Enmity of Atlas

A dagger of pain shot through Trenton’s lower back as he slammed into the unforgiving dirt floor, a dull throb in his abdomen the only indication of what had just laid him out. He knew, of course, that Walibeld had kicked him, and with enough force to send him sliding back at least 10 feet, ripping up his back on the small pebbles that adorned the makeshift arenas floor along the way. But despite this, he didn’t actually see Walibeld moving. In fact, he’d never managed to see Walibeld move when he decided their sparring sessions were over. One swift prod to Trenton’s stomach, faster than his eye can track, and training was over–a quick little reminder of just how far he had to go.

Still lying on his back, Trenton gazed up at the splendor of the sky before him, a veritable feast of puffy clouds slowly lazing along, their contours and shadows dazzling Trenton almost as much as the sudden beam of light glaring down onto the poor boy's face. He raised his right arm, taking care not to move it too quickly for fear of tearing his already tender muscles. It seemed even the gods saw fit to spite Trenton on this day.

Still gazing, ruminating over his ill luck, Trenton noticed the sun, which still hung high in the sky, casting diminutive shadows in what small corners dared oppose its glory. It was hardly past noon. Typically training between Trenton and Walibeld would last a full twelve hours, from six in the morning to six in the afternoon, and with how Trenton was performing today, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to say it should’ve gone on even longer than that. Odd, then, that Walibeld would deem now a fitting time to end the training. Not that Trenton was complaining, of course.

Groaning, he rolled onto his right side, wincing at another arching shot of pain along his back, slowly working his way to a seated position where he saw Mave rapidly approaching.

“My gods, Walibeld! Have some decency! Did you mean to splay his guts across the patio as well!?” she said indignantly, a practiced damper barely concealing her almost overflowing wrath.

Trenton followed her gaze, suddenly noticing a very long trail of blood starting from where he was almost certainly standing a few moments ago to where was currently sitting–a pool of blood slowly staining the ground beneath him. Peculiarly, despite some soreness in his back, he didn't actually feel much pain at all–certainly not enough for the amount of blood he was producing. Instead he was only left with a slight woozy feeling, a victory, albeit slight.

Mave tenderly placed one hand over Trenton’s sundered (not so sundered) spine with the careful focus of a well practiced mage, her hands glowing with a faint green aura. And, slowly, the muscle sinews began to regrow and intertwine with themself, skin layering back on top like Trenton was never even injured in the first place.

Trenton looked up to study Mave’s face, her expression a mix of focus and concern, the sweat glimmering on her brow betraying the obvious strain she'd placed herself under to heal such severe wounds so quickly.

Even a decade or so back, when Trenton started training with Walibeld, Mave struggled healing injuries of any significance. Since then, the folds on her face had only increased, her hair slowly losing its distinct green coloration, and her eyes retreating further and further from the rest of the world. She was losing her magical potency by the day. Could she even serve as his healer anymore? Trenton made a mental note to talk to his father tomorrow about getting her a vacation. She had definitely earned it at this point.

With a tug, Mave helped Trenton to his feet, taking most of the brunt of his weight despite the fact that his legs were in almost perfect condition. There couldn’t be more than a dozen bruises between the both of them, a slight fracture at most–hardly even noticeable.

Across the way, Walibeld watched calmly as Trenton grounded himself in reality, his hand resting gently on the pommel of a sheathed longsword hung at his waist. Walibeld was an interesting sort in many ways, but no more so than his visual peculiarities. He had a tall sturdy frame, adorned with thick bound muscles and dozens of battle scars. Even with just a glance, it was easy to tell that Walibeld was a well trained and seasoned warrior. Typically, a warrior would be lucky to keep his head past the first battle, but with how many different and unique scars he bore, it’s likely that Walibeld had seen hundreds or even thousands of battles. But his scars were perhaps the most tame thing about him. Like Mave, he looked to be fairly old, maybe in his mid to late 60’s. But unlike Mave, his ears were pointed like daggers, the signature sign of elvish descent. Who knows how many centuries old he was. Trenton had always wanted to ask…but he’d never managed to build up the courage. And it was the same for Walibelds eye. As long as Trenton had known him, he’d never once seen Walibeld open his left eyelid. It could’ve been a war scar, maybe lost in some battle long ago, but if that were the case, his eyelids would droop into the socket. Instead, they sat peacefully wrapped around a very obvious orb structure sitting within the eye socket, the hallmark sign that something was there. But again, Trenton was certainly without the bravery to ask, so guessing randomly and wildly would do for now. Imagine if it was a war scar, too. What an insensitive thing to ask.

“Hardly. If Trenton hadn’t been so lax with his guard today, I imagine he’d be in much better shape,” his right eye sternly boring into Trenton the whole while he spoke. He paused for a moment, a sigh bubbling from his lips. “...but I suppose I can't blame you entirely. I’ve been quite antsy recently regarding a business trip I’ve been putting off, so I’ve been going harder on you. I figure now is the perfect time to leave given you’ve some celebrations ahead of you,” he said, waving his hand towards Trenton, “so I’m ending today's session early to give myself more time to travel. You can consider this an official reprieve from training for the next couple days while I’m out of town, as well.”

