“He actually got me with the third swing of that massive black sword.
Whomp
. The black blade felt like it burned my flesh. It cut right through my tunic and the heavy mantle and furs. Armor didn’t stop the damn thing. While his blade was in my side, caught on one of my ribs I think, I did what father used to hate me doing. I wrapped one hand around his wrist to hold him in place and thrust my sword into the eye socket of his helmet. This was not some big heroic battle. He dropped like a stone, and that was that—some mythical motherfucker done in by an elf who wasn’t afraid to lean into a wound. So I pulled the blade out. It took the better part of an hour for me to dislodge the damned thing. Once I finally had the plowing sword free, the goatfucker I thought was dead grabbed my ankle, and I snapped. I knew where I was, and I wasn’t going to give an arm, a leg, an eye, my cock, or my stones to plowin’ Baba Yaga. So I dismembered him with his own fucking blade and tossed him on my fire like kindling. The smell wasn’t too bad, almost like suckling pig. Didn’t taste half bad either.” Islwyn cringed at the implication. Aneurin twitched his head to the side.
“And all it asked from you when it showed itself was your seed?” Aneurin asked as he laid out the large bedroll for us. I collapsed on top of it as soon it was stretched out.
“The seed of the one who could kill the night…but I couldn’t finish. I barely believe you managed, and I watched. Then they let me go, said they’d seen I’d come back with a true gift for them.” Yorwrath shrugged. “What did you think of?”
“What?” Aneurin sat beside me.
“So you could spill your seed in their fetid, rotting mouths. What did you think of?”
“Valentina during the storm.”
“Plow me, of course, you did. She is a rather tight one, isn’t she?” Yorwrath cackled, and Aneurin lunged at his brother, and I fell asleep listening to Aneurin beat the shit out of his older brother.
Using a sword is a lot harder than it looks. In one day Aneurin taught me the basics on how to hold a sword, how to stand, and how to properly swing it—you use your wrist more than your arm. The words ‘keep your wrist strong’ lost all meaning by the end of the day. Nothing of note happened, other than discovering that I was not a natural. As easy as trying to stab someone before they stab you sounds, it is far more difficult to accomplish.
They trained me daily during our trek to the abandoned forest. Every night, before we lay down to sleep, one of them would spar with me until my arm ached. I felt that by the time the tree line came into view, my arms would be as big as Grwn’s.
I’d never admit it, but I liked sparring with Yorwrath best. He’d never pull a swing at the last moment. The roughhewn wooden swords Grwn made for us still hurt when they came down with enough force. My body was covered in tiny welts and bruises. Most contusions were little gifts from Yorwrath exploiting an opening that I was fairly certain no one else would have ever noticed.
“You’re distracted,” Yorwrath commented. His voice was devoid of emotion as a well-placed shouldering set me off balance. I stumbled and fell but rolled to standing. “That was sloppy.”
“I’m sorry that I’ve failed to become an unparalleled sword-master in a week.”
Yorwrath barely gave me any time to recover. In moments, he was on me again. He moved like a whirlwind. Every time I blocked him, it felt like he was behind me, striking whatever part of myself I had left undefended.
I stumbled and fell to the ground with a grunt. There was no graceful roll to save me. I roared with frustration and that pointy-eared sheepfucker laughed.
“It’s not that you’re not a master. It’s that you’re terrible for even a week.”
“I’m improving.” I stood.
“No, Aneurin doesn’t like to see all of that lovely skin bruised. And Islwyn is too interested in watching your tits jiggle every time he strikes you to pay attention to how horrible you are.” He spat on the ground, “But fine, I’ll prove it to you. Hold your stick.” Growling, I took the stance Aneurin had taught me. Yorwrath approached me with a slow walk and twitched his wrist. His makeshift sword connected with mine, and my sword went flying out of my hand. I stared in shock at the discarded whittled sword.
Well, fuck.
“Point proven.” I sighed as I walked over and picked up the wooden sword.
“Now, try to knock the sword from my hand.”
There was no special posture; he just stood there holding the sword out. It looked like it would be too easy. I struck the sword one-handed, and it didn’t budge, and then I used two hands—nothing. I yowled in frustration and struck the sword a third time.
“Your fingers are doing too much of the work. Here.” He drew his sword and held it out to me.
“I don’t think I’m ready for a real sword.”
