Chapter 3: I'm Magic. I'm yours. And I'm the best thing that's going to happen to you.

Aromir woke familiar in a place that should never be familiar. People come to the Hall of Elysium when they die. Rarely are they ever drawn there, as he was now.

"Hello, boy," the voice came to Aromir as thought he was being run over by a wagon, yet it was a soft as the air on the plains.

"Who are you? Why have you brought me here?" Aromir demanded.

"Hmm, I suppose you could say I brought you here after a sense. But if you'd like me to explain who I am you'd better still yourself and listen closely. Can you agree to that boy?" the voice asked.

"I'm not going anywhere am I? Talk."

"I'll begin with a story. A mother and a father lived a thousand years ago. They raised four remarkable sons whom they loved very much, separate, but equally. When the mother and father felt the end of their time coming they made gifts to each of their sons. I am one of those gifts. I belong to the sword master, or did. I am the brace on your arm. The father crafted me and the mother used true magic to make me what I am, alive. The sword master used me brilliantly to guard himself through his battles and travels. Now it is your turn to use me as such, "He continued.

"We are connected. My soul to your mind's purpose for me. I have bonded with you, and you are now the master of all I can do. Ask for a shield and I'll form a shield, or a fist and I will cover your hand with a glove. When you like I will lend you my strength, and you will have it. I cannot be scathed or scared by any common sword of this day. Even the strongest metals will break at my will. Fire will not melt me. Only magic can destroy me, even then no magic exists this day that could, it is forgotten."

Aromir looked at his arm and the vambrace was pulsing. The patterns in the metal were now swirling a dance inside the edges presented by the shape of the brace. He wondered what it would look like if it covered his whole limb, fingers to shoulder, in a pauldron and gauntlet combination, and without warning the brace flared to life and grew over his arm a smooth silver pauldron and a gauntlet over his hand. It pulsed once more and locked into place. He willed the brace back into its normal shape and the process started over again.

He began to run through Elysium and when his strength began to wane his wished for more, and he got it. When he jumped, he soared through the air. When he stopped, he stopped cold. It was if the brace had magnified his control over his own body.

"Is this what you brought me here for, to learn how to use you? What is your purpose? How did you get into my father's crate?"

"I didn't bring you here. When the mother and father made me they knew that if their son, with all of his talent, would rip himself apart if I let him without sometime to ply his mind to me. So the mother made the bonding between us trigger unconsciousness and bring you to the most comfortable place you've ever been, in a dream of sorts. And as to my purpose, I need more time to tell you what that is. You're about to wake up, so listen closely. You need to go to my master's tower to the south, along the coast. You'll know how to get there, but as for speaking with you I won't be able convey much more than emotions right now. The warriors that are coming to the village are coming for us; there are probably twenty or more of them. Use me and that sword you have, we'll make it. Remember tower in the east."

Aromir started rising out of the slumber the hall of peace allowed. When he opened his eyes he took stock of his situation. He checked himself over and realized that he had been shackled on his hands behind his back. He laughed a small victory when he realized they had put it over his brace. He saw the walls of the wagon he was riding in, week oak, good. There was a solitary guard in there with him; he'd be easy to take down. Overriding his instincts Aromir thought over the situation. He knew that one guard meant that the rest of the unit was outside, most likely on horseback. There was no way he could fell the guard without everyone else hearing it. He'd need a good look at the sun to know which way they had been heading, so escaping during the night was out of the question. He'd have to do it the hard way today.

"Well, here we go." He thought.

He willed the vambrace to grow over his hand with spikes on the knuckles, and to grow too large for the shackles. At the popping sound the guard looked right at the silver metal covered fist coming his way. Aromir's fist made its way through the guard's head like water leaving pieces on the wagon walls. The caravan stopped abruptly, and the wagon lurched to a sudden stop. The rearguard of the caravan opened the door in the back of the wagon, only to find a headless guard. Aromir swung from the roof of the wagon with a kick to the rearguard's chest. With the added strength from the brace, the guard's chest was caved in the second Aromir's feet made contact.

When he landed with both feet on in the man's chest he saw the entire caravan with drawn swords. There they were in their black and gold armor, poised to strike. The men on foot were in a stance that suggested that they would be holding the lines while the men on horseback charged him. For the first time since he could remember he was actually afraid. If he had his father's sword he would be able to at least defend himself honorably. In the fights for D'mont the men could rely on each other to watch their backs. This was the first time Aromir had felt truly alone in combat. The feeling had almost washed over him when the brace pulsed and he was at peace. He surrendered himself to it out of pure instinct and the situation became all too clear to him. He worked out in his mind that most terrible weakness, if exploited, was pride. These men were Nocturnes; they had been built on pride. If Aromir could dispatch even one of these horsemen (obviously higher ranks) then it might stun the rest of the men long enough for him to grab a weapon.