by Casey Odell
He stalked up to her, anger showing clear on his face. “I’m trying to prepare you. I never said it was going to be easy.” He turned his back on her and started towards his belongings. “That’s enough for today,” he called over his shoulder.
Claire took a deep breath to calm herself, but her anger only grew. She had been trying her best, but he didn’t even seem to care. All the warmth that she’d been able to get out of the elf in the past disappeared when they trained. He was cold, uncaring, and… distant. She didn’t know why she cared so much. It was what she wanted after all, wasn’t it? But it bothered her. She was being unreasonable and she knew it. But she couldn’t help it. She was tired, sore, and stressed, and he was as easy a target to take it out on as anyone.
Before she could think better of her decision, given that she’d done it before with little success, she launched after him. With a few strides, she was almost on him, her hands raised, ready to tackle—or at least bring him down the best she could— when Farron side-stepped at the last moment, causing her to stumble. Claire caught her balance again and quickly spun around to face him, her chest heaving, eyes glaring.
“I’m not very fond of people sneaking up from behind me, my lady,” he said, smug smile in place.
Which only served to infuriate her more no matter how right he may have been. She lunged at him again. He caught her wrists, hooked a foot behind her legs, and before she knew it she was on the ground looking up at the fading blue sky through the treetops. Claire coughed as her breath came back to her. Farron knelt beside her, pinning her in place with a hand on her chest just below her neck. She refused to look at him, her anger quickly turning into shame.
“You shouldn’t let your anger get the best of you, Claire.”
She did look at him then, still glaring. She knew he was right, but she just couldn’t help it. It was more than just exasperation over the training. She’d bottled everything else up until she finally just snapped, taking it out on him. “I’m sorry,” she conceded, her voice a little raspy.
He sighed and took his hand off her. “I know I’m harsh, but it is the only way I know. You won’t become better overnight. I had to train almost all my life to be as capable as I am now. Of course, being what I am helps.” He smiled slightly, easing some of the tension.
Claire looked up at him. “Your teacher, what was he like?”
He considered that for a moment, a nostalgic hint in his eyes. “He was worse.”
She gulped. Was that possible? But as soon as she thought it, she knew it was.
“But he was like a father to me. At least more than my actual father. He was tough but honorable. I admired him greatly…” he looked down at his hands as they picked at a stray leaf, “but I also feared him.”
Claire opened her mouth to say something but wasn’t really sure what. He’d opened up to her so easily this time. So she remained quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment, afraid that if she made any sudden movements or noises the spell would be broken.
“My mother sent me there when I was about seven or eight, I can’t really remember. It was an old Haven up in the Isailo Mountains, north of Derenan. But it was run by an old sect of Elvin warriors called the Sindre. The Shadow men, you could call them.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at her, amused. “There was more than one reason they used to call me Sin de Reine, you know.”
She nodded, still remaining quiet. His past was so much more fascinating than her own, no matter how horrifying it had been at times.
“There I was trained to kill from a very young age. I didn’t know why. It was all I knew, all I was good at. I met my father when he had come to visit me at the Haven once, though at the time I didn’t know it was him. He was just the king to me then. It wasn’t until after he died that I found out who he was, and that he was the one who had sent me there. I had to be useful for something, right?”
Claire sat up then and took his hand. “I’m sorry, Farron. I didn’t—”
“No, I’m sorry,” he said, sobering up. He stood and drew her up next to him. “I didn’t mean to dredge up the past. What I meant to get at was that it will take time. And it won’t be easy.”
She took her hand back from him and put it on her hip. “Yes, I know. But you could be a little nicer.”
“I thought I was being nice.” He grinned. “But I can’t, Claire, because your enemies won’t be.”
He turned again to gather his things. She gulped. He was right again and the words struck fear in her. She supposed, after all, they wouldn’t be.
The men no longer seemed afraid of her or Farron. They had warmed up to both of them over the past few weeks considerably, all except for Captain Eyepatch.
Claire didn’t care. As long as the captain and the men got her to where she needed to go, it wasn’t of much importance if they liked her or not. But it did help the nights pass faster.
She sat next to the fire across from Alan, cards in hand. Only this time, Zeriod, a half Salí around Alan’s age, joined them. His skin was the same coppery shade as Razi’s, his hair just as dark, but he was missing the multiple piercings in his ears. He’d grown up in northern Derenan, away from the Salí and their traditions. However, that hadn’t stopped him from being lucky, having won most of the games of the night, much to her and Alan’s consternation.
According to the men, they weren’t far from Et Tessera. Claire could feel the anticipation growing inside of her. Hope and fear formed an anxious ball within her stomach. It wouldn’t be too much longer now.
Farron had settled down across the fire from her and had tried to keep to himself, but the men had grown increasingly curious about him and his past exploits— not that she could blame them. Chet and Graham, the other men in their company, sat near him, trying their best to squeeze any answers they could out of him. He was holding back, for sure, knowing she was there, but to her surprise, he gave them rather freely. Perhaps because they were men, or because he had no reason to impress them or worry about scaring them away? She didn’t know. So, despite trying her best to concentrate on the game at hand, she found herself distracted, trying to hear whatever she could from them.
