Elyon's Blades, page 6
part #1 of The Daughters of Elyon Series
Ailith realized she was still angry enough that if she returned to the meal, she’d just get herself in trouble all over again. There was a side door leading into the outer bailey, and she used it now to get away from the Temple. She needed a place of quiet where she could calm herself enough to face the ridicule she’d get from being disciplined a second time.
It hadn’t been a secret that Sábria had been angry enough to beat her after the death of the Prince. Most people had simply ignored her after the whipping, but several had whispered quiet taunts in her ear, letting her know that with such a disgraceful start, she’d never make it out of shiv status and would end up working in the kitchens for the rest of her miserable life. She stalked across the outer bailey and left through the front gate. The portcullis was left in the raised position during the day, so all she needed to do was nod to the gate guard and be on her way.
She knew which direction the forest lay because she could see the tops of the trees from her fourth-floor window. Her angry strides took her down the main thoroughfare, through a residential district, and eventually into the market square. Several Blades turned to watch as she angrily strode past the vendors and their wares, but none made a move to stop her. Turning down an alley that ran in the general direction she wanted to go, she ran into two little skellies—orphan girls who lived hand to mouth on the streets and in the sewers, and a nint, the male equivalent to the skellies—who looked like they hadn’t eaten in days.
The skellies backed up a pace, but the nint stuck his foot into the alley to block her path. The boots he wore were several sizes too big, and he kept them on by winding a wire around each ankle and twisting the ends several times to hold the boots in place.
One of the skellies, who couldn’t have been more than seven or eight, pulled a blade from her waistband and tried for a menacing look. All she managed was a hollow-eyed, pitiful glare. Her voice was high and sharp when she snarled at the woman who dared invade her alleyway. “Gie us yer coin, bitch, an maybe we let ya live.”
Ailith sighed, reached into a slit sewn into the outer thigh of her trews, and pulled her own blade. “I don’t think ya really meant t’ threaten me, now, didja, little skelli?”
All three scattered, with the two skellies shinnying up a drainpipe and the nint disappearing down the road at the end of the alley. Sheathing her knife, she continued on for another ten blocks until she came to the wharf, where several boats bobbed up and down with the tide. Turning east, she followed the shadows made by the sun setting directly behind her until she eventually came to the outer limits of the city.
Here, the forest ran to the water’s edge. When she’d ridden through the trees with her garrison, one of the soldiers, a scholarly nob more suited to bookish learning than soldiering, had explained that these plants had adapted to the ocean and preferred growing next to the salty sea. She moved past the tree line and felt at home when the dark forest closed in around her. After close to a candlemark of hiking, she came to a freshwater stream full of large, mouthwatering fish.
She’d learned young to always carry a flint stone in her pockets, and it wasn’t long before she had a cookfire burning in the middle of a small clearing she’d chosen as the perfect spot to make a comfortable little camp. Whenever she traveled with Duke Ravenkind’s forces, he regularly assigned her the task of catching as many fish as possible to supplement whatever meat the hunters brought in that day.
Peeling off her clothes, Ailith waded into the river and waited with her knife just under the water’s surface. She held perfectly still for at least a half candlemark, clearing her mind of everything except the water, her knife, and the fish. Finally, a fat salmon, easily big enough to feed her, and a couple more besides, swam by, lazily ignorant of the fate about to befall it. Lightning-fast, she impaled it and sent it flying toward shore before it had time to react.
She quickly killed it and had it gutted and expertly skewered in a matter of minutes. After pulling her clothing back on, she returned to her fire and planted two sticks with y-shaped ends deep into the ground on either side of the fire pit. She carefully set her stick with the fish into the grooves at just the right height to keep the heat from burning the delicate flesh. Knowing the difference between raw and burnt was a matter of moments, she watched it cook until she judged the time was right. At the precise moment the first side was seared to perfection, she rotated the stick to allow the coals to cook the opposite side as well.
