This is an out of order scene. No real spoiling here but if you want to read the book in order, wait a while.

This takes place at least a year after ch.2 or 5. -- Dawn

The Sword Scene

Draystin's POV

With heavy steps Draystin climbed the last two circles of the tower. Sweat both fresh and dried stained his tunic. Climbing the tower even this late in the day was not pleasant. The sun baked stones were hot to the touch and the air trapped in the windowless upper tier was stifling. But for Draystin the view from the pinnacle was worth every ounce of sweat trailing down his back. The heavy door groaned and he gritted his teeth against the pain of his fresh bruises. The hot air rushed past him in a great sigh. On days like this he wished for the old days when he was younger and could loose himself for hours in the high places of the castle.

Now with less than two hours before he needed to present himself for yet another formal dinner of state, he wanted only a bit of peace after the afternoon's charade. He peeled off his gloves and stuffed them into his belt. The back of his right hand showed clearly the first bruise of the day. Sometime during the course of the morning's court, Draystin knew he had managed to offend Jaden, an all to frequent occurrence of late. Draystin tried to figure out how things could have been different. Not that he minded swallowing his pride, but today he swallowed more than that.

Sitting carefully on the north parapet he watched the deep purples and golds of the sunset playing between the mountains and the clouds crowning them. With one hand massaged a cramp in his thigh. Before climbing the tower he had been with Marketh practicing his swordsman ship. Jaden had seen fit to accompany him, followed by the Lady Lesse and half the court. With Draystin's offence still fresh, Jaden challenged him to a friendly match. Failure to accept the challenge would have added to Draystin's offence, yet by accepting Draystin courted a dragon's fire. Winning would be an unacceptable breach of position but not near as dangerous as obviously allowing the young king to win.

In hopes of a fast bout Draystin took the first point from his brother. Thus spurred to anger Jaden fought hard and with a reckless abandon. Draystin was forced to fend off the poor attack. The bout pushed on nearly ten minutes with no clear points being taken. Fed up with the charade, Draystin faked a stumble that sent him to his knees in the dirt. With a yell of triumph Jaden laid the flat of his blade, painfully, across the back of Draystin's shoulders. Draystin only thought that had been the end of it.

Marketh waited until the royal entourage filed from the training hall amidst praise for Jaden. From the tight lipped look to the rattan training blade, Marketh's intent was obvious. Draystin knew, he knew, that he'd lost on purpose, and badly at that. Marketh, fresh and rested, wasted no time with words. He drove Draystin beyond the limits of his endurance. Each blow that landed raised a welt or found a new bruise. Without quarter, and using all of Draystin's weaknesses against him, the Swordmaster beat into his student his most repeated lesson.

"Never waste your skills." He left Draystin alone, wet, and humbled, panting on the floor.

Now, in the highest point of the castle Draystin tried to compose himself before the trials of the evening began. He hoped to find a compromise between humility, strength and power. Jaden's goal to control everything extended to his own brother's thoughts and life. The court was near bursting with the daughters of nobles and barons. All of them currying for his favor and he dared not look at any of them. Two years after their marriage, Lesse was still without child and many of Jaden's supporters were starting to listen to the rumors about his fitness as a king and husband. Some of them even went so far as to openly parade their daughters for Draystin's approval. Jaden did not take kindly to the shifting sands beneath his political castle. To keep the peace between he and his brother, Draystin avoided any gathering he was not commanded to attend.

A sound, out of place in the stillness, drew his attention to the garden below him. Sunlight glinted briefly off metal. He watched and waited for another glimpse of the light but the sun passed below the wall and the garden was bathed in darkness. The sound reached him again and this time he thought he knew it. Metal on stone.

Pushing off the parapet he descended the tower to the level of the garden and silently he searched for the source of the sound. Then he found her. Treya, with a sword held high over her head in a guarding position. The cursed reprimand lodged in his throat as she brought the blade down without hesitation. Her two handed grip spoke of skill and training, and her speed spoke of practice. He watched her spin and lunge, reverse directions, and guard all sides from attack. She was dressed in loose fitting trousers that allowed her freedom of movement. Combined with a loose tunic and her hair tied back her appearance could convince one that she was a boy. It looked to him that she had put a lot of planning in her practice session. The time, the clothes, the sword, it chilled him. His admiration turned to fear then anger. She had taken the sword from somewhere or someone, and if she were caught with it, there would be no way for him to protect her.

Silently he drew Syesin Kep and advanced on her from behind. She needed the same lesson he had received earlier. When she turned he was there, his blade lowered at her throat, his eyes narrow and calculating. Treya did not react, much. Her eyes flew wide and he could see her pulse in her throat. The tip of her sword dropped but her hands remained ready.

"You would draw that blade on me?" She straightened from her crouch and lowered her guard.

With lightening speed he shot in and slapped her thigh with the flat of his blade. "You would lower your guard while facing your enemy? Or have you forgiven me?"

