38. Ezryn
38
Ezryn
I inhale deeply and swing my arms, taking in the comforting sounds of metal against metal, grunting soldiers, and the smell of sweat and steel. I haven’t trained with other warriors in years, and I’ve forgotten how good it feels.
As High Prince of Spring, I’ve practiced with some of the greatest warriors in the Vale, but the fae men and women in the Autumn troops are a force to be reckoned with. A crisp wind wisps past the slight bit of bare skin between my helm and the loose black tunic I’m wearing. The open-air training grounds in Keep Oakheart are well-kept but harsh. The ground is hard, reddish-brown rock, and a wrong fall could crack a fae’s skull.
Dayton and Kel are at my side, along with Farron’s little brothers, Dominic and Billagin, and a handful of specialized magefighters selected from the army. There’s an excited buzz in the air, and even I find myself unable to stand still.
It’s been two weeks since our discovery of the winter wraiths. After our report, Princess Niamh sent out scouting parties to patrol the villages and dispatch the wandering wraiths. But no matter how many we kill, more keep coming. Though we now have a source of the frost, we still can’t figure out where these wraiths are coming from: they’re all over the Autumn realmlands. And Niamh still isn’t convinced Keldarion doesn’t have something to do with it.
Tomorrow, Farron begins daily expeditions to visit the villages destroyed by frost. The hope is he can unfreeze the villagers the same way he did the boy and dog two weeks ago. And in his absence, we must be prepared to protect Coppershire with our greatest weapon.
Fire.
So far, regular soldiers have been successful at killing the monstrosities by using torches and oil-coated swords and arrows. But fire magic is in the blood of the Autumn fae.
And none wield it quite so powerfully as the holder of Autumn’s Blessing.
“Is he even going to show up?” Kel asks, crossing his arms. “I can figure it out myself.”
Dayton claps him on the back. “Give him a chance. You know how he gets about public speaking.”
Those who are gathered in the training grounds today are here to learn from Farron. Most of the magefighters from Autumn can already cast some innate form of fire, but hopefully Farron’s lessons will teach them to wield it with deadly purpose.
The High Rulers have always had the ability to create all the elements in one sense or another, though certain skills lie dormant. I know the three of us have never wielded flame in the way Farron has. Dayton and Kel are here to learn how to do it.
I’m here to watch.
Boisterous laughter and grunts sound from the corner of the training ground. Farron’s father, Padraig, has been mentoring George in the ways of the sword. There’s a playful air to their sparring as the two large men clash wooden blades against one another. Rosalina’s a lot like her father , I think. Adaptable. Resilient.
Speaking of Rosalina… I hear her in the doorway leading into the grounds, voice tinged with that distinctive stubborn tone she occasionally gets. She’s pushing Farron hard, urging him inside. When he’s too far out and everyone turns to see him, Rosalina gives a satisfied smirk and disappears, leaving Farron standing sheepishly in the forefront.
“Oh, uh, hello. T-thank you for coming for training. I’m here to, uh, teach you.”
Pained silence follows before Dayton bellows, “Hail the High Prince! Bestow your great knowledge upon us, my liege.” He bows low with that signature shit-eating grin. Kel shakes his head.
Stars, this is painful. Farron looks like he might throw up.
Minutes pass of excruciatingly confusing instruction as Farron attempts to lead the group through the act of firecrafting. I’ve stepped aside, leaning against a wall in the shade and staring at the whole mess.
The magefighters are only half paying attention, some of them looking bored out of their skulls, others distracted, and some snickering to one another as Farron fumbles a fireball and accidentally sets his tunic on fire. Kel douses it with an irritated flurry of snow. Dayton looks like he’s napping with his eyes open and only jerks himself awake when Kel shoots a cold blast of wind across his face. Dom and Billy have wandered off, finding more joy in spitting seeds at Paddy and George.
“Are you sure you’re qualified to train us?” a magefighter calls.
Farron looks struck, and the flame he holds on his finger dies.
I can’t watch this anymore. I straighten, ready to rough up these damn soldiers until they learn respect—
“Psst!”
I jerk my head up to see Rosalina looking down at me from the ramparts above the training grounds. She is beautiful, her long dark hair tumbling down toward me. I have a vision of ascending the wall to get to her, but quickly suppress such madness.
“Ez, you’ve got to help him,” she whispers.
“I know. I’m on my way to remove that little shit mage of his teeth.”
“No, no, no.” She shakes her head exaggeratedly, making her corset-bound bosom bounce. Now, I’m really thinking of ascending this wall. “You must help him do it. He has to be the one to earn their respect.”
I tilt my head back in exasperation. That is so much harder than knocking the asshole’s teeth out myself. But she has a point.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I say.
I storm over to Farron and grab him by his shirt collar.
“What—” Farron starts, but I drag him over to the shadowed archway leading out of the training grounds.
“Farron—”
“I know what you’re going to say, Ez,” he interrupts. “I have to take control. I’m the High Prince. How can I lead my people if I can’t even lead a training group? Look at them! How am I supposed to teach Kel anything? He’s the Protector of the Realms. And I’m…”
I pat his shoulder. “Actually, I was going to tell you that you should try letting go of control.”
