Chapter 37: Fire and Water

Scindo slammed his lance to the dirt, and a geyser of sparkling water shot up in front of him. For a second, wind billowed in every direction as the vortex of white fire collided against the geyser until, finally, the two both dissipated. Scindo grinned for only a second before he raised the shaft of his lance horizontally by his chest, blocking the swing of Ronan’s sword.

Then, the two took off in a flurry of footwork that stomped the bushy grass beneath them flat. Scindo thrusted both blunt edges of his lance at Ronan, twirling his staff left and right. Ronan positioned himself sideways in a fencing stance he’d learned from Maritza at The Temple of the Butterfly. He kept his swordhand outright to hold Scindo at bay, and Ronan hacked away each of Scindo’s attacks.

Scindo taunted Ronan and said, “That Mark of the Butterfly keeps you moving quickly, huh?”

Smoke from Ronan’s markings plumed in Scindo’s face, and Ronan’s pace quickened. The sound of wood thudding against metal rang through the plains and formed ripples in Lover’s Lake.

Beneath Scindo’s tricorn hat, sweat started to form.

The two clashed again, and Ronan glared at Scindo hard enough to send a message: Ronan would break any limit put on his body to win.

Scindo’s found himself struggling to keep his grounding, but he used the locked embrace of their weapons to get a proper read on Ronan; though Ronan was young and of an excellent height and strength, Scindo could tell just by the way the young Nightblade held his sword that Ronan struck with power, not precision.

Scindo intended on showing him how fatal such a strategy could be.

The wood of Scindo’s lance began to chip, and the white flames consumed the edge of the Hellblade. Ronan pushed all he could, and although smoke flowed from the black veins and markings on his arm, he couldn’t push through the simple wooden lance and snap it in two.

He knew Scindo must be using some kind of Nightblade magic to enhance his weapon. Scindo pushed Ronan away, and in the crack that Ronan had made on the lance there was a glimmering piece of ice.

Ronan circled away from the crater in the dirt that the geyser had sprung from and said, “So you imbue your weapon with ice magic.”

Scindo removed his tricorn hat, swept sweaty hair from his eyes, and responded, “Just as you set your blade afire, I keep mine icy.”

Scindo squeezed the lance and splinters of wood shattered away and plummeted towards Ronan. He tried to pivot away but was caught in the blast. He got his arms up to protect his face, but his stomach and forearms were riddled with tiny, sharp pieces of spiky wood. Ronan grunted in pain as he felt as if he’d been stung by a nest of angry bees, and he watched the lights from the seahorses in the lake reflect off Scindo’s pale blue lance made completely of ice.

Now, it had a single deadly prong at its tip. He touched the sharp lance to the ground and in an instant the grass all transformed into wet ice. Ronan and his friends all slipped and fell, though Scindo purposefully cast no ice where the horses were standing, and they simply stood on their hind legs and neighed wildily.

Ronan slid on the ice and to Scindo’s feet, and Scindo pressed a cold boot to Ronan’s chest.

Damp ice spread then hardened on Ronan’s chest, chilling him to the bone. By the time the ice reached his shoulders, Ronan had put both hands on Scindo’s shin, right over the black Runes covering his Mark of the Seahorse.

“Push yourself!” The Shroud shouted to Ronan.

Ronan snarled and shouted, and his entire body warmed, melting the ice beneath him and on his chest. White flames sprung out from Ronan’s palms and onto Scindo’s leg, but the spike on his shoulder pointed itself at the fires, then shot out a jet of water.

Scindo shook his leg free, set his hands on his hips, and roared with laughter. The spike issued one final jet of water on top of Ronan’s head, soaking his hair and cooling him off.

“A job well done!” Scindo exclaimed.

Ronan eased up, still on the ground. The playfulness in Scindo’s laughter indicated that the spar was complete.

Scindo waved a hand. “Don’t exert yourself too much, please. I see now what you’re capable of, Black Serpent.”

Ronan smirked and replied, “That’s it then? Flash a little bit of fire and now I’ve earned your trust?”

Scindo stood over Ronan, extended a hand outwards, and lifted Ronan to his feet.

“Not quite,” Scindo said. “You earned my trust when I saw that you fought for your friends.”

His grip was firm and friendly when he brushed the dirt of Ronan’s back and said, “You earned my RESPECT when I saw your control of The Shroud.”

Scindo shrugged, sounding almost as protective and paternal as Master Ferrier. “Although, if you’re going to be studying under me and my temple, then we’ll need to work on a few things, like your striking techniques and your temper.”

“So then, we’re being accepted to the temple?” Ronan asked.

