by T. A. White
All of a sudden his attack stopped. He sighed and then went back to where he’d originally stood.
Shea got her feet cautiously and wiped her hands against her trousers.
Trenton’s head was turned slightly away from her and his eyes fixed on something behind her and to the right. She turned to look.
Fallon stood with his arms crossed over his muscular chest, watching the session.
So that’s why.
It was a little surprising considering Fallon was the one who’d ordered this stupid test. He’d practically given them free reign to do anything they wanted so long as they said it was part of the testing process.
Trenton closed in on her, pounding at her defense with blows that had the force of a mountain behind them.
“Where is your fire?” Trenton asked, every word punctuated with another blow.
Shea kept silent and concentrated on getting out of the encounter with no internal bleeding. With the way he was hammering at her guard, he’d cause an injury if a blow landed.
“Is this the woman who convinced her men to follow her on a fool’s errand?”
Shea didn’t respond.
“Where is the spirit that drove you off a cliff onto a shadow beetle?”
He was very talkative as he drove her across the small practice ring. She envied him the ability.
“You’re weak.”
Now he was onto insults.
“You don’t belong here.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah. She’d heard that one before.
He closed with her, bearing down with his blade until her arms were shaking with the strain. His face was close to hers as their match became a test of strength. “Your stupidity is going to get everyone killed.”
Abruptly, Shea released the blade with one hand, sidestepped and launched a punch straight into his ear. His head rocked to the side and Shea, taking advantage of his distraction, grabbed his arm and hooked her leg around his before pushing with all her might.
He toppled backwards, landing hard on the ground for the first time that day. Shea didn’t wait for him to recover and kicked him in the ribs. He rolled into her legs as she prepared to do it again, bringing her to the ground with him.
She kicked, punched and wiggled her way back to standing and quickly backed up as he rose to his feet.
He didn’t look happy. Shea backed up even further.
The dark expression on his face was a bit scary. Guess she shouldn’t have kicked him when he was down. The biting probably didn’t help either. Trying to dig her fingers into his eyes had been a low blow. Even she could admit that. This was practice. Some things were just off limits.
He started for her, not even bothering to pick up his practice sword. Shea prepared to run. New energy coursed through her as she felt genuine danger rolling off Trenton.
“Test complete,” the old man crowed.
“What?” Shea asked in disbelief.
“You passed.”
“That’s it?”
The test had been difficult but not impossible. She’d been expecting impossible given the hesitation the old man showed in testing her.
“Mostly.”
That’s what she thought.
“So the little outsider managed to pass the first phase.” Snake Clan’s leader sauntered into the training ring. “Honey, that’s the easy part. It’s what happens next that most don’t survive.”
“What business do you have here, Snake Clan?” The cantankerous bastard who had so joyfully tortured Shea over the last few weeks was gone and a remote stranger had taken his place.
The dark haired woman shrugged slim, tan shoulders that were bare from a dark green, sleeveless top. The top had a high collar and a cut out over her chest showing a hint of cleavage. Heavy bands of metal adorned each wrist. Her hair fell in a thick, straight sheet to her waist.
“I just wanted to see the outsider everybody’s talking about.”
Meynard looked like he had bitten into something sour.
“So far I’m less than impressed,” the woman said, examining Shea with arms crossed over her chest.
Well, Shea wasn’t overly impressed with the woman either. She hadn’t met many from Snake Clan. They didn’t usually serve on the front lines.
“You’re really considering making this your Tolroi?” she asked Fallon.
Shea didn’t know if she liked being referred to as a ‘this’. She had a name and a title. Shea folded her arms over her chest and gave the woman her best non-expression. It was the one she had perfected during the long winded lectures the elders of Birdon Leaf had subjected Shea to when they disagreed with something she’d done.
“Look at her. She doesn’t even have the spirit to defend herself when someone insults her.” The woman turned her head towards the crowd as if it was them she was trying to convince rather than Fallon.
“Our leader needs someone who has the fire to stand up for her people, not some gutless Lowlander.”
“Watch your mouth, woman,” the old man cautioned. His voice was low and dangerous, making a person forget the frail body that went with it.
“Indeed, Indra,” a man moved into view. “You’ve always been one to speak thoughts that have no wisdom behind them.”
If she remembered right, he was the Horse Clan leader. Henry, she thought she remembered. He had been with Darius when they had investigated the beast board. Shea hadn’t really gotten a look at him then, being more concerned over the danger of imminent discovery, so she took the time now.
He had white hair that was well kept and brushed sharply away from his face, leaving his softly lined features on proud display. He walked with a straight back, placing each foot carefully. You could tell he was once a warrior, and a good one too, simply from the way he kept his balance evenly distributed at all times and the absolute awareness he had of his surroundings.
A limp became evident after a closer look. It didn’t hold him back as he moved fluidly towards them, so it wasn’t a result of age. If Shea had to guess, she’d say it was an old wound from when he was a child or one he was born with. Age would have made his gate jerky and stiff. The way he moved said he had found ways to turn a potential weakness into a strength.
