years. Every time he saw Legon he had to be reminded.
“It’s fine Arkin. I’m sure you did your best.”
“My best was not good enough. They got to her before I could get there. I went out hunting, planning on leaving Brack and Edis to find her, but you know what happened after that…”
“Yeah, I do.” He was surprised at how he felt bad. After all, he never knew his birth parents and looked at Edis, Laura, as his parents and Sasha as his real sister. So why feel so bad about it? They knew the risks, didn’t they? Or was it because they put themselves in danger for his benefit, for his protection?
“Anyway, I got word that the Iumenta had found out what was going on when they killed your father. Apparently one of the men with him was a traitor. We never found out who. The whole party was killed, traitor and all. So after that my orders were to watch you and train you.”
“Train me, and what?”
“If you looked like you were going to turn Elf then I was to take you back to the Elves. If you went human then I was to let you lead a normal life, and if you began to turn Elf but leaned to the side of the Iumenta…”
“You were to kill me.” Legon finished.
Arkin flinched. “Yes. There has never been an Elven traitor, but there hasn’t been anyone in your position for hundreds of years.” This wasn’t a shock. It made logical sense to need to protect your country from attack, but still, to think of himself being viewed as a “possible threat” bothered him.
“Ok, ok that’s fine. Truth be told, if I turned out to be anything like one of the bastards we killed today I would hope you would kill me. So what now?”
Arkin looked almost proud of him and he seemed to have a more familiar look about him. “We go to Salez. Your lot needs to learn some new tricks.” As he spoke he took the two blades off his back still in the sheaths, handing them to Legon. “These were your father’s fenrra. They are yours. They have been in your house for over two thousand years.” Legon took hold of the fenrra, amazed by the lightness of them. The handles were one-handed and there was not much of a hilt. The sheath was a dark, deep purple, almost black. The grips were wrapped with something that felt like leather. The pommel was slanted with a tree inside a triangle surrounded by a circle. The whole thing looked like it was made of gold but was untarnished and unscratched, so it couldn’t have been. There was what looked like gold thread up the handles and the hilt was also gold with intricate leaves.
He stood and pulled on the handle of one of the fenrra. It came out without a sound, revealing a blade that looked like a mirror, the edge of which was visible and went up about a quarter of an inch along the forward edge and about a fourth of the way up along the back edge. He felt power gush through him. He held it up in the fire light, seeing himself more clearly than he ever had. The handle felt perfect in his hand, like it was made for him. He ran his finger along the edge. It was sharper than anything he’d ever seen. He handed the other one to Kovos, who pulled it out, marveling. Both men turned the fenrra over in their hands, feeling the balance and comfort. They just felt good, almost like an extension of his own body.
“They will almost never dull. Those have been sharpened only twice, once when they were made and then again about seven hundred years ago. They will also never break, or, if you do manage to break them, you will be one of only a few who’s managed it. That edge is sharper than anything you’ve seen and armor means little to them. Elves and Iumenta only wear light armor, more for humans and lesser objects. You see the thicker part of the blade?” Arkin said, pointing at the last half of the fenrra.
“Yes.”
“That part there is used to deflect arrows and anything else sent your way. You won’t be able to do it now, but if you turn into an Elf you’ll be fast enough.”
This should have floored him, but nothing was a surprise anymore.
Kovos handed him the other blade