Amagro Dreygun's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Amagro Dreygun wanted to win the grand tournament that crowned the finest blade in Chronchara. First she had to kill a leanbear alone. The master warrior Rahmar had set the price of his teaching: bring him the beast's head, or leave his temple forever. She found the tracks near a dry streambed at dawn. Great-cat claws had torn the mud. Her katana felt light in her hand, too light for what came next. A leanbear stood taller than a man on its hind legs. Its grey fur hid muscle built to break bone. She waited behind a fallen tree until the smell of blood on her arm drew it out. The beast came fast, low, silent. Its jaws snapped where her head had been. She rolled, cut once across its flank, and drew a long red line. The leanbear screamed and swung a paw. Claws raked her ribs. Her red armor tore. Blood ran down her side. She did not run. She circled, breathing hard, waiting for the next lunge. When it came, she dropped to one knee and drove her blade up under the jaw. The leanbear shuddered and fell across her legs. She lay pinned under its weight, bleeding, until she dragged herself free. Cutting the head took longer than the kill. She carried it by the fur, stumbling, her vision going grey at the edges. Rahmar's temple rose from the plain, its steep silver walls flat as blades, doorways gaping on every side. Warriors sparred in the open yard. One woman drew Amagro's eye. She struck a training post again and again, faster than the rest, her fists raw and split. She did not stop when the others rested. She did not stop when Amagro staggered past. Amagro had seen her every morning, always training, always harder. A rival for the tournament. Amagro dropped the head at Rahmar's feet. "It's done," she said. Then her knees folded. Hands caught her before she hit stone. A small woman knelt beside her, silver hair falling loose, a blue crystal glowing at her chest. Grondallynn the healer pressed both palms to the wound in Amagro's side. "You cut too close and too slow," Grondallynn said. Warmth spread under her hands. The torn flesh pulled shut. "A hand's width deeper and no Magus art would have brought you back." Amagro breathed easier. "Rahmar wanted proof. He has it." Rahmar lifted the leanbear's head and studied the killing wound. He nodded once. "You may train. But the tournament is in thirty days." He pointed to the woman still striking the post. "She has trained here two years. You have a month." Grondallynn helped Amagro stand. The wound was healed, but her strength was gone, and the rival never slowed. "Rest tonight," Grondallynn said. "Tomorrow he breaks you worse than the bear did."