From the Heart of a Fae

Drew threw his cup at the wall, wine going everywhere. The spy in front of him cowered. How, how did they break the spell? Ikalla was bound for life! Now she is right back at Kora’s side, giving her yet another powerful ally! Kora’s magic had never been that strong, her fear of the ancient power she had free access to she always refused to use. Even if she did, how would she have known how to undo his curse? The spy was shrinking wards, away from Drew, towards the door. Drew seized him with magic, holding him in the air. He was choking him. The spy began to shrivel, as Drew absorbed his life force. He felt the strength of youth returning to his body, he stood straighter, and his mood calmed. It was like a high he had never known, feeling the life force of another move through his veins. The shell of the spy fell to the floor. Kora surprised him, yet again. She was gaining power, and he needed to move quickly, while he still had some advantage. The only advantage he had left was being Strigoi. Even if they knew he was, they still would not know what all that entailed. He hoped. Winter was the other advantage. They were stuck in their gilded cage of the capital, unable to advance on him. But come spring, that will change. They would march on Sinclair Fief, and he would be ruined. He punched the stone wall above the fireplace, and then turned to look over the maps. He needed to abandon the base, as much as he did not want to. If the damn dog found him so easily, then they would be at his doorstep as soon as the snow began to melt. They would need to retreat further north. Yelling for a slave to enter, he demanded the presence of his chief at arms and when the slave cried out in surprise at the dead body, his anger boiled over.

“Do as your bid, then come and clean this up! Or you will be next!” The slave ran, and Drew looked at the map again, scheming.

Royce and Ian were on the training grounds, practicing hand to hand. Ian had the advantage, by being faster. He tapped Royce once, twice, three times. Royce laughed and raised his arms, admitting mock defeat. They were both sweating and sitting to rest. They passed a water skin between them. Looking up, Stella and Ikalla were making their way across the field. Ian noticed that Ikalla still wore the bracelet he had given her, and he looked up at the sky to hide the blush creeping up the back of his neck. He saw Royce giving him the look out of the corner of his eye and decided to ignore it. As the women approached, Stella spoke first.

“Ikalla has agreed to help me practice! Isn’t that exciting?” Royce laughed.

“I would practice with you, darling. I told you that.” he said, casually looking Stella over. She blushed and retorted tartly,

“Wrestling isn’t what I need practice in, and you get too handsy.” Royce was not phased at all, he grinned as Ian laughed. Ikalla looked at the sky, a blush of her own creeping across her dark skin at the inappropriateness of it all. They each walked to the center of the field, and Ikalla began instructing Stella on the proper stance and hold for her sword. When Stella went to draw hers, Ikalla took it away. Knowing what she was after, Ian tossed two practice swords at her, and she caught them easily.

“When you learn, you learn with these. You should consider joining the practice pages in the mornings. It might be embarrassing, but they are beginners, just like you.” Ikalla was a patient instructor. She straightened Stella’s stance constantly and made her begin to move and swing the practice sword in specific patterns.

“You are lucky. When my tribe taught me to fight, they made me find the heaviest tree branch I could find, and I had to carve my own practice sword out of it. I had splinters for weeks, and it was uneven and heavy.” Ikalla chuckled at the memory. Royce grinned,

“My people were the same. Our tribe was further south, in the desert. Finding trees that had big enough branches was hard, and we broke them often.” Ikalla nodded.

“I knew your tribe well back then. They traded with us often.” Turning to Ian, Ikalla could not help it.

“Where do you hail from, Ian?” She was curious about this man, and Kora did not know much. Ian stepped forward and stretched.

“I come from the top of the world. North of the Old Empire.” Ikalla balked. The land was almost uninhabitable, and those that did live there often spent months in the dark during the winter. It said that just a few minutes outside at midwinter could freeze a man to death.

“No wonder you moved here.” Ikalla muttered, and Ian laughed.

“I was recruited. I met Royce freezing to death in a cave, and after I saved him, he bullied me into the service of the crown- I worked intelligence for the war, reporting only to Royce. Kept my identity safe.” Royce thumped Ian on the back.

“We go back. I was barely 17 then, Malik had recruited me for the recognizance mission just months prior.” Stella remembered she had met him about 6 months after that. They practiced for another hour, before Stella begged for reprieve. Ikalla took her practice sword and waved her off, Royce laughing as she dramatically limped away, crying for a bath. She had turned to put the practice swords in storage, and Ian was standing there with his hand out. She silently handed him the other sword, and he set himself in a guard stance. Ikalla smiled, and they began to spar. It was soft hits, but he was fast, and creative. She met him step for step- and they moved across the training field. No one was around this late in the evening, and it felt good to work out again. Kora had been her sparring partner forever ago, and when she fully recovered, they planned to do so again. She had not expected to find a practice partner in Ian. She tapped his side, and he stepped back, grinning through his heavy breathing.

“You are very good.” Ikalla was breathing hard too and reached for her water flask.

“You sound surprised. How else do you think I have lived this long? I am not that good-looking.”

Ikalla blushed and retorted tartly.

“I had assumed it was your silver tongue.” Ian laughed at that and took her sword. They began to walk towards the training ground storage, and Ian asked-

“What else did you learn from your tribe about fighting? I hear that swords are not their specialty-that your and Kora’s double-edged murder weapons are.” Ikalla was surprised he knew anythingabout her tribe, and she was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. Ian was patient as he waited, clearly not pressuring her to answer anything.

“It is called a double ended Glaive, and they were special to my tribe. We made and modified them, and when you came of age, you forged your own. Kora’s original, not the one she has now, she made herself-side by side with me.” Ian nodded.

“The weapon is definitely interesting, I’ve been meaning to ask Kora to have a go with it, but we haven’t gotten the chance.” Ian set the swords inside the cabinet and locked it. Turning, he looked at Ikalla and smiled.

“Would you teach me? I will trade you. I can teach you some street fighting.” Ikalla hesitated. She wanted to spend more time with this man, which had never happened to her before. And the teachings of the Glaive were sacred to the tribe. Kora had to be adopted by the tribe formally before she could pursue training. Her parents had loved Kora as their own and petitioned the village for it. But her tribe was gone, and there was no one after them to carry on the legacy. She nodded.

“I will teach you, but if you want to learn the right way, then you must do it the way my tribe did.” Ian looked at her, his eyes unreadable.

“How is that?” He asked and she swallowed. It was freezing outside, why did she feel warm?

“You will go through the same traditions, so you can pass it along too, if you wish. We will need to see the blacksmith, and you must forge your own weapon. I will help you, though.” Ian stepped forward, coming remarkably close to Ikalla. Startled, she looked into his eyes.

“I look forward to spending more time with you then, see you tomorrow.” Ian walked away, leaving Ikalla very confused, heart pounding.