Alsin and Kyrin

Alsin stared down at the sword in front of him, the only link, now that his brother was dead, to his past and his former life. This sword represented the ray of hope that he had grabbed from the bleakness of his life, and how he had changed with the assistance of his half-brother, Kyrin. Thinking about Kyrin brought back memories; some happy, some painful. He remembered his first meeting with his half-brother, and also Kyrin’s last moments. He frowned, remembering how short the difference between those two moments was, barely one month. In one month, Alsin had given up his life for a man he had trusted implicitly, fought in a war under the same man, and watched that same man be slaughtered by Alsin’s twin, the now deceased Vyron. He remembered the fateful meeting vividly, and allowed himself to be comforted in the memories for a few minutes.

         He was in the Queen’s ruling chamber, with her seated upon her golden throne. Arrogant, Alsin thought as he watched her dealing with the common folk. She treated them as annoyances, not really caring about their problems, just holding the Common Court to appease the peasants. Alsin, standing in the corner of the room, while the representative of the Guild, also served as a warning to the peasants. It was the guild’s way of saying that they followed the Queen’s judgment on whatever happened. Alsin hated this job, but it paid, so he never complained. Out loud.

         “Queen Isbella! I have a grievance to bring to your attention.”

         Alsin straightened up. Maybe this day wouldn’t be so boring after all. It was not often that a noble showed up in court. And it was Lord Kamerik, no less. Alsin wondered what exactly would bring a high noble such as Kamerik to a commoner’s court.

         The Queen looked down at the noble, who sported many bandages across his body. “And what grievance is that, Lord Kamerik?”

         “I come bearing the accusation that the bandit Medina Sidino has accosted a noble of the realm. Action must be taken!”

         Queen Isbella looked the noble up and down. Lord Kamerik was never known for his skills with the blade, but he was known for his overconfidence, and for starting duels he would inevitably lose. But she sighed. He did have the right to accuse the bandit, and judging from his wounds, Lord Kamerik had recently been on the receiving end of many sword blows. The Queen looked over to Alsin, who looked bored. She nodded to him, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I will send a mission to the Guild of Assassins to rectify this matter. I will pay to have Alsin Blademaster take the kill of Medina.”

         Lord Kamerik and Alsin both looked shocked at her statement. “Thank you, my Queen,” Lord Kamerik bowed clumsily. “Thank you.”

         Alsin frowned in memory. The Queen had paid an exorbitant sum of money to have Medina assassinated. Alsin was also disappointed with himself; he had planned on taking the job, before he knew what it entailed, before he knew how he would change from the encounter.

         Alsin stood in the Guild Hall, a day later, gearing up to go on his trek after Medina. He had just strapped his sword to his waist, on his right hip, when a young apprentice arrived at his door. “You have a visitor, sir.”

         Alsin sighed. It was probably Kamerik, coming to explain once again why he should kill Medina Sidino. “Show them in.”

         The apprentice bowed, and moments later, a young man walked in, two scimitars belted at his waist. He wore a simple traveler’s cloak, and was caked in dirt from the road. “Greetings, Alsin Blademaster.” His voice was lyrical, yet powerful.

         “And you would be?” Alsin asked gruffly.

         The traveler shook his head. “Forgive my rudeness. And here I thought I was saving you the trouble of a tiresome trip. My name is Medina Sidino.”

         Alsin tensed slightly. This was odd. “And you are showing up here, why? I am on contract to kill you.”

         “I know, but you won’t.”

         “That confident in yourself, are you?” Alsin asked, turning his back to the man.

         “Yes and no. I believe that I could hold you to a fair fight, but also that one of us would inevitably die in the end. Also, I believe that I have a greater task ahead of me than to die here, so I am confident that I will survive this encounter.”

         “And why do you say that?”

         “Because Arkama told me so.”

         Alsin froze. He hadn’t heard that name in years. After he had walked out on his old mentor, he never dared to think that he would hear of Arkama again. Alsin still felt ashamed for walking out on the old man how he had, shunning the teachings of a peaceful world that Arkama detailed to him. “He says to tell you hello, and that he bears no grudge,” Medina continued.

         “And what task is ahead of you that is so important?” Alsin’s voice quaked slightly. Damn! He thought angrily. One name and I’m flustered.

         “I am going to prevent a war from the Ya’zuak armies, and attempt to unite the four kingdoms peacefully afterwards.”

         “Not if you’re dead.” Alsin said flatly, readying his hand on his sword.

         Medina sighed. “I was hoping you would listen to what I have to say before we got to this point, but if you desire a sword fight, I will oblige.” His scimitars flashed into his hands, and he settled into a low ready position.

         Alsin slowly drew his sword, swinging it slowly around his head, before baring its blade at Medina, point first. “You’re interesting. Try to stay alive for a few minutes. I might be in a more listening mood then.”

