It was clear that the Nelwyn were irritated by Drake’s observations, correct as they might have been.
“Now might not be the best time,” Lenora cut in, giving him a warning look.
“You’re right,” said Drake. “Forgive me.” Still, it bothered him that not only had they fallen into an obvious trap, but even a rookie guard would have planned the rescue better. What good was their help if they didn’t know how to fight? He wanted to say, they are telling us they have doubts. Well, so do I, but he held his tongue.
Kyloria locked eyes with Drake. “Unlike your kind, Nelwyn are not a savage race. Until the Bomar came, war was unknown to us. We have never had need of weapons until now. Perhaps every human is a master of war. But we Nelwyn are not. What you see are trappers and farmers sent to forage so we can feed our people. And while we are not fighters, there are many among us who are. They have learned their lesson quite well. The Bomar have seen to this.”
“Maybe I was too harsh,” admitted Drake. “Again, I apologize. You did the best you could.
And no, not all humans are masters of war. At least not in Vale.”
“It seems that perhaps we can be of even more service,” said Lenora. “Drake is a great warrior among my people. He could show you new ways to fight.”
Drake almost laughed at being called a “great warrior.” Still, the idea had merit. With their resistance to magic, fighting skills would increase their survival odds. After all, the royal guard was not completely reliant on mana weapons, skill with a sword being a long-held tradition. And the magistrate’s office had thousands of guns.
“And you would be willing to do this?” asked Kyloria. “Knowing we would be using what we learned to kill your own people?”
“Like Princess Lenora said,” Drake replied. “You have something we need. They don’t. Besides, it occurs to me that as Bomar can’t use mana, and your people can, we might be closer to being Nelwyn than Bomar.”
Kyloria raised her brows and then burst into laughter, as did the rest of the Nelwyn. Drake looked over to Lenora, who shrugged back. Clearly Maliel’s odd sense of humor was common among the Nelwyn.
“A round-eared Nelwyn,” she said, rocking back on her elbows. “Next you will think to make husbands and wives of us.”
The laughter continued for nearly a minute. Drake noticed Maliel smiling over at him, giving an approving nod.
“Such things would never pass Bomar lips,” said Kylonia, once she finally was able to speak again. “Perhaps you are who you say after all. You will come with us at sunrise. Our elders will want to hear your story for themselves.” She pushed herself to her feet. “Sleep. The way is difficult and long. You will need all of your strength.”
Kylonia walked over to a nearby bush and retrieved a folded blanket. The two who were carrying their weapons and gear placed it in front of them, their faces still alight with amusement. The only one who did not seem amused was the one Drake had disabled, who was still glaring.
“That went well,” said Drake.
“I could strangle you,” whispered Lenora. “We need these people, and you challenge their ability to fight?”
“We can fight. Though we would have peace, the Bomar give us no choice.”
Drake looked up to find the angry Nelwyn now standing over him. “Look. I don’t want trouble. What happened, happened. I’m more experienced, that’s all.”
The Nelwyn cocked his head. “You think I am holding resentment or anger?” “The way you were staring, it sure looked like it.”
“I have been thinking whether to ask something of you, nothing more. And I have never spoken to a Bomar. I was unsure how to approach without offence.”
“We’re not Bomar,” said Drake. “Speak to us how you would to anyone else.”
“As you wish.” He sat in front of them and crossed his legs. “I want you to teach me to
fight.”
“Of course,” said Drake. “That’s why we’re here.”
“No. Not from the female. She cannot teach me. I suffered an illness as a child and am unable to use…solas? Is that what your people call it?”
“We call it mana,” said Drake.
The Nelwyn lifted his brow. “Truly? In our language the word mana means wind. Strange. But as I cannot use…mana…such instruction is of no use to me. I wish to learn the way you fight.”
“As I told your leader, I am more than willing to teach you.” “I think he wants individual lessons,” Lenora chipped in. “Yes. I will serve you in exchange for your guidance.” “Serve me?”
“It is only proper.”
“Why are you so eager to learn to fight?” asked Lenora.
“There is a pain for which I have found only one remedy: Bomar blood.” He averted his eyes. “It shames me to say this. We are taught that hatred is not the way of the Mother. But I cannot help it. The elders believe it was the illness that brought this curse upon me. I no longer care why. But they will not allow me to learn the ways of war. They fear my spirit will become lost.”
“Maybe you should listen to your elders,” said Drake. “Revenge can have consequences that you can’t see until it’s too late. You can end up hurting people you never intended.”
“The Bomar have murdered my people, my family…my mate. There is no one left to hurt but those who did it. I beg you, teach me to fight them. Teach me to be a great warrior so that I can make the Bomar suffer as I have…as my mate did the day they killed her.”
Drake regarded him for a long moment. There was a pain behind the Nelwyn’s eyes he recognized all too well, a lust only death could satisfy. “If your people won’t allow you to fight, what good will it do to learn?”