“Wait, you’re leaving? Right now?” Trenton responded dumbstruck. Walbeld had ever left Aria, at least not while Trenton had known him. He wasn’t a native to the city, sure, but it seemed like he’d made himself comfortable there. With how long he’d lived, it made sense that he’d eventually look towards retirement, if you consider daily combat training retirement.

“Correct. I’ve been hesitant to leave the city,” he mumbled something too quiet to hear, before quickly redoubling his voice, “but, it’s not something I can afford to put off any longer.”

Mave looked up at him. “What could be so urgent that you’d be leaving so suddenly, and without a damn word to anyone?” Mave said, mumbling the last part of her sentence, such that only Trenton could hear.

Walibeld pressed the center of a small device at his side, circular with an inlaid gem in the center–a deep pocket. A portal six feet tall opened next to him, and from it, he retrieved a letter, waving it absentmindedly in the air as he talked. “Urgent summoning from Era. He has demanded an immediate in person meeting at the Academy for the first time in two decades,” Walibeld stowed the letter away and pressed on his deep pocket to close the portal again, walking towards the back entrance to the house. “I’m leaving immediately. Have fun, Trenton. And, I expect you to be ready to make up for the missed days when I return. Oh, and for the record, I told Theodore the moment I received the letter. That he chose not to relay the information isn’t my burden in the slightest,” he finished after a slight pause, before disappearing into the house.

“That man is going to be the death of me, I swear” Mave muttered as she and Trenton made their way across the open space to the door that Walibeld just went through, taking care not to slip in the crimson stained puddles adorning the “battlefield.”

“I’m sure he’ll be the death of us all one day. But for now, he's just doing his job, whatever that happens to be. Hell’d freeze over before that man decided to loosen up even an inch.”

“And yet, he’d be well to do so…” she looked over at Trenton, “...I’m worried about you, Trenton. You’re wearing yourself half to death everyday and you’re not even an adult yet. At this rate, your body’s set to waste away before you’re 30!”

“It's standard training procedure, Mave. I can hardly expect to get anywhere if I don’t work for it, can I?” Trenton retorted, twisting his neck to look at her. But, she only grumbled, refusing to return his gaze.

Trenton noticed a pile of crumbled rock sticking out plainly amidst the perfectly measured flat landscape of the training grounds. It must’ve been the earth sword he made for himself this morning in preparation for his daily spar. Using the strength of his footfall, he channeled a modicum of energy into the ground, commanding the rock to reform into a simple sphere. Without even the slightest hesitation, the shattered stone pieces rolled, forming an only slightly lumpy hunk of rock, which Trenton easily scooped off of the ground as they passed.

Trying to summon up rock was annoying as it was a little ways under the usual earth patches that adorn the city, so he always made sure to keep this little clump with him to form into a weapon whenever he needed to fight, which just so happened to be exclusively between the hours of six in the morning to six in the afternoon, every day with Walibeld. If he ever got into an actual fight he’d probably be taken aback when his opponent didn’t beat him mercilessly into the ground just to prove a point. You’d think that after the first lung was punctured with a piece of his shattered ribs, Trenton would get the point, but that must just be the naïve child in him talking. The second lung was really when the message started to sink in.

Ah, but what use was fettered animosity? Today was such a lovely day after all. A warm breeze flitted through Trenton’s hair, weakly tossing it every which way, lifting it out of his eyes. The sun cast its long smile across the earth, the bold shadows growing by the second. And, the slightest hint of petrichor from last night's storm still hung in the air, a pleasant aroma. Even if it hurt to walk, Trenton could enjoy this little bit of freedom he’d been granted.

Trenton had never really minded training. Sure, it was painful, sweaty, arduous work, but he’d always just accepted the importance of it. And of course, like many young boys, he was inspired by the stories his older brother Delis told him whenever he stopped in. Tales of great monsters felled and evil doers defeated. It was just the fuel a young child's imagination needs. Although now that he'd grown older, Delis’s eyes told him a different story. Delis was young, but Trenton vividly remembered a day many years ago, not even being able to recognize Delis after a year of him traveling the plains because of how different he looked…how much older he looked. It was unnatural–the mark of a burden–impossible to bear, worn upon the shoulders of one man. Almost like…he'd lost everything, and was clinging desperately to what he had left.

Sure, the tales of great heroes may make the world outside of the cities seem like a bountiful feast of glory just waiting to be claimed, but it couldn’t be that simple. If everything was really so peachy out there, then Trenton wouldn’t have had adults telling him to never step out from the safety of the walls from the day he was born. He wouldn’t have had his parents, sobbing, begging an 11 year old him to stay with them. He wouldn’t have…rather he would’ve been able to see Yissle again…there wasn’t even a body left to show. A letter in the mail from whoever stumbled across his mangled corpse was all they had left of him. Who wouldn’t want t-

“Trenton? My gods, Trenton, are you in pain!?” They’d stopped moving just before the back entrance to the house, Mave's eyes staring intensely into Trenton's. Although, it was a little hard to tell through the odd wetness that almost certainly wasn't there a moment ago. Trenton wiped the tears from his eyes and proded Mave to keep moving.

“I’m fine. My backs getting to me is all…” he responded, a doleful note echoing far back in his throat. Mave's eyes lingered on him for a moment, her concern never fading. Slower now, she pushed open the elaborate glass door leading into the house, and led them inside. Truly, what a lovely day.