Reflection: The Stranger in the Mirror

by Rachel R. Smith

  “Where is she today? It’s strange for her not to be here,” Nerissa mused. She wandered around the room while Raysel folded clothes, idly fussing with random crystals from his collection as she came across them.

  Raysel chuckled. “She went out with my grandmother to the market. Again.”

  “That’s the third time this week,” Nerissa commented, brows furrowed.

  “They forgot to buy peppers for tonight’s dinner,” Raysel said, sounding vexed. “No doubt their sudden bout of forgetfulness is directly related to the fact that Cattleya has taken a liking to the shopkeeper’s son. Never before have I eaten so many peppers, beets, and radishes.”

  Nerissa laughed. “Has he taken a liking to her as well?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure if I want him to or not.”

  Nerissa laughed again. Raysel was protective of both of his sisters. “It seems your grandmother approves, at least.”

  Raysel shrugged noncommittally. “How was conditioning this morning?” he asked, changing the subject. He picked up another pair of pants and began folding them.

  Nerissa flopped into the one chair in Raysel’s room and let her head roll to the side listlessly. “It was exhausting, as always. No matter what shape I am in, I will never enjoy running long distances.”

  Raysel nodded in agreement and continued folding quietly, anticipating that Nerissa wasn’t finished yet.

  “I can say, however, that I have no trouble keeping up with the rest of the group now. I suppose that’s something to be happy about,” she finished.

  “You’ve come a long way in a short period of time. You won the summer archery competition. You beat out the very best archers of the Ohanzee. Rian held that title for three years in a row. Taking it from him is a huge accomplishment! You should have heard Einar bragging about how his two best students placed first and second. Not only have you recovered from your injuries, but you’ve also improved your condition to be on a level with many of those who have been training for years,” Raysel replied.

  “I can still do better.” Nerissa sighed with exasperation.

  “Overachiever,” he teased. Her determination to master everything—immediately—was so similar to Rian’s that it was uncanny. The two of them would definitely get along well with one another. He hadn’t spent much time with Rian outside of practice this summer. Most of his free time was spent on extra sessions with Nerissa so he hadn’t yet had the opportunity to introduce them. He had intended to do it following the archery competition, but Rian had disappeared shortly afterward.

  Nerissa rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that like the pot calling the kettle black?”

  “I guess it is,” Raysel said. Rian and Nerissa weren’t the only overachievers he knew, he admitted to himself. He laid the last folded item down on the pile and crossed the room to pick up a small pouch from the top of his dresser.

  “I have a surprise for you. Consider it a congratulatory gift for winning the archery competition,” he said as he handed the pouch to Nerissa.

  “You didn’t have to get me anything,” she replied, but she didn’t hesitate to pull open the pouch and pour its contents into her free hand.

  In her palm, lay the red fire-fire crystal she had taken from the Treasury and a black leather cord. The crystal was now wrapped in a filigree coil of gold so that it could be worn as a pendant.

  “Is this why you wanted to borrow the stone from me?” she asked. She held it by the cord in front of her so the pendant spun in the light from the nearby window. “It’s beautiful! Did Cattleya do this?”

  “I admit that I did have an ulterior motive when I asked to borrow it. Cattleya finished it yesterday.”

  Nerissa noticed the tips of his ears had turned slightly pink. She blinked to ease the burning sensation building at the corners of her eyes. “Thank you,” she said. The words were nowhere near sufficient to express her gratitude. This was the only thing that really belonged to her now. It had been so long since she had worn a piece of jewelry, aside from the voice-altering choker, that her chest ached with happiness to be able to wear the crystal now. As silly as it seemed, it was as if he had given her back a little piece of her old self.

  “You’re welcome, of course. The leather cord is like mine, so it is durable enough that you can wear it even during training. Just tuck it underneath your shirt beforehand.” He tugged at the leather strand around his neck to pull free his own pendant—a rare type called a “phantom” crystal. Phantom crystals were those that contained another, smaller one within it. Raysel’s was a clear crystal with a green phantom inside.

