by Vinn Winters
Vyra heard the ringing of a blade being drawn, and looked back to see Aldrean pointing his blade at Salderon.
“Cease your words! I will humble you right here, Lord Salderon, if you persist any further. I will not warn you again,” Aldrean growled. Vyra had never heard this tone with Aldrean before. It carried a deep menacing threat within it.
Salderon glared back at the paladin, putting his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Careful with your threats, Lord Aldrean,” Salderon warned. “The protection of the king only goes so far. I’m not sure how well it shields a knight who has already committed an act of treason.”
“You dare make such accusations?” Aldrean yelled.
“Women are not permitted to be squires, Lord Aldrean, by order of the king. I know you have not forgotten this,” Salderon flashed a toothy smirk.
“Oi!” Orbit interjected loudly, “We do not need this to escalate to a feud between lordships. If Orbit may suggest, why not the two squires put this conflict to rest over a friendly duel; settle the matter once and for all?”
“I think that is a splendid idea, Lord Orbit,” Salderon said with another menacing grin. “What do you say, Aldrean? Or are you afraid that she’ll be too injured to warm your bed the night after?”
Aldrean flashed a glare at Salderon.
Vyra’s hands shook from rage.
“Perhaps in time, but this is only her first day as a squire,” Aldrean said, struggling to maintain civility. “She will need time to—”
“No,” Vyra said. “I’m ready.”
Aldrean’s eyes widened as he looked at her.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Aldrean asked with concern. “There’s no dishonor in refusing a meaningless challenge.”
“But it’s not meaningless,” Vyra replied. “There is clearly doubt of my ability to fight as a squire, as a warrior. They do not believe that I am worthy, but I will prove that I am more than capable.”
Maefus, Salderon’s squire, snickered loudly.
“I think I might even enjoy this,” Vyra continued.
“Excellent!” Orbit said. “We have a duel at Midday tomorrow!
“I would barely even call it a duel, but… if it teaches this lass her place, I’ll oblige,” Maefus said with a sneer.
“We could duel now, if you’re so eager,” Vyra shot back as she took a fighting stance. “I do not fear you, boy.”
“How dare she speak to me like that?” Maefus spat angrily, and then turned to Salderon. “She can’t do that! She can’t do that!”
“Enough!” Salderon said towards the young man. “Save your fury for tomorrow when it matters. Until then, we waste no more time with this false squire.”
Salderon put his arm on Maefus’s back and guided him away from the arena as the crowd of knights parted.
After they had left, Aldrean looked back at Vyra and raised his sword.
“Are we still training?” Vyra asked, tilting her head and slowly mirroring his stance.
“As you are, you may indeed be strong enough to beat him,” Aldrean replied. “But since this is what you want, we won’t stop training until I know for certain you’re ready.”
“And when will you know that?” Vyra asked, her muscles tensing.
“When I’m not able to disarm you,” Aldrean said, flashing a faint smile.
~
Vyra was about to collapse from exhaustion when Aldrean finally put down his sword. She slowly fell to her knees, making it appear as if she chose to do it and not that she could barely stand. Breathing heavily, she laid her sword in front of her.
“What’s that mark on your hand?” Aldrean asked, as he leaned over her shoulder.
“What?” Vyra asked, and then cursed silently when she realized he was referring to the scar on the palm of her hand; the scar that looked like a crescent moon intersecting the scratch of a small beast, the mark of The Midnight Wolf. She had been too tired from training to remember to hide her palms.
“Oh that? It’s nothing… just an old sparring scar,” Vyra quickly replied, hoping her slightly higher tone did not reveal the lie.
“So that’s… just a scar?” Aldrean pressed, squinting as he leaned closer.
“Of course,” Vyra replied, fighting her rising anxiety from his increased curiosity, and the excitement of feeling the warmth of his breath against her neck. “What — what else could it be?”
