The Kinshield Legacy (5 page)

Brawna Beliril took a slow, deep breath before opening her eyes. She looked around the room at the soft lighting, the practice weapons in the rack along the east wall, the padded suits heaped in a far corner. She might never see this room again. Rising to her feet, Brawna went to the door and stopped to take one last look. She’d spent most of her time here over the last two years. The room felt like an old friend. She bowed to it, paying her respects to the lessons and philosophies it represented.

Brawna entered the anteroom outside the training hall where seven women were gathered, each wearing a black sash around her waist. Lilalian’s sash bore the gray strip that showed she was a ranking member of the guild. All conversation stopped when Brawna entered. They regarded her with somber expressions. They thought she would fail.

Lilalian looked her over. Brawna lifted her chin and pulled her shoulders back, hoping she looked more confident than she felt.

“Are you ready for this trial?” Lilalian asked. Her voice sounded harsh, accusatory.

Brawna nodded. She started to answer, but her voice caught and she cleared her throat. “Yes, m’lady. I think so.” She pressed her hands against her legs to stop them from trembling, and she resisted the urge to chew her lower lip.

“You think so? Brawna, that’s not good enough,” Lilalian said. “Your foe’s ready and eager for battle.” She jerked her head toward the courtyard.

A small cart waited near the door and on it, a gray beast paced inside an iron cage. Now and then, it stopped and looked about, its claws curled like fingers around the bars. The beyonder’s black eyes looked like glass beads, unmoving in its head. Without fur, its skin rippled like a coat made of tiny worms and smelled faintly of sulfur. It pressed its dark gray snout through the space between two bars, mouth open baring pointed teeth and a long pink tongue. The beyonder looked as benign as a dog panting in the warm spring air.

Brawna felt her lip curl involuntarily at the sight of the thing. That abomination was far from a dog. One of the instructors snorted softly. Brawna steeled herself against her revulsion, clenching her teeth, and strode toward the cage, determined to show the other women that she did not fear it. A shiver ran up Brawna’s arms and down her spine. She wanted to kill it right then, and to hell with pomp or process.

“Brawna, you are ready for this,” her instructor said. “You’ve passed every waypoint exam with strength, skill and grace. Don’t let the ceremony or the beast intimidate you into losing confidence. We wouldn’t let you do this if you weren’t ready.”

Brawna shot a glance at Lilalian and found that the captain’s expression had softened. As she looked around at the instructors that were to serve on her panel, she now saw compassion in their eyes. Compassion and maybe, possibly, faith. “Yes. I’m ready,” she said, the strength in her own voice surprising.

“Let’s begin,” Lilalian said, and walked out.

The black sashes exited the building in a line behind the captain, marching across the grass. Brawna followed in her white trousers and tunic and blue sash, pulling the cart behind her. As Lilalian approached the center of the courtyard, she called, “Clear the grounds.” She waved her arms to the warriors who were practicing their moves. They obeyed without hesitation.

Women gathered to watch, leaning against the walls of the surrounding buildings or squatting in the patch of shade under the oak tree in the corner of the compound. Most were very young and inexperienced. Some hadn’t yet faced their first trial as evidenced by the white sashes around their waists. One day many of them would be facing this trial themselves. Brawna knew they were there to watch as much for their own mental preparation as in support of her. Among them, the older warriors stood out.

They moved with a rare grace born of narrow misses, years of swinging heavy weapons and the quick instincts that kept battlers alive. The gray in their hair and the lines on their faces were not signs of growing weakness, but of incredible strength and wisdom. Brawna knew in her heart that one day she, too, would be as distinguished.

From the center of the courtyard, Brawna searched the audience and when she saw Daia she smiled, relieved. Everything would be all right.

Daia held up two fingers in the popular “V” salute of the Viragon Sisterhood, and nodded at Brawna.

