Dance of the Blades

The boy deflected the strike and pirouetted, striking his assailant on the back. He took his stance once more and deflected another strike, then another. Aurelius Ambrosius was merely fourteen years of age, and yet he was learning the dance of the blade. Seo Mordrel grinned at his pupil.

“You are learning quickly, Aurelius!” he said.

Aurelius wiped the sweat from his brow, feeling the swelling of multiple strikes on his body telling him otherwise. Since the brothers had become old enough to hold a sword, Seo had been tasked with teaching him and his younger brother Uther the way of the blade.

“Uther, you are next!”

Aurelius stepped back and allowed his brother, younger by two years, to step forward with his own blade. His mother was standing off to the side under the shade of a stand of oak trees. Aurelius knew that his father had died long ago when he and Uther were still babes, but of any other men he knew not.

Uther grunted from the blows and strikes Seo performed on him. The younger of the brothers was a spitball of violence and the constant training from Seo had done well for him. Meanwhile, Aurelius had been under the tutelage of a priest under his cousin Budic, king of Brittany. For his entire life, the court of Budic was his life.

“You grow stronger,” his mother said at his side.

“As does Uther,” he replied.

“I see much of your father in you two. His honor and devotion in you, and his ferocity in your brother.”

There was something about what she said that pained him. Aurelius decided not to say anything but instead asked, “When will you tell us about him?”

His mother smiled and said, “Soon, my son. Soon.”

There was a sadness in her eyes and, perhaps for the first time, he noticed streaks of gray in her hair. Aurelius turned his attention to his brother and Seo. Though young, Aurelius and Uther were both strong and handsome. Budic had often said if he could, he’d make them his heirs if his wife had not produced one. Budic’s son was young and not able to understand what his father said.

Aurelius looked every bit the Roman. His hair was curly and dark, bronzed skin by many hours in the sun, and genetics. Uther looked like the Celt of his mother’s people. His head was ablaze with red hair and no doubt would have facial hair as red. Strong-bodied, the younger brother never let age get in the way of a fight. Aurelius had borne many injuries to the fact.

When Seo yielded the fight, Uther looked over at his brother with a large grin. Even though the swords were sheathed, the strikes hurt, and Uther showed little heed to the strikes received.

“Looks as though we have bested the teacher, brother.” Uther had been walking away from Seo. With a wicked strike to the leg, Seo put Uther to a knee and came swiftly behind him to lay the reeds to his throat.

“Let this be a lesson to you,” Seo said calmly, if out of breath. He looked over at Aurelius. “And you. Never walk away from an opponent who still breathes. If he breathes, he can kill you.”

Uther’s teeth were clenched in a grimace but managed to nod. Seo released him from the hold. Uther looked over at his brother.

“Why doesn’t he teach you these lessons?” Uther asked.

“It is because your brother is not a stubborn ass,” Seo said over his shoulder.

Uther got up and walked to his brother in a limp.

“Let us go back to the hall. I am hungry,” Seo said.

“I think that is a splendid idea.” The boys walked back to the mead hall flanking their mother.

“Master Seo?” Aurelius asked.

“Yes?”

“When will we receive our own swords?”

“When you can handle one,” he said.

“Haven’t we proved that we can?” Uther asked.

Seo grinned and said, “Perhaps.” Aurelius noticed a glance between his mother and Seo.

In the kitchens, Seo grabbed bread, meat, and a pitcher of ale. Aurelius sat with his brother and mother, waiting for Seo to come with the food. They ate in silence, Aurelius still wondered about the glance between Seo and his mother.

There came a messenger then from the doorway and walked quickly to Seo. He bent over and whispered something in his ear that Seo did not respond well to. His face slackened, as though something dreadful had happened. Seo stood and looked at the three seated.

“My lady, boys, I ask you to wait here while I retrieve the king,” he said as conversationally as he could, but Aurelius detected a slight tremor.

When he had left, he asked his mother, who was looking at Seo's retreating back, “Mother, what has happened?”

“I don’t know, my son.” She turned back to look at him, then his brother. “But I fear it will not be good.” Uther seemed unabashed of what was said, eating and drinking his fill. Aurelius felt uneasy, like something was amiss. A great cog in their life had suddenly gone rogue and began causing problems. Those problems just were not known.

It was not long until Master Seo and King Budic arrived in the hall.

“What has happened, cousin?” Aurelius’s mother asked.

“There has been news across the sea, and home,” he said.

Aurelius noticed his mother’s face drained of all color. What could it be?

“Vortigern has named himself King of the Britons. He has the southern tribes of Britannica under his rule,” he said.

“Even Dumonia?”

“No, Dumonia is standing strong.”

His mother looked at Aurelius, a heavy sadness in her eyes.

“Mother? What is it?”

She sighed heavily with a sob, looking at her two boys. Uther had taken notice and stopped eating.

“My sons, it is time to tell you of your father, and your birthright.”

“Birthright?” Uther questioned.

“Your father was the brother of Aldroenus, King of Armorica, who set sail north to answer a call of a people in need of a ruler to protect them when the Romans left. He took the throne of Dumnonia, then he married your mother, and your mother bore you two,” King Budic said to the boys.

“Your father was murdered,” Seo said. “He was killed by Picts who served under another man who wanted rule of Britannica. Vortigern, a warlord, sought the throne before your father arrived. After many years, this Vortigern bid his time and found his opportunity to strike.”

