Inheritors of the Ancients

Chapter 3 The Reluctant Shadow

Phenton McNair was known for his brawn, his massive size, and his power. But he was no dullard, by any means. Training was more than a show of physical strength for him. It’s where he did his best thinking. The focus helped exercise his mind. He wasn’t all mass, he was charismatic and clever. The deadliest combination…both on and off the battlefield. But alas, he had yet to experience battle. Hence his constant training. At present, he trained alone, if you ignored the throng of villagers gathered along the edge of the training yard. Feigning as if he didn’t notice them was part of the ruse. The enjoyment. He had to be tactful. Thankfully, Lady Tamryn insisted on him training alone and did not accompany him today. She could always tell when his mind strayed. And she was keen to take advantage of those openings. She never let the opportunity slide to teach him a lesson. Let him know that he still had room to grow.

His mother laid heavy emphasis on alone time. To train one’s thoughts, body, and fortitude. For Phenton, this alone training served two purposes. The first being time away from Jauron’s strangeness and solemn nature. The second, a time to show off his skills to the villagers. While he trained alone, that did not stop onlookers from gathering. Their adoration often fueled not only his determination, but his ego as well. And Phenton was aware of why he enjoyed it so. When he wasn’t training alone, or sparring with Jauron, it was his mother who led his instruction. And it was well known that Lady Tamryn was not one for offering idle praise.

When asked, she said in a strong and matter of fact tone…“It dulls the senses. In a real battle, you don’t have time or opportunity to be preoccupied with how others view your skills. All that matters is the enemy before you, or surrounding you. Those that prattle about praise are often those that meet swift defeat.” Phenton made the mistake of asking her why when he was young, a mistake he never made again. He disagreed with her logic, of course. But silently. As a result, his solo training served as an avenue to facilitate approval from his peers, as well as gauging his growth. The more he trained, the more he grew. The stronger he became, the more validation he received from the flock of devoted onlookers.

Not long after his training began, Phenton started showing great aptitude with the sword. As well as the bow and arrow, short sword and shield, axes, daggers. By the time he reached 15, there was no weapon he couldn’t wield proficiently, or better. Now 17, he’d spent the last two years focusing on weapons that suited his build and personality. Now preferring to master a massive great sword that somehow managed to look average size when in his grip. Towering over all of the villagers, his age and older, the great sword was the best fit. He opted to alternate with a longsword and shield. It added variety. He learned early not to become predictable in life or battle. Though it was quite evident that the great sword was his most favored weapon. His skill had become renowned in the village, and beyond. Without any actual battle experience, his training could only take him so far. However, Lady Tamryn stressed that he was neither mentally or physically prepared. Regardless of the fact that many of the young men his age had long left the village to seek fame, fortune, and honor. But not Phenton, deemed ill prepared by his overbearing mother. She was quick to remind him of how many of those peers never returned, or had and were forever changed.

Complaining was out of the question, he knew it would serve him no purpose and gain no ground. His only option was to train. Train hard. Prove his mother wrong. As confident as he was, he could not deny that he was nowhere near his mother’s level. And so he trained. On and on. Day and night. He certainly took advantage of his free time but never lost sight of his goal; leaving the village of Waylan and making a name for himself. Prove to his mother and father that he was ready. He was a man!

Because of his skill, awe-inspiring good looks, charm, and overall stature, all of the boys his age looked up to him. And the girls…the girls all vied for his attention. Phenton suspected that even some of the boys did as well. It didn’t bother him but he was too preoccupied by the admiration to give it much thought or care. He knew all he needed were deeds worthy of his talents and his future would be set. He had no time or interest to devote to another person, at least not more than superficially. He was going to get out of Waylan, enlist.

His mother and father shut down those aspirations early in his life…constantly stressing his reason for training. His fate was to protect Jauron. Why? He did not know. They would never go into detail. Simply vague explanations about family wishes, duty, and tradition. But it wasn’t a topic up for debate. Which frustrated him completely. Phenton couldn’t see what was so special about Jauron that he’d need his protection. Jauron’s mother died when they were both young. His father, a bit addled in Phenton’s opinion, lived on the edge of town until sickness took him as well. At that time, when both boys were 10, Phenton was forced into accepting some unforeseen destiny that tethered him to Jauron.

Sure, Jauron was a powerful mage…too powerful in Phenton’s opinion. He couldn’t deny that. Jauron was the only person in the village, aside from Phenton’s parents, that he could not best. Though not physically, their strengths were different but evenly matched. At least Phenton often assured himself of that when training alone. They’d sparred almost immediately after Jauron came to live with the McNair’s, at his mother’s insistence. Phenton respected Jauron’s power but that was pretty much the extent of his respect.

