Twelfth of Leaffell, Year 1413 AGC

“You fight like an ogre.”

In the days since she woke at the safe house, Everna came to the stunning, though expected, realization that she was horribly out of practice. It’d been years since she last used her sword, the brief scuffle with Windmore notwithstanding. Despite years of lessons under her father’s tutelage, she lacked the natural talent her brother possessed in abundance. Still, she wasn’t that bad.

She may have overestimated her abilities and neglected to consider the detriment of skipping practice. Regardless, she survived the encounter with Windmore. That had to count for something.

As if he could read her thoughts, Wil raised a dubious brow.

“Oh, piss off,” she hissed.

Ignoring the aching protest in her limbs — he had worked her to the bone since their sessions started, pushing her until her muscles were stiff and sore — she climbed to her feet and readjusted her grip on the dulled training sword. Her own lay atop the table on the other side of the room, the ridiculously sharp blade safely tucked away in its sheath. After she nearly took his finger off, he forbade her from using it during her lessons.

She supposed it was for the best. With how often he sent her weapon flying across the room, someone was liable to be killed. Knowing her luck, that someone would be her.

Wil had also insisted she would be better off learning to fight without relying on the blade’s enchantments. Artifacts were for bolstering existing skill, not for compensating for the lack thereof. Her fear of her sword only hindered her progress, as she spent more time focused on avoiding the edge rather than avoiding her opponent.

Slightly unbalanced and far longer than she liked, her training sword proved more difficult to handle. That was why when she swung with every ounce of strength she had, he parried it with ease. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she fought like an ogre.

“I’m serious,” Wil said in a tone that, coupled with his cheeky grin, suggested otherwise. “Were you taught by an ogre?”

“My father taught me, you ass.”

No sooner than she was on her feet, Wil struck. He came at her with such speed that she could barely raise her sword in time. She stumbled, her feet slipping on the training mat. Her arms shook as she put her weight behind the blade, digging her heels into the floor. It was a futile endeavor. With a rather forceful shove, he sent her careening onto her rear and, not a second later, the tip of his sword tapped the underside of her chin.

“Ah, that explains why you keep ending up in this position.”

He pressed the tip further into her skin and forced her to raise her head. His grin was roughish now, his green eyes alight with something she couldn’t quite place. It happened every time they sparred.

Everna scowled and knocked his blade aside with her own. "Then enlighten me. What am I doing wrong?"

"You're a woman," he said. "Stop trying to fight me like you're a man."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, realistically, you're never going to overpower me, or any other man. Not with your natural strength, that is. That delusion's only going to get you killed. I'd have thought you'd have figured that out by now."

She swallowed her indignation. His utter lack of tact aside, he wasn't wrong. Her father warned her of such many years ago when he'd first put a sword in her hand. He hadn't taught her with the expectations that she'd win, but with the hopes she'd handle herself well enough to escape a more experienced fighter.

The implications hadn't bothered her then. Her father hadn't meant it as an insult; it was a matter of objective reality and she'd never been one to shy away from such truths. With Wil, however, she couldn't tell if he was trying to help her or infuriate her.

Perhaps both.

"Then answer the question," she spat. "What should I be doing?"

"I wasn't joking when I said you fight like an ogre.” His grin had faded now, replaced with a more neutral expression. "Stop trying to wail on me like you're swinging a club. You can't rely on brute strength, so start using your head more. Deflect instead of block. Aim for weak spots. Go for the throat, the ribs — whatever you can get at."

"That sounds horribly underhanded," she said, scrunching her nose.

Her father had always said those tactics were best left as a last line of defense.

Wil shook his head. "Don't apply courtly theatrics to reality. Any man, or anyone else, who'd point a sword at you with ill intentions won't care about rules of engagement. Especially when Shroud is concerned."

Everna considered his words, comparing them to the only fight she had experienced, and found that, once again, he was right. Windmore hadn't held back out of the goodness of his heart; he was toying with her for his own amusement. He could've killed her at any moment, and she'd have been powerless to stop him.

"I think that's your problem," Wil continued. "You don't have a clue what a real fight is like. You're used to everyone coddling you. I'd wager that night in the Guard post was the first time you crossed blades with someone who wasn't your father."