  “Can you help me put it on to get the length right?” she asked, standing up from the chair.

  Raysel dropped his own pendant back down inside his shirt and reached out to take the one Nerissa held. When he touched it, Nerissa saw a brief flash of red light from the stone.

  “Did you see that?” she exclaimed.

  “See what?” Raysel asked, confused.

  “That red flash! The crystal glowed for a second when you took it.”

  “Really?” Raysel held the crystal closer to his face, examining it with interest. He turned it around and around but saw nothing unusual. “I don’t see anything now. It feels warm, but that’s probably because you were holding it before. Are you sure it didn’t just happen to catch the light?”

  Nerissa frowned. She was almost certain the crystal had been shadowed by his hand when she saw the glow, but it wasn’t impossible for it to have been struck by the light from the window. “I guess that must have been what happened,” she said. What other explanation could there be? Even when crystals were actively being used, they didn’t change in appearance.

  “Well, since you’re wearing it now, you’ll know if it happens again,” Raysel said. He handed the pendant back to her.

  She held it at the appropriate length and passed the ends of the leather cord over her shoulder to Raysel. “That’s true,” she acquiesced. He tied the ends securely and Nerissa let go of the pendant, allowing it to hang freely for now. She wanted to admire it for a while before tucking it away for evening practice.

  “Ready for lunch?” Raysel asked, already heading for the door.

  “I’m starving,” Nerissa groaned. She followed him out and into the kitchen, twiddling with the pendant as she walked.

  *******************

  Late that afternoon, Nerissa and Raysel walked to the main practice area in the center of the village. The juniors group she conditioned with all summer met in a separate outdoor area, so this was her first time visiting the building. The exterior resembled a very large barn. And, like a barn, the floor was covered with copious amounts of hay. That, however, was where the similarities ended. As they made their way through, Nerissa could see that the vast interior was divided into four sections of varying size. Nearest the entrance was a warm-up and rest area with jugs of water. The area directly across from that was filled with numerous wooden and hay-stuffed training dummies arranged in assorted heights and positions. Several of the Ohanzee men were there sparring independently, using practice swords made of tightly wrapped bundles of wood strips.

  Nerissa trailed behind Raysel to get a better look at the third section as they continued through the building. Targets hung from ropes tied to the overhead beams in a roughly circular arrangement. One man, tall and broad-shouldered, stood in the center of the circle. He fended off the targets as they were randomly swung at him by his cohorts. It wasn’t only the swinging targets that caught Nerissa’s attention, but also the fact that he was using a real sword instead of a practice one. As she watched, two targets swung at him almost simultaneously, one from the front and one from behind. Nerissa winced in anticipation of the impact, but it never came. In one continuous motion, the man swung his sword, slicing smoothly through the first target, then spun, kicking, to deflect the one behind.

  “Impressive,” Nerissa breathed. She was startled to hear a chuckle beside her.

  “Should I be jealo
us?” Raysel asked, having returned for Nerissa when he realized she was no longer following him.

  “Jealous?” she replied, confused.

  “You’ve never said that about my skills.”

  Nerissa scoffed. “I think as First Swordsman, your skill level is well established. Besides, the only time I see them is when we are practicing. At that point, I’m too focused on defending myself to admire much of anything.”

  “I suppose,” Raysel said in mock disappointment. “His name is Jarold. He practices both swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat. To be honest, if he had chosen one specialty to focus on, he probably would be a better swordsman than I am.” Raysel paused. “We should hurry to the sparring ring, or we’ll miss the first match.”

  Nerissa gave Jarold’s practice a parting glance then continued on with Raysel. As they approached the fourth and largest area, the sparring ring, she could see that the first pair had already started. The ring consisted simply of a circular roped off area about five meters in diameter. Around the outside, were benches for observers and those awaiting their turns.

