Sons of Ironstorm: Book 5 - Griffon's War

Sharpening the Blades

Jaeda frowned as she watched the sea elf woman smoothly draw her second dagger and thrust it up into the straw chin of the practice dummy, her first dagger already in the dummy's heart.

"Good, Lillian," she said. "With the demons not possessing anatomy as us mortals do, each of you must be sure that you penetrate their armor with a killing attack to disrupt their essence and send them howling back to the Abyss. If that means a double strike, then make it." She held up a finger.

"But if you must make it, make it in haste. The enemy will not give you a second chance. Nor are they slowed by injury."

Jaeda paused again to look at the other twelve elven women that were in a loose semi-circle around her and the woman working the training dummy.

"All of you must remember: you are supporting the Wielder of the Earth Sword. Patrik Ironstorm acts by instinct, listening to what his heart tells him, what his soul whispers that's right, good and just. He will always go to where the fighting is the fiercest. And you are his shield of shadow and blade. You do not attack the enemy on your own. You stay close to the Wielder and make sure nothing can reach him without him being unaware."

Another sweep of her intense eyes over the attentive elven women, each sweating hard even in the winter cold from the effort the Scattered Kingdoms princess was driving them to. Then:

"You have done well this morning, ladies. Go. Find food and water and a little rest. We will reconvene in one turn of the Glass Majora."

As one the thirteen women respectfully bowed their heads. Then they were quickly breaking into smaller groups to discuss the points that Jaeda had made during their training that morning as they made their way out of the practice yard.

"You drive them hard," a soft voice said from everywhere, but nowhere at all.

"I must, Ahbuh," she replied, staring after the elves. "They will be the shield that my rogues cannot be. That I cannot be on my own."

She dropped her gaze to stare at the frost-rimed cobblestones beneath her feet.

"It tears at me, Ahbuh, that I find my kevan after so much looking. That he waters my heart and soul with his kindness and love. And I haven't the strength to protect him like he protects me."

"He is the Wielder of the Earth Sword, bintuh," the soft voice replied. "No mortal save his brothers, possesses that kind of strength. You trouble yourself for no reason."

Jaeda lifted a hand to tightly grip the communication crystal that connected her to her father, thousands of leagues to the southwest, at Tal Yraal, the Guardian at the Desert Gates.

Yes, her kevan was the foretold Wielder of the Earth Sword, fated to save all of Reality from the darkness of the Return. But more importantly he was her heart, her desert oasis, her unwavering strength. Jaeda had protected Patrik while he was lost in his visions, and she was the only one he could trust to do so.

The Wielder of the Earth and the Desert Princess; they were made for each other. And into this harmony the arrogant and interfering Elves had come with their Covenant. Queen Jeorgina had said it well when she said if one elf was executed for every lie and deception they had pushed on the other races, their kingdoms would be empty. And their greatest deception was the Covenant.

Jaeda felt tension ripple along her jaw. The magic that wove the Covenants was ancient and powerful, so much so that it rendered both her kevan and his elder brother unconscious for five days while it worked itself out. And that same magic sought to bend the Wielders into loving the thirteen elven women chosen for them.