Four months had passed since John had boarded the Swift Retribution, and in that time he’d become fluent in Elvish and Universal. His weaving was not going as well, but it still earned him praise. Sor Al was a tough teacher and not easily pleased. A single word of praise from her was worth a lot.

“Good,” said Sor Al, examining John’s overlapping aura circuits, “but you have made more progress in your language studies than you have in aura. Try to work harder. Stop following that Karamen around all the time.”

“What’s wrong with Karamen?” asked John.

“He’s too unruly. He’s capricious and rude. His example will lead you astray.”

John shook his head. He had no intention of staying away from Karamen. Karamen and his group were the only elves that were friendly with John. They were outliers in this sea of pointy eared faces. He felt accepted among them. He had been lonely for so long. He didn’t want to feel that way again. “All the rest of the elves treat me with disdain. Karamen is my only friend.”

“It is important to have at least one good friend,” Sor Al sighed. “I understand how you feel. Very well. Go back and practice. We cannot proceed further until you have mastered this circuit. You are a quick learner but you can be quicker.” She was always pushing him. John supposed that that was what a good teacher did.

Sor Al dismissed John and he left to his room. For some time, he tried vitalizing the aura perceiver circuit, but always found his progress blocked. John left his room and went to find Karamen in the dining hall. It was almost time for lunch and he needed some time to take his mind off things.

“Wild Child,” John heard a sonorous voice welcome him as soon as he entered the dining hall. Karamen made a theatrical bow and grinned. He raised his hands and they disappeared.

“When are you going to teach me that trick?” John asked with some frustration.

“It is no trick,” Karamen answered. “It is the result of masterful skill and daring. One must first learn to see the weaves before one can cut the strings.”

“That again,” John said grumpily. It was just making a hand disappear. Why did it have to be so complicated?

“Your progress is still not to your liking?” Karamen asked. “You push yourself too hard. Come, make merry with us, young wild one. It is only when you’re relaxed that epiphanies occur. Play us one of the Bright Ones’ songs.” He handed John an instrument that looked like a lute. John had never played such an instrument before. He’d never had occasion to.

When John plucked the first note the lights of the dining chamber dimmed to a red. “What’s happening?” John asked. Was it something he did?

“Adventure awaits,” Karamen laughed.

John heard a pleasant feminine voice in his head. It was the ship’s AI. “Attention! Unknown entity approaching. All hands to battle stations,” it said. Battle stations? How could Karamen call this an adventure? It seemed like something was about to destroy them.

“Friends,” said Karamen, “let us make haste to don our armor. May your spears be swift and the aim of your blasters true. And most importantly, let’s have some fun.”

“I’m coming with you,” said John resolutely. “I can help.” If they were fighting he wanted to help. He had killed all sorts of monsters. He wouldn’t hold them back, John assured himself. More importantly, he didn’t want to be alone in his room while everyone else was facing danger.

“Very well, but if we are to venture forth into the aether you will stay and cheer for us on board the ship.”

John nodded, and followed Karamen to the Arbiters’ Bay. Karamen and the rest opened their lockers and donned their red armor, plates of metal psychokinetically strapping themselves to the bodies of the Arbiters, pteruges swirling around until finally clicking into place. John had seen them changing into armor before in the training room. John never grew tired at the sight. It was like seeing someone transform from a regular person into a deadly warrior.

“Karamen, stop fooling around,” said Tiluniel, the commander of the arbiters, glaring at him as he danced around while putting on his armor. She waved her hand and a holographic display appeared before them, showing the surroundings of the ship.

A figure half the size of the Swift Retribution, dressed in flames, approached the battleship. The figure grew nearer, its features becoming apparent. It wore a bestial face mask, green luminescence flowing out the eye holes, its head and body covered by a black cloak enveloped by a halo of flames.

“I am the God of Light,” the creature roared, its voice echoing through the aether. “Worship me and I shall grant you great power.” It was much deadlier than anything John had ever seen. How could he help fight against a being like that? John wondered whether he should bow down and pray for his life, but none of the other elves were concerned. They were joking and laughing with each other. Their postures indicated that they were ready to rush into the aether at a moment’s notice. How could they fight against such a thing?

A small golden figure appeared before the creature, her voice telepathically transmitted to everyone within ten miles of the ship. It was the leader. “No false god shall drain the spirits of my crew,” she said, her swords flashing blue as she drew them. Banshee warcraft launched out the bays of the Swift Retribution, their sonic cannons wailing as they fired at the false god. Their sleek metal exteriors reflected the light of the aether, glowing azure. The false god moved to swat away the Banshees like irritating mosquitoes, but his hand was stopped by the sword of the leader.

“Now you shall witness the prowess of a star dancer,” Karamen said excitedly to John. “The leader never disappoints.”

The leader’s sword aura grew ever larger and thicker as she fended off the false god. The false god’s flames grew brighter and the aura shield protecting the leader darkened until it was almost black. With a loud battle cry the leader swung her sword, red blood gushing forth like an erupting volcano from the false god’s arm. The leader then began to dance, her movements too swift for the eye to follow. With each pause in her dance John could see her striking a different pose. He imagined he could hear the drumbeats of her song. One second she was standing before the false god’s leg, bent forward as her sword cut through the fiery fiend, the next second she was floating by its arm, sword aura spiraling to penetrate the false god.

Spirals...John had a moment of inspiration. Perhaps he could break the blocks in his aura circuit using spirals.

After a lunge at its heart the leader continuously pirouetted and floated towards the head, her sword striking flesh with each turn. The false god dematerialized leaving only sparks behind. The crew of the Swift Retribution cheered. John cheered the loudest, his high pitched voice easily heard throughout the Bay. The leader was amazing. He wondered if he should ask her for lessons. They’d be more interesting than element weaving, that was for sure.

“Did you see that?” Karamen grinned at John, pirouetting and pirouetting round and round, his glaive whistling through the air. John grew dizzy just watching him. “Our intrepid leader is unmatched in combat. Luck shone on you this day, Wild Child, for the leader rarely gets serious in her battles. She has never met her match. We may not have been the main actors this day, but what a glorious show!”

“Can she beat the realm mistress?” John asked. Sor Al seemed too gentle to be a warrior. She was elegant and refined, not at all the type who dirtied their hands in combat.

“Err…No. The realm mistress’ prowess eclipses the leader’s by a fair margin. So it’s a good thing they’re on the same side,” Karamen wiped off some imaginary sweat. “Tarry not. We have a song to hear. To the dining chamber. Dear Tiluniel, will you do us the honor of your presence?”

“Why not,” Tiluniel said. The group went once more to the dining chamber where song, dance and merriment awaited them.