  Nerissa and Raysel sat on one of the open benches. Everyone was dressed in the same style tunics and loose fitting pants, but Raysel and the instructor were the sole ones wearing white. That color was reserved for those who have reached the level of a master swordsman. Though they could wear their hair in any manner they chose during free time, all of the men now had their hair pulled into ponytails for practice. It was an Ohanzee tradition that skill level be indicated by how high on the head the ponytail was worn. The closer it was to the crown, the higher the individual’s rank. While Raysel and the group’s instructor were the only ones wearing theirs at the crown, this was an advanced group so all of the men present wore theirs high on their head. Seeing them made Nerissa acutely aware of her own hair, now pulled into a stumpy ponytail at the base of her skull. She supposed she should just be grateful that it had finally grown out enough to be able to tie it back at all.

  The clack and crack of wooden sword on wooden sword filled the area as Nerissa watched the two men sparring. When the next pair entered the ring, Raysel leaned in so Nerissa would be able to hear him over the clatter. “The rules are pretty basic. The opponents walk to the middle of the ring and shake hands. Then they take up their starting position on one of those two lines.” He gestured toward the two paint lines drawn a meter or so apart in the center of the ring. “The instructor will count down, and then the match begins. It will continue until one opponent steps out of the ropes, or the instructor says ‘finish.’ It is important to keep going until then. Sometimes the instructor will allow the match to continue even when someone is down or injured. It gives an opportunity to practice escaping from a situation that could be fatal in a real fight.”

  “I understand,” Nerissa replied.

  Raysel indicated toward the shorter of the two men in the ring. “Leal is about your height. Notice how he uses the height difference to make himself a smaller target. If you position your body correctly, similar to his technique, you can significantly reduce any openings you may leave due to your inexperience. Leal is near the master level, so he is a good role model for you to watch.”

  Nerissa nodded and watched Leal’s movements intently. As the practice moved on, Raysel continued to point out the strengths and weaknesses of each of the men’s techniques and to suggest ways Nerissa could incorporate those suited to her.

  The second to last match finished, and the instructor called for the final pair. The first opponent, a tall, olive-skinned man near Nerissa and Raysel’s age entered the ring. His long black ponytail swished side to side as he strode to the center. Even though they had never been introduced, Nerissa immediately recognized him as Raysel’s friend, Rian. He was the one who she had defeated in the finals to win the archery tournament two weeks before. Raysel had once told her that Rian, his mother, and his aunt were the only outsiders to enter Darnal in decades, aside from Nerissa herself. Having watched his earlier matches, Nerissa could tell he was an accomplished swordsman in addition to being the former archery champion.

  Rian assumed his position in the center of the ring, and the instructor called his opponent’s name once more.

  “My arm is too injured to go again,” the man said from his seat on the adjacent bench. He cradled his elbow, which was already swollen and showing a red and purple bruise.

  “Understood. Make sure you take care of that,” the instructor replied. He turned to Raysel. “What about having Caeneus step in?”

  Raysel turned to Nerissa. “It wouldn’t hurt to get experience against someone other than me. Don’t worry about trying to win, focus on holding him off for as long as you can.”

  “Alright,” Nerissa agreed even though she felt apprehensive about jumping into a pairing where she was clearly outmatched.

  “Don’t worry. Rian won’t be too hard on you. He knows you’re a beginner,” Raysel said. He clapped her shoulder encouragingly as she rose.

  Nerissa picked up one of the practice swords and walked into the ring. The two shook hands, and Nerissa couldn’t help but notice that Rian’s hand was firm and strong, lacking the heavy calluses many of the other trainees had. She also noticed that he squeezed a bit too hard. Had that been on purpose? His face took on a cocky expression as they assumed their starting positions. The instructor began counting down.

  “Let’s see if you have learned to use the sword as quickly as you learned the bow!” Rian hissed through clenched teeth.

  Hesitating, Nerissa stepped back a second before the instructor called out “begin.” “I-I- didn’t just start…” she stammered. The first thrust of Rian’s sword cut her off before she could finish saying “learning the bow.” She barely managed to block that thrust but regained her footing quickly.

