Chapter 12

Dawn broke and we made our way back into the main room for breakfast. The innkeeper served a spinach pie and scrambled eggs. It was good, a solid, hearty fare, but I had to admit I preferred Mirri’s cooking. Even on the road, with whatever she could scrounge up, she somehow made every meal taste better than it had any right to be.

After we ate, we split up. Ashlara headed off to find supplies, while the rest of us went for the tour.

The village was small enough that it didn’t take long to reach Aldric’s home. It was modest, even compared to the surrounding stone houses, but well cared for. A short wooden fence ringed the property, and the small gate stood open as we approached and walked up the smooth, rocky path.

The sword jutted from the stone maybe ten feet in front of the door. If anything, it looked even more impressive in the daylight. The polished blade caught the rising sun and threw it back, bright and unwavering, like a monument rather than a weapon. It had to be over six feet long, with the pommel sitting higher than my shoulder despite an unknown length of blade still buried in the stone. The pommel was silver, shaped like the scalloped, triangular shields I’d seen in just about every knight movie ever made. The hilt was wrapped in black leather, worn smooth by time and hands, though a faint, scale-like pattern sparkled when the light hit it just right. Silver wings swept outward to form the crossguard, frozen in the shape of a bird mid-flight. The blade itself was a flawless mirror.

The door to the house opened and the man from the night before stepped out. “Welcome, my boy, to the home of Saint Aldric, the Bulwark!” he cried, spreading his arms wide. “Within these hallowed walls, the great saint was born. Within these hallowed walls, the boy became a man, and the man became a saint. I am Jackob, custodian of this shrine. Now, please, come inside.”

He ushered us in and began his tale.

Saint Aldric, he said, was born here some two hundred years ago, to humble parents - farmers, by the sound of it - which tracked with the size of the house. He had a younger sister, and he’d been fiercely protective of her even as a boy. When a band of bandits attacked the village, Aldric drove them off singlehandedly. For that act, he was blessed by Miralis, the Goddess of Protection, known as the Guardian Spear. She gifted him Adhaneth - the Unbroken Promise - crafted from one of her own ribs. With it, Aldric performed countless feats of bravery, slaying monsters and safeguarding the weak.

But the greatest tale was his battle with Yveth, the great dragon queen. They fought for seven days and seven nights before Aldric finally emerged victorious.

As Jackob spoke, Serah listened intently, her curiosity clear, though her expression darkened as the stories grew grander and more violent. Mirri, on the other hand, listened with only half an ear, her attention drifting to the relics and keepsakes scattered throughout the house.

Jackob told us that Aldric returned home briefly before leaving to fight in the War of Falling Stars. Fearing his enemies might seek **** on his family, he left Adhaneth here to protect his sister. No harm ever came to her, but Aldric himself was poisoned by assassins during the war and never returned. He was said to be buried in an unmarked grave somewhere far to the east.

“And that, my boy,” Jackob said as he led us back outside, “brings us to Adhaneth.”

I stood before the blade again, struck by its condition. “You must spend a lot of time caring for it. It’s stunning.”

“Ha!” Jackob laughed. “I care for the house. The blade has gone untouched for over a hundred and fifty years. Many have tried to pull it free, and none have succeeded. Why, I once saw a giant try! Nearly tore his shoulders out of their sockets.”

I smirked. The whole thing felt painfully Arthurian - humble origins, a saintly hero, a sword in a stone. I could’ve sworn there were dragons in those stories too. I couldn’t tell if the similarities were coincidence or if the legends were somehow tangled together.

“You gonna try to pull it out?” Mirri asked.

I laughed. “If a giant couldn’t do it, what makes you think I can? Maybe Ashlara should try when she gets back. She’s the strongest person I know.”

“No one can pull it free, my boy,” Jackob said calmly. “Not unless Miralis herself chooses them. It is her rib, after all.”

Slow, deliberate clapping cut through the moment, each sound thick with mockery. Everyone turned as Hek, the man from Wolfsend, stood at the gate with eight others behind him. “What a wonderful story, eh boys?” he said, his tone dripping with anything but reverence. “Always warms the heart when a big, strong hero swoops in an’ saves the day.” He took a heavy, threatening step toward us.

