The Heir of Gorradan (Chronicles of Faerowyn Book 2) Read online

  It was slightly bigger than Faer’s guest room but there was none of the richness that she may have expected from a senior priest. Instead he appeared to live frugally. He invited Faer to sit in a simple chair and sat in the other one in the room, one with a cushion for his comfort. “Now, my child, how do you bring this dark elf personality forward?”

  “By allowing her to. I can do it now if you like.”

  Ghular placed his fingers to his lips and nodded. He watched as she settled in the chair, then her face seemed to tighten and her eyes began to change. The pupils became narrow, so they were no longer circular but slits. She looked at him.

  He sensed greater intent now. A wilder spirit, a more dangerous one. “Welcome.”

  Faer snorted. “I have little time for religions of humans.”

  Ghular spread his fingers. “I am not interested in talking religion with you. It would be a waste of time.”

  “In that we are agreed. What is it then you wish to talk with me about?”

  “Your intentions with this young lady you share.”

  “What is that to you? We will be gone soon enough; there are bigger and more important things for us to pursue than to stop and discuss matters of a personal nature with the likes of you.”

  Ghular stroked his chin. “You are angry; there is nothing to be angry about.”

  “There is always something to be angry with, priest. My ways differ to those of yours. You would not understand my ways and I am not interested in yours. We waste time talking about something that can never be agreed on.”

  “Do you chafe at the restrictions she puts on you?”

  Faer scowled and said nothing.

  “Very well; I can sense so much turmoil in you. There is something indeed which eats away at your soul.” He held up a hand as Faer went to speak. “I am not interested in hearing what that is; it is none of my business. You are driven – both of you, and I trust that sooner rather than later you find whatever it is. Please understand that only if you find peace within yourself between your two halves will you really be able to rest. Competing with yourself will never see you settle.”

  “Thank you for your advice priest. I shall bear that in mind!” She then clenched her fists. “No! I do not wish to…” Her face twisted and her eyes changed again; her features softened and she sat back in the chair and breathed out deeply. She looked up, her eyes back to normal. “Enough of that. I felt she was getting a little irate.”

  Ghular shook his head slowly. “I would not believe that if I had not witnessed it myself. You, child, are enduring a particularly extreme situation of what I have heard called schizophrenia. This is also called a split personality. You have this without a doubt, yet you can voluntarily call upon and dismiss this darker, evil side.”

  “Evil?”

  “Oh yes, without doubt. I felt a wide range of emotions and moods, and many of them were not good. Oh, she does care for you, but she wants to dominate you.”

  “Is there no cure or ending to this?”

  Ghular shook his head. “I do not think so. How do you feel at those times when your dark elf side takes over?”

  “Scared – cautious, awed. She is so forceful, domineering, charismatic. I – I actually like her.”

  Ghular nodded slowly. “I can believe that. You must always take charge though; I worry that if you surrender your will to hers you will eventually be so dominated you may never be allowed to surface.”

  Faer nodded. “That’s what’s so frightening about all this. I don’t want to be taken over, but I do need her. She helps me so much when I fight or are in dangerous situations. I don’t think I could be the warrior I am without her.”

  “And vice versa. Without you she would not be who she is.”

  Faer nodded. “So you see my situation. I am myself normally, but I have to let her lead on occasions.”

  Ghular smiled. “Fear not. She is part of you, whatever the situation. You are what you are, just like all of us are what we are. I speak to both of you now. Be as you are, be yourself. Trust in yourself, trust one another. Not many people can actually say they have two points of view on anything. Co-operate, work together, and you will endure. Believe me.”

  Faer nodded, taking a deep breath. She stood up. “Thank you, Ghular. I take strength from your kind words, which is what I had hoped for. I will think on them further.” She went to the door, then stopped, nodding her head. She turned and Ghular could see her eyes had once again changed. “Priest – you surprised me,” she said in the harsher tone of her dark elf side. “Perhaps you are not such a fool after all.” Then she left, bound for her room.