Darkness had fallen while she’d worked, but a full moon blazed overhead, giving her enough light to see by. Heading back to the stream, she found a large flat stone to use as both a platter and a plate and then gathered more wood to keep the fire fed for the rest of the night. Since nothing was scheduled for the next day, she didn’t intend to return to the Temple until the following evening, wanting to give herself enough time to unwind and destress alone among the trees.
She sensed the presence of others near her fire before she saw them. Maybe it had been a soft murmuring or a snapped twig, but whatever it was, she needed to be wary until she knew who had invaded her tranquil resting spot. Silently lowering her armful of sticks to the ground, she climbed a tree near the camp and used an interconnecting branch to come up on the people unawares.
Grinding her teeth in frustration after recognizing the backs of the Arch Priestess and Commander Shirin, Ailith dropped down behind them and landed solidly on her feet.
Both women reacted instantly, pivoting and drawing their swords in one smooth movement. The tip of Shirin’s blade was at Ailith’s throat before she had time to do more than blink.
Ailith slowly held her hands out to her sides, letting them know she wasn’t holding a weapon. “Uh, I guess I shoulda made a bit more noise up in th’ tree before I jumped?”
Lowering their swords, both women made a concerted effort not to bite Ailith’s head off. Shirin re-sheathed her sword with an exaggerated schick while Sábria slid hers back in with a bit more decorum. Shirin indicated the fire and roasting fish with an irritated wave. “Would you like to tell us what you think you’re doing out here?”
It suddenly occurred to Ailith that she’d caused the two most powerful women in the Temple to drop whatever they’d planned for the night to search for an impulsive and unruly shiv. Fishing and preparing the campsite had relieved some of her stress, but in an instant, it surged back to the fore. The only thing she could think to say was, “Cookin’ fish?”
To keep herself from blathering on about mindless nonsense, Ailith retrieved her bundle of firewood and began methodically stacking it next to the fire. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sábria touch Shirin’s forearm.
The Commander pulled in a long breath and made a conscious effort to relax her shoulders before emptying her lungs in one long, slow breath.
The Priestess knelt next to Ailith, took one of the sticks from her bundle, and laid it onto the crosshatch pattern Ailith preferred for storing campfire wood. She spoke in a quiet voice that had a soothing effect on the young warrior’s frayed nerves. “What Commander Shirin meant was, what are you doing out here in the forest, far away from the Temple, after the gates have been locked for the night?”
Ailith stared at the fire and began to put two and two together. Irritated now, she turned and glared at Sábria. “Th’ two of ya came after me instead of sending some Blades because ya thought I was runnin’ away, didn’t ya?” She rose and looked from one sober face to the other, waiting for an answer. When neither woman said anything, her growing temper sparked into a flame. She controlled herself as best she could and said with as little anger as she could manage, “Me word not good enough fer ya?”
Sábria hadn’t been idle the past few days. She’d asked their archivist to bring her any manuscripts on the societal norms of Dreyutha and specifically on the interactions between members of the Dreyuthan military. Because of that, she was able to stop what might have become a minor disaster before it flared out of control.
As though defection had been the farthest thing from her mind, Sábria picked up another stick and set it neatly on the carefully stacked pieces of wood. “Of course, your word was good enough. I know that to a Dreyuthan, a given word is sacrosanct. Your word binds you, and if you betray it, your value as a human being is lost.” She shrugged, “I’ve heard many people take their own lives after betraying a given word.”
When Ailith visibly relaxed, she continued, “We’re here because we heard about an incident at the evening meal and were concerned when you didn’t return. I assume you didn’t realize that the only time trainees are allowed off Temple grounds after dark is if they’re on duty with their handler.”
That didn’t sit well. Within the confines of the rules of the Dreyuthan military, Ailith had been self-sufficient and independent her entire life. “Ya mean I’m a prisoner?”
Sábria chuckled and glanced up with amusement sparkling in her eyes. “I guess you could say that until you become a full Blade, you’re my prisoner. I prefer to think of it as keeping you safe while you learn the ways of the city…” she indicated the forest by glancing out into the darkness, “…and of the dangers of the forest after dark. There are a lot of deadly outcasts who roam these woods at night.”
