Spirit Binder (18 page)

“I look forward to meeting her.”

Bryan helped her gain her feet, and she took a moment to stand with her hand on his shoulder, so the crowd would witness and understand her claim. It hadn’t gone unnoticed.

The Commander stepped forward and unsheathed his sword. His offer to spar was unusual, for Commanders had no need to prove themselves, and certainly wouldn’t do so with lesser opponents. Theo understood the honor he offered.

She gave Bryan a little push toward the kitchen; he was currently gaping at the Commander as he approached, as if he’d lost control of his senses. The Commander was indeed impressive. His sword was twice as long and as broad as her own, not even calculating for his greater reach. Interestingly, the intricate crossguard of his weapon almost completely covered the Commander’s hand. Theo wondered if this protected an old injury or was simply a design choice. The cook looked like the sort who’d like a chance to fatten Bryan up, so she urged the boy to cross the yard to her.

Then all thoughts of the complicated present were pushed aside, as Theo met the Commander’s offered steel.

For a practice fight — no extra powers allowed — it was epic.

They danced for at least two hours, but neither of them flagged. He pushed her to reach father, to jump, twist, and spin higher and smoother. He was almost her equal. Ren, or Dougal, would have made quick work of him, but Theo relished every blow, every counter. Except what made him so impressive, his strength and his flawless technique, also hampered him. She was faster and unpredictable.

She’d danced away from disarming him three times before his frustration peaked.

“Just end it,” he bellowed and charged her. She spun away and walked the rail of the fence he’d tried to pin her against, scattering fence-sitting spectators in her wake. She refused to end the fight. She didn’t want to think any further or be any further than this moment.

She managed to wring another half hour or so out of him before he threw his weapon to the sand. “That’s four times you should have had my sword,” he declared over the incredulous gasps of his warriors. “I ask for your respect. To acknowledge your abilities. Allow me my dignity.”

She nodded, utterly ashamed at her behavior.

He picked up his sword and she disarmed him. Even though it meant that none of the assembled could beat her. Even though it meant there was no other way to keep her haunting memories at bay.

He bared his neck for her, though his position held no one above him save the Chancellor. She placed her bare hand on his neck and whispered, “Thank you.”

“Your blessing is the greatest gift, my lady. Accept my sword, my strength, and my spirit. I would stand in your defense. I would trade my life for yours. We all would. Do you allow us?”

The heaviness of this request could not be denied, but, then again, she should have seen it coming. Her myth was even stronger than her sword.
 

Hugh’s voice called out from behind her, “Before you deny his pledge, know there is a war coming. Father’s seers have seen it. I imagine if you choose to look for it, you will too.” She didn’t take her eyes off the Commander’s bowed head as Hugh crossed the yard. “These warriors will be your first defense. Certainly you would protect them with your blessing.”

“They’ve had my blessing.”

“But not your acceptance of the situation.”

She raised her head with an angry retort in her throat, and then understanding dawned. She turned toward the warriors assembled before her, but she couldn’t make herself say the words, make the claim that Hugh asked of her.

“Envoys have come and gone,” Hugh pressed. “Messengers bring news of an army moving through the valley, and of people abandoning their homes and farms. It seems the Preacher is rallying his troops. We will fight, and some will die, for you.”

She removed her hand from the Commander’s neck. He stood and stepped to the side.

“In that case,” Hugh continued, “It seems you are out of warriors to fight. Except one.” He pulled out his sword, one undoubtedly handcrafted for him. The significance of the gold-inlayed animal totem carved along the blade was probably lost on most: an eagle and a lion, perhaps to represent his parents. His appearance as the gryphon suddenly made sense.

“Not you, Hugh.” She didn’t raise her sword in response.

“Why not? I am well trained by the Commander himself.”

“Indeed, my lady, I can vouch for the Lord’s ability with a sword,” the Commander quietly offered.

“No,” she repeated.

“You need someone to fight.”

“I need someone to beat me … I think,” she answered, and finally looked at Hugh in the eye. “And I don’t want you to be that person.”

That halted his insistence, and he could only tease. “But how will I receive my blessing, if you don’t defeat me?”

