'Now,' Jermayan said firmly, summoning Kellen's attention. 'You know that we ride into danger. I am expendable. You are not. Without your Wildmage skill to break the spell of the Barrier, all is lost. If I should die, who will defend you?'
Kellen stared at the Elven Knight, hoping he didn't look as disconcerted as he felt. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but whatever it was, it hadn't been this.
'Exactly,' Jermayan said, as if Kellen had actually answered. 'You will have to defend yourself. Yet at this moment you have no skill with the sword, which is the Knight's weapon. In fact, have you skill with any weapon?'
'Not much,' Kellen admitted. 'I've learned how to use a bow for hunting, and I'm not bad with it.'
'There is nothing unknightly about the bow,' Jermayan pronounced, to Kellen's relief, 'but it will not do when the foe closes in. And so now I will begin to teach you the Way of the Sword, so that you may walk it as far as you can with me before… that is perhaps no longer possible. Put on your helm, Kellen, and we will begin.'
'But what if I hurt you?' Kellen blurted out, reaching down to touch his sword. He'd held it in his hands yesterday at the armory. He knew it was sharp. A dangerous weapon, designed specifically to strike through the armor they both wore. He'd seen swords at Festival-plays in Armethalieh, and the City Guard and the nobles carried them, and of course the Mages used them in the High Magick, but none of that amounted to actual practical personal experience…
Jermayan smiled coolly. 'It is not possible for you to harm me. I am an Elven Knight. I have been upon the Way since before your grandfather first drew breath. You cannot hurt me. And I promise I will not hurt you. There will be pain, yes. But I will not hurt you. Now get your helm,' Jermayan repeated, this time in a tone that brooked no argument.
There didn't seem to be any way around it, and Kellen felt a faint irritation mixed with dread. Had anyone asked him if he wanted knight-lessons? Had anyone warned him this was going to happen when they told him to pick a sword back in the armory? No, he was stuck out here in the middle of nowhere with a crazy Elven Knight in love with his sister, about to be made a complete fool of just so Jermayan would have something to laugh at. He was a Wildmage, not a knight of any kind! Wildmages weren't knights, anyway—Mages and knights were two different things. He was out here to work magic, not prance around in the heat with a big knife looking like an idiot. Why was Jermayan doing this to him?
Of course he'd fight if there was trouble. He wasn't a coward—he'd fought the Outlaw Hunt, hadn't he?—but it took years to learn to fight with a sword and be any good at it, Kellen knew. Give him a club and he'd do some damage, but a sword… ? This was just some complicated Elven plot to make him look stupid, that's what it was.
Jermayan was waiting patiently, with a look on his face that indicated he was prepared to wait right there until the sun set, if necessary.
Kellen set his jaw and went back to Shalkan, and took his helmet from the unicorn's saddle, setting it on his head. As its confining weight settled into place and blocked his peripheral vision, Kellen felt himself starting to panic, and forced himself to take deep calming breaths. He'd really impress Jermayan if he tripped over his own feet and fell flat on his face the first time Jermayan swung at him.
He just needs me to prove to him that this isn't going to work, that's all, Kellen told himself calmingly. Then we can think of something that will. But he hated the thought that it wasn't going to work, that he was going to fail. It made him so angry…
He clutched at the sword hilt, wondering how it could feel so right in his hand when he could never learn to use it—knight—Mage —one or the other—not both—when he suddenly remembered something from The Book of Moon.
'The Knight-Mage is the active agent of the principle of the Wild Magic, the Wildmage who chooses to become a warrior or who is born with the instinct for the Way of the Sword, who acts in battle without mindful thought and thus brings primary causative forces into manifestation by direct action.'
He hadn't been sure what it meant at the time—and he still wasn't— but—
But in the subtle way that Wild Magic worked, he might have remembered that passage now because the Wild Magic wanted him to. So it wasn't one or the other, Knight or Mage. And maybe this could work, if he thought of sword fighting as a kind of spell, if he made the conscious choice to try the Way of the Sword rather than having it thrust on him. His anger was a warning and a clue: if he was angry, he needed to pay attention and figure out why, because that meant this was important.
Kellen stood beside Shalkan and thought very hard, trying to fight back his anger. He remembered how he'd fought the Hounds. How he'd been angry, more angry than he'd ever been in his life, and then somehow he just hadn't been there. He started to shake, thinking about Jermayan lying dead and broken at his feet, the way the Hounds had lain…
No. That wasn't the message his anger was sending him. He needed to not fail in front of Jermayan, not to kill him…
Please. Tell me, Kellen thought desperately. He wasn't sure whether it was a prayer, or a spell, or just a hope he could figure out what his own mind was trying to tell him quickly, but whatever it was, it worked. This wasn't about Jermayan.