"I've sparred my brother," she pointed out.

"The point is, stop trying to prove a point. Act like I'm trying to kill you and start acting like you're trying to kill me."

If that's what he wanted, she could deliver. There wasn't any real danger to it. The training blades might cause bruises (she had plenty of those) and perhaps a broken bone or two. Life-threatening injuries weren't a concern; Wil was too skilled for that and she was too out of practice.

With a sharp motion of his sword towards the center of the training room, he turned. Everna settled into her stance, her sword at the ready. The moment the full of his back came into sight, she lunged.

The sharp ring of clashing steel echoed through the training room. Everna startled, not at all expecting the speed with which he blocked her blade — with a dagger, no less. She'd known he was much faster than her, but she hadn't even seen him move.

He wasted no time in taking advantage of her confusion. One second, she was on her feet, stumbling. In the next, she hit the floor, Wil leaning over her.

The tip of his dagger was cold against her throat, the sharpened edge a hair's breadth away from biting into her skin. He had her sword hand pinned, his knee digging into her wrist. Scowling, she tried to kick him, only to find she couldn't reach him no matter how she moved.

She glanced at the blade, then up at him. It wasn't the first time he pulled it on her during their sessions — to desensitize her to fearing a real blade — but it was the first time he'd put it to her throat. If he hadn't saved her life a week prior, she might have been more unnerved.

"Sneak attack? Not bad." He sounded almost impressed. "It might have worked on anyone else."

Everna pursed her lips. Dealing with Wil was a bit like whiplash — a constant alteration between one extreme and the other. He threatened her, then saved her life — twice. Everything she did seemed to annoy him, then it didn't. One minute he acted like he wanted nothing to do with her and in the next he had her pinned to the floor, looking at her the way some men in the tavern did — right before her father clocked them and told them to put their eyes elsewhere.

At that last thought, she frowned. That wasn't the case, was it? He was annoying, but she wouldn't say he was unattractive—

"How did you know?" she asked, scrambling to set her traitorous mind back on track. "You weren't even looking at me."

"I could hear you," he said, chuckling. Something fluttered in her chest at the sound. It wasn't often he laughed. "You walk like an ogre, too."

"You—"

"Oh dear, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

As quickly as the dagger had appeared at her throat, it vanished. Wil relinquished his hold on her, a bit too abruptly, and stood. He didn't offer to help her up, not that she expected him to. Nor did she want him to.

Blowing out a sigh, she pushed herself upright and rubbed the feeling back into her wrist. "Oh, you know, the usual. Another day of getting absolutely walloped."

An unconvinced hum rose from Leah as she slipped through the door. Everna couldn't help but marvel at the grace with which she moved. Clerics of the Golden Lady possessed an otherworldly air about them, the blessings of their patron goddess worn as a badge of honor. When looking at one, it was nearly impossible to tell that the deity they worshiped wasn't a divine being of altruism, but one favored by thieves and anyone else who relied on luck to guide their hand.

"Get better and it won't be a problem," Wil drawled. "Besides, I'm done humiliating you for the day."

"I'm so deeply inspired by your boundless wisdom," Everna said, kicking at his ankle. He avoided it with almost no effort at all.

A half smile touching her lips, Leah reached into the top of her dress and produced a small slip of paper. "Then I suppose I'm right on time. Wil, it seems Osain's decided you've served enough of a punishment, though, it hardly seems like much of one for you."

"Really, I think I'm the one being punished here," Everna muttered.

Wil took the paper from her, turning it over in his hands. "Oh, that's just grand. Why am I always the one who has to deal with the Courts? Why can't Osain do it for once?"

"Osain's not the one involved in the recent debacle in Pendel. Shadowguard's favor hasn't improved with the kingdom's ruling factions, and your stunt did not help matters."

"And it won't until the Courts get rid of that useless steward," Wil snapped.

Leah, ever the mediator, merely shrugged. "I'm certain they will as soon as they decide which prince may claim the throne."

"Does that matter?" Everna asked. "Even if they were to, I don't see how that would improve anything. The Courts may as well run the kingdom, regardless."

