The Bronze Warrior (Heroes of Melowynn #1)
Chapter One
TWO THINGS MAKE A MAN’S HEART BEAT quickly when the sun shines upon it: the skin of a bared lover beside him in the morn and the glint of a bright beam off his sword.
This morning, I only had the sword to hand, but my thoughts as I began my solo time on the training grounds of Castle Avolire were on the strong back of the lover I’d left behind at a tavern in the heart of Celear.
The stablehand had proven to be an enjoyable distraction from the knowledge that a longtime friend was leaving today.
His hands had been quite calloused but nicely skilled.
How long the archer that had come to be a brother to me would be gone was anyone’s guess.
Beiro Vahorn had proven a valuable ally four seasons ago when we’d hired him to guide me and a small traveling party, including our king Aelir, Queen Raewyn, and V’alor, the commander of the royal guards.
Oh, and of course, the queen’s handmaiden, Merrilyn—a human woman who is also a royal consort and spouse to the king, queen, and V’alor.
Their polyamorous marriage was a first for Melowynn. Many were against it. Many still are. The fact that a human of all things sat at the side of the queen rankled many elves.
That was just one of many things that the more conservative elves despair about having Aelir on the throne.
The list of grievances is long for those who wish for a return to the more settled times before the man, who I now have sworn to protect with my very life, sat upon the ivory throne.
Settled being objective as Aelir has brought food to poor elven children, cleaned the streets of the capital, and freed many creatures held in menageries in Renedith, Kanazen, and here in Celear.
That, for some bizarre reason, did not sit well with many of the elites of our society.
Many in the church also spoke out against Aelir’s helping hands even though Ihdos had preached many times about the learned aiding those with less knowledge and means. The hypocrisy was staggering.
With the sun warming my bare back, I went through my daily pell work.
I enjoyed this time alone on the practice field, just myself, my thoughts, and the wooden post that took the brunt of my strikes.
The thunk of the heavy oaken waster sword as I sliced down, cutting edge to cutting edge and rattling down my arms, sharpened my mind and honed my muscles.
After changing my lead leg, I came down again, imagining my opponent parrying the blow.
With a swift move to the right, I swung out to where a warrior’s legs would be.
Wood slapped wood. The imaginary warrior I was battling was now prone, so with no flourish or ceremony, I came down with a killing blow, ending the fictitious danger to my king or his family.
“And thusly another anthill is sent to its early grave to save the crown,” I heard from behind and smiled at the familiar voice.
Turning, I dragged my forearm across my brow to find my cousin, Rolim, standing under a towering dark ash with a fresh roll and a mug of cider from the barracks dining hall.
He has the look of all the Greenleaves: black hair, light blue eyes, and a ready smile.
He has served under me as my second for three seasons now.
A finer, more trustworthy man I could not have asked for as my lieutenant.
“Also, I take note that the scullery maids and spit-boys seem to be up remarkably early today.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see a small group of young men and women, dressed in the common clothes of the castle staff, gathered at the gate to the barracks proper. When my sight touched them, they scattered like dandelion blows in the wind.
“Perhaps they were cheering for the ants,” I replied, tugging the waster from the hard-packed dirt before tossing it at my cousin.
He dropped his roll to catch the wooden sword.
Then he cussed lightly at his breakfast lying at his buffed leather boots.
“And that treat is for the widows and children of the ants slain in this morn’s battle. ”
“You truly are an arse,” he muttered but made no move to pluck the sticky bun from the dirt.
“That, cousin, is hereditary. Have you posted this day’s patrols?”
“I have, and the watch assignments are also on display. We will need to begin work on the extra details that will be required when the Sandrayans arrive.”
I nodded, pulled my undershirt from the limb I had tossed it on, and wiped my face and the back of my neck before tugging it over my head.
“We’ll need to double the guards on the walls and entry points,” I said, looking up to see the first white-and-gray gull calling out a good morn to the day.
“There are already rumblings in the alehouses about the envoys from the Black Sands. Many people are not pleased with the new naval propositions that the king and queen are hoping to bring to fruition.”