“She couldn’t even successfully defend against Trenton.”
“I’d warrant you wouldn’t be able to either,” Henry said. “None of Fallon’s guard could when they first sought his esteem. That’s not what Meynard is testing for.”
“This Lowlander has no right to be tested at all,” a male voice said from the edge of the training arena.
This clan leader Shea knew. She wasn’t a fan. The Lion Clan’s leader, Van, joined the other two leaders.
“She isn’t Trateri. The position of the Hawkvale’s guard is one of honor. It’s never been held by an outsider.” Van’s slightly too small eyes were scornful as they ran over Shea, noting every bruise and the hole in her pants from when she had dove out of the way of Trenton’s blade.
Shea didn’t let his disregard bother her. Better men than him had found fault with her.
“Her actions have earned her the right to be tested,” Henry stated.
“Ha,” Indra scoffed. “She’s nothing better than a scout. Any idiot could do that job. Her squad must have been full of fools to need the help of a Lowlander.”
Shea scowled. She didn’t mind them running her down. All they were doing was helping her. If they managed to convince the group she shouldn’t be here, Fallon might give up on this strange obsession. She drew the line at insults aimed at the men she considered her friends.
They’d gone through a lot together. She’d come to respect them. That was the kind of thing that deserved to be defended. Some oversexed woman and an inept Lion Clan leader wasn’t going to malign them while Shea stood by and took it.
“So who deserves to be tested?” Shea asked. “You?”
“It’s certainly not some gutless Lowlander.”
“Gutless, huh?”
That was a
pretty strong word considering the number of times she’d saved their warlord. The expressions on some of the faces in the crowd said they agreed with the woman. If it had just been Shea’s reputation on the line, she’d have let them go on believing that. Eamon, Buck and the others didn’t deserve that stigma, and it wouldn’t be long before slurs against her honor became slurs against theirs. That, Shea wouldn’t stand for.
“When’s the last time you journeyed into the wild by yourself?” Shea asked.
It was a safe question and one Shea already knew the answer to. The Snake Clan wasn’t especially known for their bravery. They, and their clan leader, liked to stay close to the combined might of Fallon’s army.
Shea could tell she had scored a point from the soft mutterings that traveled through the crowd. The fact that Snake Clan tended to hand their field duties off to other clans was a bit of a sore point among the Trateri.
“I’ll make it easier on you.” Shea had no such intention. “When’s the last time you ventured out in a party of four, including yourself. That’s how many scouts normally set out on a reconnaissance mission.”
There was a pregnant silence. The crowd behind her grew more restless.
“That has nothing to do with this,” the woman tried to deflect. “You’re not one of us. How dare you try to get close to Hawkvale?”
“Never, huh?” Shea rolled right over the woman’s words. “You know, somehow gutless just doesn’t have the right amount of impact coming from you.”
“You forgot idiot,” Eamon’s voice rumbled from the crowd.
Shea snapped her fingers and pointed at him in acknowledgement of the reminder.
Eamon and Buck stood at the edge of the clearing, having pushed their way through the growing crowd.
A year ago, even five months ago, Shea would have let the woman have her say before ignoring whatever insults came her way. Not today, though.
“How about this? I’ll give you a chance to prove how gutless and stupid I am. We’ll each take two weeks’ worth of supplies and walk for a week in whatever direction strikes us. Then at the end of that week we’ll find our way back to the camp.”
“I’m not- That’s not- I’m not doing that,” the woman sputtered. She looked around for support. The people in the crowd dropped their eyes. Even the men and women wearing Snake Clan colors avoided her gaze.
“Oh?” Shea asked, arching one eyebrow. “It should be easy. After all, if a gutless idiot can do it, you should have no problems.”
Seeing that she wasn’t going to be able to win against Shea, the woman changed tactics.
“I don’t have to stand for this. I am a clan leader and what are you? Nothing. You’re filth. Even your own people didn’t want you. They gave you to us as tribute.”
It was a good tactic. Shea had to give her that. Its intention was to strike at a fact that should have been gnawing at Shea all these months. But, Shea’s people hadn’t been the ones to abandon her. Birdon Leaf might have orchestrated everything to get rid of a pathfinder they found inferior, but Shea didn’t consider those back country dirt grubbers her people.
The only ones Shea considered her own were the pathfinders. She doubted they even knew she was missing. Their organization didn’t keep close tabs on each other.
“Enough Indra,” Fallon ordered in a low voice.
Indra’s mouth snapped shut her next retort. Even Shea found what she had been about to say dying on her tongue.
“This is my decision. I’ll consider any further words against it a blood challenge.”
Faced with that ultimatum, Indra backed down but not before sending an impotent glare at Shea.
“A moment, if you please, my Hawk,” Eamon inserted while stepping into the clearing.
A small smile tugged at Fallon’s lips, and he gave a short nod.
