Page 70 of Soul Forge

“Good thing we’re immortal then,” Sypher answered, taking a sip from his waterskin.

The cool liquid soothed Elda’s parched throat, sapping some of the heat out of her face. Sweat stuck her loose hairs to her forehead, every muscle and bone throbbing. She was exhausted, but something new zinged through her veins. Something that made her heart race giddily. She tipped her head back to look up at the cloudless sky, balmy heat fanning her cheeks.Freedom, she thought to herself.That’s what this is.

“Break’s over,” Sypher said after a few more minutes. Elda passed the waterskin back to Julian, craning her neck to look up at her saviour. “Remember, one way or another, you won’t tuck your thumb again,” he warned.

“I remember.”

He showed her how her fist should be positioned, how her thumb should fold on the outside of her fist, what angle her knuckles should be at when they struck someone. She copied him, repeating a slow-motion swing until he was satisfied that she understood.

"We're going to run through some simple combinations,” he decided. “Different angles, different speeds, different body parts. Repetition will help your muscle memory. We’re going to do this every day until you make me work as hard as you’re working.”

“I’ll die before that happens,” she snorted.

“We’ll see.”

She settled into a ready stance in front of him, feet apart, fists raised, and thumbs out, her dominant hand furthest from her chin. They started slowly at first, him firing off directions she could follow, gradually increasing in speed until she was panting. Her footwork was sloppy, her fists not always connecting, but she gave every single direction her full effort.

When Sypher started throwing in demands for a palm strike, things started to get difficult. The heel of her hand slapped his open fingers, her fist following, alternating back and forth. Herconcentration waned when her boot slid on the grass, forcing her to anchor her feet before she could go back to the drill.

Three strikes later, agony shot down her wrist. A crack echoed when she threw a harder punch, making the painful mistake Sypher had warned her about. Her thumb had been tucked in, the bone splintered by the impact with his waiting palm. Elda bit down on a cry, sucking a deep breath in through her nose.

Her eyes watered at the searing sting, but her ankle had been worse that day in the library. She’d managed two full days with no pain relief. She could manage this.

When she straightened up, Sypher, Reiner, and Julian were staring at her. Sypher was assessing, his head tilting the way it did when he was curious. Julian was horrified, silver eyes darting down to stare at her injury. And the ex-captain was standing, watching everything. When Elda met her gaze, she gave one approving nod.

“I’ll never tuck my thumb again,” the princess promised through gritted teeth. Sypher took her wrist gently, inspecting the damaged digit.

“I warned you.”

“You did,” she nodded. “You did warn me. I see why now.”

“Here.” He laid his fingertips over her wrist and poured magic into her, mending her broken bone in under a minute. When the injury reflected back on him, he barely flinched. It was mind-boggling to think the burning, excruciating pain she’d felt just seconds ago was now focussed on him when he barely even acknowledged it.

“We might as well do something else while this fixes itself,” he suggested.

“Does it involve getting punched again?” she asked, reaching for her waterskin.

“Not right now.” Sypher paused, turning those burning eyes on her. “I’m going to give you your weapon.”

Elda gasped, the water forgotten. The Soul Forge waved his hand, and a brilliant light coalesced above his palm, so bright that she had to look away. When she looked back, all the air whooshed out of her. Reiner let out a low whistle, and Julian’s jaw dropped.

Floating above Sypher’s fingertips was the most beautiful white recurve bow. It was long and slender, made of a pearly substance smoother than wood but still flexible. Intricate silver metalwork surrounded the grip, bordered by real, living vines that seemed to grow from the weapon itself. A blue gemstone sparkled within the silver, lit by whatever magic hid inside. Swirling patterns covered the bow from end to end, brimming with the power of a language she couldn’t read.

“It’s abow,” she whispered softly, reaching out to take it from him. “I was expecting a sword.”

“The weapon reflects the user. This is what felt right for you,” Sypher shrugged.

“It’sperfect.”

“It’s called a vestige. Each wielder is given one to help channel and control the magic gifted to them. They’re named throughout history after the Spirits that reside within them, so yours will be immortalised as Irileth.”

Elda ran her fingers along the leaves, delighted when she found they were indeed real. Even the bowstring was a lush green vine, impossibly slender, yet it didn’t snap when she tugged it. The Soul Forge watched her lift it up, sighting a tree at the other side of the garden and pulling the string back. She gasped when an arrow of pure energy coalesced from nothing. It disappeared when she relaxed the string.

“Neat,” Julian commented, obviously impressed.

“How will it help in close combat, though?” Reiner asked.

Sypher held out a hand for the bow. Elda passed it back, watching him press two fingers to the jewel.

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