Jauron was a bit odd by Phenton’s reckoning. He kept to himself; barely spoke to anyone. Any chance he got, he would leave the village to sit in the Forest of Reverie for hours. If he could get away with it, days. Much to Phenton’s surprise, sometimes Jauron did get away with it. It was a known fact that many villagers who entered the Forest of Reverie never returned. But not Jauron, he always came back. Not a scratch on him. That alone set him apart from the other villagers. Phenton could tell they feared him a little. His disinterest in the village affairs didn’t help. No one knew what went on and he never shared. However, Phenton was different. He knew. Once he started following Jauron into the forest…he knew.

Due to his parents’ incessant insistence to “protect” Jauron, he began to follow him into the forest. Since Jauron came to live with the McNair’s, he’d always escape into the trees. Oftentimes just to sit in solitude. Each year, going deeper and deeper, and spending more and more time in the forest. Whenever he could get away with it, at least. When Jauron first came to live with them, Phenton was excited. He’d have a new brother of sorts. Someone to play with, to fight with – for fun, not training. That notion was quickly disregarded when all attempts to be “brotherly” were met with silence or complete indifference by Jauron. He’d shut himself off from Phenton, and so Phenton returned the sentiment. However, the rules imposed by his parents were absolute. Therefore, when Jauron would skip training to explore in the woods Phenton would sometimes follow. At first it was simply to avoid being scolded, or disappointing his parents. Then it progressed to curiosity.

A part of him felt sorry for Jauron because he knew that he and his late father camped in the Forest of Reverie before he died. In truth, it failed to explain all of why Jauron didn’t even seem to try and fit in with the other villagers their age. Phenton didn’t really press. He was only going this far out of sheer obligation mixed with slight inquisitiveness. Hence he never had the need to get overly involved. It caused enough trouble for him as is. Being Jauron’s unavoidable and occasionally unwelcomed shadow took away Phenton’s time to himself. It deprived him of time to spar, or pummel, his friends. It took away opportunities to “explore” with the girls that often fawned over him. He was required to devote time out of his day to follow, train with, as well as live with a melancholic loner. One wanting as little to do with the other as possible.

Phenton couldn’t deny that it caused some resentment. In addition to being an inconvenience, it was as if Jauron could do no wrong in his parent’s eyes. Sure, he did get reprimanded at times. But it was mostly about neglecting to spend time with Phenton…about which neither of the boys were enthusiastic. Jauron could go out, be gone for hours. As long as he returned within a day or two, not much fuss would be made. They attributed some of this lenience to Jauron being an Elementalist and needing to spend some time figuring out his connection with nature. His own solo time. Phenton was not convinced, and thus remained disappointed, if not even somewhat hurt. They were just too different. Different wasn’t bad, by any means. It was simply different.

Jauron didn’t fit in with Phenton’s public persona. He was a warrior. Loved by all, as well as envied. He’d long surpassed the adults in Waylan. He was ready to make a name for himself. That would never happen while he was metaphorically chained to a reclusive oddity like Jauron. However, it was his duty. His parents made it explicitly clear that his role in life was to listen to their instruction and follow their family tradition. They assured him that if he did so, he would benefit way more than any warrior he could think of. And in spite of everything, he did not want to disappoint his parents. Phenton was unsure if he believed in fate or tradition at this point in his life, but he was certain that he would live up to his parents’ expectations. Therefore, he suffered being the dutiful shadow no matter how inconvenient.

It was already late into the evening when Phenton returned from training on his own. He’d said goodbye to the townsfolk that had gathered to watch him train. He’d lingered just long enough for the young girls to swoon over his muscled body that now glistened in the firelight like twinkling stars. It was a game to him. One he played well. He may not have felt all too impressive compared to his mother and father, but he knew that the people of Waylan saw him as their champion. None of the other villagers could best him. Few, if any, could stand next to him without looking as if they were cast in the shadow of a giant sequoia. He wasn’t the tallest person anyone had ever seen, that title belonged to the Giants or their demi-giant offspring. But Phenton gave the latter stiff competition.

He had lessons with his mother the next morning and no matter how hard he trained on his own, it never prepared him for her beatings. She was a beast. Strong, smart, and just as imposing as you could imagine. But most of all, unyielding. He’d yet to land a solid blow on her, therefore never earning anything more than further direction or maybe a slight nod of approval. At least Phenton decided that’s what it was whenever he noticed. That said, he wanted to rest properly before spending the day with her. It was bound to be both physically and mentally taxing.

Having returned exhausted from a long day’s worth of sword and hand to hand combat training, Phenton was happy to be home. He was ready to clean off the sweat and grime of the day and head to bed. It was late, even by normal standards. The candles had been blown out. His parents were asleep. Jauron was undoubtedly watching the stars from his room or up to whatever future hermits do. So he tried to prepare to settle down as quietly as someone of his bulking stature could.