“Apparently, just a scar,” Aldrean replied as he picked up her blade from the ground and handed it to her. “Forgive my curiosity. It just looked like a rune. The pattern had a strange familiarity to it, but… I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”
“Yes,” Vyra replied, still a bit flustered. “Purely just a coincidence—”
“Hope he trained you hard enough, squire!” a whiney voice echoed about the training grounds. “You’ll need some thick skin when I bash you into the ground tomorrow!”
Vyra looked up to see Maefus watching from the railing on the track on the second floor. Even at the distance, she could still see a look of twisted amusement on his face.
“That’s enough from you, be gone!” Aldrean sternly ordered.
The boy turned and ran to his quarters.
“What an obnoxious little vermin,” the paladin grumbled.
“Thanks,” Vyra said, looking embarrassed.
“Think nothing of it,” Aldrean said, extending his hand to her, “I just didn’t want to see you get in trouble for making him regret his words a day early.”
Vyra smiled and grabbed the Paladin’s hand, and he pulled her to her feet.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, feeling the anxiety replaced by guilt. “Are you able to talk to women again?”
“Barely,” Aldrean said with a quick nervous laugh. “I can manage very short bursts of hasty conversation, but anything more than that and my confidence flees me faster than Orbit’s courtesy after a pint of ale.”
Vyra laughed, and Aldrean chuckled in response.
“You just seem so confident here in the training grounds,” Vyra added.
“I’ve spent most of my life training for battle. This place is like my home,” Aldrean said calmly.
“I know the feeling,” Vyra agreed.
“It’s strange,” Aldrean said with a slight grin, “when I’m around you, I don’t feel the fear. I feel, well, normal.”
“I’m glad,” Vyra replied with a big smile. The two stared at each other, smiling in silence.
“You should get some rest,” Aldrean added, just before the awkwardness set in. “You’ve got a big day ahead of you. Tomorrow, you show them what you’re really capable of.”
“I’m ready,” Vyra eagerly said.
“I know you are,” Aldrean replied.
Chapter 3
Vyra woke to the sound of scurry feet outside her door.
“Hello?” Vyra said cautiously.
There was the sound of more movement. Someone or something snickered, but it sounded more like a snort.
There’s definitely someone out there, she thought.
Vyra softly moved her way to her wooden desk and grabbed her iron dagger.
“Who’s there?” she asked.
There was no response.
“I said who’s there?” she asked again.
Vyra almost jumped when she heard a loud knocking on the door.
“Who is it?” Vyra replied politely, hoping to be relieved by finally hearing another voice.
But only silence followed.
Vyra’s grip tightened on her dagger.
I was afraid this would happen someday, she thought, swallowing hard. She silently cursed Lady Amberleen for not allowing servants’ quarters to have locks.
As the door burst open, Vyra immediately lunged forward, thrusting her dagger towards whoever was unfortunate enough to enter.
To her surprise, her weapon struck steel, making only a loud dinging noise.
What? Is this a shield of the Silverclad Knights? she
thought tensely.
Vyra looked up to see Maefus’s sly smirk above the shield.
Three other boys dashed into the room, circling around her. Faces she vaguely recognized from the crowd as she entered the barracks for the first time. One had a slim, pale face with blond hair that reminded her of a rat; the other two had darker hair and skin, they looked like they could be distantly related, maybe even brothers.
“Get her!” Maefus ordered.
Rat-face lunged for her first, but jumped back at the last moment as Vyra swung her dagger his way.
The two brothers lunged at the same time. Vyra swirled around to counter. Her dagger sliced the top of the first one’s wrist, but the second dodged it. Vyra felt the air leave her body as Brother-two punched her in the stomach.
Vyra fell to one knee, thrusting her dagger forward again as she did. The second brother tried to dodge, but was not quick enough to stop her from slicing off a piece of his ear.
The brothers both rolled around on the ground, howling in pain. Vyra tried to rise, but Rat-face caught her arms and locked them from behind. Vyra struggled to break free from his grip, until a punch from Maefus knocked the air from her lungs a second time.