“Don’t pretend you haven’t fantasized about killing me. You need to get used to the weight of a real sword. You can’t hold this like you’ve been holding the stick.”
Eyeing him skeptically, I took the sword. He was right. I couldn’t hold the hilt the same way I had been holding the glorified stick. I admired the blade for a few moments as it glimmered in the muted twilight. It was pretty, and probably razor sharp. A pattern of elvish runes wrapped around the blade like a scroll. The weight of the blade was entirely different from the stick’s, but I didn’t have as much control over the deadly blade either. And then it dawned on me that the blade in my hand had probably taken thousands of lives and wounded countless others.
“You have it in you to fight well, Valentina. Because you’re like me—a survivor. You’ll never be able to learn how to fight from Aneurin, and certainly not Islwyn.”
“So you’re the only one I can rely on, huh?” I raised the sword and stared down its perfectly balanced blade to Yorwrath, who smirked at me.
“In this…and possibly this alone. Now, try to strike me.”
* * * *
After that day, my skill increased significantly. Apparently the possibility of accidently killing Yorwrath while sparring increased my accuracy. I never even grazed him with the blade, but I was better at dodging and slipping out of things. In a fair fight, I’d still get my ass handed to me, but fighting fair was anathema to me. I was too small to fight fair. When we reached the forest’s edge a handful of days later, the moment we crossed under the darkened tree canopy I had the distinct feeling that something in the forest didn’t want us there. The others clearly felt the same.
When we stopped to make camp they decided to not make a fire. Their elven eyes were fine without the light. I, however, couldn’t see a damned thing. I could make out vague shapes in the dark, but that was it. I kept my hand in Aneurin’s as the evening progressed. My human senses were worthless in the noisy dark. Aneurin kept me protectively in his lap with his arms wrapped around my waist as we sat quietly in a circle.
“Someone’s watching us,” Aneurin breathed into my ear. I shivered at the sensation of his warm breath on the back of my neck. “There are footsteps around us. I don’t want you to panic, but I don’t want you to be surprised if fighting starts.”
“And what am I supposed to do if fighting starts? I can’t see anything.”
“Just stay near me and I’ll protect you.”
Just stay near me and I’ll protect you.
I mocked him in my mind.
“Fine.” I couldn’t keep the tension from my voice as I practically twitched with annoyance in his lap.
“One day, in a situation like this I’ll tell you to ready your sword. That day is not today.” He placed a tender kiss on my throat like it would make everything okay. It didn’t. I grumbled to myself in his lap, jumping at the sounds of twigs snapping around us. We were surrounded. I didn’t need to have any sort of special connection with the forest to know that there was a lot of something circling us in that dark.
“
Pwca,
” Islwyn said. I furrowed my brows. I hadn’t the slightest clue what that was. I was guessing some sort of mystical forest nonsense. I knew next to everything there was to know about mystical nonsense of the hearth and home, even some things that lurked in fields, caves, and riverside. The forest eluded me completely. There were sections on the forest in all my books on remedies, but I’d never thought to read them. As I sat in the dark, I was rethinking that decision.
“The hell is a puca?” I whispered, my voice slipping between my lips with a little hiss.
“Pwca are… They’re similar to the domovoi that protect the Erslander’s hearths,” Aneurin whispered to me.
“Only these are pissed because someone killed off their families. They’ll pass with the dawn or devour us… Either way, we’ll get no sleep tonight, and whispering won’t prevent a fucking thing.” I could practically see the grin on Yorwrath’s lips when he spoke. The leaves around us rattled, and twigs snapped closer and closer.
“If you’re so fucking fearless, why don’t you light a fire?” I hissed to Yorwrath.
“W—” Yorwrath started to speak, but he was cut off by Grwn.
“Yorwrath, stop letting her bait you. We all get that you want to plow your brother’s wife, but this isn’t the time to show off,” Grwn said with a heavy sigh. “Being torn to bits by a bunch of pissed-off pwca isn’t something I want to experience.”
“That Dy’ne is not his fucking wife!” Yorwrath’s voice echoed off into the night. “And if Aneurin spent half as much time trying to control his gifts as he did dreaming about his Dy’ne
’s
secret parts we wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”
“And if you spent half as much time doing that same thing, you would be a thousand times easier to deal with.” Islwyn snickered.
“Calm your little
ngwas
, Aneurin,” Yorwrath snapped.