“Mother, is this all true?” Ambrosius asked.

“It is, my son. And now that Vortigern has more power than we had anticipated, it is time for you and your brother to contend for the kingdom.”

Ambrosius looked to his brother, and he looked back. Princes? Them? Is this why Master Seo pushed them so hard? Why had the lessons become increasingly difficult?

“You want us to go back? To restore our father’s throne?”

“It is your birthright.” King Budic had sat down with them. Ambrosius nearly forgot he was there.

“What if I don’t want it?” Ambrosius asked. “I’ve lived here for so long and never once was I told of my father being a king. What of this land that I am to rule? I haven’t even been there!”

“Dynasties have been built on less, boy,” King Budic said darkly.

Ambrosius stood. “I have to think about this,” he said. “I have to…” He left without finishing his thought, which was incomplete. He quickly strolled out of the great hall and through the gardens. Ambrosius’ mind raced as his feet found their way to the stables. The stable hands were shamed when Ambrosius saddled his mare himself.

He rode out, his cloak billowing behind him as he dashed down the road. A million questions raced through his mind and he could not find the answers himself.

Warm tears dried on his face before he slowed the mare down. He sobbed, leaning on the animal's neck for support. He rode a little bit further before finding a small river. Ambrosius stripped the saddle from the mare and let it crop grass nearby as he fixed a line for fish.

A king? He couldn't imagine it. There had been no word from his father for as long as he could remember. And Vortigern? He would be an enemy that Ambrosius feared he would not be able to face. The horse raced through the countryside and into a forest. Ambrosius eased the horse back into a walk when he realized where he was.

Brocéliande Forest was to the north of his uncle’s kingdom and said to be riddled with bandits and a place of the ancient druids before the Romans arrival. The storm clouds gathered, and rain began falling. He gathered the cloak around him and stepped down from the horse. Ambrosius pulled the hood over his head and led his horse by the reins, making his way back out of the forest.

The shadows grew taller as the storm choked the light from the sky. Ambrosius began to believe he was heading in the wrong direction, for the farther he went the darker it became. He sent prayers spoken in Latin as the monks had taught him and hoped there was no danger.

Seo…Yes, Seo had to be out looking. If Master Seo wasn’t out looking for him then certainly one of the other men of the castle.

“Damned fool!” Ambrosius spat, cursing himself. He fought with the desire to flee the castle and also to fulfill what was called his birthright.

The rain never ceased but seemed to be able to drown him if he did not lower his head enough to be shielded by his hood. He began to worry about his horse. Ambrosius heard a low growl just behind him that sounded like multiple growls.

Ambrosius looked behind him and saw a pack of large dogs that looked like black wolves and led by a horned man. He couldn’t make out what he looked like, but the horse was skittish. Four or five dogs bared their teeth with their low growls. He still carried his sword but what could he do against a pack of dogs?

“I yield the road!” Ambrosius called out. He pulled the horse to the side of the road with the intention of allowing whatever it was to pass by.

Without a word, the horned figure released his hold on the leashes and the dogs took off at a run. Ambrosius wasn’t in the saddle before the horse took off running. The rain pelted his body as the horse galloped, encouraged on by the dogs biting at their legs.

He had a thought spark in his mind and he drew his sword. Ambrosius pulled the horse around and raised his sword only to get struck by a leaping dog. He hit the ground and lost his grip on the sword. The pack of dogs were either circling around him or chasing the horse.

Ambrosius scrambled to his feet. He spat out blood and noticed his sword lying not far. His head was instantly drenched when he lunged for the sword and swung one-handedly at the dog that came at him. Once more he was knocked to the ground but this time it was from a dead dog.

A shrill whistle pierced through his skull and the other dogs ran off. Ambrosius lay in the mud drowning in the downpour. His sword had cut straight through the neck and severed the jugular. It was too dark to tell what it was, but Ambrosius wanted to get as much distance between him and whatever it was that attacked him. He wiped the blood from his blade and sheathed it at his hip.

Before Ambrosius, the trail began to widen, and it emptied into a clearing that was relatively dry. Ambrosius swept the hood back and looked up, seeing the open sky with the heavily laden gray clouds.

“God, how can this be?” he said to himself.

He looked about him and took note of the rather large boulder in the center of the circular clearing. Warily, he approached the stone. There were no markings on it, but he sensed there was something powerful about it. He thought of the horned man and his pack of dogs, wondering if there was a link with him and the stone.

“Take an interest in my boulder, boy?” a voice questioned.

Ambrosius went for his sword and struggled to draw it out. Once he did, he was looking at an older man wearing a hooded cloak and a clean beard. He used a staff to lean on that looked sturdy and used.

“If you take that long to draw that sword, boy,” he said, “you won’t live long out here.”

Ambrosius said nothing for a moment. “I killed a wolf on the road,” he said.

“Did you? On the road you said?”

“Yes.”

The man gave a slight grunt. “Did you have a horse, boy?” he asked.

“Aye, I did.”

He turned behind him and pointed. “Follow this trail and you will find my home. Inside will be food and company. Tell the woman there that I sent you.” He then began walking towards Ambrosius and passed him without a word. Ambrosius realized he still had his sword drawn and sheathed it.

“Who do I say sent me?” Ambrosius asked after him.

The man turned and said, “I am Myrddin.”