  When she got there she sat for a while, deep in thought. If what the priest had said was true, then if she allowed her dark elf side to dominate, she may lose herself to that in time. She didn’t want that. She had been herself for so long, even since she could recall, so she didn’t want that to go. When she allowed her elf side to rise to the surface, she felt stronger, more confident, powerful. She had to find a way of not letting that become too desirable. She had to find strength and confidence herself without relying on letting the elf side loose.

  There were times when it was necessary. Using the elf abilities was one. There would be many times, she knew, that she would have to use them to get an advantage or to help her overcome some obstacle. She also knew that her entire quest was for her elf heritage, not her human one. She didn’t have a human quest, for she knew her mother and what had happened to her.

  Then she sat up straight. Of course – there was a quest! Her mother’s people. Where had they come from? How did mother come to be a slave of the dark elves? Did she have a family she knew nothing about? There had been nothing said by her mother as to where she had originally come from? There were only two possible sources of finding out anything about her – either from the village of Selanic, or from her father, if she ever found him. Even then he may never tell her.

  Nodding, she stood up. Resolve filled her. There was something she could hold onto from her human side, a quest to find her mother’s family and by association her family. She smiled. Now to prepare herself for the afternoon’s activities. A bout of sparring followed by dinner. She only had her extremely revealing dark elf-style dress which was inappropriate, so she had best spar in her rougher clothing and use her best for dinner. Something she needed to rectify for future engagements, if she got any. A dress.

  After changing quickly and putting her other clothes in her backpack, she set off for the barracks. Normally a woman heading for the barracks would be a particular type, usually at night. She wondered how she would be received. Women warriors weren’t unknown, but they were much more uncommon than their male counterparts. Armies tended not to have many, and so most female sword wielders tended to be like her, mercenaries.

  The barracks loomed before her and she walked up to the men on duty outside, two sword and halberd carrying soldiers. She stood before them, noting their official issue armour and weaponry. Royal armouries tended to churn out the same kind of stuff for their rank and file, and only the officers got the special equipment, and then usually because they could afford to pay for it. Officers tended not to get their weapons and armour from the armouries, rather they went to private forges where specialists made them.

  “Good afternoon, Miss,” one of the soldiers greeted her, looking her up and down carefully. Anyone carrying a sword required attention. “What is your business here?”

  “My name is Dark Blade. General Baskel invited me around this afternoon for some sparring in the courtyard?”

  “Oh,” the guard changed his demeanour. Maybe this slim looking unusual girl was a friend of the general. It wouldn’t do to delay her. But there were protocols. “Very good Miss, if you don’t mind waiting her a moment, we’ll fetch the officer of the guard.”

  Faer nodded and stood a few paces away, arms folded, eyeing the streets. Winter was not kind to the ambience of any town, especially in one where snow or ice could coat th
e paving stones. Everything seemed greyer at this time of year, and she knew she couldn’t wait for spring, her favourite time of year.

  The door opened and another man stood in the doorway. “Miss Blade? The general is expecting you. Please follow me.”

  She nodded and as she passed the guards, thanked them. It never hurt and she never knew if and when a little thing like common courtesy might gain her some favour with someone. The man she was following into the gloomy torch-lit interior was an elderly man, stooped and grey, but looked like he had been a soldier in the past. Perhaps he was now a trustee or administrator.

  Barracks were never built for comfort or for awards of style. They were functional, stark and strong. Doorways were sharp and oblong, with wooden doors, all with locks. A couple of guards stood to attention and clearly guarded rooms of greater importance, possibly the armoury or treasury or the like. Faer didn’t know, so she had to guess.

  Beyond the passageway there was an arched entryway to a courtyard, paved, with practice posts at either end. Faer smiled at the gouges cut into the edges. She knew from experience what endless bouts of practice would be spent by everyone at those. They passed into another corridor opposite and here the doors were a little more decorated and smooth. This must be the officers’ section.

