Mana: 34 -> 33
Spell: Shield
Defence: 21 -> 26
The heat flooded through the half elf’s veins as he brought up the back of his hand, calling out the words of magic as the blade bounced off the back of a purple gauntleted fist. His eyes remained focused upon the woman, who raised her brow in surprise, and though her blade glowed with the magics of the Oathsworn, she pointed it to the earth.
“Why did you not draw your axe?” Samra asked, her eyes focused solely upon the half elf.
“There are those I can draw my axe against, and those I cannot,” the half elf replied, holding the woman’s gaze.
“Dunes has informed me you are stronger, and from what I know of the ahmuk, he would not speak such words unless you, a boy, were stronger than I,” the woman stated, still holding the half elf within her gaze, judging him wordlessly.
“It’s not a matter of strength, but a matter of heart. I don’t have the heart to draw my sword against many, like my Aunt, who adopted me into her family, my grandmothers, who adore me and spoil me as though I am a child, and you, Kal Samra, who have raised Mo Dunes, who is like a brother to me.”
“You did not tell me he was so cute,” Samra stated, smiling slightly, though her raised brow continued to question the half elf. She was surprised the half elf wouldn’t even draw his axe against her, but considering all that Dunes had told her, which was very little, but that he was so queer, she supposed she shouldn’t have been so worried. ‘If he is like this, then…’
Dunes glanced aside to the half elf. He didn’t realise the half elf was that cute either, but it seemed he had taken the Priest’s warning to…
Dunes’ heart throbbed.
‘Ah, didn’t he just say it was because she raised me?’
Samra sheathed her blade, noting the nearby children, as well as the expectant glares of the Iyrmen, before she bowed her head towards Ashmir, who returned the bow of his head, finally, the woman smiling and bowing her head towards the Iyrman. “Raining Bow. It is a pleasure to see you once more.”
“It seems I must impose once again,” the woman replied, bowing her head in return. Last time she had stayed here, she had been tended to by another, but she had met Kal Samra and they had chatted lightly. She hadn’t realised the ahmuk she had spoken of so affectionately had been this Mo Dunes. She had remained to herself, mostly, and realised what a mistake it had been.
“What a cute friend you have made,” Samra said, sipping her tea lightly, her eyes falling upon her apprentice, trying to see how much he would dare to hide form her.
“He is as scary as he is cute,” Dunes admitted, letting out a small sigh, which left him exhausted. It had been many years since he had met Adam, and that entire time, Dunes wasn’t sure he was able to let down his guard like this. Yet, even in these walls, the walls that had protected him since he was a boy, they were unable to shake off the trouble in his heart, the trouble known as Adam.
“I wonder, how strong is he?” Samra mused aloud, narrowing her eyes, noting the Priest’s eyes were closed, trying to think about how much he could say to her, his own mentor. She had taught him swordplay and almost all of his prayers, though someone else had taught him the deeper Priestly magics, but ultimately Dunes was hers, that much was said without doubt.
“I have said he is crazy and defies logic, and I meant that,” Dunes finally said, opening his eyes to stare down at his cup of tea. “I could tell you the names of all he has defeated, but even you might think I had been charmed, or put under an illusion.”
“What is the most impressive fight?”
Dunes let out a sigh. “The fight between himself and Ahm Isam.”
“Ahm Isam?” Samra narrowed her eyes. She had heard it from Isam himself, that some fool had defeated him, so he had come to speak with them. Sokikez, Ashmir, those two were probably one of the two who could have defeated him, perhaps the one known as Bael, but… Adam? Did he just humour a fight? There was no way he lost to the likes of the boy.
“You will see.”
Samra leaned back within her chair, eyeing up Dunes, who seemed so much older than the boy that had left. “Do you understand how stressed I am, my apprentice who is so terrifyingly stupid, that damned ahmuk, has made me take gate duty in order to welcome his return and to watch over him before the Malawi can beat him senseless for his ridiculous joke.”
Dunes reached into his robe, holding out a small stylus, offering it to the woman. “Amira gives her greetings.”
“How is she?” Samra asked, accepting the gift, noting the beautiful wood, courtesy of an Iyrman’s eye.
“She is well, as one might expect.”
“Does she have any complaints of what happened?”
“No, they treated her well enough in captivity, and they made some excuses, but the Iyr sent a letter to admonish them.”
“We had to pin Alya down, otherwise she would have gone to slaughter a few before getting herself killed,” Samra stated. “What of the children?”
“They are well too.”
“To marry so quickly without inviting me…”
“I beg for your forgiveness, but I have brought something to make up for it,” Dunes said, smiling awkwardly.
“If you think anything can make up for this, perhaps you don’t have children?”
“I have guaranteed that Black Mountain can stand tall for a century.”
The woman remained silent for a long moment. “Perhaps you do have children? Are you saying that this half elf can guarantee it.”
“Yes.”
‘If he is going this far…’
It wasn’t long later when a servant stepped up to Adam and whispered into his ear.
“Okay?” Jurot asked.
“Yeah,” the half elf replied, beginning to don his armour once more.
Adam just took off his armour...