[RPG] [AT][Tournament] Anton Anaris ~ Kindled

[Timothy Collett]

Anton closes and latches the gate of the enclosed practice yard.  The  
8-foot-high wall surrounds a space designed for a solo practice  
session or sparring with a partner, without the distraction of a  
crowd of onlookers.

He draws his sword, the Anaris, and holds it up to the sun, already  
descending the western sky, and nearly behind the wall of the  
practice yard.  As always, it catches the sun's light and flashes  
brilliantly.  Moving into a guard stance, he prepares to begin his  
training.

For hours, Anton moves through warmups, drills, standard set- 
patterns, and sword-dances, before finally starting on the most  
difficult: a mock fight, with opponents only in his mind.  It is a  
solo training technique he learned in his homeland, which very few  
can use effectively--but those who can become the greatest swordsmen  
of legend.  He has fought this particular mock fight several times  
before, and he kows the opponents well, but they are more skilled  
than he is--as they must be, to afford a real challenge--and he has  
never yet made it through the entire fight upright, with his weapon  
in his hand.

He moves forward and back, side to side, striking, parrying,  
slashing, thrusting.  He closes his eyes to better see the imaginary  
opponents, dispatching first one, then two, then three.  Only two  
remain: the leader and her partner.  When he designed the mock  
battle, he made the leader a woman--smaller, lighter, and quicker  
than he, for speed and agility was what he always needed more work  
on.  Now he takes on her partner, who he knows can overpower him if  
he lets him get close, so he must dart in and strike, delivering many  
swift, shallow blows, which, together, eventually overcome him.

At last, he fights the leader.  He has reached this point in the mock  
battle before, but he has never been able to defeat her.  Back and  
forth the blows go, and Anton finds himself being driven into a  
corner.  With a burst of speed, he counterattacks, almost hearing the  
blows ring on solid steel, feeling his sword connect with the sword  
of a real opponent.  Almost immediately, though, she regains the  
upper hand, and suddenly, Anton's sword flies from his grip--and his  
eyes snap open, to see a real sword leveled at his throat.

A woman holds it, tall and slender, with long golden hair.  She  
stands directly between Anton and the sun, seeming almost to wear it  
as a crown, and most of Her face is hidden under a helmet...but in  
its shadow burn two eyes: eyes of flame.

Anton falls to his knees.  "Bright Lady..." he murmurs.

With a voice that seems to have the echo of trumpets in it, she  
speaks to him.  "Rise, My knight.  You do Me proud with your work in  
these lands.  Your devotion is true, your soul pure, and your heart  
is learning My mercy."

Anton stands, but bows his head.  "My Lady, I do not deserve this  
praise.  I am but your humble knight, and I would do all that you  
wish of me."

In the shadow of Her helmet, lips curve up in a smile.  "Then spread  
My name.  This land has but few true Gods to worship: bring them the  
teaching of My mercy, and give them hope, and light."

Anton lifts his head, scarcely believing what he hears.  His face  
shines with this new purpose.  "My Lady Arelien, I shall!  When I  
return from this tournament, I will have a temple constructed in Your  
honour, and I shall begin to spread Your name and teachings!"

The eyes of flame burn brightly, and Anton looks into them without  
fear.  Then She hands him his sword, which is Her sword, and when he  
takes it, She takes his right hand in Hers, in an unbreakable grip,  
and leans down to brush Her lips against it.  The spot burns, and the  
heat spreads into his body, warming him with Her fire.

"Now, My knight, go, and spread the Light of the Sun throughout this  
land of Atamara..."

As She says this, the sun sinks below the practice yard wall, and Her  
form fades from Anton's sight...but the fire she placed in him  
remains in his heart, and when he exits the practice yard, anyone  
looking at his eyes would almost have said they glowed from within.

--

"The only thing you can't trade for your heart's desire is your heart."
  ~ Miles Naismith Vorkosigan

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