She raised her guard and retreated out of his reach. "You are still my enemy."

"Good. That makes this easier." He advanced.

"You can not use Syesin Kep against me."

"No?" Again she dropped her guard and again he struck her.

"Stop!" She cried.

"You won't face me, yet you hold a sword in your hand? A weapon," his anger colored his face. "Jaden would order you killed on the spot, if he did not do it himself." He lunged and this time she blocked before retreating.

"That would solve all his problems with Andavan?"

"No, but it would solve all your problems." Draystin struck straight in and Treya had to twist to avoid being pierced.

"What are you doing?"

Unfazed he stalked her. "Where did you get the sword?"

"They are everywhere, if you haven't noticed."

"Where?" He attacked.

"The library." She repelled him easily but he could see her sweat in the dying light. "Why are you doing this?"

"You know the rules! So, you carried the sword up here through the main hall or the training hall or the day rooms? Or did you carry it through the guard hall and then up two flights of stairs?"

"I am not that stupid!" His attacks came faster. "Will you stop?"

"How did you get the sword up here?" He pressed. Her blade dropped and he lunged, but she feinted and tried to slip his guard. Stepping in close he trapped her sword and pivoted, forcing her to face him. He met her shoulder to shoulder. She panted through clenched teeth. The harder she pulled against Syesin Kep the more control he had over her. "Good, fight me," he smiled.

"I lowered a rope down to a window." She spun away, freeing her blade. "And I will not fight you."

"Yes, you will." He rained blows on her forcing her backwards. Her hands shook but she met his every blow. "When you pick up a weapon you had better be ready to use it. You never know when a friend may become an enemy or a practice turn real." Their blades locked again and he tried to trip her.

"Bastard!" She fought to remain standing.

"So unlady like," he mocked.

"I'm no lady, I am no more than a slave."

With a startling shout he lunged at her and she jumped back, slamming hard against the tower wall. She barely managed to get her sword up between them before he was on her. With both hands he held his blade across her chest. Syesin Kep's hilt pressed into the hollow of her neck as he leaned in.

"That is by your choice, Treya Ali Cail." He used her title for the first time since she had arrived at the castle. She met his eyes defiantly, despite the trembling of her body beneath his touch. "You defy our rules and customs every chance you can, no matter the consequences," he paused. "How long have you been coming up here to practice?"

"Does it matter?" She said.

"Yes, it does!" He pressed down, driving the hilt guard into her neck.

"Once or twice a month," she gasped.

He eased up a bit. Her words hit him harder then Marketh had. "Does you life mean so little to you? Cashia can't protect you when you insist on being that dim whitted."

"If I am to get home I'll need this skill! My life is worth nothing outside of Andavan. Except as a trophy."

"This skill will get you killed. And that won't get you home either." There was a fire in her eyes that spoke of passion, and for a moment he was lost in it. To have something that was worth dying for was foreign to him. "You don't really want to die."

"It has to be better than living like this," she whispered avoiding his probing look.

He felt the desperation of her words. Her pain and fear had stripped her of all but the thoughts of escape. And any escape was acceptable. Draystin recognized the danger he was in a second too late. The pain from her well placed knee doubled him over and he leaned heavily against her. At her shoulder, Syesin Kep's guard, cut into her. It was merely a scratch, but blood welled to the surface and colored the blade's dark steel. In his head a thousand flaming arrows drove thought from his mind. The need to wretch increased as sparks coursed from the sword up his arms. From a great distance he imagined someone was calling his name and he tried to answer them. A blaze of lightening doubled his pain and a strange purple light pulsed like a heart beat.

Before him a vision formed, two people stood on a high cliff. Dark clouds swirled about the peak above them. A waterfall crashed from the very penecal of that peak into the mists below. The purple light emanated from the jeweled hilt of the man's sword. Syesin Kep. Draystin fought to see through the thickening mist to identify the other figure. The vision vanished and he was on the ground, kneeling in his own vomit.

"Draystin?" Treya was at his side and only her support kept him from falling further into the puddle under him. He moaned as another wave of nausea struck him.

Treya's POV

When Draystin pinned her to the wall, Treya wanted nothing more than to hurt him. When he had dropped his guard she showed him no mercy. Driving her knee into him where he was most venerable and driving him off of her. His pain was a victory for her after two years of humiliation at his hand. But when his eyes rolled up and he dropped to the ground retching she could not help rushing to his aid. Finally spent he lay limply in her arms.

"Draystin, can you hear me?" He reached up and gripped her sleeve. "What can I do? I ... I ... didn't mean to hurt you like this."

"Beltanis," he said.

"You want me to get him?" She needed to be sure she understood him. He nodded then groaned loudly, clutching at his head.