“Is it true what they say?” she heard Chet, a young man not much older than herself with dark blonde hair, say. “That you can see in the dark?”
She could hear Farron chuckle and she struggled not to do so herself, though she’d be lying if she didn’t actually consider the prospect for a moment. He never did say whether not or he could, but at least now she knew.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Graham chastised the younger man. “It’s the ears. The hearing, I mean. I read once that elves used to be able to fight in the dark, or near it. Is that true?”
Farron hesitated for a moment and Claire took the opportunity to play a hand. “I was trained to, yes.”
Claire could feel the tension in the camp grow, heard the men shift. “Do you think— I mean, if it’s not too much trouble—” Chet said rather too excitedly, “that you would be able to show us sometime? If you want to, that is…”
The elf hesitated again, until the men, including Alan and Zeriod, and even the captain, chimed in that they would all like to see it. Claire glanced in his direction and met his gaze briefly. Was he still concerned for her sake? She just shrugged and turned her attention back to her cards. He could beat the guards up if he wanted to. Besides, she was just as curious about it as they were. She knew his hearing was good, but apparently not how good.
“All right,” he conceded. “But I am not responsible for any injuries you will incur.”
The men chuckled, but it sounded a bit nervous.
“I accept your challenge,” Graham said. “I’ve been curious about how the King’s Shadow fights. To see if the rumors are true.”
“I assure you, the tales don’t do me justice,” Farron said.
Claire rolled her eyes and slammed a pair of cards down in front of her. She was losing terribly anyway.
“Then you really did drive ou
t the outlaws in Klenorah Forest singlehandedly?” Chet asked.
“You could say that.”
She didn’t have to look at him to know his smug smile was in place. These men practically idolized him.
“I heard it was you that nearly caused the war two years ago,” Graham interjected, breaking the spell.
“I was the one who made sure it didn’t happen as well,” Farron countered.
“Now, Graham, you should be curious about his more important conquests,” Chet said, lowering his voice so Claire had to strain to hear. “They say it was you who seduced Lady Behkett— caused quite the stir in the north.”
Farron was quiet and Claire refused to look at him. She knew why he stayed silent. It was none of her business. Besides, she didn’t want to let him know that it bothered her. Which it did, a great deal more than she liked.
“Or Lady Maria, the Flower of the South,” Chet continued. “Were her eyes really like sapphires?”
His silence annoyed her more than if he had answered truthfully. “Well, were they?” she asked, not bothering to hide the malice in her voice. She placed a card down, not bothering to check what it actually was before casting a glare in his direction.
He stared back from across the fire, his expression none-too-happy. His gaze shifted momentarily to Alan before looking back to her. “Even bluer,” he finally answered the poor guard.
Chet smiled wide, the elf’s answer giving him permission to continue. “And Lady Dalia? I saw her once when she came to Derenan. I heard she spurned her husband for the King’s Shadow. Nearly caused an uprising, it did.”
“She was most insistent. But those rumors don’t live up to the reality, I’m afraid.”
Chet looked deflated. “A shame. She’s a beauty for someone her age.”
At that point, Claire had had enough. At first, he seemed worried about her reaction, but now the elf appeared to be prolonging the subject to get a rise out of her. Well, if that was what he wanted, then that was what she was going to give him. “Yes, it is a shame,” she said, shuffling the rest of her cards into the pile before standing up. “But at least she wasn’t just another conquest.”
She stormed off into the trees then. She knew he had been with other women in the past, but apparently, he was more accomplished than she’d thought. How many others were there? Was she just another challenge to him? Another conquest to add to the legends?
A hand slammed into the tree in front of her, and she didn’t have to look up to see who was blocking her way. In fact, she would rather not look at him at all.
“Let me just make one thing very clear,” Farron said, his voice low and stern. “You were the only one I ever came back for.” And with that he was gone, slipping into the shadows of the night.
Claire leaned against the tree and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She didn’t know what to believe anymore.
The excitement of the men was palpable. Ever since Farron had agreed to show them how he could fight only using his hearing the night before, the guards had been anxious to see his ability in practice. And so was Claire.
She may have avoided him since last night, but that didn’t stop her from being curious. There was still so much she didn’t know about him, amazing— or should that be frightening?— abilities included.
It was during their mid-day break when the men couldn’t hold it in any longer. Chet had offered up his spear, removing the metal tip for safety, while Zeriod had ripped a strip of cloth from his wool blanket for a blindfold while the rest of the men combed the forest for suitable ‘weapons’.
It wasn’t long before a hesitant Farron stood in the middle of a small clearing, the rest of the men standing around him in a circle, each brandishing a wooden stick for a sword. Claire hung back by the tree line, watching quietly. The captain stood across from her, arms crossed and doing the same. He hadn’t been happy about the delay, but it seemed even his curiosity had gotten the best of him.
Farron scanned the men’s faces, a slight grin emerging. “Don’t expect me to go easy on any of you. You brought this upon yourselves; remember that.” He caught Claire’s gaze for a moment and the grin faltered.