He raises a dark eyebrow.
“Kel, Dayton, and I know better than anyone what you’ve lived through. Use it to your advantage.” My hand drifts to his chest. “There is a fighter in you. Do not fear him. Welcome him.”
Farron shakes his head and pulls down his tunic, revealing the thin barbed choker around his neck. His skin is raw and torn beneath the spines. “I’ve done everything I can to keep that thing at bay. I’m not about to welcome him in now.”
“I know you see him only as a vicious beast, but remember… He keeps you alive. He protects you in moments of danger.” I turn to look at Rosalina, leaning over the railing. “He protects those you care about as well. Channel that instinct. And above all else, trust yourself.”
Farron sinks lower against the wall. “Come on, Ez. Even you know I shouldn’t have been given the rule.”
I shake my head. For being so intelligent, the young man has so much wisdom to learn. How can he look at Kel and Dayton and me as rightful rulers when we all came into our thrones covered in blood?
“You were chosen to be High Prince for a reason. The fact that you’re here, fighting for your people, shows that you have the courage and determination to lead.” I grip him on the back of his head. “Do not let anyone tell you otherwise.”
Farron lets loose a sigh, then straightens. “Do I have to believe you?”
“No, but you should trust me.”
He intakes a deep breath and marches out into the training grounds.
I lean against the archway. Rosalina gives me a big smile. Always the optimist.
But… maybe something I said took hold. Farron leaps up onto the wooden hurdle.
He points two fingers into the air, releasing a massive blast of fire. It cracks and plumes, and all in attendance turn to face him.
“Line up,” Farron calls. “We begin training now. Nobody departs the grounds until I’m satisfied. Understood?”
Kel and Dayton stand to attention. But one of the magefighters rests against a dummy. “Can’t you get High Princess Niamh to train us?”
A beat of silence passes, and I hold myself back from thundering over to the bastard and taking out his tongue. No. He must do it.
Farron leaps down and strides over to the warrior, and there’s something in his gait that makes the hair on the back of my neck rise. The magefighter crosses his arms and smirks.
“Have you seen what we’re facing out there, soldier? Have you looked into the eyes of a winter wraith and felt the frost creep over your bones?” Farron asks cooly.
“No,” the soldier says. “But I’m sure I could—” Then he looks down, and fear floods his expression. “W-what are you doing to me?”
An icy frost creeps over the soldier’s boots, inching up his legs. This is a familiar crystal white, different from the frost in the fields. I smirk, noticing Kel seems entirely too interested in a wooden sword.
Farron gives a dark frown as his eyes trace the frost’s path up the man’s shaking body. “This cold will claim your home; your family turned to frozen monuments; your very blood becoming ice. And the only way to stop it—” He slams his palm into the man’s chest. His skin radiates with an orange flame. “—is to embrace your inner fire. I am your High Prince, and you will learn from me, or you will be lost to the frozen abyss.”
The frost melts away under Farron’s fire, and he turns, leaving the soldier a shivering mess.
Up on the ramparts, Rosalina looks at me and winks.
T he next few hours pass quickly as the soldiers listen with rapt attention to Farron’s instruction. Even Dom and Billy have shaped up, staring a little doe-eyed at their big brother.
Kel and Dayton are the best students of all. In fact, I think their competitive spirits have assisted them, both eager to produce a bigger and hotter flame than the other. Keldarion’s flashes a brilliant sapphire blue as he spirals fireball after fireball at the rock wall, while Dayton juggles several turquoise flames and yells for everyone to watch him.
Farron walks over to me. Once I saw he had everything under control, I went about my own training with sword and dagger.
“So, who do you think is going to need burn healing first?” He smirks toward Kel and Dayton.
“Oh, definitely Dayton. If someone doesn’t praise him for his performance, he’ll start juggling heads.”
Farron chuckles, but then his expression turns serious. “Why didn’t you join in the training?”
I hold my weapon up. After the wraith destroyed my sword, Paddy gifted me his old longsword, a gorgeous blade the color of brass. While no weapon could compare to a sword made by Spring, I have to admire the fine craftsmanship of Paddy’s. “Don’t worry about me, Fare. I’ll coat the Windscythe with oil and be twice as deadly as any magic user.”
Farron holds me in his golden gaze. “Ezryn… Are you afraid?”
I stifle a laugh. “I don’t like new magic. You know that.”
Quickly, I swing my sword hard at the dummy, embedding the blade in the wood. I need to fill my head with action, with thoughts. Otherwise, he’ll start talking.
“Ezryn,” Farron says and puts a hand on my arm.
I shudder as memories pass in my mind. The beautiful green dress, so soft compared to the harshness of her metal helm. The sound of blood rattling through lungs. Weeping willow trees drenched in red.
Farron takes my hand and smiles up at me. There’s something so strong within the softness. “You’re always telling me I don’t have to do this on my own. Neither do you.”
A tremble shudders up my body. Because I want to believe Farron. I want him to train me like he has the others.
But all I can picture is him lying on the ground beneath me, a charred and bloody corpse, as Kairyn whispers, “ You’ll kill him, too.”