  Raysel jumped up from the bench and hovered at the edge of the ropes. What was Rian thinking, going all out on a novice? he wondered. He waited, ready to jump in if necessary, but was relieved to see that Nerissa was somehow managing to block each of Rian’s advances. Raysel was pleased to see she was staying low like Leal had done in the first match they had watched. She was a quick learner. Rian’s moves seemed to be slowed somewhat from the exertion of his earlier matches, but, even so, it was all Nerissa could do to meet his sword blow by blow. Raysel saw that, in her haste to defend, she kept leaving her midsection open.

  It seemed Rian noticed this too. It was not long before he managed to deliver a solid hit directly to her abdomen. Nerissa gasped and stumbled backward, clutching her stomach as she dropped to the ground. Rian stood over her glowering.

  “Looks like you still have a lot of work to do,” he said before turning away.

  “It was not necessary to be so hard on a novice,” the instructor reprimanded. “Or perhaps Caeneus is already so accomplished that all of your strength was required?” His sarcasm was readily apparent.

  Before Rian could respond, he felt a sudden, sharp pain at his ankles as his feet were swept out from under him. The world went horizontal, and he landed with a thud. He spun onto his side, scrabbling instinctively for his practice sword. Rian turned just in time to see Caeneus pull his leg in and rise from one knee, still gulping for breath.

  “The match isn’t…over…until the instructor says…’finished,’ ” Caeneus panted, staring down at him with fierce green eyes. “Even a novice like me knows that much.”

  “This match is finished,” the instructor said immediately. In his haste to chastise Rian, he had indeed forgotten to declare the end.

  Rian stared up at those eyes, stunned. His mouth moved wordlessly. Suddenly, Raysel was between them, one arm around Caeneus’ waist for support. Two pairs of green eyes glared down at Rian—the furious eyes of his best friend and the eyes that had haunted him since the night of the disastrous masquerade.

  Chapter 21

  Creeping and Crawling

  It was late evening by the time Rian approached the clearing behind Raysel’s family home. The sun had
already dropped below the horizon, and the fiery glow of the last rays of light would soon fade into dusk. Rian’s curiosity was piqued so greatly that he was no longer irritated by the fact that Caeneus had taken him down with a cheap shot at the end of their match. He was absolutely certain that Caeneus was somehow connected to the girl from the masquerade. There could be no mistake—the memory of those same eyes gazing back at him from behind that feathered mask and the image of her standing in the glow of sunset in the garden at the Manor were burned indelibly into his mind.

  He had lingered after the group’s sparring practice long enough to overhear Caeneus telling Raysel he was feeling well enough to carry on with their usual private lessons as planned. Rian had waited to follow the pair until he was certain they would be too preoccupied to pay attention to their surroundings in much detail. Parting the tangle of branches in front of him, he stepped silently into the undergrowth that bordered on the far edge of the clearing. The distinctive rapping of practice swords could be heard, but he couldn’t see either Caeneus or Raysel yet. It was too dense to move forward on foot, so he dropped to his hands and knees and slowly crawled forward.

  He immediately regretted not having returned home first for bug repellant oils or at least a long-sleeved shirt. It was just his luck that all manner of mosquitos and biting insects in Darnal had chosen to inhabit this particular shrub tonight. Well, a few bug bites would be a small price to pay for the information he wanted.

  Ohanzee tradition prohibited women from taking part in combat, so it didn’t make sense that Caeneus and the girl could be one and the same. But if they weren’t the same person, what other explanation could there be? Perhaps they were siblings? It was possible that siblings could share such similar features, he supposed. Caeneus’ voice had been unmistakably masculine, after all.

  If they were siblings, that would be bad news. The Chiefs had told everyone that Caeneus was a distant relation to the Royal Family and that his family had all also perished in the attack. If the two really were siblings, then that would mean the girl had not survived that night. Rian couldn’t accept that possibility. He gritted his teeth and kept crawling. If Caeneus really were the girl from the masquerade, then she was either hiding her identity from Einar and the other two Chiefs, or they did know and it was being kept a secret from everyone else. The latter seemed the most logical. If that were the case, why was her real identity being kept secret, and who else was in on it?