She was wearing small pieces of wood on her chest and back for armor in addition to small pieces of wood tied to her shins as greaves. They had been made by a couple of talented guardsmen specifically for her. Shoulder-length wavy black hair was tied back in a ponytail and her face was twisted in concentration.
Pelya was swinging the sword in the exact same patterns that students were supposed to learn, only she was more precise in the movements than most of them. The practice yard was filled with other students being drilled in various routines by tough instructors with loud voices. The clatter of wooden and metal swords filled the air while the odor of leather-covered bodies sweating in the morning sun filled the nostrils.
Frath had seen the grizzled weaponmaster, Commander Gilron Coodmur showing Pelya a few things here and there. Each time he demonstrated something new, the commander would stand back and look on in amazement as she immediately executed the routines.
After a while, the weaponmaster began using Pelya as an example of a good student who listened whenever one of the other trainees was being particularly dense. He even told a couple that the little girl would wipe the floor clean with them if it ever came down to a fight. It was an effective tactic that got many to work harder.
The weaponmaster enjoyed having Pelya around and was very protective of her. Perhaps it was because she was the one person he didn’t have to boss around, or perhaps it was because of her precocious smile.
Gilron Coodmur was forty-five years old and was still the best person in the Guard with a sword, even better than Captain Unermin. In addition, he knew how to use every other weapon ever made and had a knack with improvised weapons. His training yard had tables, chairs, bottles, wagon wheels and just about everything else imaginable. He taught recruits how to confront people fighting with the objects and even how to use most in a pinch. Gorman was now a master sergeant working for the weaponmaster and Frath was a corporal, working with new recruits out in the city most days.
The commander’s hair was mostly grey and there were numerous hard-earned battle scars all over his sun-baked body and face. He had been in wars and seen the worst humanity had to offer. At times, he would begin talking about a battle and then a look would pass through his hazel eyes before he took a deep breath and changed the subject.
“You know, when I first heard that a baby had been brought into the barracks, I was furious,” he told Frath in his low, gravely voice that sounded like rocks being tumbled through a river. “Then I saw the little thing. She looked at me with those lively blue eyes and I knew there was something about her . . . she’s growing up to be quite the little warrior.”
“Yeah,” Frath agreed. “. . . I don’t know how to feel about it. I’m scared every time I think about what could happen to her in this forsaken city.” What he didn’t say was that he had nightmares about it nearly every other night. He tried distancing himself from the emotions and fear, but Pelya was the only thing he loved in the world and he had seriously debated how he would end his own life if anything happened to her.
“You’re doing a fine job, Corporal. Not only that, but every person in the Guard is her aunt or uncle and would die for her,” the commander said, putting a hand of reassurance on his shoulder. Gilron looked around the busy practice area and at the blue sky that was clean from early spring rains the night before. “You know, a few people have thought to complain about the girl, but I’ve always gone and talked to them about the matter. I listened to their concerns, of course, but then I set them straight as to how things were going to be.” He winked at Frath.
“Umm . . . Thank you, Sir,” Frath replied, not really knowing how to respond. Mostly he was grateful for having such a well-respected man in his corner.
“Not at all. Pelya is a delight to have around. I’m pretty sure everyone in the guard showed up for her birthday yesterday. You’re taking her to Lady Pallon’s today aren’t you?”
“Yeah, she wants Pelya to meet Ebudae so they can get into trouble together.”
Gilron laughed loudly. “That sounds about right. The old lady is an odd duck from everything I’ve heard about her and her granddaughter is said to have inherited that oddness.”
“Lady Pallon has been a good friend to me,” Frath stated defensively. “She’s not great with children, which is why I haven’t brought Pelya before, but I still like her.”
The commander patted his back in a friendly gesture. “Of course. I meant no offense. I like odd people. I’m your friend after all, aren’t I?” he asked with a wink.
“Yes Sir . . . I mean if . . . I’m just a corporal, Sir,” Frath stammered, overwhelmed by the officer’s words.