She smiled, and, laying her sword over her knee, she knelt in the sand before him. “It is your blessing I seek.”

A thrumming whisper ran through the crowd.

“It is worthless.”

“And yet, you hesitate to give it.”

Hugh stepped quickly forward and touched the back of her neck. She felt oddly exposed in front of a crowd of people she barely knew, but who might soon be following her into battle. All because of a prophecy she was trying to not believe in, but kept fulfilling.

“You have my blessing, Theodora Rudan, child of Rhea Rudan, the Apex of Cascadia, Spirit-Blessed and Prophecy-Bound, Our Lady of Light,” Hugh’s voice shook. ”I accept … I accept your offered sword, your strength, and your spirit.”

“Praise be!” The crowd cried, and she felt the power of it rumble around her.

She looked up at Hugh. His hand fell away from the back of her neck.

“I won’t have you kneel before me again,” he gruffly chided.

“Perhaps I shall do so often then,” she teased, and his shock was soon overtaken by his amused laughter.

“Praise be,” he said, and the crowd repeated gustily.

She stood and brushed off her skirts. Hugh leaned in to whisper, “Don’t think I don’t know exactly what you just did there. You are almost as sly as your mother.”

She couldn’t tell if he disapproved of or admired her action, but it was him who the eyes of the crowd followed as he walked away, so she knew she’d made a good choice.

Hugh might be bound to her without his consent, but these were his people by ancestral right. They needed a solid, dependable leader, not one who gaped at the seams and wasn’t sure of her place in the world.

∞

She walked away to fight the memories in her head alone. They weren’t as unwelcome and painful as before, but they still clouded her eyes even when she wanted to look elsewhere.

∞

They’d brought her a troll.

A troll.

She’d only ever heard rumors of their existence, and now, because she’d been moping around and suffering through basic drills, they’d gone out and risked their lives to capture a troll, alive.

A troll for her to fight.

Trolls and humans didn’t interact. They were not of the Before, as far as anyone knew, and had only appeared after the Rising. Even now, reports of their existence were inconsistent. Humans, who lived deeper in the forests, days from civilization, supposedly had dealings with the trolls, but often their stories made it seem that trolls considered them some sort of sport. She hadn’t known that the Chancellor had any trolls in his region, though they certainly weren’t under his governance, or, unfortunately, his protection.

The troll stood three times taller, and, at least, four times wider than any of the ten warriors who held him chained in the middle of the yard. A single bellow knocked one of the guards off his feet. For all his girth, the troll had no neck and small eyes, so as he was crushing her with his bare hands she might be able to use his lack of peripheral vision against him …

Still, she felt the thrill of such an opponent.

The Chancellor, looking pleased, and Hugh, looking utterly displeased, were in attendance this morning. It was obvious this had been the Chancellor’s idea: capturing other beings for her to fight as he once had captured such for Hugh to imprint … though perhaps the troll was to serve a dual purpose.

She stood before the troll, sword in hand, and he stopped struggling against his chains to stare back at her. His clothing was obviously handmade, but the only tears it bore looked as if they’d come from a recent fight, probably his capture. She glanced at the warriors gathered around him. They looked a bit battered, but generally pleased with themselves.

“You? Fight? Me?” The troll blinked its relatively tiny eyes at her, but she was the more surprised of the two of them that he spoke English.

“Yes,” she answered.

The troll laughed.

Disgruntled that he didn’t see her as any sort of a foe, she raised her sword and activated all the spells it held. This display caused him to clutch his belly in mirth, thereby pulling over the two men attached by chains to his arm, and laugh harder.

“Puny. Weak magic tricks,” he pronounced between bouts of laughter.

“Remove the chains,” she ordered, and when the warriors hesitated and gaped at her, she reached out with her mind and snapped the chains herself.

Ten warriors sprawled backward in the sand.

The troll leaned down until his face was in line with hers. Then he grinned. “Fun!” he declared, and took a test swipe at her.
 