“They cannot prevent me from fighting. They can only forbid others to teach me. Without the skills I need, I would endanger my kin. Our elders hold no sway over you. They could not prevent it. Do this and you will have my loyalty.”
“Krigar,” snapped Kylonia, who had been listening quietly. “Mind your tongue. Your loyalty belongs to your clan.”
“It belongs to whom I choose to bestow it upon,” he said defiantly, then turned back to Drake. “Will you help me?”
Drake recalled the same desperation in himself he was now seeing in the Nelwyn. Yet this was many times worse. He could only imagine what lengths he would go to should someone harm Lenora. He nodded reluctantly. “I’ll teach you to fight. You have my word. But no oath is needed.”
The Nelwyn lowered his head. “I am Krigar. And wanted or unwanted, I am yours. The pact is sealed.” He pushed himself up. “I’ll let you rest.”
As Krigar strode away, Drake leapt to his feet. “Pact? What pact? Hey, wait. There’s no pact. I said I would teach you.”
Krigar ignored him and spread his blanket on the ground.
Kyloria was glaring at the young Nelwyn, lip curled, and shaking her head. “Fool,” she muttered under her breath.
Maliel touched Drake’s arm. “It is too late.” “What did you do?” asked Lenora, confused. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, I swear.”
“Drake is not to blame,” said Maliel. “This was Krigar’s choice, and his alone.” “But what did he mean by pact? I didn’t make a pact.”
“He will serve and protect you until his debt to you is paid,” explained Maliel. “I don’t want him to serve me. And I sure as hell don’t need protection.”
“There is nothing you can do.”
“How will I know when this so-called debt is paid?”
“It is for Krigar to decide,” Maliel replied. “Though what he asks from you may leave him in your service for many years.”
Drake threw up his hands. “Wonderful. Just what I need.”
“If there is nothing you can do,” said Lenora, “then I suggest you make the best of it.” Drake plopped heavily down onto his blanket. “I don’t see how.”
Lenora sidled up to him. “You’ll figure it out. Maybe you’ll think before you speak next time.” She poked him playfully in the ribs
. “But I doubt it.”
Chapter Three
Krigar was awake by the time Drake opened his eyes and had prepared him a meal of fruit and wild berries that he placed beside his blanket.
Drake frowned at the offering. “Seriously. I don’t need a servant.” Krigar shrugged. “You do not have to eat it.”
Drake grumbled with irritation and then popped a berry into his mouth.
“You should at least thank him.” Lenora was grinning at his unease, having herself just awakened.
“I’ll thank him when he forgets all about this nonsense.”
Lenora propped up on an elbow and plucked out a berry. “You heard what Maliel said.
You don’t have a choice. You’re stuck with him. Just like you’re stuck with me.”
The Nelwyn were folding their blankets and readying to depart. Kyloria was talking quietly with a few of her kin, while those who had been hurt by the Bomar were cleaning and redressing their injuries.
Drake finished his meal, sharing most of it with Lenora, and then, after strapping his sword across his back, joined Kyloria.
“Maliel tells me that you and Lenora are not adept at traveling in the wilderness,” she said. “We’ll manage,” replied Drake.
“I am sure. But until you learn the ways of forest and hill, our progress will be slowed.” “We’ll try to keep up.”
“Just stay near Krigar. He will guide you.”
Krigar had taken position a few feet away from where Lenora stood, his eyes fixed on
Drake.
“Isn’t there anything you can do about that?” asked Drake, tilting his head at Krigar. “You’re the leader, right? Can’t you make him take it back?”
“I lead only this small group,” she told him. “And even if I were an elder, I would not have the authority to change his mind. While I do not agree with his actions, what he has given you is a great honor. It should not be dismissed lightly.”
“But I was going to teach him anyway,” said Drake. “He didn’t need to swear anything to
me.”
“Krigar is driven by hatred,” she said. “It has clouded his mind and poisoned his heart. He knows this, and fears acting impulsively. Serving you will prevent it. So, at least in that I am glad. I have known Krigar since he was a small boy. Though it pains me to see him suffer, if revenge is his destiny, then I would want him prepared to take it. All we know of war is what we have learned from fighting the Bomar. So while I do not share Krigar’s hate, we all share a need to rid ourselves of them.”
“Is there anything I should know about this…vow?” asked Drake.
“Nothing that I can tell you. Each Nelwyn serves in their own way. As time passes, you will find out all you need.”
“I think you will discover it less burdensome than you fear,” added Maliel. “Krigar is a capable Nelwyn, in spite of his deficiency. And it could possibly go far when the elders see that one of our own is bound to you.”
“I suppose there’s that,” he sighed.
They started out north in single file, Drake and Lenora to the rear, with Maliel and Krigar just ahead. The speed with which the Nelwyn traveled was indeed astonishing, particularly considering the uneven and often treacherous terrain. The dense forest gradually gave way to hilly ground peppered with rocks and loose gravel.
Maliel told them that the bulk of the Bomar were to the south and west. They had yet to march over the unforgiving ground of the foothills. But soon they would.