         Medina smiled. “I was hoping you would say that.” As he finished, he darted forward, swords in a high-low stab pattern.

         Alsin calmly blocked the high blade, and brought it down to deflect the low one. He spun his wrist into the wide open flaw in the man’s defense, sighing at the easy victory. If he had so easily defeated Medina, Lord Kamerik must not know which end of the sword to hold. His thrust was parried though, by the low blade. The man had snaked his arm around Alsin’s, and still had enough leverage to steal all momentum from Alsin’s strike.

         Alsin’s eyes widened. It had been years since someone had tried that technique on him, and it brought back memories of his mentor. Alsin growled at the remembrance, and withdrew his blade from the tangle of limbs. He brought his sword down in a vicious cut, which was blocked by both blades of Medina’s, but the force was so great that Medina had to go down to one knee. Alsin brought the blade back again, this time doing small darting stabs, which were parried effortlessly by Medina. Whenever Medina tried to counter, though, Alsin’s arm was no longer where it should have been. Alsin twisted his body in many directions, seeking to confuse his opponent with his own snake-like movements, as his master had taught him. Even with his confusing moves, none of his strikes hit anything more solid than air, which only frustrated the assassin. Alsin was the best, he never really had anyone to challenge him so.

         Medina spun his swords around Alsin’s blade again, attempting to score a hit on Alsin’s chest. Alsin countered by kicking Medina’s feet out from under him. As Medina fell, he twisted his body, avoiding the falling blade that Alsin carried. He was on his feet in an instant, his blades whirling in a defensive screen, barely parrying Alsin’s blade. Alsin fought calmly now, realizing that he had overestimated the rogue, something the experienced Guildsman shouldn’t have done. Realizing that, Alsin now fought with the grace of someone who lived by the sword, his one blade more than a match for the two blades of Medina. Medina’s rising blow was met by Alsin’s sword, and when Medina aimed at Alsin’s ankles, he found Alsin’s foot meeting his face instead.

         The fight dragged on for a few more minutes, with Alsin finally scoring a small cut on the back of Medina’s hand, which didn’t deter the rogue. Finally Alsin withdrew, signaling that Median should begin speaking. “You intrigue me, and amaze me. No one should be able to match me so.”

         Medina sheathed his blades. “I told you that I was confident. Now, will you listen to my proposal?”

         Alsin nodded. “First, then, I should reveal a secret to you that my stepmother knows that you don’t. My name is Kyrin Draconir, crown prince under Queen Isbella. I am your half-brother. She knew that I was Medina, and that was precisely why she wanted me disposed of.” Kyrin detailed his past to Alsin, how he met Arkama, and what exactly he planned for peace. He detailed how the Ya’zuak force was going to arrive, when and how many, and his plan for raising an army in less than the month it would take for them to arrive. Alsin listened intently, noticing how inspired he felt by Kyrin’s words. It was just like when he was with Arkama. The man had an intensity about him, a fervor, that was impossible to shrug off, impossible to ignore. As Alsin listened, he decided that he wanted to help this man bring about his peace, even if it meant that he ignored his contract.

         Alsin smiled. He had liked Kyrin, back when he was alive. He remembered how they fought together against Ya’zuac scouting parties, and then how all of the allied forces had shown up for Kyrin’s aid. Alsin distinctly remembered meeting Gephis for the first time, the woman they were about to go meet, a mere teen at the time, unsure of herself. Alsin had attached himself to her side, not wanting to see her innocence destroyed in the war. Alsin also remembered the actual fight on the beaches, with Kyrin directing forces exactly where they needed to go against the more numerous enemies. Alsin could still feel the blood covering his hands from the sheer number of Ya’zuak he had killed, and still more that had charged him. He had killed over 300 of their kind in that war, and they ran fleeing the ruthless tactician and the Angel of Death, two unstoppable forces.

         But Alsin’s time with Kyrin was short. Mere hours after the Ya’zuac had retreated, Vyron, Alsin’s twin had caught up to Kyrin Draconir. He had convinced the man that he was Alsin, and then had plunged a dagger into his back when he turned around. Just like Alsin should have done before he had met Kyrin, Medina Sidino. As Vyron had fled, Alsin held the dying man in his arms, Kyrin told him of a blade so magnificent, so pure, that it could cut water and not be wet. It was a memento from Alsin’s father, entrusted to the royal family, and Kyrin had been about to fetch it for Alsin, before he was murdered.

         At the time, Alsin had figured that even that one small memory of his father, his legacy, lost forever. But by some greater will, maybe even something that Kyrin had planned, the sword was now returned to him. Alsin vowed silently, right there, that the blade would be put to good use, and that he would live on, for Kyrin’s sake, and strive for peace between the kingdoms. He vowed to live, and live proudly.