  A guard stood by one of these doors and the man with Faer received a salute and opened the door. The man waved Faer to follow him in. The wave of warmer air that struck her was welcome. The door was closed behind her and before her was General Baskel, on his feet and welcoming her with a wide smile. “Ah, Dark Blade. Thank you for coming. How do you like our home?”

  “Solid. A fortress in its own right.”

  Baskel inclined his head. He looked at the elderly man. “Seth here has been serving the military for as long as he can remember. Fought in the former king’s army until age robbed him of his strength. Treated badly and thrown out onto the streets, so he joined the rebellion. Found a new purpose in life. Is that not so, Seth?”

  “General,” Seth bowed.

  Baskel grinned. “Anything you want here, Seth will arrange. What he doesn’t know isn’t worth worrying about. If you have any complaint, then he’s the man. He’ll look after you during your visit here. He’s even reserved a room for you to change before dinner – I trust you’ve got spare clothing?”

  “Alas only my best mercenary garb,” she replied, touching her backpack. “I have yet to really find my feet. What you see is what I have, more or less.”

  Baskel looked sympathetic. “No matter. Portris is hardly the capital and we are mere soldiers. Mercenary garb will be perfectly acceptable. Seth will show you to your room and then if you are ready, I’d very much like to spar with you in the courtyard. I’m eager to see how that sword of yours performs.”

  “No practice swords then, General?” Faer asked, a little surprised.

  “Not here; we don’t believe in going gentle. Whatever your tutors taught you up on Blade Mountain does not hold here in the real world. Out here its reality, and nobody is going to go easy on you, bear that in mind.”

  “I wasn’t concerned about myself, General,” she replied. “I was concerned about you and your men.”

  Baskel looked at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. Seth smiled too.

  Faer waited until the mirth had subsided before continuing. “I see you don’t take me too seriously. General, as a man with men to command, I would have thought you had more respect for an opponent.”

  Baskel shook his head and held out a placatory hand. “My apologies, Miss Blade. I know my men, the toughest unit in the royal army, which is why we are here. We are on the frontier, and the king wishes us to be posted where trouble may rear its head.”

  “Or,” she said, thoughtfully, “you’re here so the king does not fear trouble from his elite unit?”

  Baskel’s face went still and he looked at Faer oddly for a moment, then the smile slipped back into place. “The king has absolute confidence in me and my men.”

  “Until he changes his mind. Kings are like that, General. I’ve read plenty in the library in Kaltinar and the histories are fascinating reading.”

  Baskel smiled and waved to Seth. “Go with Seth and I’ll meet you in the yard with half a dozen of my best men. We’ll see how good you and your sword are, ma’am.”

  Faer followed the elderly man out into the cold corridor and along, round a left hand turn into a darker part of the barracks and then the first room on the left was opened by the grey-haired man and he allowed her to enter. It was a square room, with benches along two walls, a rough bed and a chest.

  “Take your time, Miss, get comfortable and once you’re ready we’ll see you out in the yard.”

  “Thank you, Seth. I shan’t be long.” She was left alone to consider her role in this. Why was the general eager to pit her against his men? He was definitely insecure whenever King Jerethal was mentioned. She dropped her backpack onto the bed, made sure all her clothes were tucked in and not loose, and her belt and straps were firmly secured, then walked out and along to the yard.

  The general was there along with Seth and six other big men, all wearing rudimentary armour. Chainmail hauberks or leather or padded tunics. They all had big black heavy boots which she surmised was royal issue. She glanced at their weaponry. Big broadswords, not the thinner bladed longswords. A shorter reach but capable of greater damage from slashing.

  Faer had a shortsword, but it was superior in design and manufacture to these army issue blades. Plus, it had abilities of its own which gave her an edge, and she had her elf abilities, and she knew it was likely she would have to use them.