He was a lot faster than he should have been given his size. Theo spun out of his reach, the tips of his fingers skimmed along her ribs, and she knew she’d bear the bruises for a day even with magical healing. He immediately pressed his advantage, and, though she leapt over his arm, he took out half the fence and scattered the arsenal with his second swipe. There really wasn’t enough room in the practice yard to fight someone with such strength and reach. She wondered if he would follow her if she dashed into the fields, and nearly got knocked there by his third grab. She tumbled sideways, and managed in the twist of the fall to slash her sword across the inside of his forearm.

He grunted and withdrew his arm to survey the tiny cut. His blood was red, and, as she watched from her dusty position on the ground, the wound healed without a trace.

“Sharp stick,” he observed, and then drew himself up to his full impressive height. “I, Eld, do not fight female, human. Magic or not. I, Eld, deny human dominion.”

Then he roared.

The crowd tumbled back in fear, even though it was frustration rather than rage that fueled his declaration.

Eld looked around satisfied at the general fleeing of the crowd, but then seemed disappointed that Theo had remained. “No run? No scream?” Eld asked, rather hopefully.

She laughed. She threw her head back and laughed at the entire situation. She laughed at her sulky inability to heal herself fully. She laughed at the absurdity of the warriors capturing a troll for her, and then she sobered at the thought that this troll, Eld, had probably been torn away from his life just for her … amusement.

Eld watched her. “Stop laugh? Sad now, puny female?”

“Theo. My name is Theo, and I am sorry my friends have brought you here just for me.”

“I gift?”

“Yes.” This idea seemed to amuse him, and his shoulders shook when he laughed.

“I crush human head.” He pinched his fingers, each thicker than her wrist, together to demonstrate. “I destroy building. I take my want. I more magic than weak human. I, Eld, a good gift.” He thumped his fist against his chest.

“I see,” she answered, for indeed she could see the magic in him — so different from her own, puny human magic, as he called it. His magic ran in his veins. It was him, every bit of him, rather than just highlighting one part. Magic also flowed through him up from the ground and then out again — like he was continually refueling or exchanging energy, exchanging spirit with everything around him.

“You bright little thing,” Eld said, and reached as if to pick her up.
 

Hugh shouted a warning. Every warrior in the keep drew a weapon, and surrounded the troll. She held up a cautionary hand to the warriors, for the troll reached for her as she would cup a candle in a breeze.

Eld wrapped his hands around her without actually touching her, and peered at her, through her, as if she was an interesting bug. “Theo, human female,” he grumbled.

“We are well met, Eld of the Trolls,” she answered, and, when she laid her hand on his wrist, she felt a bit of her magic entwine with his. It swept through her like a refreshing breeze, and she felt less burdened by the seemingly endless chaos of her mind.

“I see now, lady,” Eld acknowledged her calmed spirit. “I see you lady.”

“You are indeed a good gift, Eld.”

The troll laughed, delighted, as if it was one of his most favorite things to do but then he abruptly grew serious. ”No more Troll hunt,” he declared.

Theo looked over Eld’s wrist toward the Chancellor, who begrudgingly shrugged and then said, “No more cow stealing.”
 

Eld laughed like a child caught in the cookie tin, and nodded his agreement. “I go now,” he then asserted.

“Thank you, Eld.” Theo released his wrist, but remembered — somewhere deep and important — his magic, his spirit, and his flow with the world.

Eld bounded from the yard, leapt the remaining portion of the fence, and headed across the field toward the forest.

“A mighty ally,” said the Chancellor, who had moved beside her to watch Eld depart.

“No. He is not meant to be involved in human affairs. We have to find our own path.” The Chancellor stared at her for some time, but she just kept watching Eld jog away. The troll snagged a wayward sheep, stupid enough not to flee his advance, underneath a massive arm. Well, it wasn’t a cow.

The Chancellor finally turned his gaze on Hugh, who stood at her other side. “Can you take an imprint of the troll from Theodora?”

“No,” Hugh answered, probably a bit more tersely than advisable, but the Chancellor let it pass with a slight incline of his head.

“Another time perhaps. The accumulation of strength and power is only for your benefit, Hugh. Yours and Theodora’s.” The Chancellor walked away.