That is when Phenton heard rustling in the room across the hall. Jauron’s room. It was too late to be going out to the Forest of Reverie, even for him. Any normal night and Jauron would have been long gone by now. Relatively speaking, this was less normal than usual where he was concerned. Phenton was confident that the forest was the only place Jauron would be heading. Their “bonding” may have been a failure of forced coexistence and reluctance. However, it could not be said that both Phenton and Jauron were unaware of one another. Their habits, their characteristics. They lived together for seven years, after all. Much of that time spent together, although begrudgingly. You spend enough time with someone and like it or not, you will undoubtedly get to know them at some level. Understanding them, or even liking them, is a different story but you will become familiar.

So, as strange as Jauron was to Phenton – to all the villagers, he knew very well that Jauron wouldn’t choose such an abnormal time to venture out into the woods. With a heavy sigh, Phenton pulled himself from his bed and headed toward his door. His hand almost opening when he stopped. Pressing his cheek against the door, angling his ear, he strained to listen…as stealthily as he could. As he suspected, Jauron seemed to be pacing in his room. Phenton could hear quick, almost anxious footsteps from across the hall. Intrigued, he cracked his door, immediately noticing that Jauron had lit a candle – the light flickering as his body cast a shadow. Left, right, left, right. Suddenly, Phenton heard a click. Jauron was about to open his door. The click was all the warning Phenton needed. He hastily pressed his door closed, careful not to make a sound. After a few seconds of holding his breath fearing it’d give him away in the eerie silence, he opened his door. Out of the corner of his eye he could make out Jauron’s shadow rounding the corner. He was heading to the back door of their cottage…right into the Forest of Reverie.

Jauron hadn’t even bothered to blow out the candles in his room, adding to Phenton’s intuition urging him to pursue. He had never seen Jauron in such haste, so agitated. He got glimpses. But Jauron trained at an early age to do his best to keep his emotions in check. Phenton could attest to just how diligently Jauron worked toward that end. He certainly failed at times, and Phenton could see him unravel…just on the edges. Jauron was an Elementalist. A powerful, and rare one at that. His power was very closely tied to his emotions. Phenton’s father was also a mage, not nearly as powerful but absolutely more skilled. He focused his time and attention on training Jauron as best he could. Hence the lenience in “self-exploration” as they called it. But Phenton could sometimes see where Jauron was losing the fight to maintain control of his emotions, and in turn, his powers. This time was different. Jauron entered the forest in a way very unlike him. His power was absolutely bristling and Jauron seemed to make no attempt to put it in check.

Following Jauron into the forest was no easy task. Though he’d done it time and time again, Phenton knew he wasn’t exactly built to explore the forest. Not in the way Jauron was. Phenton felt like a walking boulder trying to match Jauron’s pace. He was in impeccable shape but the forest was Jauron’s domain. Nevertheless, he managed…if a bit clumsy. His steps were heavy. Therefore, he tried to maintain some distance. He tried not to make much noise, struggling to avoid being too conspicuous and let on that he was following Jauron. After a while though, as he’d gained more experience in the forest, even he could tell that it was no use. Jauron always seemed aware of his presence. No matter how much distance he put between them. No matter how skilled he became at masking his footsteps. He could tell that Jauron still knew. At first, he would leave little clues for Phenton to find, as if silently mocking his attempts at following him. Then he just ignored him completely. They both knew that Phenton would follow, his sense of duty and ego almost too much for anyone to squash. That in no way made it less frustrating for Phenton. Even more so, Jauron had enough skill and experience in the forest to lose Phenton whenever he wanted. It became another sparring session of sorts. It forced Phenton to take his pursuing efforts more seriously. And at each turn, he was beaten. Soundly.

At present, Phenton could tell that something was “off”. If the rush in which Jauron left wasn’t enough indication, his behavior in the forest was. Especially given that Phenton was following. Unlike previous cases where Jauron simply ignored him though aware of him…it was as if Phenton didn’t exist. Something had taken hold of Jauron, pulling him deeper and deeper into the forest. There was no regard to his surroundings. Only Jauron and whatever force was moving him onward. A singular objective, undeterred by anyone or anything. Least of all, Phenton.

At first, Phenton almost ran to grab Jauron and pull him back. Upon looking closer, he got a glimpse of his face in the moonlight. There was no distress there, only a look of complete and utter determination. Phenton knew that look. It was a look Jauron reserved for when he trained alongside Phenton against his mother. As powerful as both boys were, Phenton’s mother remained better. She’d knocked them on their backsides too many times to count. It was the only time he’d ever seen Jauron serious. Not even when sparring against one another did Jauron illustrate such sheer concentration and focus. Seeing Jauron make such a face, not only concerned him, but made him decide in that moment that he needed to ensure he did not lose sight of him…nor deter him from reaching his destination. Phenton was now invested in discovering just what would make Jauron leave so suddenly and cause him to focus so intently.