“I guess you don’t mean that Blade,” she pointed into the dark forest to her right, “or that one,” she lifted her chin, indicating the trees behind Shirin, “or….” she hiked her thumb over her shoulder to suggest there was a third Blade she’d sensed somewhere behind her.
Shirin raised her brows, “It seems we need to give some remedial training in covert surveillance.”
“In Dreyutha, ya die if ya don’t know what’s around ya. Besides, there’s not many better at stalkin’ than me.”
After staring at the young warrior for several long moments, Shirin nodded. “Good to know.”
Ailith needed a moment to think, so she motioned for them to wait. “I’ll be right back.” She walked to the river and found two more flat rocks that she rinsed in the coolness of the stream. She brought them back and set them on the ground next to the first. The fish was done to perfection, and after placing it on a flat stone, she removed the skin by rubbing up both sides with the back of her knife. With that done, she slid the fish off the stick, cut the filets into thirds, and lifted a piece onto each of the improvised rock plates using the flat of her blade.
While she worked, Sábria pulled a heavy log over and used it as a backrest.
Ailith had no idea an Arch Priestess would know how to get comfortable at a campsite and wondered why Shirin hadn’t jumped in to drag it for her. So much was different here than in Dreyutha. She had no doubt whatsoever that the fat slob of a Priestess in Dreyutha’s Temple had never even seen the inside of a forest. When Sábria was settled on the ground, Ailith handed her one of the flat rocks containing a fish filet.
Sábria held it beneath her nose and sniffed. “Oh Goddess, it’s been too long since I’ve had fish cooked over an open fire. Thank you for this treat.”
When Ailith held out the second rock, Shirin politely declined. “That’s your dinner. You enjoy it.”
Seeing the resignation in the droop of Ailith’s shoulders, Sábria pointed to the rock. “I understand that in Dreyutha, offering a guest part of your meal is a way to confer respect, correct?”
Shirin immediately picked up on the hint and lowered herself onto the ground next to Sábria. “In that case, hand it over. I’m starving.”
Ailith hesitated. “Ya sure? If ya don’t want it, it’s okay. I need to learn yer ways, ya don’t need to learn mine.”
Shirin lowered her chin, raised her brows, and grinned, “Hand it over, ya pain in the ass.”
Sábria gave an undignified snort and jabbed Shirin in the arm with her elbow, “Shirin.”
“Well, she is.”
Ailith blushed with pleasure as she handed the rock to the Commander. Only one other person had ever referred to her by an affectionate nickname, and pain in the ass suited her just fine. “I don’t have anything to eat it with. Ya gotta use yer fingers.”
Sábria picked a flake up and juggled it to help it cool before blowing on it and settling it into her mouth. Her eyes rolled back, and she groaned with pleasure. “Oh, my Goddess. If you don’t make it to Blade, you’re ending up in the kitchen.”
Ailith scoffed, “Yeah, that’s exactly where everybody says I’m gonna end up, ‘cept they have me washing pots and pans instead of cookin’.”
Shirin swallowed the piece she had in her mouth and cocked her head. “People giving you a hard time?”
“No. Well, yeah, but it’s nothin’ I can’t handle.”
“Like you handled Khaldo?”
Feeling a little foolish because now that she’d had time to calm down, Ailith realized she could have managed her temper a little better back at the table. “Not really, no.”
Sábria popped a second piece of fish into her mouth and rubbed her fingers together to wipe off some oils. “What did happen today, Ailith?”
“Nothin’. We were just messin’ around, that’s all.”
“Khaldo’s black eye and broken nose say different.”
Ailith winced, “I broke her nose? I didn’t mean to.”
The two women waited for more of an explanation, and when none was forthcoming, Sábria said, “If I ask a question, I expect a direct, honest answer.” When Ailith opened her mouth to repeat her denial, Sábria held up her hand. “Stop right there. I know that in the Dreyuthan army and, to some extent, in the Blades, you never admit to fighting amongst yourselves. But Ailith, this is something you need to remember.” She waited until Ailith looked into her eyes, listening intently. “I am the Arch Priestess of the Daughters of Elyon. If and when I ask a question, you will answer me with a direct answer, or I’ll know the reason why. Now, why did you react the way you did at the table?”