"The Crown controls the coffers," Leah said, "and therefore could support us without the approval of the Courts, who can only provide us with the provisions put in place by King Keeland. That agreement expired five years ago, and we cannot negotiate another until they crown his successor. I'm sure you're aware of how...convoluted that dispute is."

Everna was overtly aware of the intricacies of it.

Inverness's royal family had a rather unusual predicament, one that no one could account for. When King Keeland died suddenly and inexplicably twelve years ago, the Courts fell into chaos. Per the law, the first-born child inherited the throne, but when two sons were born at exactly the same time to two different mothers, 'first-born' became a matter of debate.

For years, rumors of conflict between the brothers circulated throughout the kingdom. Later, at the academy, her classmates, many of who were nobility and privy to more than the common folk, confirmed those claims.

Three years before she'd left for the academy, the fighting reached a fever pitch. None were sure which of the two instigated it, but a disastrous assassination attempt heralded their disappearance from the public eye. No one had heard from them since.

Their disappearances brought with them another problem. Power abhorred a vacuum, and to prevent a potential bloodbath among the remaining royal children, the Courts broke tradition and appointed a steward to hold the throne while they worked towards a resolution. Last she'd heard, he was little more than a lazy drunk who caused more problems than he fixed.

The ordeal had been a popular subject of debate in her legal courses. It was uncharted territory; Inverness never faced such a crisis before and the Court hadn't a clue how to handle it. Her classmates were no less successful in discovering a solution.

Everna realized long ago there was no peaceful solution, as there rarely was in politics. If the royal children saw assassinations as their means to power, the Courts' decision would do nothing to dissuade them. The steward certainly hadn't. There had been another assassination attempt during her time at the academy, that one directed towards Princess Tira, who would be the next in line after the eldest princes.

It likely would not end until only one remained.

"In the meantime," Leah said, much like a mother soothing a petulant child, "it doesn't hurt to at least keep ourselves in their good graces. The information we've gathered needs to be relayed to the Courts, and I don't think it would hurt our case if they knew Shadowguard is actively pursuing the matter."

Muttering a string of profanities, Wil shoved the paper into the folds of his leathers and stalked out the door.

Once he was out of earshot, Leah sighed. "He is very difficult to deal with sometimes."

"You make it look easy," Everna said. She released aching her wrist and climbed to her feet. "He respects you enough to listen. I tell him anything and it turns into an argument."

"Yes, well, it wouldn't be wise to upset the one who stitches your bones back together," Leah chuckled. "Though, I would argue he likes you more than you realize."

Everna snorted. "He has an odd way of showing it."

Leah pulled a face and shook her head. "Unfortunately, with him, relatively harmless harassment is usually the first sign, and he likes to make things...difficult, shall we say? He has a horribly askew concept of social boundaries, though it is quite amusing to watch."

"Perhaps if you're not on the receiving end of it."

Leah raised a brow, a sly grin turning her lips. "Yet you aren't exactly showing signs of being too put off by it. I would even argue that you—"

"He threatened to kill me at least twice." Yet, even as those words left her lips, they felt more like a flimsy excuse.

"Occupational hazard," Leah said. "As I've said before, we weren't sure if you were truly a victim or not. Your resistance, though understandable, was a cause for concern. Perhaps, in terms you'd better understand, your hesitance to cooperate would be the same as hesitating to answer a potentially incriminating question when dealing with the Inquisitors. One would think if you were innocent, you'd do whatever you could to prove it."

She supposed Leah had a point. From their perspective, it might have seemed as if she were trying to impede the investigation rather than assist it. She'd have arrived at the same conclusion if she were in their position.

"Wil was also far more patient than you than he normally would be," Leah added, an accusatory note to her voice. "From what I understand, you promised cooperation and didn't quite hold to your word."

"I said I'd cooperate," Everna pointed out. "I didn’t say that I’d trust him or do everything he said without question.”

With a flourish of her sleeve, Leah waved her off. "That matter aside, it seems Osain believes you're ready for your first assignment."

That gave her pause. "I thought I was supposed to stay here?"

"Osain has his reasons, which I'm sure he'll explain, in some capacity," Leah said, muttering the last part. "He wants to see you in his office."

