Shadows: Book One of the Eligia Shala (10 page)

“Well, it’s against orders, but if you’re sure …?” Tessier bowed, raised her hand and brushed her fingertips lightly with his lips: a ghost of a grin shading his mouth as she snatched her hand away. Leaning against the wall, arms folded, he stood watching her leave.

Muttering under her breath, Jenevra kicked off her shoes and padded along the hallways back towards her room. The marble of the palace was delightfully cold under her bare feet and the temperature of the palace was significantly cooler where there were fewer candles. With only the occasional guard on duty or servant scurrying along, it seemed peaceful compared to the bustle of the evening. Rounding the corner nearest to her room, she was somewhat taken aback to see a guard outside it. Recognizing him as one of the soldiers from her new Flight, Jenevra looked at him, puzzled. “Corrigan?” she asked quietly. “Finn Corrigan? What are you doing here?”

“One of us will be here every night, Your Highness.” His response was soft; a man given to few words as she remembered.

Jenevra looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “Completely unnecessary,” she murmured. “Brogan’s idea?”

His face creased in a smile, but he said nothing, standing attentively to the side of her door.

“Goodnight Finn Corrigan.” Jenevra smiled at her guardian and closed the door behind her.

With Anna’s assistance, Jenevra was out of the hated gown quickly. Throwing a loose robe around her, she settled down on the window seat again, leaning back against the large cushions Anna had thought to place there, breathing the clear night air through the open window.

Approaching Jenevra with a large goblet of spring water, Anna realized that the exhausted Princess was already asleep. Leaving her bathed in the moonlight, she placed a soft blanket over her and left.

 CHAPTER EIGHT

Jenevra woke long before the first faint fingers of dawn began to emerge over the tops of the Coural Mountains. She leaned on the window sill, murmuring a soft prayer to the morning spirits; watching the mountains until the rising sun began to tinge the snowcaps with pale shades of pink and gold. Breathing in that cool sweet, grass-smelling air that accompanies an early spring day, she moved quietly around the room, warming her muscles up, dressing in her usual gray tunic, trousers and soft boots. Her hair was pulled back into a tight braid starting high on her head; she didn’t want any hair in her face for this morning’s work. Snatching up her swords and a soft bag, she headed down her private stairway to the outside, with a brief detour through the kitchens for breakfast; a hunk of cheese and a handful of dried fruit. A couple more turns brought her through the blacksmith’s forge to the barrack’s doors.

Jenevra thumped on the doors, which were still closed; and hopped up to wait on a wide stone ledge opposite them. A few seconds later, Brogan appeared at the door, fully dressed and saluting sharply. “Ready, Your Highness. Shall I have the men assemble in the courtyard?”

“Absolutely, Brogan.” Jenevra popped the last bite of cheese into her mouth and sauntered out to the courtyard, closely followed by the sound of feet running to be in place before she was.

Surveying the men in front of her, Jenevra was starting to put names and faces together. Finn Corrigan was there, looking tired but alert; quiver full of arrows slung over his shoulder and a longbow in his hand. Simon, the young swordsman was there, bright blond hair shining in the early light. Brogan was marching up and down the ranks, making sure the men were up to his standards before he presented them to their commanding officer. “All present, Your Highness,” he reported, saluting again.

“Thank you Sergeant Brogan,” Jenevra replied. “First things first,” she addressed them all. “You need to drop the ‘highness’ thing. Captain will do just fine. I don’t want anyone slipping up and calling me anything other than Captain when we’re out on a mission, so you’d best get used to it now.” She walked along the ranks as she spoke. “We are going out for our first training session today. Even though it’s only spring, you will still get warm. For now all I want you to bring with you is your preferred weapon, whatever it is. No cloaks, no extra weapons; just bring the one you are best with, or most comfortable with. Carry it however works best for you, although I would suggest that you may need both hands free at some point. You should only need your tunic, trousers and boots—anything else will just weigh you down to start with. We’ll build up as you train more.” There was a general noise of shuffling and rearranging things as the men of the Shadow Flight found ways to carry weapons, and left cloaks and over tunics on the floor. Jenevra spotted a couple of men with mail shirts on. “I really would suggest that you don’t wear those today,” she said. “You’ll just make things more difficult for yourselves.” One of the men was Will Theiss.

“I’ll keep mine on … Captain,” he sneered. “Those of us from Captain Pichot’s Flight won’t be brought down by a little exercise in armor.”