“
Byddaf yn gwaedu i chi
!” Islwyn sneered, his voice echoed out into the woods.
“What did he say?” I asked Aneurin.
“Yorwrath called Islwyn my manslave and Islwyn threatened to bleed Yorwrath. So, a typical conversation between the two.”
“Are we in danger?”
“Honestly? I’m not entirely certain, but I’d rather be cautious.” Aneurin pulled his sword and set it across my lap. The steel reflected the moonlight perfectly, giving me some semblance of sight in the dark. However, I wasn’t thankful for it. Large shadows moved at the edge of the light. There were twenty at least, and I couldn’t figure out why they didn’t attack us.
* * * *
As the sun started to rise and the sky began to lighten, I heard the churn of footsteps retreating from us. Lazily, I leaned my head back against Aneurin’s shoulder and peered up at his stoic face. His gaze was fixed forward like he could see something I couldn’t make out in the exhaustive morning gloom. The others sheathed their blades and stood. Aneurin kept staring ahead. I nudged him.
“Hey,” I whispered to him. That variegated gaze settled on me and his lips twitched into a smirk.
“Hey.” He rubbed my hips and placed a soft kiss on my shoulder before sheathing that deadly gleaming blade.
“Are you all right?”
“I thought I saw something… But it was probably just light playing tricks.”
“We’re maybe a four hours’ walk from whatever remains of twr o rhagwelediad,” Islwyn said as he rolled up his pallet and stretched. Yorwrath grunted, walked over to the tree nearest where Aneurin and I sat, pulled himself free of his trousers, and relieved himself right there.
“So charming,” I grumbled as I rose from Aneurin’s lap and started packing everything up. I had barely slept in days. That lack of sleep had made my movements clumsy and sluggish.
“I have no one here to be charming for, Dy’ne.” Yorwrath spoke without taking his gaze from the tree.
“Is anyone going to tell me what happened last night?” I finally asked as I walked the repacked saddlebags over to Ys, who seemed somewhat spooked. I stroked his milky flanks tenderly as I attempted to calm him. Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed Aneurin was still on the ground, his eyes fixed forward.
“Years ago, before Aneurin or Yorwrath was born, their father, Aeon, led his Redcaps against twr o rhagwelediad. We burned and pillaged the tower and the surrounding city. Blood flowed through the streets and the aftermath was just…” Grwn shook his head. “I was young, stupid and just following orders. He filled our heads with lies that became transparent after the city was torched.”
“It was your duty to follow him, Grwn. Like it’s your duty now to follow me.” Yorwrath spat on the ground as he stuffed himself back into his trousers. “And if I tell you I want you to burn
Dryslwyn Tanllyd
to ash, it’s your duty to ask me how hot I want the plowing flames. And if I want to take a pretty, reluctant priestess for a wife, it’s your job, like it’s the job of every other Redcap, to help me purge the plowing
gwaedlyd arlais.
” That started a tirade that fell from Yorwrath’s sneering lips in the elven tongue that made the mountainous elf pale with fear.
“In short, the pwca were here last night because of Aneurin, Yorwrath, and Grwn. It was Yorwrath and Aneurin’s mother Aeon stole from her bed and took on the altar. And Grwn, who participated in the sacking of the city and temple. Nothing is sacred for a Redcap,” Islwyn continued softly while Yorwrath raged at Grwn, and Aneurin stared off into nothingness.
I’m traveling with a group of morons.
Something caught my eye—a flash of white and silver, I turned and peered into the trees and could have sworn that I saw a unicorn. It must have been my eyes playing tricks on me. Unicorns were myth. But what I saw looked an awful lot like a pure white horse with a slender flash of silver horn. I petted Ys and looked down at him. In the right light, Aneurin’s white stallion could have passed for the glimmering majestic beast… But that didn’t explain the horn. I glanced up again, and it was gone. It was probably light playing a trick on me, I was exhausted after all.
Once the saddlebags and saddle were in place I glanced at Aneurin. He was standing now, at least, but his attention was still focused in the distance. He walked to Islwyn and placed a hand on the pretty blond’s shoulder, whispering something to him before glancing up at me. I was too tired to care at that moment what intimacies passed between them. I retrieved one of my books from the bags. The leather tome slipped from my fingers and fell open to a page on unicorns. I retrieved the book with a sigh and started reading.