Belief

She walked across the fields towards the forest, covering the distance in long, powerful strides. The sunlight hit her eyes, reflecting off her sword as she tilted it- first left and then right. Hexicor always said that the best thing about her swordsmanship was in the way she let her grip flow easily from one style to another. She loved the way her fingers would assume a familiar grip, and then slip into another, along the worn out grooves of her sword’s hilt. Those grooves came from years and years of practice in the forest at the crack of dawn, practices on the riverside with Kina and Gioman, sunset practices with Dad and midnight walks with Hex, just holding swords for comfort.

She took her stance and a deep breath and began. Step, turn, cut. Step, cut, cut. She danced in and out, weaving her body through the blades of the Shadows. The Shadows came from deep within The Belief and she was lucky to be able to call them to practice with. The beings of darkness were always one step ahead of her, dancing out of her reach, moving their blades one second quicker and tiring her with every move. She felt herself stumble as two Shadows came at her together. In one split second, she was on the floor of forest, dry leaves crunching beneath her weight, her fluid grip failing her as she struggled to grab hold of her sword. The first Shadow raised his sword in a motion to slice her neck and as the sword hissed through the air, frustration overtook her. “Enough. Enough now. I have learnt and I know what I must correct.” The Shadows instantly melted.

She scrambled to her feet, still frustrated as she looked for her sword among the leaves. As much as she loved Gioman and the sword he had gifted her years ago, she couldn’t help but feel that on this morning, it was the blade’s fault. Her sword usually kept a good connection with The Belief. The Belief, from where all the magic of the Earth arose, held every Knight to his sword and to his purpose ‘til sword and knight were almost one. But today her sword was sluggish, reluctant to follow her command.

“Stop scowling at that beautiful sword, you arrogant knight.”

She looked up to see Hexicor grinning at her and grinned back.

“How long were you watching?”

“Long enough,” he paused “to know that it wasn’t the sword’s fault. You weren't concentrating, most of your Belief was used up in calling the Shadows.”

“I don’t know Hex..." she began softly. "Lately, it seems like that’s the hardest part for me. Convincing myself that I need the Shadows; that I need to practice; that it’s all worthwhile; that when the Evil comes, we need to be different from them." She looked into his deep brown eyes, knowing that he was the one person who wouldn’t judge her this statement of hers. He wouldn’t hate her because she was having crazy thoughts that could change everything in the blink of an eye.

He took a step closer to her, his brow crinkling in worry. “Maybe you should just take a break for a couple of days.” She smiled at his worry, but mostly at the adorable crinkle above the ridge of his nose. 

“That’s not going to help. Last night, I could barely call a fire to boil water. That hardly takes any Belief and I couldn't even manage that. It made Kina so angry. If I start talking about a break, she’d just lose it.”, she finished with a sigh.

He thought for a moment, and then smiled warmly. “You know what, don’t think about it. It’ll be alright. Enough practice now. Come, I’ll walk you home.” 

She liked the way his arm felt around her shoulder, heavy and yet so comfortable. She sneaked a glance into his eyes and for the thousandth time marveled at their perfectly marbled brown. He caught her gaze and smiled. He stopped walking and slowly turned to face her. “By home, I mean I’ll drop you far enough away from your house so that your father doesn't see me and drive me away again.”

She laughed and tilted her face to look him square in the eye, “He doesn't mean any harm, he just needs some time to trust you. You know knights are.”

“You know, I understand what you were saying back there. Sometimes I think about what it would be like, if we didn’t have this life”, he began slowly. “Don’t you?”

She let the weight of what he said sink into her. “What are you saying Hex?”

“If we didn’t have to do any of it, if we weren’t part of the Knightsclan, we could lead normal lives. We wouldn’t have to live in fear.” He paused. “Or hatred.” His voice suddenly seemed deadly cold to her.

She couldn’t meet his eyes, “But the Evil? Who would stand up to them when they come? We are the wall Hex, we are the only ones. That is our purpose. That is our Belief as it has been for ages and ages. Without it, we are nothing.”

“Magic can be bent, my sweet. It listens to those who speak.” He slowly took her hand and she felt her skin tingle where he touched her, her mind slowly going blank, as if he were pouring water on a slate. “We could be together, in a way we can never be now.” He voice grew soft and she felt herself go oblivious to everything except his gaze on her. “And I know more than anything that I want to be with you.”

He meant it. Of course he did. Her thoughts spun with everything she had just heard Hexicor say, she had to close her eyes to keep from falling down. She pictured a life with Hex, her mind feeling light at the thought of how simple that life could be. She felt her Belief drop away from her, her mind feeling lighter, almost making her giddy.

She opened her eyes and took a step towards Hex, reaching towards him with a smile when suddenly, she stopped short. His face darkened, his brown eyes began to morph into an inky black. His features twisted and she gasped as she recognised the Evil. She stumbled backwards, for the second time that morning and frantically searched the ground for her sword. She struggled to grab onto any last thread of Belief in her mind, willing the magic to flow through her again. He held out his hands to her and in them lay her sword, glinting in the sun as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening. She flung out her hand, more out of reflex than anything else, reaching for the familiar hilt, itching for the grooves she knew so well, just as his shrill laughter hit her and her sword began to melt away. She watched helpless and horrified, tears filling her eyes, only now fully realising what she had done.

“The tears will be gone soon, sweetling. You will slip into the oblivion that is the ordinary. Your precious purpose will not even be a memory.” he said as he slowly lay his cheek against hers. He whispered in her ear, “Tell me that all the Knightsclan’s Belief will be this easy to destroy.”

She wanted to tell him that it wouldn’t and that he would not succeed, but couldn’t find it in her to feel what she had to say. She could hardly see through the tears in her eyes and slowly, everything began to fade away.

*** 

A shepherd girl walked out of her house and towards the forest at the end of the fields. She liked to listen to the crunch of the dry leaves beneath her feet and the smell of the fresh sprigs in the morning as she looked over the land. The dark of Evil was stretched across the sky, exactly as it had been since she could remember, blocking any sunlight. As she looked upwards, wondering in fear what the day would bring, she felt again, as she had felt so many times before, a strange emptiness. 

A strong breeze whipped around her as if wanting to knock the smooth wooden staff out of her hand and replace it with something else. She almost thought she felt a shiver run across her arms, a whisper of a memory she did not understand. Then the shepherdess at the edge of the field gripped her staff tighter and turned to walk back home. It was time to feed the sheep.

[This is a story that I wrote a couple of years ago. I pulled it up and just tweaked it a little for now. It began as a random thought; wondering what it would be like if your entire world was built on belief in something - in this case, in yourself, in your purpose. I don't know that 'sword-fighting fantasy' is my forte, but it seemed like a good locale to build a story like this in. Cheers.]