Ailith set down her plate and rubbed her eyes while trying to adjust her way of thinking. Telling tales against a fellow warrior went against her every instinct, but now she knew she had little choice when speaking with the Arch Priestess. She lowered her hands and sighed. “Well, I explained to Khaldo twice that I don’t drink spirits because I’m not only a mean drunk, but ale loosens my tongue, and I say things I either don’t remember sayin’ or I should never say in the first place.”
Shirin shook her head, “Oh, blessed Goddess. I can’t even imagine you worse than you are right now.” That earned her another jab from Sábria. “Well, I can’t.”
Sábria shook her head in exasperation at her friend before saying to Ailith, “Go on.”
“Well, I drink tea. Practically everybody else drinks ale at meals. So, I finished my tea, and Khaldo offered to get me some more when she went to refill her ale. Even though I knew I shouldn’t, I gave her my mug—”
Sábria interrupted her. “That’s an odd thing to say that you knew you shouldn’t. Why wouldn’t you want to allow a Blade to do you a favor and get you a second mug of tea?”
Ailith closed her eyes, leaned back, and interlaced her fingers on the top of her head. “Can I just not answer that, please? It’s not right for a warrior to speak bad about another warrior to her superiors. It’s just not.”
“That’s too bad because if you don’t answer, this pleasant evening won’t remain pleasant much longer.”
The tone Sábria used left nothing to the imagination. She meant what she said, and Ailith knew it. She growled, “Fine,” and then lowered her arms and opened her eyes. She wasn’t happy doing it, but she thought of and rejected several possible ways to explain before finally giving up. “I don’t know how to say it without soundin’….”
“Just say it, Ailith. Commander Shirin and I have been doing this for a long time and probably already know why you didn’t want her to get your tea.”
That made sense. What little experience she’d had at the Temple had shown her that these women kept a strict eye on all the happenings among the Blades. “Well, every military camp has a few assholes who let th’ power of being a warrior go to their head. They swagger about an’ push around us poor sods who they think have less power than they do. Like us shivs, fer example. Well, they only do it when no one with more pull than them is lookin’, a course.”
“Bullies.”
Ailith shrugged, “I guess that’s more polite than callin’ ‘em assholes.”
“So, Khaldo. Anyone else?”
This line of questioning was getting on Ailith’s nerves. She’d never liked being forced to do something she felt was wrong, and her irritation began to slip through her attempts to keep it bottled up. Unfortunately, she’d never been good at bottling up her feelings. “So, yer makin’ me into one of yer babblers, then?”
The hand holding a piece of fish froze halfway to Sábria’s mouth, and she met Ailith’s scowl with an angry glare of her own. It took a while, but when the Arch Priestess held Ailith’s gaze without blinking, Ailith finally submitted and looked away.
Only then did Sábria lower the fish and offer an explanation. Her tone was brusque, and there was more than a hint of irritation in her voice when she spoke. “I don’t need to explain myself to you, Ailith, but I see your anger building, and I’ve found it’s important to address problems with my people before they get out of hand.”
Sábria set her rock down and lifted a finger. “First, no, I’m not singling you out as a babbler. At various times, I speak to every person in the Temple and ask questions. Everyone knows this, and none would be angry or surprised that you’re providing me with honest answers to my questions.”
The muscles in Ailith’s jaw flexed.
Sábria made a mental note to work on reigning in the girl’s temper because Ailith tended to swing from genial to angry between one breath and the next. “Second, I rule over two hundred and fifty—well, two hundred and fifty-two now—iron-willed, headstrong warriors, over six-thousand warriors if you count those in the thirty subordinate Temples scattered around Cibía, and as you are well aware, I rule with an iron fist. Discipline tempered by benevolent care of their emotional, physical, and spiritual needs. I, therefore, am the one who asks uncomfortable questions and demands honest answers from every woman in the Temple, be they warriors or supporting staff.”
