Matthew Wolf [Wolf - Visions of a Hidden
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VISIONS OF A HIDDEN
A Ronin Saga Short Story
Matthew Wolf
2019 Matthew Wolf
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the authors imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author.
Learn more at
MATTHEW WOLF
VISIONS OF
A HIDDEN
A RONIN SAGA SHORT STORY
Contents
The three elf boys sat silently, nervously. They were uncertain why they had been chosen, only certain that they had. They were young, especially for elves, each younger than their sixth spring. The eldest of these three was a long brown-haired boy with hard eyes named Rydel. He knew that the tall elf before them was someone to be feared.
On the big elfs back was a grand-looking cloak that brushed the floor. As Rydel looked at the cloak, his eyes strangely hurt. The big elf shifted subtly and as he did the cloak shimmered, blending with its surroundings as he moved. Rydel was in awe, but the cloak paled compared to the object dangling at the big elfs hip.
A sword like out of the stories
The big elf stood with one hand on a green-handled blade at his waist, as he talked with an elf with a white beard. Much older, this one wore fancy white robes with green embroidered vines and leaves. Rydel had seen clothes like that before when his mother had pointed to the king and queen as theyd strode through the dappled lit forest.
The two elves were whispering now, but their words were loud enough to be heard by Rydels keen ears. Perhaps they didnt know or didnt care, but he listened as the hardened, younger-looking one asked, King Gias wishes this? Youre certain? The elf wasnt just tall. He was big. Rydel had seen strong elves like the Terma, but this mans simple green clothing didnt hide his bulging arms and thick neck. He mustve been the biggest elf Rydel had ever seen. Middling in years for an elf, perhaps Rydels fathers age, but the tough look on his face made him look much older still. Rydel had never seen anyone look so mean. He towered over them and cast occasional unsettling glances at the three boys who sat on their knees in the green glade, trembling. On Rydels right, the little black-haired boy sniffled, as if holding back tears; while the blonde-haired boy to his left held a distant wide-eyed gaze as if he was imagining being someplace very far from here.
From his mouth to my ears, said the old elf dutifully. It is the Kings own wish.
The big elf growled in frustration. Why now? Why bring back the old ways now? We are at peace. Fractured and divided from the other Great Kingdoms, but at peace. What is he preparing for?
The old elf shook his head, fine, straight white beard swaying. I cant say, but King Gias is not one to frighten easily. You know this above all others, Trinaden. Trinaden was that the big elfs name?
King Gias. Rydel knew that name too. Lord of all the elves and ruler of the Great Kingdom of Leaf. King Gias ordered this? Rydels mother hadnt been able to tell him anything. She had just said she loved him very much, to trust that, and listen to the old elf. That was yesterday. Shortly after, the old one had come and collected him, tears in his mothers eyes as she had watched him leave. They had walked in silence for what felt like ages until they reached the green glade and the mean-looking master Trinaden. The other two boys had been waiting when he had arrived.
You know more than youre saying, Lorsan, growled the mean-looking elf.
The old elf, Lorsan, sighed. If I had to guess, the King sees something on the horizon we cannot. These boys will be needed one day. Either way, they are yours now, Lorsan said gravely, nodding his head to Rydel and the other two at his side. Their provisions will be cared for. Their training and all else is yours to oversee.
Trinaden grunted at last. So be it. I will do what I can. But when Im done with them, they wont be boys. They might not even be elves.
The way he said it frightened Rydel. Might not even be elves? What did he mean?
Trinaden had a haunted look on his face, then it passed and only a hard craggy exterior remained. When Lorsan left, the tall elf turned to them, silent for a long moment. Rydel watched the sword with keen interest. He couldnt stop staring at it. It had a strange emerald handle and a green glow emanated from within the sheath. Then Rydel spotted the elfs gnarled hands. They had thick calluses and many tiny white scars. The big elf spoke in a voice like thunder and gravel. My name is Trinaden dal Melowyn, but you will call me Master.
The two boys at Rydels side gave slow nods.
Trinaden unsheathed his blade in a rush, pointing to them. His expression was cold and calculated, lacking hatred or remorse. Words have power. I would have you say it now.
Master, the two boys echoed in trembling voices.
Rydel felt their fear, saw their wide terrified eyes in the corner of his vision. He knew he should be scared, too. He knew that this elf was deaththat this blade was something the likes hed never seen before. Not from the Mela, not even the Terma, supposedly the strongest of all Elvin warriors and guards, to the King himself. Trinaden was different still. Instead, Rydel could only stare at the blade before him. The weapon hovered before his eyes, a glistening point of steel with a green hue, drawing him in.
You like the blade, boy? Trina Master asked.
Rydel could only nod.
Youve got a fine eye for steel, if that is even its origins, though I doubt it very much. Its a leafblade, an ancient relic belonging to warriors from a time long before you were born. Rydel didnt know what that meant, but it sounded special. Your name, what is it?
Ry-rydel, Rydel stuttered. Without warning, the blade sliced and a small bloody pain stung Rydel on the cheek. Fingers unconsciously reached up and felt the split skin and pooling warm blood. Anger and fear flashed inside him. Trinadens expression hadnt altered a single hair. It remained cold, mean, uncaring, and expectant. Rydel realized his mistake. Master , Rydel added quickly.
Master Trinaden inclined his head, slightly, and sheathed the leafblade. Understand this, the big elf announced. Your parents gave you up. Your brothers, sisters, friendsyou have none. I am your family, and I am not your family. You are mine now to do as I will, to craft and mold to one purpose. To wield this, he lifted the green-hued sword, and become a leafbearer. Once you have passed your training, you will bear the leafblade, and become something more, something none have seen in a thousand years.
Leafbearer Master? The little boy to Rydels left asked in a shaky voice. He was the blonde-haired elf and the youngest of the three. His long pointed ears poked out from his hair. He had inquisitive emerald eyes and a small, nervous smile. What are Leafbearers?
Royal warriors to the Ronin themselves, though some called them the Hidden. The most powerful and revered warriors in all Farhaven. You will become that weapon. If you do not listen as I say, you will be cast out. It will not be easy. You will hurt. You will make pain your friend. I will not lie to you. Even if you do as I say, you may die, he said and let it sink in. Rydel realized his body was shivering of its own accord. But, the big elf said with a slim smilethe first and last it looked like hed ever make, you will be something the likes of which the world has not seen for many an age.
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