As the instructors and judges in the courtyard inspected Brawna’s sword and the cage, Brawna walked about, head bowed, shaking her hands. “I can do this,” she whispered to herself. “I am strong; I am prepared; I am a battler.”

The last judge handed Brawna her sword. She slid it into the scabbard on her belt while the warriors walked away from her to stand at their places. Once the women had formed a wide circle around Brawna and her foe, they readied their weapons; three notched an arrow into their short bows and four drew swords. One of those was intended for Brawna should she be mortally wounded during her trial. Lilalian was charged with dispensing a merciful death to end a student’s suffering if it came to that.

Lilalian raised her arm, calling for silence among the spectators. When the chatter died away and only the ryna’s steady growling remained, she called to Brawna, “Are you ready to face your foe?”

Brawna took a deep breath and nodded.

“Let the Trial of Fortitude begin,” Lilalian declared.

Brawna bowed to each of the judges in the circle around her, and each bowed in return. She shook her hands out once more and checked the short sword at her hip. If only she could flip open the latch with her sword. But doing so would mean her dismissal.

Stepping up to the cage, she reached gingerly toward the latch. The ryna lunged. She jerked her hand away and retreated so quickly that she stumbled and landed on her backside.

The spectators laughed. Brawna felt a rush of heat spread across her face.

Lilalian turned around and glared at the audience. The laughter died away.

Brawna got up, brushed off the seat of her pants and shook out her hands. Once again, she stepped forward and reached for the latch, confidently this time. With a click, the door swung open. The ryna leapt toward her, its mouth wide.

Brawna jumped to one side. The beast charged out of the cage. Her weapon slid from its sheath with a ring. The ryna turned and rushed her, clawed at her again and again. She retreated, running backward across the lawn.

The ryna slashed at her. It ripped through her pants and gouged her shin. It burned, oh Yrys how it burned. The beast was fast like lightning. Brawna couldn’t get her footing. She swung the sword like a scythe.

The beast lashed out with first one claw and then the other. Brawna turned her sword and swung. She missed, swung again and again. Her sword severed the ryna’s paw and flung it into the grass. The beast roared.

The ryna fought harder. It came at her with the claws of its remaining paw, teeth snapping. It leapt forward. Claws flayed open her thigh.

Brawna chopped her sword at the elusive beast. Her mind screamed,
Kill it! Kill it!
Her body groped for the battling instinct honed through training. The thing slashed repeatedly with its claws. It sliced open the outside of her thumb, then her forearm, then her wrist.

Brawna’s foot slipped in the grass. She went down. At once, the beast leapt upon her. She brought her left arm up to protect her face. It took her forearm in its jaws and whipped its head from side to side. Her arm was on fire. She couldn’t get her sword up. She was going to die. The judges ran toward her, raising their short bows to fire on the ryna and end the trial.

Daia! Help me!

A fluttery sensation started in her gut, then flowed into her like someone pouring warm water into a cup. Suddenly she felt more powerful than she’d ever felt in her life. She let go of her sword, and with her fist she struck the beyonder as hard as she could.

The ryna squealed. Its gray form flew through the air and landed hard. While it twisted around and scrambled to its feet, Brawna did the same, snatching up her sword again. It rushed her.

Brawna turned her blade and stepped in. She swung. The ryna screeched. Black blood sprayed from the wound in its neck. With one strong thrust, Brawna drove her blade into its chest so deeply that it went through the creature’s body and emerged from its belly. It collapsed to the ground and lay still.

The audience cheered. Brawna’s chest heaved as she gasped for breath. Her left arm hung, shredded, by her side while blood dripped from her fingertips into the grass. She staggered to one knee and bowed her head.

Two of the judges converged on the battler. One bent to ensure the ryna was dead while the other sent a surge of warm healing magic into Brawna’s body, sealing the wounds. Her clothes, white only minutes before, were now drenched with blood. Brawna remained in a reverential bow while the judges huddled to confer.