“Nonsense. You’re my friend. Don’t abuse it, but I’m here if you need me for anything.” He nodded at Pelya. “I’ll kill or die for your daughter, both if need be, my friend.” Frath could only nod. There were a lot of people who felt that way, but the commander wasn’t just anybody.
“Pelya!” Gilron shouted. “Your father’s here. Time to go.”
“Aww.” Her shoulders slumped, but then she straightened quickly and held her wooden sword upright. “Yes Sir!” she said loudly before going to replace her practice sword and armor in the locker that had been made specifically for her. Her voice was that of a child, but had the volume of an adult.
She enthusiastically ran into Frath at full hug. He laughed and returned the hug, squatting down to be at the same level. It was the best feeling in the world to hold his daughter. Pelya was dressed in a bright shirt that matched her eyes, given to her the day before. Her leggings were sturdy, brown and plain -- also a gift. In addition, she wore new black boots and a silver necklace with a hawk, the Guard’s icon. Gilron patted Frath on the shoulder again. “Have a good day, you two.”
“Thank you, Sir,” he replied.
“I love you, Uncle Gilron,” Pelya said, attacking the commander with a hug.
“I love you too, little one. Be good for your father now,” he told her with a genuine smile as he tousled her hair.
“I will!” She took Frath’s hand. “I’m ready, Daddy.”
“Alright, let’s go.” They strolled out of the practice yard, down numerous halls and finally through the gate into the city beyond.
“I don’t have to wear dresses or anything, do I, Daddy?” Pelya asked, scrunching her face in disgust at the idea. They had been walking quietly awhile and she spent her time looking at everything. When they reached the Merchant District where Lady Pallon’s estate was, people wearing suits and fine dresses became more common. Pelya was staring at a couple of girls in frilly dresses who had stuck their tongues out at her.
“It’d be nice to see you in a dress every now and then,” Frath suggested. At his daughter’s look of horror, he chuckled and held up his free hand. “Alright, alright. I won’t insist. I’m just saying . . .”
Pelya chewed on her lower lip and stared at another girl wearing a dress. That one looked sad and didn’t even notice them. “I’ll think about it, Daddy, but not so many frills and I don’t really want to,” she finally said somberly.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Frath replied, trying to restrain a grin. His amusement went away a moment later when they passed a group of well-dressed women who turned their backs. “That’s the girl being raised in the barracks of the City Guard, the poor child,” one of the women whispered loudly. Frath didn’t think they meant him to hear the words, but his hearing had sharpened since the incident with Distra, in addition to his improved eyesight.
“Disgraceful, subjecting the poor child to that,” another one stated disapprovingly.
“Imagine her being allowed to play with swords and having to listen to all of that vulgar language the guards use,” a third said.
The first nodded. “The little girl will probably become a terrible person. It’s really too bad she didn’t die with her mother.” They all turned and looked at Frath and Pelya in disgust.
It took all of Frath’s willpower not to scream at the women
for being so judgmental. They knew nothing of him or how well everyone treated Pelya. His daughter’s life was much better than that of most children in Dralin. It was better than Sheela’s life had been.
“What’s wrong, Daddy?” Pelya asked. “A minute ago, you were really mad. Now you look really sad and I think you’re crying.”
Frath wiped away the renegade tear that had snuck its way down his cheek. Sheela’s death still hurt badly and the malicious words of the women had made him vulnerable. Still, he forced a smile. “I’m alright. I was just remembering . . .”
“Mommy?” she asked with amazing intuitiveness. “Do you think she would like me?” The question pulled hard on Frath’s heart.
He stopped and squatted down to eye level. “Your mother would love you and be so proud of you,” he told her fiercely, trying to keep the tears that were welling in his eyes from flowing over. “You are an amazing person, Pelya. I wish so much that she was here to see you.”
“I miss her,” Pelya said, tears flowing from her eyes. “I wish she didn’t die.” Frath picked her up in both arms and carried her the rest of the way, not wanting to let her go.