“Please, gentlemen,” Jackob pleaded. “No **** may take place on these sacred grounds. It is forbidden by the Saint.”

I tightened my grip on my staff and stepped forward, placing myself between the armed men and the girls.

“You even know how ta use that stick, meat?” Hek asked, his eyes narrowing. “You gonna hit me with that stick, meat?”

“You already had your fun, Hek,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Just leave us alone.”

Fear coiled tight in my chest. He’d nearly killed me once already. What was stopping him from finishing the job now? Two weeks of practice with a staff didn’t mean shit against a man who’d beaten me half to **** before. The only fight I’d won was dumb luck, and I knew it.

“What did you say, meat?” he growled.

I raised my voice, anger pushing past fear. “I SAID, YOU DEAF ASSHOLE-”

A green blur slammed into one of the armed men, knocking him clean off his feet and hurling him a dozen yards back. “Back away, Hek,” Ashlara said, her dark, wicked axe already in her hands.

“Still playing with your little meatsack, eh, Lara?” he sneered. “You know you’ve got a real man right here. Always have.”

“The first time you tried to show me what kind of man you were, I broke your arm,” she said, her voice low and tight with rage. “The last time, I broke your nose and three ribs. What should I break this time?”

“Not his nuts!” Mirri shouted. “They haven’t dropped yet!”

Hek snarled and turned, drawing his curved sword and pointing it at the goblin. “I’m going to cut your tongue out and wipe my ass with it!”

“Pretty sure that’s the only way you’ll ever get a woman below your belt, you needle-dicked bug fucker!” Mirri shot back without missing a beat.

“Jackob,” I said, never taking my eyes off Hek, “take Serah inside, please.”

I heard hurried whispers behind me, then the door slamming shut. I had to trust that would be enough.

Hek spat on the ground and jerked his head toward his men. “Kill Lara,” he said casually. “I’ll kill these two.”

* * *

Chaos erupted. Ashlara hurled herself into the pack of men, steel and fury colliding, but my focus locked onto Hek.

A basketball-sized chunk of stone screamed past my shoulder, forcing him to twist aside. I seized the opening. With a sharp snap of my wrist, I brought the end of my staff down on his jaw as hard as I could. His head snapped to the side and he staggered back out of range. Another stone whistled in from Mirri and he barely avoided it, spitting blood onto the ground.

“I’m gonna gut you for that, meat,” he snarled, circling to keep me between him and Mirri.

He swung his blade. I tried to parry, but the blade split my staff like dry kindling. The shock jarred my arms and I stumbled backward, barely avoiding the follow-up strike—only to trip over the big-ass sword jutting from the ground.

Another stone flew. Hek ducked beneath it, never taking his eyes off me. His axe howled through the air as I rolled behind Adhaneth. Steel rang out as his blade struck the embedded sword. Adhaneth didn’t so much as shiver.

Hek’s grin widened as he glanced at the two sad feet of staff still in my hands. Then he turned toward Mirri.

She hurled three more stones in rapid succession. He knocked them aside with practiced ease. When the last one fell, her hands came up empty. Her eyes flicked around desperately, the fire in them giving way to fear.

I felt my gut drop. I had to do something. Anything. I couldn’t let him get to her.

* * *

With a town this small, there hadn’t been much to buy, but I took what I could get. I’d looked for a blade for Seth, but the smith didn’t carry any weapons. Not that I would’ve trusted anything he made in Seth’s hands anyway. He specialized in nails and horseshoes, and even those were passable at best.

When the sword house came into view, my blood ran cold.

Hek was there. He and several others, standing just outside the stupid little fence that ringed the place. His voice carried easily, taunting, grating, instantly setting my teeth on edge. I’d never been able to stand him.

Seth stood facing them, staff in hand, just like I’d taught him. His stance was too rigid and I could see the fear in his eyes, plain as day, but he didn’t move. He put himself between the men and the others, knowing exactly what Hek was capable of. Knowing Hek could kill him and probably would, if given the chance.