“Get up; wrap some cloth around your wounds, you wimps!” Maefus barked at the two brothers, and then turned to Vyra.
“Not time to fight yet, woman. We haven’t even begun your squire initiation yet,” Maefus sneered.
“Drown in orc dung,” Vyra said, spitting on his face.
“You arrogant bitch!” Maefus snapped. He punched her, and punched her again, and again, until she blacked out.
~
Vyra heard whispers and felt her feet being dragged against the ground. She opened her eyes; though her vision was blurry, she could see the brick road beneath her.
At least I’m still in Beckonthrone, she thought, slightly relieved.
“I think she’s starting to wake up,” one of the boys, probably Rat-face, whispered.
“Shhh, just keep moving,” replied another voice, who she recognized as Maefus. “We’re almost out of the city.”
Lifting her head only slightly, she scanned the area. They were out of the manor, traveling through the city; from the approaching wall in the distance, she guessed they were already over halfway to the city gates.
How have they already gotten this far undetected? Vyra wondered. It doesn’t matter; I just need to find a way to make sure they won’t be able to sneak any further.
They were sticking to the building edges, trying to take advantage of the cover of shadow. There was a collection of crates and buckets stacked against the wall up ahead.
That’s probably my best chance, she thought, continuing to lay limp.
“What are we going to do with her once we’re out of the city?” Brother-one asked.
“We could just leave her out in the Cinder Fields; maybe a goblin will get her and drag her into The Scarred Forest, or wherever they come from,” Rat-face whispered.
They were almost to the pile of crates.
Just a little longer, Vyra thought anxiously.
“Don’t be stupid, if a goblin doesn’t snatch her, she’d just find her way back,” Maefus snapped softly. “Didn’t you know that she’s the first female squire? She deserves special treatment.”
The boys all snickered menacingly.
Witch’s Blight! Vyra cursed silently. What are they planning on doing to me? It doesn’t matter either; someone will hear me… just a few more steps.
“Yeah she should have known better than to mess with you, Maefus. A woman has no place as a knight,” Rat-face replied, snorting as he laughed again.
“The damn truth,” Maefus replied proudly. “And after we make an example out of this bitch, no woman will ever try something this foolish again. They’ll remember their damn place—”
Vyra flailed her body as much as she could.
“Eygodon’s piss!” Brother-two whispered loudly, struggling to hold her.
“Grab her! Grab her and knock her out!” Maefus hissed.
Vyra felt a blow to her head, but she kept on fighting.
“She’s not going down!” Rat-face said.
“Then knock her again, you idiot!”
She saw another fist thrust into her stomach, with her last bit of strength she threw her leg out, knocking into the stacked pile. The silence of the night was broken by an avalanche of collapsing boxes and barrels.
Take that, Vyra thought triumphantly, fighting the increasing blurriness of her vision.
“Cursed witch,” Vyra heard Maefus hiss in her year, “I’m going to make you wish you never picked up a sword—”
“Hey, what’s going on over here?” a new voice shouted, a voice with an authoritative tone, a guard’s voice.
“Will be pretty hard to do from the dungeons,” Vyra muttered through gasps for air.
“Good evening!” Maefus said in a higher tone. The greeting was not meant for her. There was the sound of approaching footsteps.
“What’s going on here?” the guard asked sternly.
“Nothing really,” Maefus replied civilly, “our friend here had a bit too much to drink; we were just doing the chivalrous task of helping her get back to her home safely.”
Please don’t believe that! You can’t believe that! Vyra thought, struggling to raise her head again.
“Really?” the guard’s responded. Vyra was relieved to hear some skepticism in his reply.
“I’d like to hear it from her.”
“Of course,” Maefus agreed. Vyra felt herself being turned to face the guard. She lifted her head to meet the guard’s eyes. The guard was a husky middle-aged man with a short blond beard, almost as short as the hair on his head. His face looked rough, but his eyes looked kind.