With another wave of her hand, she beckoned her to follow.

. . .

Before Shadowguard took it over, the safe house served as a lodge for the hunters and travelers who braved the Wildlands. They repurposed the wine cellar into something akin to a training facility and the guest rooms became temporary dwellings for Shadowguard agents and their associates. Everna fell under the latter; she wasn't an official agent, but a temporary addition per her circumstances.

A fact Vina, the snobbish brunette, reminded her of when possible.

Worn wooden stairs connected the wine cellar to the main room, which served as both a taproom and a gathering place. Open and spacious, the taproom was two stories tall. A wide balcony, which stretched to cover a third of the overhead space, comprised the second floor. A haphazard mess of tables and chairs littered both floors.

Everna rarely found anyone in the main room during the day. The handful of agents currently stationed at the safe house — which was significantly less than usual, Leah had told her — were out on assignments, many of which were in town. Only Leah and Vina remained behind. Osain kept to his upstairs office, and Wil handled the more minor affairs in his stead.

Said office was located directly across the hall from her room. The door sat ajar, offering a clear glimpse of the room beyond. Nearly four times the size of the guest rooms, Osain's office dominated the eastern corner of the upper floor. Massive shelves rose from the floor and stopped short inches of the ceiling, stuffed with books and tomes, took up most of the walls. An ornate rug, patterned with swirling lines that resembled a mess of delicate vines and large flowers, covered the floor. It was a popular style in the Kingdom of Anwell; art déco, they called it — a style presumably stolen from a kingdom in Indaria, which they paraded as their own.

The wall behind the desk sported an array of trophies, mounted weapons, and trinkets. Plain curtains, decorated with strings of colored beads and shiny scales, framed the window. A pair of odd talismans hung from the curtain rod.

Vina sat in a plush armchair in front of the desk, her back stiff as a rod and nose turned to the sky. She glared at Everna from the corners of her eyes, her lips pulled back in a sneer. A slightly blonde occupied the chair beside her, her hands folded so tightly in her lap that her knuckles bled white. Lisette seemed no more pleased than Vina with her arrival, though, she was far less vocal about it.

When she wasn't speaking with her brother behind closed doors, that was.

From his seat behind the desk, Osain released a heavy sigh. "Finally. Now I can get this shit show over with."

"Apologies, Osain," Leah said, "I would have brought her sooner, but I had to placate Wil's temper first."

Osain waved her off. "He can complain all he wants as long as he does what he's told."

With a soft hum and a shrug of her shoulders, Leah retreated into the hall once more; the door clicking shut behind her.

"Now," Osain said, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "The three of you—"

"I am not—" A frigid glare from Osain stopped Vina short.

"You're going to do what I tell you to do," he snapped. His hand hit the desk, the assortment of glass trinkets rattling. "You've been overstepping your boundaries lately, Vina, and unlike your previous handlers, I won't tolerate it. You can either get over yourself or get out."

The barest hint of a sigh escaped Lisette.

Vina's cheeks flared with indignation, but she remained silent.

Once he was certain there would be no more protest, he tossed a small map onto the desk and pointed at a location some miles west of the Nivfell Forest. "That is Windhollow. One of our informants in Anwell recently came into vital information regarding Shroud. Last I heard, they had several agents on his tail. He's desperate to pass off the information before they catch up with him. You're to meet with him, collect the information, and come straight back."

After a pregnant pause, Lisette asked, "With all due respect, Osain, are you truly trusting someone who isn't one of our own with sensitive information?"

Osain's expression darkened and for a moment, she swore she felt the temperature of the room drop several degrees. The shadows drew longer, more menacing, almost as if encroaching upon the dim candlelight that illuminated the office. Vina and Lissette likely noticed it as well, the both of them stiff with apprehension.

Everna, who often dealt with her mother's temperamental outbursts, merely pressed her lips into a thin line. Osain had given her the impression of someone far more dangerous than he appeared, and this only confirmed her suspicions. Either he was more bark than bite, or Lisette wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer.

She suspected it was a bit of both.

