Eisired's Spy
October 2019
The wind was knocked out of her as her body slammed into the stone.
Chuckles sounded around her as she struggled to get air into her lungs, staring up at the sky above her. The clouds rolling in as her vision blurred. The tall, very muscular man standing above her smirked down at her baring his yellow teeth. Pride gleamed across his features as he held onto his wooden sword, his hand much larger than the hilt.
“Seems the little girl can’t hold up her own.” Another man called cooly from outside the ring, clad in dark leathers with the royal crest stamped across the chest: A golden dragon. His features looked bored as he entered the ring.
Rivenia pushed herself up, the stone digging into her palms. The man’s boots echoed off the stone, arms crossed along his chest obscuring part of the dragon from her view. A belt of fine leather hung at his hips, a sheath with a metal sword attached to the right. It’s pommel decorated with a single black jewel, only found in the Dragon Lands. A gift from the Royal Family. She had never once even seen the man draw it.
“Karn cheated. Swords were not allowed in this fight.” She spat, her brown hair falling loose from its braid around her tanned face. Air filled her lungs fully once more, her breath raspy as she sucked in the cool air. She felt an ache begin to rise slowly from her side where Karn had knocked her with the sword.
The man above her chuckled as he watched the satisfying twitch as she straightened. Rivenia bit down on the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to fully straighten her spine without wincing. She wanted to show no sign of an ache. The soles of her boots felt thin and worn, the coolness of the stone beneath her freezing her toes. She needed new boots, the old ones she wore having been worn down through all the sparing and climbing.
“There were no rules set about this fight. You simply did not take the opportunity to wield anything but those dainty fists.” Karn said, swinging his sword in his hand. The others watching them snickered, knowing full well they would all whimper and run if they had been assigned to fight Karn.
Rivenia glared, looking up at the brute. He stood a foot above her, his eyes a clear blue and his hair cut close to his head. She knew enough about him to know he wasn’t here voluntarily. He had been locked away in a cell for years. Someone decided that training in a mountain camp for a decade was a good way to reform him. Rivenia watched his closely as he moved to place the wooden sword back where he had gotten it. He was open, if she could throw herself onto his back, use that wood to strangle him--
“Perhaps next time, Rivenia.” The other man said now standing next to her. He watched her with a calculating eye as she shot a piercing gaze into Karn’s back. Yes, next time she thought.
Rivenia moved her gaze to his, the Captain’s. His eyes were a deep violet, holding her hard stare. He was a cut and clean man, nothing complex to him. Follow the rules or pay the consequence, that seemed to be his motto. The only thing cold and dangerous about him was that sword he never even touched. How she would love to wield that sword.
Balling her fists up, she walked out of the circle and past the other soldiers that had watched her lose. She hated it, being the center of the men’s laughter and teasing within the camp. Women were rare but she had made it in, had been one of the only ones to actually train in the sparring circle. The others were thrown into the kitchens and made to do menial tasks. The Captain decided to see if she was worth all the fuss she made about being allowed to fight.
A hand clamped around her shoulders and followed her back into the wooden barracks. She could taste blood in her mouth but didn’t spit it out. She didn’t want to reveal Karn had actually hurt her as the painful ache became more apart in her side. She knew a bruise had already formed, perhaps a cracked rib or two. Fuck.
“Wonderful performance. I’d say Karn got the best of you today.”
Rivenia sighed, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t think he would actually pull out the sword.” He hadn’t ever threatened it before, enjoying the brute force of his fists. Perhaps the Captain had planted the idea into his mind. He always enjoyed a show when it came to her.
“You were slower than usual. Are you trying to indulge them?”
“Shut it Delin I know what I'm doing.” She snapped.
The raven haired man scoffed, rolling his eyes as he walked with her. “Sure you do. Don’t tell me you plan on getting killed?” He faked a gasp, “You’re finest performance yet.”
“If I had that in mind I would have just run him through.”
“Oh? And with what? A wooden sword?” He teased and she whirled on him.
“I’m not in the mood.”
Delin’s eyes of gold held amusement in them as he took in her anger. “Maybe you need to work it off with a good fuck?” He was stifling a laugh as she punched him in the gut. He groaned, laughing as she marched off into the barracks.