“Your choice, Theiss,” Jenevra dismissed his comment. “Ready?” She spoke seriously to them. “I just want you to follow me today. If you start having any problems at all, you shout out. I really mean that. Some of you will be strong in weapons, but have never run like I’ll be asking you to do today. I don’t want you ill. I will push you as far as I think you can go, but if it’s causing you problems, I need to know. It’s not a question of bravery or manliness; it’s simply a question of fitness. Some of you will take a little longer to get there than others. Understand?” There was some nodding of heads, but most of them looked like they would cut off their leg before admitting they couldn’t keep up. Hoisting the bag she had brought with her over her back, over the swords she was carrying, Jenevra turned and led the Shadow Flight out of the courtyard, heading towards the foothills of the Coural range at a steady trot. “Theiss!” she called back over her shoulder. “I want you up here by me.”

Bulky though he was across the shoulders, Theiss obviously had a lot of power in his legs too and was running fairly easily despite the mail shirt. His sword was strapped across his back, pommel smacking him in the head with each pace, but he made no move to change it. Jenevra smiled inwardly. She had seen several men like Theiss on the Island, all convinced of their own physical superiority; all brought to their knees by the Order’s training methods. If she could get him to work with the Flight he could become a strong asset. The trick would be getting him to do that before he pushed against her to the point where she would have to discipline him harshly to assert her total authority over the Flight.

There was a low forest two miles from the Palace, and Jenevra jogged backwards as they entered it, watching for any signs of struggle from the Flight. So far they all seemed to be doing well, although there wasn’t much talking going on. Directing Theiss to carry on up the slope, she moved through the pack of runners, asking questions of several of them who were starting to look a bit red in the face. Some of the men were heavily muscled and were already not finding breath to spare for conversation. Jenevra pointed out the spot they were aiming for up the mountain, and told them to pull to the back of the pack and slow their pace down. “I’m pushing the rest of the unit on, but I don’t want to lose you from the Flight yet. Keep going, but slow down to a pace you can handle. We’ll wait for you at the clearing by that outcrop.” Thankfully, they slowed their pace a little, lumbering along behind the others. Jenevra picked up her own pace and flowed easily past the faster runners, taking position at the front of the group with Theiss again. “Regretting the shirt yet, Theiss?” she asked, noting the slight flush in his face.

“No … Captain,” he grated, breathing in shorter gasps now.

Jenevra smiled. “Right then, let’s pick up this pace a bit. A bunch of girls could run faster than this!” she shouted back along the pack. Switching into another gear, she powered on up the hillside which was becoming progressively steeper. As several more of the men started to lag behind she ran back down the slope, gave them the same instructions about the meeting point, then ran back to the head of the group again. Moving fluidly, she felt better than she had done since leaving the island. As the cool air streamed around her she sensed trained muscles responding to the task; she’d run like this every day at the temple, warming up for the day. This was always the best part of the day; the time when she felt the most free, and here at court she knew it would be almost the only freedom she would get. Exulting in it she bounded ahead of the pack, jumping lightly over fallen trees and boulders in her path, eyes bright with glee.

Well ahead of the group by the time she reached the clearing, Jenevra drank deeply from the spring that welled up there; the reason she’d chosen this spot as their first stopping point. The water was icy cold and clear tasting, much more to Jenevra’s taste than the wine that tended to be served at the palace, although she had persuaded them to have water available in her own rooms. She strolled around, assessing the next part of their task for the day. Frowning slightly she contemplated how out of condition the men really were. She had hoped they would be fitter than was turning out to be the case. Still, that was what training was for. As the first group emerged from the trees breathing heavily, Jenevra showed them where the water was located and instructed them all to drink. She watched them as they lay around, panting. Seven of them had made it this far. These would have to be her prime group for now. Almost to a man they were long and lean; logically the strongly built, heavier men were slower at running, and still making their way up the hillside. Jenevra waited for everyone to arrive and to drink before addressing the unit.

“Right, everyone seems to be here now. Anyone in pain?” She looked around, listening to several of the men who spoke out. “No, not pains in your legs. That’s just from using muscles you’re not used to. Anyone with pains in their chest—not just out of breath—severe pain, or difficulty breathing?” Moving around among the men, she listened to several of them whose breathing sounded more labored than the others. The only one she was truly concerned about was Brogan’s friend, Bernardo. He was a fine tracker, she knew, but his breathing didn’t sound good. Brogan was with him, worried.