By midday, Drake’s legs were burning with fatigue. But at least here the insects were not as troublesome. Lenora was clearly faring the same, stumbling twice, and once would have fallen face first, had Drake not been there to catch her.
“She is your mate?” asked Krigar. “We are friends,” Drake replied. “You seem to be more than friends.”
Drake gave him a sideways frown. “Does your vow require that I tell you about my personal life?”
“No. But to serve you well, I will get to know as much about you as I can. Those who are important to you are important to me.”
“Look. I don’t understand all this. But if you want to serve me, you do need to know a few things. I don’t like being waited on or hovered over. I can make my own meals, dress myself, and clean my own backside.”
Krigar smiled. It was the first time Drake had seen him with anything but a mildly unhappy scowl. “I will keep that in mind.”
“By the way,” said Drake. “If I’m going to teach you to fight, you’ll eventually need a sword.”
“I have one,” he replied. “Why don’t you carry it?”
“It was left behind during a Bomar attack. I killed the man who was carrying it. It was merely a…keepsake.”
“A trophy?” remarked Drake. “Well, you need to get it at some point. In the meantime, we can use sticks.”
Over the next several days, Drake took time in the evening to instruct Krigar on the basics of handling a sword. The speed of their travel left him exhausted, but he still managed an hour before stumbling over to the blanket Lenora was kind enough to have ready for him.
His broken P37 was proving frustratingly difficult to repair. He had replaced the broken parts with the components he had brought with him, and from outward appearances, it should have worked. But it didn’t. And Drake could not figure out why.
“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” she told him on the fifth night.
“I’m fine,” he assured. “It’s just been a while since I was training recruits. I’d forgotten how tiring it could be.” He folded his arms behind his head and smiled up at her. “I have to say, I miss Cal more every day. Not that she would be much use out here. I hope Bane is taking good care of her.”
“I’m sure he is.” She stroked his hair with her fingertips. “How is the training going?”
Drake looked over to where Krigar was talking with the others. “Good, actually. Not the strongest student I’ve ever taught. But he has amazing balance and agility. And he’s damn sure eager to learn. He’ll be a fine swordsman if he keeps at it.”
“Something tells me he will.”
Lenora leaned down and kissed him, her lips lingering on his just long enough to stir his passion. When she pushed back up, he felt the absence keenly.
Lenora had changed since leaving Vale. Always less proper and bound by decorum than most nobles – a fact that had distressed her mother to no end – here in this untamed wilderness she seemed more relaxed and comfortable with herself, laughing often as if they were on an outing rather than a desperate mission to save their world.
She had started teaching aggressive forms of magic to the other Nelwyn while Drake was working with Krigar. But like Maliel, they had great difficulty understanding the concepts. It was concerning that if they were for some reason unable to learn, the trip would be for nothing. At this rate, it could take months if not years to train enough Nelwyn to be an effective fighting force. And Lenora, for all her power, could not fight the Bomar alone. But she stubbornly insisted that it was only a matter of time; that they would eventually master it.
By the morning of the eighth day, the hills gave way to a vast open plain. Drake had never seen anything quite like it. The expanse stretched on for mile upon mile. But what was more astonishing lay at its far reaches: mountains. Maliel had told him about the peaks of the far north, but Drake was unprepared for the sight he now beheld. Spanning one end of the horizon to the other, even from so far away the magnificence was breathtaking.
Lenora was equally impressed, wrapping her arm around Drake’s in wide-eyed wonder. “I never imagined the world was so….big,” said Drake. “Is that where we’re going?” “No,” Maliel replied, smiling. “It’s much farther away than it looks. And we would freeze.
The elders are gathered not far from here.” He pointed off to the northwest.
Drake strained his eyes, but could only see the vast ocean of tall grass bending in the stiff
breeze.
As they continued, the
ground steadily sloped downward until the tops of the peaks were no longer visible. In the distance he could make out that it ascended once more, but was taken aback by the natural trick of the eyes. From where they had started, this change in elevation was completely invisible. Even more impressive was when he glimpsed the row of at least a dozen conical tents several hundred yards ahead. They blended so well with their surroundings that without the enhanced eyesight given to him by the vex crystal, he would have needed to be nearly upon them to see them.
“Clever hiding place,” he remarked.
“Before the Bomar, we rarely came here,” said Maliel. “Only during the ascension did my people make the journey.” Seeing Drake’s confusion, he added: “That is when one of my people becomes an elder and is permitted to join the council.”
“You speak too much,” called a voice off to their left.
The party halted as a lone figure rose from the cover of the tall grass. “Utaliel!” cried Maliel, a smile springing to his lips.
The smile was not returned. “Explain yourself, cousin.”
The newcomer was wearing a leather shirt and trousers whose tan coloring matched the landscape. His black hair was cut close, and he had narrow features and dark eyes. On his belt was a small knife and in his right hand a bow, an arrow notched and held in place in the crook of his finger.
Beyond The Vale Page 3