He finally set her down at the gate. When the squirrel came down the branch and asked, “Yeah, watcha want?” she gasped and hid behind her father just as her mother had all those years ago.
“Frath and Pelya Jornin to see Lady Pallon.”
“Oh yeah, the lady is expecting you.” The squirrel chattered at the gate, which opened in response just as before.
“That was neat,” Pelya said, looking over her shoulder at the squirrel that had disappeared into the tree. She then tried to look at everything in the yard: the pond, the willows and rosebushes that were blooming nicely in the spring air. Her head turned back and forth like it was on a swivel. “I like it here! There are lots of places to explore.”
“Yes there are. There are also a lot of places to get into trouble,” he admonished. “I expect you to stay out of them.” He knew in his heart that she wouldn’t, but had to say it anyway.
Lady Pallon opened the door before he even had a chance to knock. “There you are. You’re late,” she scolded him. Then she turned to Pelya. “Well, you don’t look too bad for a little child. Show me a curtsy then.”
Pelya frowned at the words, but did as she was told.
“Well, that’s very nice except for the fact that you’re not wearing a dress. Do you even own a dress, child? Or is your father raising you to be a barbarian?”
Frath just sighed, but Pelya narrowed her eyes and responded defiantly. “I own two dresses. They were gifts. And Daddy is raising me the best he can. I’ll thank you not to speak ill of him.”
Lady Pallon raised an eyebrow and looked at the girl with admiration. “Well, well. You have some fire in you. I like that. Plus you stand up for your family. You’ll do just fine.” She stepped aside and motioned for them to enter. “Come in. Ebudae is eagerly awaiting you. You won’t be able to notice her excitement though because she’s the gloomiest little girl you’d ever want to meet.”
Frath was suddenly even more grateful he hadn’t left Pelya in her care. He still liked Lady Pallon, but the woman’s attitude toward children was appalling. They followed her out to the conservatory, which was still Frath’s favorite place in the manor.
“Here we are. We have tea and cake for everyone.” She gestured grandly at a table that had been set with a lace tablecloth, fine dishes, silverware and teacups, in addition to plates for the cake that was sitting in the middle. “Ebudae, do say hello to our guests.”
A brown-haired girl with pink eyes the color of her grandmother’s was sitting with her arms folded in a chair. She wore a frilly pink dress with white ruffles and looked miserable in it. “Hello,” she said to them in sullen tones. It was clear that she wasn’t thrilled with company, or her dress, or . . . anything really.
“Hello,” Pelya said in return, frowning at the girl as though trying to understand what was wrong with her.
Frath had met her a few times and was used to the melancholy attitude. “Hello, Ebudae. It’s good to see you again.” He actually liked the young lady and was always pleasant to her, figuring she needed some kind of smiling face since Lady Pallon never let her out of the estate.
“Pelya dear, why don’t you sit in the chair next to Ebudae,” Lady Pallon suggested. “Mary, give them each a slice of cake and cup of tea.” She then sat down in the chair Frath held for her while Mary served everyone. Frath sat next to her. “How are you, my friend?” she asked him.
“I’m well,” he answered sincerely. “I like my position training recruits, my sergeant is a good man, I respect Commander Coodmur more than anyone I’ve ever met, and Pelya is doing well.”
“That’s wonderful. Gorman is your sergeant’s name, right?” she asked, sipping her tea. Pelya and Ebudae were both sipping theirs while staring at each other suspiciously.
Frath shook his head. “Master Sergeant Gorman works directly with the commander. Sergeant Yengin is my squad sergeant. She’s quick with a sword and with a smile. It’s been fun.”
“You have to start coming more often, my friend,” Lady Pallon insisted. “Once or twice a year simply isn’t enough.”
“Alright. I will,” Frath agreed. He took a large mouthful of the delicious cake and watched the two girls for a minute. Neither was saying anything, nor did they look as though they had any desire to do so. Lady Pallon discussed boring details about the way wizards were running the city. Frath enjoyed it, relaxing in the comfortable atmosphere and breathing the aroma of plants and flowers while sipping the excellent tea.