“He’s a good man to have around, Your Highness,” Brogan defended him.

“Captain,” Jenevra corrected absently; noting Bernardo’s white lips and pinched nose. “Bernardo, I want you to rest here for now. If it doesn’t get any easier to breathe soon, I want to know about it.”

“But, my lady … Captain,” Bernardo looked stricken. “I can do it, really I can. I don’t want to lose my chance in this unit after only one trial.”

Jenevra shook her head. “I’ve no intention of losing you, either, Bernardo, but I cannot allow you to continue with this task. It could kill you.” She stood up and raised her voice so that the others could hear her too. “I’m not prepared to lose any of you yet. This run is actually fairly easy,” she smiled at the groans of disbelief. “If you stay in this unit, you will run further and faster … but not today. All training is about building up abilities. Most of you will get there, with training. Some of you won’t. There are other functions within an active Flight that won’t necessarily be based on your speed and stamina. Prove to me that you have a contribution to make to the Flight, and you earn yourself a place in it.”

Predictably, it was Will Theiss, now beet red in his mail shirt, who commented first. “Of course, Captain, we are all stronger, bigger and better built, so we have more to carry running up hills like this than you do. No wonder you could skip ahead.” Lack of breath halted his complaining.

“Of course.” Jenevra asked one of the men to stand up. A massively built man who could swing a broadsword like a toothpick, he went by just the one name, Wulfgar. Every last one of the men knew how strong Wulfgar was. Turning her back to him, Jenevra asked him to help her take the bag off her back that she’d carried up the mountain. As he did, the men could see the muscles in his arms flex. He looked at the princess, puzzled. Rotating her neck and shoulders to release the muscles, Jenevra motioned to Wulfgar to open the pack.

“Horseshoes?” Wulfgar still looked confused, although most of the others had already worked it out and were looking slightly impressed.

“Yes, horseshoes.” Jenevra directed a cool, assessing stare at Theiss. “I know I don’t carry as much weight as the rest of you, so I evened things up for myself. I told you, I don’t expect you to do something if I can’t.”

Theiss snorted in obvious contempt. “They were already here,” he said derisively. “You had them here waiting—” Too late, he became aware of the ominous silence and stillness that had come over the group as he started speaking. Suddenly wary, he turned around the group, appealing to them. “Come on, can’t you see it’s a trick? There’s no way she could have carried those and run faster than all of us.” His face reddened in panic and anger as he realized he was out on a limb all by himself. Some of the other men may have been thinking the same thing, but they weren’t stupid enough to say it out loud. The young princess had made quite an impression on them already, and most were inclined to believe her.

Eyes narrow, Jenevra strode across the clearing towards Theiss. Before she reached him however, Brogan and Wulfgar stood between them. “Excuse me, Captain,” Brogan said coldly. “I think it best if we deal with this among ourselves, with your permission?” Brogan’s features were hard, as he turned to Will Theiss. “Disrespect and insubordination will not be tolerated in this Flight, soldier.” He cracked Theiss solidly across the face with his fist. “You will apologize to the Captain before your punishment is decided.”

Wulfgar stood behind Brogan, flexing his massive shoulders and arms, and cracking his knuckles in anticipation. Silently, the rest of the Flight moved to stand behind them, facing Theiss.

Realizing he was not going to win, Theiss grated an apology with poor grace.

The men of Shadow Flight turned to their commander, waiting to see Jenevra’s response to Theiss. Typically, it was not what they expected. Jenevra waved a hand at the pile of horseshoes lying on the ground. “I will decide punishment in this Flight, gentlemen. Pick them up, Theiss.” Her eyes were locked on the brooding man in front of her. “Divide them between each arm. Hang them over your lower arms, and put them out to the sides.” She nodded as Theiss followed her order. “Now, let’s see just how strong you are. Stay like that until I tell you otherwise.” The men around the clearing looked puzzled, except for one; a lively man with a sense of extroversion approaching that of Rafael Massili. Sitting on a large boulder, leaning forward with one arm resting on his leg, Gervaise D’Agostino smiled tightly in appreciation of Theiss’s discomfort. He hated Theiss with a passion. They had grown up in the same town, fighting over just about everything they ever did, and now, here was Theiss again, causing problems, being his usual obnoxious self.