Chapter 17 #2
“I took the liberty of putting aside the must-tries,” Georgious said with a grin. Aegir, too, grinned, tapping in approval on Georgious’s back. The rest of the males came running towards us. They all but wrestled each other to get to their weapons.
Children, really—when in the presence of an unusual amount of weaponry, they turned into children.
Theodor and Torvin sparred with identical silver swords and defended with round shields.
Alarik went for the foldable spear. I watched him snap it in place, then throw it with impressive force and speed, his misty shadows assisting his throw.
My eyes hurt against the sun, and then they widened as I witnessed the spear hitting its mark—a cactus that was barely visible from where I was standing.
Georgious, too, reached for a spear. Joel and Darius fished out the daggers.
The way they fought each other—bantering and grinning from ear to ear—resembled a lively yet lethal dance.
Then my eyes fell on Aegir and somehow got stuck there.
He sauntered towards an unobstructed stretch, brand-new twin axes in hand.
He tested their weight, tossing and catching them in his palm.
Then he launched into a solo dance. First, he blocked an invisible opponent, then rolled himself sideways, rising to his knee and crossing both arms in the shape of an X.
He leapt, then twisted himself midair, slashing another invisible opponent with one arm, then with the other. It went on for a while.
I leaned against the carriage, setting one foot in front of the other while munching on an apple.
I admired its beauty, the destructive grace of it—an art form, I thought.
Then his gaze settled on a dying palm tree.
He threw one of the axes with his right arm, then the other with his left.
It was impressive, the way one lodged just above the other at the trunk’s mid.
He went to retrieve them, then hurled them both at the same time.
They embedded simultaneously with a deep thud.
I couldn’t help myself. I moved closer, watched his movements attentively.
Aegir didn’t look my way when he asked, “Have you ever thrown one of these before?”
“I haven’t.”
He turned to me. “Do you want to try it?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure if I could do it.”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out.” He grabbed me by my arm and moved me closer to the tree. “Here.” He handed me one of the axes. Its weight surprised me.
He tossed the other to the ground and moved behind me.
My belly quivered as he placed his hands on my sides.
“First, you have to find your balance,” he said, adjusting my angle.
Then he slid his hands down to my hips and tapped once.
“Feet slightly spread while facing your target.” Then his hands went to my arm.
“You’re right-handed, so you have to grip the handle left hand at the bottom, right hand just above, like this.
” His hands covered mine and he pressed gently.
“Grip should be firm but not too tight.” Then he guided my arms back.
“Lift your arms until the axe is positioned behind your head. Right, about, there.” He pointed a straightened arm towards the tree.
“The sharp edge should be aimed directly at your target. Focus on the centre of the tree, imagine that it’s your worst enemy.
” He moved behind me once more and said, “Then bring the axe down in a straight line, like this, and the moment the handle reaches the centre of your face, you must let go.” Before releasing me, he added, “The axe should spin once before hitting the target. Oh, and when you let go, keep motioning forward.”
I stayed like that for some time, holding the axe behind my head, trying to maintain my balance.
“Go,” he urged. “Today, Cordelia.”
I let out a grunt and threw the axe with as much force as I could muster. It did spin once, but it didn’t reach the trunk. The axe thudded on the dirt near the foot of the tree.
Aegir picked up the other axe and handed it to me. “You let go too late. Spread your legs a bit more.” I tried not to blush at that request. “Go.”
I replayed the instructions in my mind—axe behind head, grip tight, legs spread, let go—and took one deep breath before throwing with a sharp exhale. I hit the tree, just below the intended mark. Aegir fetched both axes and handed me one.
“Again,” he ordered. I gasped at the hit, receiving a nod of approval from Aegir.
“Again.” It landed just above the other.
“Again.”
“Again.”
“Again.”
I wasn’t sure of how many throws I made, but I was fairly certain that each was a decent strike. Aegir took out his dagger and carved the rotting tree trunk with an X. “Last one for today,” he said, handing me the axe.
I put all of my focus into that one throw, aiming at the mark, carved higher than any of my earlier landings.
I imagined it to be my worst enemy, just as Aegir suggested.
Mounir stood in front of my mark. I brought my clenched hands behind my head.
But then, almost to my surprise, it was the immortal Fire King who stood there.
I had never seen the monster, only heard stories about him and his ruthless attacks.
Yet my mind pictured a clear image of an evil king clad in fiery-red armour.
The man who’d turned my land parched. The same man who somehow nullified the powers of the Ilmans, leaving me short of healing the damage that had made me forget who Cordelia Wildheart truly was.
My blood boiled, urging me to let go with a roar.
“Yes,” I grunted, satisfied by the sweet thump as the axe lodged just where the Fire King’s head would have been. My gaze slid to Aegir’s.
He smacked his lips. “Not bad, Cordelia…not bad at all.”
I was startled when Joel let out one of his wild howls from somewhere behind me.
I spun around and realised that I had been so focused on throwing, I hadn’t even noticed the little Ice Fae gathering at my back.
Before I could blink, Joel wrapped an arm around my hips and lifted me off the floor. I yelped.
“Try to do us harm, and we’ll unleash her upon you, if you dare face her wrath!” Joel bellowed. Darius and Torvin howled at the sky and I found myself smiling bashfully at Aegir’s barked laugh.
Our journey towards dusk was silent; even Joel was wordless for most of it. They reminded me of restless children who were finally exhausted after playing all day in the sun.
I lay inside my tent, my arms sore and tired. I closed my eyes, striving to fight off my sleeplessness, but my mind wouldn’t rest—thoughts came uninvited and I couldn’t resist them.
I hoped that Cinnamon was all right, fed.
The thought alone gave me the need to let out an exasperated sigh.
Then I thought about that victorious moment when I struck the X, and the howling that came after it.
I thought about Aegir’s laugh, and moments before that, his arms at my waist, sliding down to my thighs.
Spread your legs a bit more.
Are you hot?