Eamon lifted his chin in acknowledgement before a mask fell over his features, hardening them into a merciless cold granite. Shea blinked. She’d never seen that expression on Eamon before, not even when she’d pissed him off.
“The Western Wind scouts will no longer guide any Snake Clan expeditions,” he informed the crowd.
“You can’t do that,” Indra shouted.
“I can and I have. Gutless idiots have to stick together.”
“You don’t have the authority.”
“He does,” Henry inserted.
“My lord Hawkvale, promoted me to scout master of the Western Wind division as a reward for my part in his rescue.”
“He can’t do that.” Indra’s voice rose as she turned to Fallon.
“He can. He did,” Fallon told her lazily. “Perhaps you will be more careful in your insults next time.”
Indra’s hands clenched into fists at her side. She swept away as her followers melted into the crowd as if they had never been there.
The volume in the crowd rose as she disappeared.
“Disperse.” Fallon’s voice cut through it all, leaving no room for argument.
Faster than Shea had thought possible, the normally stubborn Trateri scattered, leaving only Fallon, the old man, Trenton, the Horse Clan’s leader and Shea standing in the clearing.
The Horse Clan’s leader gave her a small nod before continuing on his way.
Trenton grabbed her around the neck and tugged her in his wake. “Come on, you. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“I thought there was another phase.”
Trenton grinned at her. “Don’t worry. You can be clean for it. In fact, it’s kind of a requirement.”
“Hmm.”
Chapter Twenty
“What’s the verdict?” Fallon asked.
Meynard’s bushy white eyebrows lowered over his eyes thoughtfully. “She’s not much of a bodyguard.”
Fallon waited patiently, knowing it was useless to rush Meynard when he was in a mood.
They already knew Fallon would never let her place herself in danger in his stead.
“Her sword skills are shit. She’s got pretty good endurance though.”
“Pretty good,” Caden snorted. “That’s an understatement. He threw everything he could think of to get her to cry mercy, and she just kept on coming. I’ve known hardened warriors who have puked after the sessions he put her through, and she acted like it was no big deal.”
Meynard smacked his lips in displeasure at Caden’s interruption. With a shrug, he conceded the point.
“Would’ve liked to see what sort of training got those sorts of results,” Meynard said. “Maybe I could use it to light a fire under some of these lazy slugs you keep sending me.”
Caden snorted again. Meynard said that about every batch of young warriors he trained.
Fallon felt a thread of impatience at the direction of the conversation.
“Will she pass?” he asked.
The other two got quiet.
“Well?” Fallon rumbled.
“Hard to say.” Caden spat on the ground.
“She’s got her endurance going for her, and she has spirit,” Meynard added. “With the right kind of training, she might have given Trenton a run for his money. And did you see how she stood up to Indra? Not many willing to take that viper on.”
“This is not what I want to hear,” Fallon told them.
Meynard shrugged. “You know there’s no way to tell. It’s up to the gods at this point.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Caden asked carefully.
Fallon ran one large palm along the back of his neck. “There’s no choice at this point. Too many people know what she’s done. If I let it go unanswered, they’ll assume I’m weak and challenge my authority. I can’t punish her in the traditional manner without losing any trust and loyalty she might have after the last few months. The Trateri’s venom is considered enough of a punishment, while having the added benefit of making her a Trateri in full.”
“You really think we hold any part of her loyalty?”
“She could have disappeared at any point. Her men say sh
e saved them time after time. Something had to have kept her here. Whatever it is, I intend to capitalize on it.”
Shea took her time in the bath, luxuriating in the warmth, something she hadn’t done in ages. A sweet jasmine scent wafted from the water, coating her skin and relaxing her muscles.
Trenton had given her orders to wash well before putting on the garments lain aside for her. Shea intended to take her time in the water, feeling a near bliss as the heat soothed her aches and pains.
The water had begun to cool before she stirred, reaching for the soap to begin washing. She took her time as for the first time in months there was no reason to rush. A man wasn’t going to come charging in intending to take advantage of the communal bath the Trateri set up at every stop. There was no pressure to keep her gender hidden.
It was just her and the water.
Bliss. Definite bliss.
“I would never have guessed you’d be the type to take a long bath,” an amused voice said beside her ear.
Shea squeaked and sank into the water until only her shoulders and head were sticking out. She wrapped her arms around her breasts and drew her knees up to her chest.
“It’s such a feminine trait.” Fallon drew circles in the bathwater beside her knee.
Shea glared. Perhaps she should have been worried about one person intruding.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
She refused to act like some virginal maiden. She was a scout, one of the most coveted positions. She’d faced down beasts that made others turn and run. This was nothing.
“I’m the Warlord. I can go anywhere I want.”
He flicked water at her. She ducked and then glared harder.
“My little tomboy has an ounce of softness in her after all,” he murmured as he stood.
She sunk lower, feeling vulnerable in the milky water.
Shea had never been particularly body shy. In the wilderness, things happened. People saw each other’s naked bits occasionally. You got used to it.