Forgotten Heir: Realm Doors Book One

Chapter Fifteen

Kalidir somehow persuaded Tyrnir to stay and watch Cara train, but it became quickly apparent his father was a doer rather than a watcher, and Kalidir was effectively replaced as her ‘tutor’ within the first day. She suspected training under Tyrnir would kill her. The trials were a nightmare, with the Lord rebuking her for her poor mind-reading ability, dissenting about her sloppy footwork while sparring with a sword, and seemingly horrified by my posture when shooting the bow. When she used magic, he scribbled unhappy notes into the leather bound journal he carried with him.

He informed her early on that her physical strength and stamina were below what they should be, and that she'd probably be slaughtered the first time she entered combat. Ric defended her, of course, saying that her sword play was natural ability and that he’d never seen someone pick it up so fast. Kalidir said dishearteningly little against his father, but as he had been willing to run the man through for her, Cara shose not to rebuke him, no matter how much she wanted to.

Tyrnir had begun getting her up at dawn, in theory to sprint up and down the mountains in an effort to maker her stronger, faster; better. She suspected he did it to limit her time with Ric. She rose hours before him, and was exhausted by nightfall. Tyrnir played a dangerous game, though, and she wonder how far he could push before Ric lost his temper.

The morning runs were gruelling as well as inhibitive to her relationship. If she didn’t improve my personal best each day, Tyrnir punished her; his methods of teaching more stick than carrot. Normally her retribution was a withheld meal, which left her dizzy and weary as her sugar level plummeted. Sometimes he made her go for another run at dusk, a second attempt to astonish him, and occasionally Cara collapsed into bed, falling asleep wishing she was back in the Lady’s basement; at least she wouldn’t need to impress the harridan as she tortured her.

Once, Tyrnir tried to prove her archery skills inadequate by moving the targets so far back the bows barely had the power to reach them. He let her be when she successfully hit five bullseyes, despite the distance, by drawing on her innate magic to give the arrows that little bit more speed, that little bit more strength behind them.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t defend her questionable mind reading ability, despite my stubborn attempts to do so.  Tyrnir informed her that the skill was essential to successfully command an elahdril army. She replied that if she was ever in position to command the elven legions, then her people would just need to learn to communicate using traditional methods. He snorted at that and snatched away her plate of dinner. Luke protested on her behalf and Anthony snuck her a packet of crisps when the lord wasn’t looking. Hours later Tyrnir emptied the fridge of blood telling the vampires that if they undermined his authority they would suffer each of my punishments with her.

That almost triggered a mutiny as the vampires didn’t recognise Tyrnir’s authority. When they complained, Kalidir pointed out for the umpteenth time that his father might play an essential part in retaking Cara's throne, and if the vampires wanted her to defend Blutholme, then she needed all the allies and influence she could get. Defeated, Cara advised them all to obey Tyrnir’s command and prayed the elf lord wouldn’t really let her starve to death. 

Of course, Ric chose to ignore Cara's request in his desire to protect her from starvation. More than once Tyrnir snatched away his jar of blood while grabbing away her plate.

Personally, Cara would’ve been terrified of treating Ric so; a vampire with more than five centuries of life was not to be messed with. Tyrnir, however, with two hundred and fifty years on top of Ric, didn’t give a damn. It infuriated her that she spent months forcing Ric to eat like a normal vampire when he would've willingly let his body become desiccated by his lingering desire for E.B, only for Tyrnir to undo both her work.

It wasn't easy to bit her tongue, but she had to pick her battles.

After the trials, Tyrnir had refused to let Cara train with a sword until he improved her other skills. While she knew other areas needed work, she suspected he did it because he recognised that holding a sort brought her a measure of peace and confidence. He wanted to push her buttons, to fracture her calm, because a war would do all of those things and she needed to be prepared.

She suffered a month long slog before Tyrnir pressed the hilt of a weapon into her hand and lead her to the training ring which had been set up in the barn. He called to Kalidir and Ric, handing them swords as well, before unsheathing his own.

“Attack her,” he commanded.

The other men didn’t move and Tyrnir smirked.

“Surely you’ve had her train with multiple opponents before Kalidir; a battlefield is not always equal.”

Kalidir’s knuckles turned white as he griped the hilt of his weapon, his jaw line tensing at the rebuke.

“We are not that far through training, my lord. It’s not yet been six months since we found her, and with the pauses in her training…”

With a shake of his head and a snort of indignation, Tyrnir interrupted, announcing “Her inclination to run off to Blutholme chasing the impossible is not my concern.”

