“I saw Alijah wield it on The White Vale,” Asher replied. “He cut down legions of orcs that day. I also saw him use it in Ikirith… up close. It’s a viper of a sword. I’m not sure I would have survived were it not for Adan.”
Inara sighed. “Fine,” she said, rising from the ground. “Alijah’s dangerous - understood.” The Guardian of the Realm removed Firefly from its scabbard in one smooth motion.
Asher watched her approach Gideon, noting the absence of any real expression on her face. To most it might appear that she was focusing herself before combat, but the ranger could see right through her facade. Beneath that stony surface, a storming sea churned within her, brought on by the mention of her brother.
It bothered Asher, but he kept his thoughts to himself for now.
Instead, he watched two of the world’s greatest fighters collide in a clash of steel and a spectacular explosion of colour. It gripped the ranger. He had never seen two Vi’tari blades pitted against each other and it was proving quite the display. The scimitars would strike high then low, every blow showering sparks of every colour.
Adan’Karth opened his eyes briefly, but appeared wholly passive about the match. Similarly, the dragons each opened a lazy eye before returning to their much-needed sleep.
For Asher, it was pleasant to have something familiar to him to focus on besides the foreign voice in his head. He watched them flow through their forms, ancient in their design, as each combatant danced around the other. It was beautiful to watch. Though, after several minutes analysing their efforts, Asher came to the conclusion that Inara was holding back.
So too did Gideon. “You’re holding back,” he accused, his breath laboured.
Having barely broken a sweat, Inara maintained her rigid fighting stance. “Of course I am,” she replied. “I don’t want to kill you.”
“I need you to try,” Gideon said. “You need to pour those intentions into the blade - Alijah will.”
Inara’s stance faltered and Gideon renewed his attack. It only took him seconds to bring his scimitar to bear across her neck, where he held it steady. Again, Asher saw her brother’s name take its toll on her emotions and again she tried to bury them beneath the facade of a warrior. Tempting as it was, the ranger had spent enough time around Inara Galfrey to know when it was not a good time to make an observation regarding her capabilities. And so he remained seated, content to watch as she dashed forward, pushing Gideon’s blade away.
Their fight endured a while longer, each taking turns to claim victory. Indeed, the ranger found it hard to discern the better fighter between them, though he knew such a thing was typical when the old master sparred with the experienced student. How many times had he tested Nasta Nal-Aket in combat only for them to draw? He could certainly see the similarities in their chosen fighting styles.
It was Gideon, however, who asked for the breaks between matches, never Inara. Adan might have healed him physically, but the old master still harboured wounds of the mind. Every time Inara bested him, Asher had seen it coming; evident in the hesitation Gideon displayed. He was doubting himself.
“You’re too evenly matched,” he remarked, catching both fighters’ attention. “You win, then you win. Over and over again. You both adhere to the… that mag thing.”
“The Mag’dereth,” Inara instructed.
Asher nodded once. “You’re able to interpret each other’s attacks and defences because you both know them so well. Was Alijah ever trained in the Mag’dereth?”
“No,” Gideon answered flatly. “His training has been rather varied. His mother and father taught him more than just the basics, then there’s whatever he picked up from Vighon.”
“And the Arakesh,” Asher added ominously. “In The Bastion, he was pitted against them repeatedly.”
Appearing exasperated with all the talk of her brother, Inara let the tip of her Vi’tari blade drop unceremoniously into the snow. “What exactly are you suggesting?”
The ranger rose to his feet and drew his broadsword from its scabbard. The action spoke of his intentions far better than any words could have achieved.
Inara twisted Firefly in a loop before deftly slotting it back onto her hip. “You cannot fight with the egg. It will rob you of your discipline.”
Asher watched Inara stretch out an arm where her hand then offered to take the satchel. Already the ranger could feel his control slipping away. His instincts demanded that he bat her hand away, if not remove it altogether.
“Asher…” Inara’s voice found its way past the haze clouding his mind, allowing him to focus on her eyes. “You can trust me,” she said softly.
The ranger required another moment to consider his options, though really he was stalling in the hope that her words would have time to sink in and quieten his instincts. He did, after all, trust Inara Galfrey with his life. But the contents of the egg were far more precious than his own life.
With one hand, Asher carefully lifted the satchel over his head. Inara’s fingers wrapped around the strap and he felt the pressure as she tried to take it. Finally, after a few seconds of resistance, he let go of the satchel.
“I would die before harm came to this egg,” the Guardian declared earnestly.
Asher gave a short nod of understanding, but he couldn’t move until he saw Inara sit down beside the fire with the satchel over her lap.
“That was a big step,” Gideon complimented. “You did well.”
Asher didn’t want to think about it. He knew the absurdity of his emotions and he hated that they were out there on display for all to see.
“Defend yourself,” the ranger commanded, raising his two-handed sword into an attacking position.
Whether Gideon’s reactions were up to the task or not, his Vi’tari blade interpreted the incoming attack and forced the old master into a defensive stance. Asher’s cleaving blade came down across the enchanted steel only inches from Gideon’s face. Trained to