“Many people are not pleased about many things, Pasil.”
“That I cannot argue with, my cousin,” I wearily sighed.
That was the deepest truth of the day so far.
It seemed that no matter how a monarch ruled, there were dissidents who despised his or her rulings and laws.
Aelir was a very progressively minded king, as were his queen and his consorts.
I felt that his advisors—his grandfather Umeris and Le’ral Fylson, lover and secretary to the previous king—kept Aelir’s so-called radical proposals to a minimum.
Le’ral was a handsome elf, to be sure. A noted warrior in his prime, he had matured finely, with dark brown hair worn in a short military fashion and wide stripes of silver at his temples teasing at his entry into midlife.
The tease being that no other aspect of the man showed any softness at the belly, as some elves gathered when they reached a certain age.
Fylson, as he preferred to be called by his friends, trained daily to keep himself in fighting shape even though he no longer marched in the king’s army.
His brown eyes were still sharp as a raptor’s as was his keen mind.
He was one of the most trusted advisors the king had, and all in Melowynn respected him and his counsel.
To ease the most stiff and unbending of Melowynn’s peoples from having to adjust to too much change too quickly, the advisors who had served under the previous monarch had been asked to stay.
The old elves disliked change. The church of Ihdos being the most stubborn.
Mulish is what the king called the church elders under his breath when they balked at forward-thinking ideas or proposals.
“Join me in the throne room at ten bells.” I looked from the gull to my cousin. He nodded just once as we pushed into the barracks.
The throne room was where the king sat in judgment of those held in the barracks gaol and the castle dungeons after he broke his fast with the queen, his consorts, and his two children.
“I’ll bring extra men as well. Just to ensure that those receiving the king’s justice are properly cowed.”
“Good call. We’ll meet for dinner tonight in my quarters to work out the extra details for the upcoming visit from the Sandrayans. We have several days to finalize the rosters and present them to the guard commander.”
We passed several guards just waking as well as some that were coming off the night’s watch to retire.
To a fault, each one paused, placed a fist to their chest, and lowered their head in respect as I passed.
To this day, I felt odd about such signs of command.
When my friend V’alor was captain of the guard, he fully deserved the respect.
I, on the other hand, felt much less deserving.
I’d been promoted on merit, yes, and had served my king and country well for four seasons now without incident or dishonor.
Yet there were times that I wondered if I was the best man for this job.
As we continued, we walked past a large sleeping chamber that held twenty beds, footlockers, and a thin wooden armoire for personal belongings.
There were two other rooms for guards to rest in their downtime and sleep between shifts.
Many of the married guards returned to their homes in the city, so most of the elves here were single.
“Good morning, Captain! I found this young scamp with his pecker hanging out of a knothole in the privy.” A flash of purple appeared in front of me.
The tiny ball of plum and pixie glitter seemed to have a young man by the ear.
I could see by the wide eyes on the new recruit that he was stunned and terrified to be pulled through the barracks by his pointed ear by a pixie the size of a ball of soft goat cheese.
“Not that I dislike seeing a little twig before I have my morning juice, mind you…”
Rolim and I came to a stop ten feet from my quarters.
Royal Ward Guardian Tezen Plumwax smiled at us with sharp teeth and a sparkle in her large black as coal eyes.
I threw a look at the young elf being suspended in the air with only his toes touching the ground.
He seemed to be in no small amount of pain.
Pixies were incredibly strong for their size as this young man was finding out.
“Perhaps you should let the novice stand properly before one ear is permanently longer than the other?” I suggested, folding my arms over my sweaty undershirt to level a dark look at the newly sworn-in guardsman. Rolim snickered at the sight. I would have as well if I hadn’t been the one in charge.
The new recruit whimpered. Tezen sighed dramatically before releasing her hold on the red pointed ear. The lad slapped a hand over his sore ear, but to his credit, he stood at attention then clapped his fist to his chest before lowering his head.
Tezen flew around us, landing on my shoulder to sit and glower at the new guard she had caught in such a compromising situation.