"I'll get him." She eased him to his side. He was pale and cold with sweat, and even when he looked at her, she was sure he couldn't see her. Grabbing her sword she stashed it in the scabbard hidden in the rushes of the garden pond. She yanked at the edge of her skirt tied about her waist, returning it to cover her disguise. Looking back at Draystin's motionless form, she shook her head at the urgency she felt. Day after day he would find some reason to scold or humiliate her, call attention to her faults or confine her to her room for a trivial indiscretion. He deserved to lie there in the gloom. But her bare feet slapped a swift rhythm on the cooling stones. Beltanis was usually in his offices just before the evening meal and she hoped to catch him before he reached the great hall.

Servants and royalty gaped as she ran past. One guard tried to snag her arm. She twisted, ducked and muttered an apology at him for running. Blood pounded in her ears and her breath came in short gasps. So intent was she on reaching the healer that she almost collided with a finally dressed lady of the court.

"My Lady, I am sorry. Please forgive me." Treya bowed her head to avoid looking directly at the woman.

"Lady Treya?"

Treya's head shot up and she hugged Lady Elrah. "Where is he?" Treya glanced behind Elrah to see if Beltanis was with her.

"Lady please, calm yourself. What is the matter?" Elrah scolded. "You're a mess!"

"Where is your husband?" Treya felt the urgency rising in her again.

"You're bleeding my Lady."

Treya brushed at Elrah's hand. "Draystin collapsed in the garden. I need Beltanis."

"What?"

"Draystin collapsed!" Treya shouted.

"Where is he?" Beltanis appeared behind his wife.

"Hurry! He is in the north tower garden." Treya grabbed his arm.

"I need my bag."

"There isn't time." Treya pushed him down the hall.

"Elrah, my bag," he called back over his shoulder. "I am coming child, you can release me. Now tell me what happened."

Treya's mind went blank. What could she or should she tell him? Carefully she edited the events, panting to cover her delay. "He was practicing with his sword, and, he collapsed. I tried to catch him and then he started throwing up." Beltanis nodded and mumbled under his breath.

By the time they reached the garden all the light was gone. Treya grabbed a torch from the keep and found Draystin as she had left him, curled on his side with his head in his hands. Beltanis wasted no time. He felt Draystin's head and neck then rolled him onto his back and pried his eyes open.

"I need a damp cloth."

Treya planted the torch in the ground and hurried to the pond. She ripped a strip of cloth from her skirt to soak. ****Elrah found her there and Treya rushed****

"Cover his head with the cloth, Treya. Elrah, I need the salts." The healers hands roamed over Draystin's arms and legs, then his ribs. He took a vial from his wife and waved it under Draystin's nose. Draystin's reaction was instant. His hands shot up to fend off the offensive smell. His sudden motion brought on another fit of vomiting.

When Draystin was done, Beltanis cleaned him up and checked his eyes again. "Marketh told me about your lesson today. You should have come to see me straight away. Not come up here to work out your frustrations. How many blows to the head did you take?"

"You think I would have made it this far if I had allowed a single blow to my head? Marketh would have had you attending me on the training floor." Draystin spoke slowly but there was no slurring to his words. Beltanis snorted at him.

"The Lady says you collapsed."

"I did. Something," Draystin searched for words, catching Treya's glance. He pressed his hand against his head. "Something happened."

"I want you inside where I can get a better look at you. If Marketh has done you any harm--"

"It is his right to see me properly trained."

"But not to injure you like this. We can speak more of this later, but right now I want you inside."

Beltanis helped Draystin to his feet but the young man's knees buckled and the color blanched from his face. Treya was rushing to help even as Beltanis called her name.

Draystin's POV

Lady Elrah ushered Treya out of the room ahead of her. Draystin kept his eyes on the door after the two had left. He heard Beltanis' heavy steps behind him and he waited.

"Off with the tunic."

"Beltanis--"

"Off with it!"

With his head pounding, Draystin stood and faced the doctor. "No. My brother may command me, but you may not."

"Someone needs to command you," he pointed out the stains on Draystin's clothes. "Because you are not in command of yourself."

"That's enough."

"You were unconscious..."

"And that makes me any less a prince?"

"My Lord."

"What?" Draystin rested his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes. There was no hint of youth in his countenance. Beltanis met his stare and for a full minute neither said a thing, until the doctor looked away.

"You may leave now," Draystin dismissed him. Beltanis looked as if he wanted to say something but he shook his head and left. Alone in the comfort of his room, Draystin sagged against a chair. The pounding in his head had become the beating of a heart. His eyes hurt and he closed them briefly. Amethyst colored sparks lit up the darkness.

( Lore Scene )

Draystin work at the touch on his shoulder. He was slumped in a chair and Tonfor was gently shaking him.

"My Lord, wake up."

"Is this a dream?"

"It is no dream, my Lord." Tonfor went and pulled aside the heavy drape, letting in the morning sun.

Draystin flinched in the harsh light then yelped in pain when he tried to shield his eyes. Muscles abused the evening before and then slept on, protested violently at being moved.

"Beltanis said you would need this." He set pot of poltuce in front of Draystin.

Nodding, Draystin was pleased to discover that at least his head did not hurt, even if everything else did.