Swords of Isadren (BoyxBoy)

Chapter Fifteen: Smell

The start of the journey to the border was the most uneasy that Asman had ever felt.

The Guard were almost too normal for what they were stepping into; they remained laughing and joking during the traveling, but Asman could feel the weight in his heart every day they neared the battle.

Nobody actually spoke of what they were walking into, but Asman did see some of them training near the same time he did so with Niallen.

Asman's sword work had improved greatly since he began training, but looking over what the other Guards moved like made him rethink how good he actually was.

He could not beat Niallen yet, though he could get some good strikes in, but perhaps that was not enough for how close they were to battle.

Training with Teran had come to a standstill, since Asman knew mostly how to use his magic well. He wondered if he had enough strength to actually kill a soldier.

They had never practiced on anything larger than a grasshopper, and Asman was surely not going to test his limits on anything bigger than that unless they deserved it. He figured, if he could kill a tree in a short amount of time, he could at least kill a few soldiers at best.

Regardless if Asman could kill, it did not mean he wanted to use his magic for such things; that is where the sword training came in.

The two days to the border passed slowly, seeing as they did not leave until the next day. The day after Asman's dream was spent preparing; gathering and sharpening weapons, making sure that everyone had suitable armor, and giving both the horses and the Guards a rest from traveling.

Asman received armor from Stulvon and a newer and sharper sword from Marrion, one of the Isadrenians that was close with Niallen.

The sword was standard, but beautiful in its own simple way. Asman adored how the blade looked in the sun, and how the handle felt in his palm; it felt as if it belonged there.

By the next day, Asman was prepared for battle and weighing down Cedran a tad more. His sword on his hip and leather heavy on his shoulders, the ride was a little less pleasant.

The only thing he could focus on was how Niallen kept sniffing at the air and frowning. Each time the wind blew, or they took a break from walking, Niallen was there with flared nostrils and a hard look.

Asman knew the mans sense of smell was outstanding, and wondered what Niallen was smelling to make him do so that often. He figured he could ask, but there was not any reason to strike a conversation.

Every time that Asman even looked at the man, his heart frazzled in his chest. He was not sure if he could stand not looking at Niallen for more than half a day.

Though, it seemed that the man could do with not looking at Asman for a great deal more time. The only time Niallen ever looked at him was when Asman was speaking to him, making the latter clearly understand the situation.

Besides this revelation, Asman still would look at Niallen casually. If anyone asked, he could easily make up a lie to try and save what little dignity he had left. Perhaps he could just tell them he was worried about what was to come, seeing as it was becoming a shorter and shorter distance till then.

The closer that they got to the border, the more Asman could feel the shift in the air. Niallen was no longer alone in his scenting of the air, as Asman had begun to smell it too.

The scent of death, just like in his nightmare, was thick and heady in the air. Sweet, but rotten at the same time and worrying to Asman as it became stronger while they traveled.