  “Ah, there you are,” the general smiled. “See how she moves, gentlemen?” he addressed the others. “Smoothly, like liquid. Good balance, agile. I have heard elves are naturally agile, so you’ll have to work extra hard to defeat her.”

  One of the men, a thickset, dark-haired individual with a large, jutting chin, stepped forward. “I wish to have the honour of sparring first, sir.”

  Baskel waved his assent. “By all means. This is a bout with bared blades. If either of you wish to back down, now is the time. Otherwise prepare yourselves. The victor will be decided when one is incapacitated or yields.

  Or dies, Faer added to herself. She got a murmur of agreement deep from within. She drew her sword out and walked slowly to one end of the yard and faced the dark haired man who was advancing on her, a slight smile of anticipation touching his lips.

  Baskel gave permission for the bout to begin and the man came at her, his sword raised high to his right. Faer stepped forward, then as the sword came down aiming for her neck, stepped back once more and used her blade to hurry her opponent’s blow on its way past her. She planted her right leg down hard and brought her blade back to halt against his throat.

  The soldier looked at her with incredulity. What had happened there? He should have knocked this slip of a girl aside with ease! She looked at him intently, asking for and getting his yield, and she stepped back and relaxed.

  General Baskel puffed out his cheeks. “Fast indeed! I warned you, gentlemen. Any one of you is outmatched on blade work. Don’t assume because she is smaller than you that you are guaranteed a victory.” He bowed to Faer. “What say you to more than one opponent?”

  Faer shrugged. “I defeated four at once yesterday and took their heads.”

  “Four – what of five?” Baskel smirked.

  Faer tossed her head. Men. Always trying to show off. “If it pleases you. Be warned – I shall not hold back this time.”

  The men snorted or laughed briefly. Baskel folded his arms. “Very well, neither will my men. Shall we say no holds barred? A fight to the end, whatever end that shall be?”

  Faer looked hard at Baskel. He was certainly after something. Her sword? Maybe… “As long as you do not hold any deaths against me.”

  The men chuckled and prepared themselves. This was going to be fun. No hold barred – they could finally unleas
h themselves against someone.

  Faer took up a position two-thirds of the way down the yard and waited. The five men spread out in an arc, facing her. Now was the time for her to unleash her powers. She clenched her stomach muscles and felt the familiar tingling of power oozing up through her body. She eyed the two to her left. They would get a full-on slam. She crouched as the five came towards her, closing to ten paces.

  Now she acted. Her left palm facing outwards, she sent a huge slam at the two men to the left. Both were sent off their feet, arms out wide, surprise on their faces. Without looking to see whether they got up or not, she switched her attention to the front. The three remaining men stood in surprise, mouths open. They had never seen anything like that before from someone not obviously a magician. It was just so completely unexpected.

  Forward Faer came, sword raised. The man in the centre realised he was her target and snapped into a guard position, his expression much warier now. Faer slashed down hard and the soldier blocked it but Faer’s lighter and shorter sword was ready first and she scored a cut across the soldier’s chest, ripping into the dark brown leather, slicing it apart. The tip of the sword bit into the man’s chest, cutting it from right pectoral to sternum. A cold wave swept through his body and he felt his strength leave him. He fell to his knees.

  Faer turned, one quick glance at the two she’d hit with the push. Both were still off their feet, shaking their heads. Now for the other two. They came at her together, eyes narrowed and serious. No laughter now. Faer wasted no time. Her veins burned with energy and a ball of fire burst from her fingers, engulfing the feet of the two men. They screamed and leaped backwards, hoping to avoid the flames that were eating at the boiled leather of their boots.

  Faer came at them, sword striking again and again. The first threw up his arms and fell over, his feet scorched, his sword clattering away across the stones. The second gritted his teeth and swung hard, expecting to cut deep into the girl’s shoulder. Faer twisted. She spun. The blade swept past her back and she put her foot down hard. Her strength flowed through her leg and she sent the pommel of her sword up into the jaw of the soldier, knocking him off his feet and onto his back.