Page 15 of Wed to the Dark Elf

Swallowing hard, she nods. If events continue their grim trajectory, Iris's courage and resolve will face even harsher tests. But her spirit is tempered steel beneath silk. However the next months unfold, we will cleave together and see our clan through the storm. Of that I am now certain.

Iris begins sword lessons the very next day.

CHAPTER10

Iris

I awake well before dawn, stomach churning with anxiety. Today I begin training at arms, a skill I never imagined would become necessary in my new role as lady of these halls. But Vamen was right to insist. Dark tidings circle like carrion birds, threatening everything we hold dear. I must become steel, not just silk.

Donning loose trousers and tunic, I creep silently from our chambers not wanting to disturb Vamen's rest. He kept late hours again these past nights, brooding over maps and missives, the weight of leadership clearly wearing on him. But he refuses to share the full brunt of the burden, trying to shield me from the worst possibilities now in motion. My heart aches, wishing I could truly stand beside him as an equal through this crisis, not a helpless damsel needing protection. Perhaps these training lessons will be a first step toward that dream.

The barracks yard stands empty save for Althir awaiting me by the NAS gate as ordered. I dip my head respectfully to the grizzled weapons master. His stern expression softens a fraction at my approach.

"My lady. Ready to begin your instruction?" At my nod, he turns and unlocks the small gate leading into the narrow training circle enclosed by towering wooden walls. Well-worn weapons racks and wooden post dummies fill the hard-packed space. I trail behind Althir, nerves rising in my throat. This respected warrior now holds my education and very life in his scarred hands.

Halting at the center of the ring, Althir turns with sword and shield in hand. "First, we must assess your abilities. Take up those practice blades and come at me."

I balk at the suggestion of attacking him, but Althir nods encouragement. Swallowing my anxiety, I select a dulled shortsword and dagger, gripping their leather-wrapped hilts in sweaty palms. They feel solid and dangerous, unlike kitchen or garden tools.

Althir beckons me forward. "Do not hold back. I must see your instincts before we can shape them into skills."

Taking a deep breath, I charge him with a yell meant to bolster my courage. At the last second Althir sidesteps my wild slash easily, my blade whistling through empty air. I stumble past, completely off balance. He makes no attempt to counter, merely watches me catch my footing.

"Good lung capacity, but you must see your opponent's movements better. Again."

I reset several paces away, rolling my stiff shoulders. Eyeing Althir warily this time, I circle to his left, seeking an opening. I feint low then twist right, aiming a strike at his shoulder. But again he anticipates me, catching my sword neatly on his shield edge and shoving me back.

"Better. Be unpredictable, don’t telegraph your thoughts."

I huff in frustration. Rushing him blindly will never succeed. This time I move carefully to his left and drive my dagger at his knee, stopping just short of contact. When he shifts to parry, I bring my shortsword around in an arc toward his right side. But even as he neatly deflects this blow too, I see his eyes crinkle in satisfaction.

"A fine attempt. You learn swiftly."

Warm pride swells in my chest at his praise. We continue trading blows, with Althir calling out pointers and encouragement when I demonstrate any flash of skill or instinct. Under his guidance, I slowly begin working past my fears and unfamiliarity toward proper technique. My initial flailing gives way to actual footwork and guarded strikes rather than mere flailing. We spar until my tunic is soaked with sweat and my arms burn with exertion. But my spirit feels lighter than it has in weeks.

At last Althir calls a halt, setting aside his shield. "Well done today, my lady. With practice you will become quite proficient." He squeezes my shoulder firmly as I beam under his approval. This hardened soldier offers what guidance he can, though the world he has always known now shifts on uncertain tides. Perhaps that is partly why he shows such patience with a woman who by all rights should not be gripping naked steel at all, much less learning to wield it. Rules and traditions no longer hold sway in these chaotic times.

From that day onward I rise every morning before the sun crests the hills and make my way to the barracks yard. Under Althir's rigorous but benevolent training, I slowly gain competency with my paired short blades. The movements and forms turn from awkward shambling to instinctive extensions of my own limbs. My wrists strengthen, my reactions quicken. I am no shieldmaiden yet, but weeks of daily practice instill a sense of quiet confidence I carry back with me into the day's domestic duties.

Vamen remarks on the changes at supper one evening. "You move differently now, Iris. Less a mouse scurrying and more a sleek wildcat stalking." His smile holds approving amusement. "I should not be surprised. You have the heart of a warrior, my lady."

I duck my head, flushed with pride at his praise. "I still have far to go. But your steel has awoken something in me, husband. When darkness closed in, I felt so helpless, weak. No longer." Spearing a slice of roast meat, I add ruefully, "Of course, I am not sure how much use two eating knives would have been against a horde of wolves."

Vamen's expression turns solemn. "Battle was never my wish for you, Iris. But the world shifts and old rules fade. We must change with it." He lays his clawed hand over mine. "I only wish to keep you safe, whatever comes."

"I know." I squeeze his hand in return. "And I would say the same of you."

His thumb traces slow circles on my wrist. "With you at my side, I feel I could challenge the gods themselves."

High words, but the sentiment behind them warms me to my core. Whatever the coming days hold, we will face them together, with brave hearts and trust in each other to see us through. Tomorrow's evils cannot diminish the light between us tonight. I have no other purpose but to stand by my husband’s side and fight for our world. I can’t imagine a world without him in it. His people are now my people. I may look like a frail weak human, but my resolve is very real.

Over the following weeks, patrols report increasing numbers of unknown elves lurking in the mountain passes. Skirmishes flare as they try probing our borders. Vamen doubles the marchwardens and sends out his own war bands to counter each incursion. But the frequency only increases. We both know these are no mere independent raiders. The hands guiding them have set events in motion that cannot now be easily halted.

I overhear whispered arguments between Vamen and Althir late one night as I pass by the hall on my way to our chambers. Althir urges preemptive action, but Vamen insists on continued restraint.

"We must hold them off, wait and see what larger strategy emerges." Vamen's tone brooks no dissent. Their voices fade from earshot before I can glean more.

Despite Vamen's wishes to shield me from politics, I understand much rests on delicate balance. If we strike first, the king could claim justification to invade in force. Vamen walks a tightrope, trying to appear neither weak nor provocative. But those gathering our enemies are not so constrained.

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