When everyone had eaten their cake, Frath asked, “Pelya, would you like to see where your mother’s ashes were scattered?” Pelya had asked recently about her mother’s death and how the body had been handled. Frath hadn’t known the proper way to answer, so he had just told her the truth about everything. When he was done, she nodded and gave him a hug before going back to playing.
She didn’t answer right away, but looked thoughtful. Frath noticed that Ebudae was sitting up straighter, waiting for the answer. Finally, Pelya nodded. “Yes, Daddy. I’d like that very much.”
He stood and held Lady Pallon’s chair again while she stood. The girls followed the adults into the backyard. Glancing over his shoulder, Frath noticed Pelya looking at the few buildings in the yard as well as all the secret areas the willows seemed to hide. In addition to the ponds, various old statues lent it a creepy feel.
They reached the fountain and rosebushes, which were just the same as when Frath had visited a week after the ceremony. The water still sparkled in the sunlight and the roses were dark purple, growing with no regard to anything around them. He would come there sometimes and sit on the edge of the fountain for hours just thinking of Sheela.
“The flowers are beautiful, like mother’s ring, only purple instead of gold,” Pelya stated intuitively. She stood next to one bush and sniffed. Frath knew they had an aroma a bit sharper and earthier than most rosebushes. He had come to enjoy the scent where others might not.
“They also have three times as many thorns as normal roses and they’re extremely sharp,” Ebudae said, coming up next to her. She stuck a finger out and tapped it against one of the thorns. Then she held it up so Pelya could see the blood running down her finger. The fact that she hadn’t flinched or reacted to the pain at all worried Frath a great deal.
Pelya looked at the blood for a second then reached out and tapped one of the thorns too. “Ow,” she yelped instinctively before looking at the blood on her finger.
“Pelya!” Frath reached his hand out too late to do anything.
Ebudae stuck her finger in her mouth and sucked on the blood while watching her new friend. Pelya looked at her, looked at her finger, and then back at her before shrugging and sticking her own finger in her mouth.
Frath closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Lady Pallon put a hand on his shoulder. “See, I told you they’d be perfect for each
other.”
Chapter 12
“By the Gods, man, how could you let an eleven-year-old girl beat you so easily?” Commander Gilron Coodmur asked the stunned recruit who was sitting on his behind in the hard dirt. The warmth of a late spring day caused sweat to bead on their foreheads. They were in a practice yard for new recruits and the young man being spoken to had just joined the Guard.
Gilron was doing inspections and had come over to see how the lanky girl was doing. Pelya had been helping Sergeant Bava test and train young men and women who were in basic training. The man on the ground was a cocky sort of a person who thought he was better than anyone else, so Bava had placed him against Pelya to teach him a lesson in humility.
Now all the new trainees in their practice leathers were standing around to listen. Pelya shook her head as she stood over the man with one hand on her hip and a look of contempt on her face. The flat blade of the wooden sword was resting on her right shoulder. The commander studied her for a minute. “Why are you staring at him in such a manner, lass?”
It startled Pelya and she stood straight, resting the tip of the sword on the ground in front of her. Commander Coodmur was someone she respected and loved. The thought that he might be upset with her sent a jolt of panic through her nerves. Ignoring the man’s groaning, she answered, “He did terribly, Sir. His form was bad, his balance was nonexistent, and he was overconfident. It was almost as though he’s never held a sword before.” Her sapphire eyes flashed in disdain as she shook her head, flinging her ponytail to the side. Unlike most of the guards who kept their hair to the shoulders, she let hers grow to the middle of the back.
“Well now, that’s probably because he hasn’t held a sword before.” Mirth danced behind the sternness in Gilron’s eyes. Shock crossed her lightly tanned face while she considered the concept. “Few people are raised with a sword in their hands like you. Fewer still have your talent and . . . umm . . . intensity, shall we say?” His chuckling grew into a rumbling laugh. A few other recruits joined in half-heartedly, not sure whether or not they were allowed to laugh.
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