“Rivenia,” He whined, holding his padded gut from his leathers and walked in after her, “I was only joking. Come now, friends again?” he called after her as she walked up the wooden stairs, barely able to see the next step with the shadows. Her first month of living there she had fallen onto her knees going up those stairs. Thankfully she had been alone in those moments and had easily adjusted to the area, now moving up and down the stairs with ease. Some were rotted from the moist air, others creaked. They only replaced them every few weeks. You had to learn which ones not to step on.
She paused on the landing, looking down at Delin half shrouded in shadows at the bottom of the stairs. She scrunched her face up in pretend thought, mulling over his offer and said, “I will consider allowing you back into my graces,” She said with a fake air of regency, “If you bring me chocolate.”
Rivenia smirked as he gasped, “You devil! You know chocolate is only reserved for the Captain!”
“I thought you wanted to make friends Delin? Would you not do as your Lady requests?”
Delin sighed, mocking a bow. “Of course, My Lady.” He said, a hint of a smirk on his lips as he glanced up at her. “Oh, and don’t forget. Your royal ass is to be at the dinner hall on time at seven tonight.”
She chuckled, “I’ll make sure to be the last person to arrive.”
Delin gave her a vulgar gesture and swept out of the barracks. He had to continue sparring, his own turn not having been called and she knew he enjoyed watching. Walking down the dark hallway, the wood beneath her feet stained of blood and sweat creaked. The windows let in the early morning light as she made her way to her own door. The sky was still dark, a storm rolling in, a small ray of golden light running across the horizon soon to be swallowed.
She looked down at the training circle, Delin having been called inside. The stones were cracked, old and worn down. Blood stains that were so ingrained into the stone splattered the ground here and there. A small white line, almost faded now, drew the circle of stone around the courtyard and took up the majority of the area. Outside the line, the other soldiers in training watched in their thin leathers. They all had to wear them: tight black leather pants allowing for enough movement, a padded tunic of deep gold and crimson to appear like fire’s breath.
Rivenia watched as Delin raised his fists and danced around the circle as the other opponent did the same. His stance was poor, his footwork sloppy as he tried to mimic Delin’s work. But Delin was smarter, faster, and better trained.
Delin switched up his feet, suddenly charging the man who had one foot crossed over the other and easily knocked him down. His legs had gotten twisted and he lost balance. The Captain watched with a stern face, expecting more than just an easy defeat.
Rivenia frowned at the man, clad in his leathers with the royal symbol. His sword, proud at his side. He always frowned at them, that stare always annoyingly calculating. He was difficult to get around, to trick or to speak with. She could barely stand him and if he wasn’t her commander she would have damned him to his face.
Moving away into her rooms before hearing whatever he had to say, no doubt entirely disappointed requesting a rematch, she shut the wooden door and moved to the small sink in the corner. She turned the metal handle, water slowly sputtering out and scooped some into her mouth. She could feel the ache in her side, that fucking ache that would last another week.
She could hear them all through the thin door. Something exciting had happened, the sounds of laughing slipping through to her ears. Soon enough they would all have had their turn, bruises and black eye’s to share at the dining hall that night. Once a month, on the anniversary of the Kingdom’s success in the War of Dragons nearly a hundred years ago, they all gathered in the dining hall and had a magnificent feast.
Or so she’d been told.
She expected nothing more than a bunch of men gathered around small plates of chicken, potatoes, and perhaps some bread. Rivenia expected nothing more than that, at least from this camp. She had heard of many other camps, some in this Kingdom, some in other independent countries without King’s. From the stories she had heard they provided warm beds, decent food to warm the men’s bellies, and were not settled in the goddamned mountains. The only good thing about her leathers and her tunic was that they were warm.
Rivenia splashed water cold as ice onto her face, turning the metal handle and ceased the water from flowing into the small bowl. A rough towel sat on the edge, which she used to dry her face. She took a few steps and found her small bed with a mattress that felt as though it was filled entirely with hay. She kicked off her worn boots, hearing them fall to the ground before shutting her eyes. Maybe she could get in an hour of rest before training continued.