Araxis's Arc

Chapter 3 of 5

The golden light did not fade. It roared through Araxis like a river with no banks. The orb's power had filled him, and now it fought to break free. His hands shook. The grass at his feet withered, then burst into bloom, then withered again. He had the knowledge of the beyonders in his skull, too much to hold. His bones hummed. If he could not master this power, it would burn him hollow. The three halflings backed away from him. The braided woman did not. She stepped closer instead, boots crunching on scorched dirt. She had tracked raiders at his side, and she did not flinch now. "Look at me," she said. "Not at the light. At me." Araxis fought to meet her eyes. Golden fire leaked from his fingers. A wild tuft of grass near her boot flared and crumbled to ash. "You're trying to hold all of it at once," she said. "You can't. Pick one thing. Pour it there." Her voice cut through the noise in his head. He looked at his father's sword, driven point-down in the earth beside him. One thing. He reached for it. He did not grab the power. He aimed it. He drove every surging thread of gold down his arm, into the blade. The sword drank it. The light left his skin in a hard, bright rush, and he screamed through clenched teeth. Then it was gone from his body. The gold now lived in the steel. The blade glowed warm and steady, no longer wild. Araxis fell to his knees, breathing hard. The ground stopped burning. The air cooled. He wrapped both hands around the hilt and felt the power answer him, tame and waiting. "You held it," the braided woman said. She crouched beside him. "Barely." "It had to go somewhere." His voice came rough. He stared at the shining sword. He understood it now. The orb had made him a weapon, and the weapon had made itself his. A high, broken sound carried across the field. The halflings turned. Far off, a black shape tore through the long grass toward them. Red eyes burned in its skull. The demon horse. It bore the raiders' mark on its flank, the same beast Araxis had wounded before. It had not run from him this time. It charged. "It felt the light," the braided woman said. She drew her knife. "That much power. Every raider south of here felt it." Araxis stood. His legs held. The glowing blade felt light in his grip, eager. He had wanted the strength to protect people who could not protect themselves. Now he had it, and it had called his enemy straight to him. He set his feet and faced the charging horse. He snapped his fingers and it became tame and obeyed him! Now he has a ride! A magnificent ride!