"I'm only going to say this one more time." Osain s propped his elbows on the desk, his fingers steepled. "This 'one of our own' shit needs to stop. Now. Shadowguard regularly works with people outside of the organization and many of them in Everna's position. The next time this becomes an issue, I'll strip you of your badges and send you straight to Alund for retraining, since you clearly weren't paying attention the first time."

Lisette's shoulders tensed, her head dipping low as color flooded her face.

Osain made a noise at the back of his throat. "And the brass wonders why I hate working with rookies. You leave at first light tomorrow. Vina, Lisette, you're dismissed. Go get ready and keep the complaints to a minimum. Everna, stay here."

With a dramatic flare that an actress would envy, Vina shot out of her seat and stalked for the door.

"Don't think you're anything special," she hissed. "Filthy common rat."

Lisette left with far more grace, though Everna didn't miss the slight narrowing of her eyes as she passed.

Once the door shut, Osain relaxed. "If those two give you any trouble, you're more than welcome to knock some respect into them."

"Don't tempt me," Everna grumbled.

"Oh, I wasn't tempting you. I'm telling you to.” He motioned to the empty chairs. "Lisette means well, and being guarded isn't necessarily a bad thing in this line of work, but she takes it too far. And Vina? That brat could use a few blows to the head. Might actually fix something."

Everna took the seat Lisette vacated, sinking into the plush lining. "Vina, I won't argue with, though I don't think there's enough upstairs to bother." At that, Osain cracked a smile. "Lisette, however, has a point. Even more so considering I'm not an agent, and I thought I was to remain here at the safe house."

"I have my reasons for sending you, and that's all that needs to be said. This matter involves you anyway. Allegedly, this informant has the answer to one of our more pertinent questions: why Shroud wants you dead."

Everna's brows rose.

"Whatever threat you pose to them is so great that rumors are flying about even the lower ranks. It may be just that, a rumor, but it's better than nothing."

She released a sigh. Though she still hadn't a clue what an organization like Shroud could fear from her, the prospect of finally receiving an answer left her with a sliver of hope in an otherwise bleak situation. She may not like what she learned, and it might not help her legal situation, but it was an answer.

Those were in short supply these days.

"Normally we wouldn't have to go this route," he continued. "We have ways of relaying information quickly, but there are risks associated with them. The informant insisted we do it the old-fashioned way. Get the information, burn the evidence, and leave Shroud none the wiser."

Everna peered at the map once more. Judging distance on paper was difficult, especially without a legend. The dot representing Windhollow lay several inches from the tree line, but to her, that meant nothing.

"How long is this going to take?"

"Five days at the most, if all goes well," Osain shrugged. "Windhollow's only a day and a half west of here, but the roads through the Wildlands aren't safe. You'll undoubtedly run into a complication or three along the way."

She'd never heard of a civilized settlement in the Wildlands. Most remained within the individual kingdoms scattered throughout the region, where local authorities defended the lands from the orc tribes, goblin hordes, bandits, and other dangers that plagued the unclaimed parts of Trellan. Pendel saw glimpses of those issues from time to time, but the Guard ensured it never spilled too far over the border.

Though, she supposed she couldn't know what lay in the Wildlands. Beyond her three years in the capital, and her brief trip back nearly a month ago now, Everna had never left Pendel. The night she arrived at the safe house was the first time she'd ever crossed Inverness's borders.

"Is there anything else I should know?"

Osain considered her for a moment, his gaze calculating. "Wil tells me you're both extraordinarily preceptive and exceptionally intuitive. Trust your instincts and don't let Vina and Lisette convince you otherwise."

"Somehow I doubt he said that."

A snort of amusement escaped Osain. "His exact words were 'she could spot a gnat on a pile of shit' and 'she has an annoying habit of knowing what's going to happen before it does'."

Everna couldn't help but roll her eyes. "He has such a way with words."

"You get used to it," Osain said, shrugging once more. "And I hope you've been paying attention to what he says. Out there, you'll need it. Now go on. Leah will help you prepare."

She rose from her chair, but no sooner than she reached the door, Osain called after her.

"And Everna? Just know whatever happens out there, it's meant to happen."

With that cryptic warning, Osain dismissed her.

Assignment

0 Comments