the thick tome away into her holding gem, then rush towards him with a concerned expression. He pulled himself up on his feet, then dusted off his clothes.

“Are you alright?” Arwen asked as soon as she saw the blood on his arm. Her concern turned into worry as she gently lifted his arm to take a closer look.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Midhir awkwardly chuckled. He could feel blood rushing to his face. He must have looked comical – being nearly bested by an ordinary raven of all things. He tried his best to shake off his embarrassment. “It’s just a few pecks, see?” He used his handkerchief to wipe the flood off, revealing the two tiny wounds on his arm.

Arwen pursed her lips. “Such a weird bird, I wonder what it confused you with…” She rummaged through her bag until she found what she was looking for. “Come, let me dress those wounds.”

She didn’t listen to his protests as she pulled him towards the bench she was sitting on earlier, then carefully and gently dressed his wounds. When she was done, there was a beaming smile on her face. “Animal bites and such shouldn’t be taken lightly,” She explained as she put her equipment back into her bag. “Their saliva and claws carry bacteria that’s really harmful to humans. Even a simple wound like this could cause you to lose your arm if you’re not careful.”

The mere thought of losing his sword arm made Midhir shudder. “Thank you.” He looked away, hoping his face wasn’t as red as he thought it was. They sat in silence for a few moments before Arwen stood up. “Oh, I forgot to ask, what were you doing here?”

Midhir flinched. He had completely forgotten why he had come here in the first place. “I was actually looking for you.” He awkwardly smiled. “I noticed you seemed a bit perplexed in class earlier, and then you left in such a hurry. I was wondering if there was something wrong. Or if there’s anything I can do to help you out.” Again, he felt blood rush to his cheeks.

“Oh!” Arwen’s smile widened. “Oh, no, there’s nothing wrong with history class. I just realised that I knew so little about Eldoria’s history, so I came to pick up the books Instructor Theodore recommended.” She walked up to the parapets and leaned on the beautifully crafted stone. The wind blew her golden hair aside, making it seem like a waterfall of gold.

Midhir also stood up and approached the parapets. The view from here was beautiful. The lake down below glimmered under the sunlight, and the forests surrounding the academy seemed full of life. He could spy a deer or two through the leaves, carefully approaching the lake for a sip of water.

“Eldoria’s history is complicated.” He admitted. “It has a bloody, conflict filled past.” Not just that, but Eldoria’s history was shrouded in mystery, even recent events like the disaster of An’Larion were so.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Clearly,” Arwen nodded with a thoughtful expression. “But which country doesn’t have conflict? Calador’s past is even darker, I would assume. Just look at the desert.” She shrugged. “But that’s a discussion for a different time.” A smile returned to her lips once again. “I’m a bit glad you came here, since I was meaning to ask you something since yesterday.”

Midhir raised an eyebrow. Whatever thoughts that had surfaced about Calador vanished.

“I had a chat with Willow last night, before we went to sleep.” Arwen continued her words. Her gaze trailed off somewhere far beyond these mountains. “I asked her how she chose her weapon. She said it spoke to her. That as soon as she took it in her hands, she knew she just had to wield a rapier in battle.”

The distant caws of a raven broke the silence, prompting Arwen to speak again, with a hint of amusement in her voice. “Alistair seems to wield his spear like it’s an extension of him. Sure, he’s not a master yet, but I can see how comfortable he is with it.” She hesitated. “How did you choose your weapon?”

Midhir shrugged. “I had a few options when I started learning.” He looked at his palms. “Great swords and bastard swords are too heavy and slow for someone of my build. I’m not tall enough to wield polearms with the same mastery as Alistair. Rapiers and the like… I just didn’t see myself using them.” He hesitated. “I feel like they limit their wielders options too much.”

Arwen tilted her head. “ A process of elimination then.” She concluded.

Midhir nodded. “No weapon spoke to me, but I’m as comfortable as I can be with this one.” He tapped the hilt of his shortsword. “But if a weapon does speak to you…” He shrugged. “You should give it a try.”

She nodded absentmindedly, with a bitter smile on her lips. They remained silent for a short while, both lost in thought.

Midhir’s hand rested on the hilt of his blade. He didn’t ‘just know’ he had to use this weapon in battle. It was the least clunky one, the one that he got used to the fastest. Arwen was right, it was nothing more than a process of elimination. He couldn’t help but feel envious of Alistair and Willow.

“I think I’ll head to the armoury.” Arwen finally broke the silence. She stepped away from the parapets with a genuine smile on her lips. “I truly wish I could learn how to use a crystal staff though…”

Midhir looked away. “You could,” he softly spoke. “It wouldn’t be as easy as it would be if someone was teaching you, but you could still learn it.” He had seen the power even a novice crystal staff wielder could control, and it was glorious and terrifying at the same time.

Arwen seemed hesitant. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.” She bit her lip.

“Beginning is easy,” a smile flashed across Midhir’s lips. “Mastering the weapon is what everyone failed.” Even he could utilize a crystal staff at a novice level. Sure, it was utterly exhausting to do so, but not difficult.

Arwen’s face lit up. “Really?” The excitement in her voice was palpable. “You think I could learn it enough to actually use it?”

“Even I can use it in a pinch-“ Before he could continue, Arwen’s eyes widened with what he could only call pure, innocent glee.

“Then you’ll teach me!” She declared, “Tell instructor Soraya I’ll be a bit late, I’ll get a staff from the armoury!” She ran off towards the castle, not even waiting for Midhir’s answer.

He watched her run off with a faint smile. “Sure…” He muttered before heading off himself.

It didn’t take long to reach the courtyard.

Alistair was practicing in the middle of the courtyard. His motions were fluid and seemed to follow a rhythm as he moved from one position to the next, holding each pose for only a few breaths worth of time. His spear was like an extension of himself – he moved it effortlessly. But what caught Midhir’s attention wasn’t just that – it was the water flowing in the air, following the tip of his spear.

He watched silently as Alistair commanded the water as effortlessly as he moved his own body. He made it seem so trivial, as if it was as natural as breathing. Midhir leaned against the wall to watch, he didn’t want to disturb the young noble.

It only took a handful of breaths for Alistair to finish his practice. As soon as he let the haft of his spear touch the ground, the water floating mid-air seemed to remember gravity existed and splashed down.

Midhir took a breath to speak, but soft footsteps startled both him and Alistair. Instructor Soraya stepped out of the shadows of the dilapidated walkway. “Beautiful form,” She commented with a playful smile. “Very pleasant to watch, and you’ve clearly practiced it a lot.” She pursed her lips for a moment. “You’re well versed in your family’s style, very well trained, and I can see you’ve put in a lot of time and effort into it.”

Alistair bowed his head. “Thank you-“

“If only you hadn’t wasted your talent and effort on something so… useless.”