“I suppose so,” Scindo responded, glancing at Ike, Clove, and Maritza. Slowly, the ice around them too faded away. “I’ve fought enough Hellsworn to know what a person who can’t control The Shroud looks like. If The Shroud isn’t kept in check, then a person can turn into a soldier for the Black Blades.”

The spike at Scindo’s shoulder turned into cerulean and black spotted Essence, and flowed into his shin tattoo.

Maritza stepped forward.

“You had me concerned there, for a moment,” she said, “when you seemed to take on traits of the Black Blades’ armor.”

Scindo removed his hat, pressed it to his chest, and offered a small bow. The scars scattered on his face didn’t make him any less handsome.

“Simply putting on a good show, dear,” Scindo said.

“You’ve fought them before,” Ike said, wringing out his sideburns from the damp ice he’d fallen on. “The Hellsworn, that is. I’ve only heard stories of them.”

“That’s correct, Mountain Man,” Scindo said. “My crew and I’ve been spreading our reach on the seas, trying to track down this threat. During that time, we’ve fought our share of Hellsworn.”

“Then we share a common goal after all,” Maritza said.

“Indeed so,” Scindo replied. “But, and I say this with no offense, The House of the Butterfly doesn’t exactly raise warriors. It breeds doublespeakers and politicians. I needed to test your grit to see if you wouldn’t be killed by our Seahorse training. I’m not about to send those who aren’t fit for combat to their death.”

Clove and Ike exchanged a glance. Maritza and Ronan were powerful because of their Shroud abilities, but would they be strong enough to accept the challenges ahead of them?

“We can prove to you that we’re ready for anything,” Ronan confirmed. The look in his eyes made Scindo believe him.

“Then I’ll tell you what,” Scindo said. “Since you seem to be the Captain of this crew of yours, should you pass another test of mine right here and now, I’ll promote you all to Seahorse Trainees, and give you your markings on the spot.”

At the tail of Scindo’s words, Ronan said, “Whatever your challenge, I’ll complete it.”

With another soft chuckle, Scindo pulled out a second bottle of rum from his leather trench coat. He removed the cork on the bottle with a pop, and held the cork outright.

“Should you find a way to use your Butterfly speed to get this cork out from my hand,” Scindo said, “then you’ll have passed my trial.”

Maritza looked at Ronan, trying to hide her concern. Despite his formidable control over The Shroud, they’d been traveling, where in need of rest, and she didn’t want him to push himself too hard. If this fight and the fight against the Norovir had taught her anything, it was that Ronan could not divert his attention when he had his mind set on something.

Ronan grinned.

“My speed of the Butterfly, you say?” he asked. “How about my cunningness of the Serpent?”

He held out the fragment of black Hellsworn metal that he identified in Scindo’s leg before their brawl, and that he had plucked from the markings on Scindo’s shin when Scindo had brought him to the ground.

“What say we trade?” Ronan asked. “Since in all your flashy tricks and slippery tactics, you still left your most vulnerable spot open.”

Scindo’s face went red.

“Very well,” he stammered. He tossed the cork into the air and Ronan threw him the metal. Scindo observed it, then slid it into his pocket.

Clearing his throat, Scindo said, “And of course I’ll keep my end of the bargain.”

He approached the cusp of Lover’s Lake and whistled two sharp tones. Scindo held out his hand and four yellow, glowing seahorses swam over, then leapt into his palm.

“You four,” Scindo said to Ronan and his group, “Roll up a pant leg.”

They did so and Scindo brought a seahorse to each and every one of them. The seahorse reached out its puckered mouth, gave them a tickling kiss on the shin, then faded into yellow Essence that filled out a black tattoo of a seahorse on their legs.

Ike, Clove, and Maritza all stared at their new markings. None of them had expected to have ever obtained another Nightblade marking outside of their own.

But Ronan was having complications. His seahorse kept moving its head away from his shin. It nudged its face upwards, pointing to his forearm.

“Interesting,” Scindo mumbled. “You want to brandish your marking on his arm, is that it?”

The seahorse squeaked and Scindo brought it to Ronan’s arm. When it pressed its mouth to his forearm, yellow and black Essence tallied a fourth mark on both his Butterfly and Serpent tattoo, then completed a Mark of the Seahorse on the side of his snake.

“I’ve seen this symbol before,” Scindo said. “A butterfly and a seahorse on opposite ends of a snake. This means something.”

He got far less serious, then handed Maritza the bottle of rum.

“But before anything else,” Scindo said, “a proper celebration is in order, to welcome in the newest crew under the Black Serpent Ronan. Come now, to the temple! Finish up that rum between the four of you, and I’ll show you just how The Temple of the Seahorse operates!”

Ike called to the horses, and them and the five Nightblades head up the grassy hill towards the temple on the cliffside.