I didn’t know where that kind of courage came from. He shamed half the warriors I’d known in my life. He was weak. Fragile. And he still stood tall in the face of impossible odds. Idiot.

I dropped my pack and pressed myself against the side of a stone building, fingers tightening around my axe, the new shield on my arm. Nine of them. I’d barely managed to stop Hek when he’d only had four friends. Now there were more. And this time I had to protect Seth, Mirri, and the new girl too.

I didn’t like the math. Someone was going to get hurt. And I wasn’t going to be able to hold back. Either Hek died, or we did. The consequences of killing him would have to wait.

I heard Seth shout, “I SAID, YOU DEAF ASSHOLE-” and I launched myself forward.

My shield slammed into the nearest warrior’s back, knocking him flat. He skidded face-first across the ground before scrambling back to his feet.

“Back away, Hek,” I ordered, forcing my voice to stay level, the way my teacher had drilled into me. Anger was my default state. Keeping it leashed took effort.

Growing up, I’d tried to earn my place with the boys in town. I fought harder. Stole more. Pushed myself further than any of them. It only ever got me into trouble. They never accepted me. I was a girl in a boy’s world. They were hunters. I was supposed to be a prize - something to be won.

Once, on a dare, I’d tried to steal from Chamberlin. He was an old human in gleaming armor, asleep against a tree in the forest. His sword rested on a stump nearby, polished and bright. The boys swore he was an easy mark.

I crept closer, silent as breath. I glanced from the sword to him and back again. The sword was gone. He was on his feet.

I charged him, certain I could beat down some old man. I was wrong. I couldn’t touch him. He toyed with me, stepping just out of reach, moving faster the angrier I got, until I burned myself out and he stood over me without a mark on him.

He called me reckless. Undisciplined. I called him a cocksucker.

He pointed out every mistake I’d made. I told him to give me a blade and I’d shut him up. He did. I didn’t. He put me back on the ground, hard.

He let me go. I went home humiliated. The boys mocked me mercilessly. I knocked three of them out before the rest dogpiled me, leaving me bruised and bleeding in the street. I cried all night.

The next morning, I went back into the woods. If an old man could beat me, maybe he could teach me. How to fight. How to belong. And he did.

For two years, he trained me. We fought. I helped him build a house. He made me strong. I helped plant crops. He taught me to control my rage. I worked his harvest. He taught me to knit…

That last one never made sense. I didn’t care. For the first time in my life, I felt… maybe not happiness, but something like pride. I didn’t know what to do with it.

One winter morning, I found his house burned to a shell. No body. No tracks. No signs of a fight. No answers. It was like he’d been erased.

“Still playing with your little meatsack, eh, Lara?” Hek’s voice ripped me out of my memories. “You know you’ve got a real man right here. Always have.”

My stomach twisted. He’d tried to kiss me once when we were younger. I’d thrown him through a door. Later, he and his friends tried to **** me. I dislocated his jaw. I avoided him whenever I could, but he was relentless. And with his father being Warlord…

“The first time you tried to show me what kind of man you were, I broke your arm,” I said, my anger straining at its leash. “The last time, I broke your nose and three ribs. What should I break this time?”

Mirri shouted something obscene. Hek turned his back on me.

“Kill Lara,” he said casually. “I’ll kill these two.”

Like lightning, I rushed the warrior to my left and buried my axe in his chest. Steel flashed overhead. I ducked just in time, the blade passing so close it stirred my hair. I wrenched my axe free and drove it upward into another man’s groin. He screamed as I rolled away.

They closed in.

Blades thrust and slashed from every angle. I blocked and shifted constantly, refusing to let them get behind me, but each parry carried me farther from Seth.

A sword bit into my arm. Another opened my thigh. My leg buckled and I stumbled. I knocked aside one more blade and drove my fist into a jaw, feeling bone crunch beneath my knuckles.

Then I was on my knees. They surrounded me.