Claire just raised an eyebrow and leaned against a tree. Was he having second thoughts? Or was he worried about scaring her away again? In any case, it was too late for that now.
Farron tied the makeshift blindfold over his eyes and bent to pick up the wooden shaft at his feet. And any doubt that Claire or the men had had that he would be an easy target vanished. He whirled the staff around deftly before falling into a stance, the spear held at the ready behind him. Then he grew still. Waiting. Listening.
Claire held her breath as she watched. None of the men stepped forward, all frozen in place, waiting for one or another to make the first move. Chet and Zeriod eyed each other across the circle, a silent conversation passing between them. At once, both of them sprang forward, weapons at the ready. Chet circled around the elf to his front while Zeriod snuck up behind him. Farron didn’t move until the two men were almost upon him, and then he came to life, striking out at Chet before dipping below Zeriod’s swing. Crouching, he spun and struck out at Zeriod’s legs, sweeping them out from underneath him, sending him to the ground hard. Chet swung his stick again, down at the elf, but Farron avoided it at the last moment, driving the butt of the spear into Chet’s stomach as he stood. Chet doubled over, coughing.
With another quick whirl, Farron stood at the ready once again.
Claire swallowed hard. She knew he was capable… but this? She didn’t know if she should be impressed or just plain scared. Just who had she let in her bed, anyway?
Next up was Alan, her card playmate and a certain target for Farron’s wrath. But could he tell who he was? Claire straightened at the thought.
After he had dispatched Alan with no discernable malice, an idea formed. He may be able to tell that someone was there and where they were, but not who. At least, that was her theory. Slowly, she stepped around the circle of men as they regrouped. They exchanged looks between each other, forming silent strategies. Claire studied them as they charged in for another round. Loud clacks filled the clearing as weapons collided, followed by grunts of pain as they were taken down. Again, they regrouped, attacking one after another this time, their aggravation growing.
Claire bent and picked up one of the extra sticks the men had gathered just in case. Then she watched, waiting. She knew it wasn’t smart, but it was a chance she couldn’t pass up. If she could just slip in when the men were keeping him busy, she could get a blow in. A blow she had wanted to land since the moment she’d met him. Just to prove that she could get him. Just once.
The men grew tired and she knew it was now or never. As quietly as she could, she stepped forward, dodging Graham as he fell backward to the ground. She came up behind the elf as Zeriod and Chet kept him busy. Alan stood off to the side, his chest heaving, having had enough apparently. Claire raised her stick up above her head when suddenly, he spun to face her, having dispatched the last two men. He drove the spear up towards her face, stopping at the last moment. Claire froze, her pulse quickening. Her eyes stared at the end of the staff mere inches from her face.
“My lady,” Farron said calmly, before lowering the spear and taking off the blindfold.
Claire lowered her own weapon. So he was able to tell who was who. Or perhaps it was just her? She put a hand on her hip and tried her best to feign indifference. “Why should I miss out on all the fun?”
Before he could say anything else, she spun around and made her way back to the horses. She would get him someday.
The mood was somewhat sour that night around the campfire. Their bodies and egos sore and bruised, the men had a new respect, and fear, for the elf.
Claire couldn’t blame them. It was an impressive display of skill not even she knew he’d been capable of. It made her wonder what else he could do, though it would be a little while before she could ask him. Still annoyed from the night befo
re, she had avoided him again, skipping out on her training. It was probably for the best to start distancing herself from him again anyway.
The nights were growing colder, the days shorter. The trees showed off their colorful foliage, ranging from deep reds to bright yellows, before casting them off into the breeze where they would float down to the earth. It was refreshing, the cool wind, but also served as a reminder to how much time had passed since she had last seen her mother.
Claire sighed, sitting next to the fire, having decided to forgo her nightly game with Alan and Zeriod. Besides, her wine reserves were running low. Instead, she stared languidly into the warm orange flames, listening to the guards’ tales. Farron sat across the fire toward the trees, away from the men, working quietly on an arrow, probably to set the guards at ease. She doubted any of them hated him— they seemed more intimidated than anything. As if they had finally come to the realization that he really was the King’s Shadow of their legends.
She wrapped her blanket around her more tightly, her eyes drifting closed, when she felt it. A slight pain deep in her chest. She adjusted, trying her best to ignore it. But then it grew stronger, sinking down into a sense of growing dread. She could feel something in her mind, a pulling sensation, similar to the one she usually felt whenever she was around magic. Her eyes snapped open and she looked around, alert. Whatever it was, it was moving in their direction, fast, and she knew it wasn’t anything good. She got to her feet slowly, letting the blanket fall to the ground, the cold forgotten. Her pulse raced. She locked eyes with Farron across the camp. He stiffened, a look of confusion playing across his face.
“Something is coming,” she whispered, the intensity of the pull increasing. What, she didn’t know— but in her experience, anything that was magical and came after her wasn’t very pleasant. An overwhelming anxiety washed over her. She whirled around, searching the forest, trying to pinpoint exactly where it was. She could feel its power, and it was immense.