“Hello, Lass. M’names Edmund,” the guard said warmly. “Is what these boys are say’n true? Are they really just help’n you back home out of the goodness of their hearts?”
As soon as she opened her mouth to speak, she felt a sharp point against her back, the sharpness of a dagger, likely her own dagger.
Using my own weapon against me, those bastards, Vyra thought bitterly.
“Tell the nice guard how you’ve just had too much to drink, and just want to go to sleep,” Maefus said, with a wide-toothed smile and an overly nice tone. His tone was so nice it sounded fake.
“I’ve just… just had too much to drink, and I need to sleep,” Vyra said, while opening her eyes as wide as she could.
Please be smart enough to recognize the panic in my face, Vyra begged.
“See?” Maefus continued. “We should get her back before she heaves again. She’ll feel better once she—”
“Well, I’m not ‘tirely sure yet,” the soldier said, rubbing his chin. “I’ll take her down to the guardhouse. We’ve got a few men there who can watch her until she’s well ‘nuff to walk home.”
Yes! Please, yes! There are good men in Beckonthrone! Vyra thought excitedly, and then winced as she felt the dagger press further into her back.
“That isn’t necessary,” Maefus pushed, a glimpse of panic crossing his face. “We can get her home quicker.”
“She’ll be safe with us, boy,” Edmund replied. “You can come down too if yer worried. Maybe even join us in a game o’ cards. Frankfurt don’ like playin’ games, you see. So we could use a fourth—”
“I assure you, we can handle it,” Maefus pressed, the friendliness leaving his voice as he took a step towards the guard.
“I’m sure you can, young man. But right now… I ‘nsist,” Edmund said firmly, his smile fading as he stepped towards Maefus, while tapping the sword sheathed at his side.
Please get me away from them! Get me out of here! Vyra begged mentally. Approaching footsteps and the clanking of metal caught her ear.
“What’s going on here?” another authoritative voice fell over the area. This voice was vaguely familiar, and not in a good way.
“Nothin’ wrong, Captain, just
taking this girl to the guardhouse ‘till she’s able to walk ‘erself home,” Edmund replied.
A man stepped around the guard and leaned in, staring into Vyra’s eyes. Even through her hazy vision, she knew that face; she hated that face.
“Let them pass,” Radek said, his lips curling into a vile grin.
“But Captain!” Edmund protested. “She don’ look well, sir.”
“She’s not a normal lady,” Maefus quickly interjected. “She’s a brawler, especially when she’s drunk; gets into fights with everyone.”
“Three boys carry’n a girl off into the dark, don’t seem right,” Edmund countered.
“These boys are squires of the Silverclad Knights,” Radek said as he turned back to Edmund. “Fighting is what they do; fighting is what they live for. This girl is a squire as well, allegedly.”
“It just don’t seem right,” Edmund pressed.
“Lord Aldrean himself declared that the soldiers of Beckonthrone have no place in the affairs of the Silverclad Knights. It’s his territory,” Radek explained. “Let them pass.”
“But Captain—”
“I said, let them pass,” Radek ordered.
Edmund nodded to the Captain, and then cast Vyra a worried look as he turned and walked away.
No, this can’t be happening! Oh Holy Willow, please don’t let this happen! Vyra screamed internally.
Radek waited until Edmund had vanished, then turned back to Maefus.
“She lives out of the city, right?” Radek asked.
“Yes, sir,” Maefus replied.
“How far out?” the captain asked.
“Far,” Maefus said, with a low snicker.
“Good. I’ll let the guards at the rear gate end their shift early,” Radek replied. In a blur of motion he had grabbed the boy’s neck and had him lifted up against the wall.
“Be this reckless again, and I’ll let you all rot in the dungeons,” Radek snarled. “Not even my friendship with Lady Amberleen or with your master, Lord Salderon, will save you next time. Do we have an understanding?”
“Yes—yes, sir!” Maefus squeaked.
Salderon and Amberleen were supporting this. Why am I not surprised, Vyra thought bitterly.