She trembled with weariness and remorse. The ryna had beaten her horribly. She failed her trial. She just knew it. They were going to dismiss her and she would have to earn her living as a bar maid or washerwoman, her lifelong dream of being a Viragon Sister stamped out forever.

At last, Lilalian strode forward. Brawna climbed to her feet with her head hung low. This was it. Time to say good-bye.

“We all thought you were finished,” Lilalian said softly. “But Yrys must have had His hand on your shoulder. Congratulations.”

Brawna’s head snapped up. “I didn’t fail?”

Lilalian smiled. “Raise your arms.”

Exhilaration streaked through Brawna like lightning, energizing her entire body. She wanted to jump up and down in joy, but she stood with her arms out while Lilalian untied the blue sash at her waist and dropped it onto the grass. From within her tunic, Lilalian drew a new green sash and wrapped it around Brawna’s waist, then knotted it. She bowed.

Smiling broadly, Brawna bowed in return, then bowed to the other battlers on her panel. The captain of the Viragon Sisterhood turned to the audience and shouted, “Offer your congratulations to our newest green sash battler.”

Most of the women in the audience gathered in the center to shake Brawna’s hand. “Brawna the Blade,” someone called her. The women laughed and patted her back and shoulders and ruffled her wet hair.

“Your new nickname.” “That’s what we’ll call you from now on.” “How fitting.”

When Daia stepped forward, Brawna dipped one knee slightly. “Thanks to you, m’lady,” she said.

Daia shook her hand. “You did splendidly. I knew you would.” They shared a knowing smile and Daia backed away. The other girls swarmed in to offer their congratulations.

“Daia, wait.” Brawna rose onto her toes to look over the heads of the other women. “I want to go on your...” She tried to spot her friend, but Daia had gone. “...next mission,” she finished to herself. She would just have to find Daia tomorrow and ask.

Chapter 6

After a fitful night’s sleep at the Good Knight Inn, Gavin rose early and called for the stable-hand to bring his horse and gear. While he waited, he gathered his belongings and stuffed them into his leather satchel, and filled two flasks at the inn’s well. By the time he finished, his warhorse stood in the road dressed in leather armor, while the stable-hand tightened the straps of the saddle under the gelding’s dappled gray belly.

“How now, Golam,” Gavin said, stroking the horse’s huge face. He cast a glance toward the lobby, hoping the innkeeper wouldn’t notice him leaving. He’d promised to fix the door in exchange for board, but that could wait. Calewen’s Pendant could not. The longer he delayed, the farther away it would get.

“Listen,” Gavin told the stable-hand. “Tell Trayev I got to go somewhere. I’ll be back in a week, and I’ll fix the door then.” After tying his gear to the saddle with a few leather thongs, he tucked his leather glove under the front of the saddle and mounted. With a click of his tongue, he leaned forward, and Golam started off. From the corner of his eye, Gavin saw Trayev come outside, calling and waving his only hand. He pretended not to notice, and nudged Golam a little faster. He felt badly about breaking his promise, but he would make up for it. As soon as he returned with the pendant.

He walked Golam through Ambryce, stopping just long enough to buy a small loaf of bread and a few boiled eggs. He ate as he rode, not wanting to waste time sitting for a meal. As he neared the bridge crossing the Flint River north of the city, the rushing of water grew louder. A uniformed man-at-arms in service to the Lordover Ambryce stood on the narrow road and signaled Gavin to stop.

“The bridge is out,” the armsman said. “You can circle to the west and cross there.”

“I don’t mind a swim.” Gavin started to guide Golam through the trees toward the river.

“I wouldn’t advise it. The water’s icy, and the current’s strong. We’ve got a lot of run-off from the Superstitions.”

“We’ll manage,” Gavin called back.

The warhorse picked his way down the rocky bank, but balked at the water’s edge, reluctant to go forward.

“We have to cross this way, Golam.”

Golam tossed his huge gray head and refused to take another step.