“There is substantially more to it than that,” insisted Kalidir vehemently. “Her training has been inhibited because Rowlisa of Vonagh blocked her magic. Then the spirit walk had unfortunate repercussions. Father, it’s hardly as if we’ve be sitting around here twiddling our thumbs.”

“You will address me as Lord Tyrnir,” the older man responded. “And your failings as her mentor are irrelevant. We are going to do this. You two keep insisting she’s competent with a sword so now it is time to take her training up a notch.”

He glanced casually towards Cara. “Nekyra, make ready.”

She tilt my chin up, puffing myself up as best as she coukd as she glowered in Tyrnir’s direction.

“You will address me as either Lady Nekyra or Princess Nekyra. If you persevere in attempting to pull rank on Kalidir, I’ll be forced to remind you of the position he’ll hold in my court. I am adamant that you at least address him appropriately, as one of my guards, and call him Sir Kalidir. Am I understood?”

His brow flicked upward, startled before a quick smirk passed over Tyrnir’s face.
“You are not queen yet, girl.”

“No,” she answer in a scathing tone, “but on my first birthday I was named heir to the thrown and second in the line of succession, after my father, Crown Prince Fardir. In elahdril law all named in the line of succession are considered crown heirs. I was made Crown Princess, a designation I feel Heliana is not entitled to revoke, and therefore a title I must maintain you respect. In this matter I am resolute, my lord.” 

Ric chuckled at her insistance. She'd berate him later... Maybe.

“Now,” Cara continued, appearing unabashed but thoroughly embarrassed to be pulling rank. “We will partake in this damned sparring match you want so much; at least it will clarify areas for improvement. I would ask my Chief Guard and the former General of the Allied Legion to remember this is an essential part of my training, and I will see to impaling anyone who feels they can get away with going lightly on me.”

Ric scowled at her, resenting that she’d known he intended to throw the round for her. She grinned devilishly back at him, earning a shrug in return.

Ric bowed to her with flourish, saying, “As you command, highness.” 
With playful mocking, he threw down the gauntlet.

Kalidir inclined his head too, and readied his sword.

“Lady Nekyra,” Tyrnir conceded as he cast an inscrutable look in her direction and hefted his own weapon. “Go!” he commanded.

Cara ducked under Kalidir’s first swing with ease, bringing steel up to ring against Ric’s blade as it descended towards her shoulder. Tyrnir’s sword caught her hip though, spilling first blood within seconds. A hiss escaped her at the stinging pain, before she could cut it off. She didn’t have time to consider the burning ache of opened flesh as Tyrnir forced her to roll to avoid a swipe to her chest.

As she lifted her head again, she saw Ric lunge for her. Cara barely managed to thrown herself out of the way before he struck the concrete just to her right. Then Kalidir reared behind her, forcing her to twist on the spot to block a blow aimed at her midriff. She managed to step around him, but Tyrnir was waiting, watching her movements, ready to strike. She ducked again, his whistling blade cutting smoothly through strands of her flying hair.

“Hey!” Cara yelped at him as she sprung back to her feet, ready to charge at him, but Ric’s sword tip caught her chin and Kalidir’s nicked her calf as she twisted and turned, blocking and parrying.

If she hadn't been so preoccupied with fighting, she would’ve been awed her awareness. Automatically, she reached out with her sorcery, finding her opponents even when they were behind her and reading their movements. She might as well have had eyes in the back of her head. The unceasing onslaught forced her to feel for the men’s attacks, finding their pattern as they took turns based on each opportunity to arise, rather than battling with each other to get to her. She realised that they'd formed an unspoken plan; keep out of the reach of her sword and don’t take any unnecessary risks. They would tire her into making a mistake, and wait for the foolish but safe openings she'd inevitable give them. Cara needed to get one of them out of play; she’d endure longer with two opponents, rather than three.

She twisted out of Tyrnir’s way again, angry that she hadn’t yet spilled blood. She needed to incapacitate someone. Unfortunately for Kalidir, it was his techniques she'd grown most accustomed to fighting. He attacked and feinted, letting Ric close in as a decoy as he twisted his sword upward into what he hoped would be a surprise stroke. She side-stepped around Ric, grabbing his wrist as she did and forcing him to spin around her under his own momentum. Ric’s body came between her and Kalidir, and the move prevented the elf from completing his attack. He pulled up just in time, his sword almost catching Ric.

She focused on Kalidir, knowing the way he moved, knowing how to get around him. She was aware of Tyrnir closing in on her again but she dodge him without losing sight of his son. She circled her friend, searching for an opening, her senses reaching out to pre-empt his next move.

‘Hunting, love?’ Ric’s thoughts asked hers.

‘I guess I am,’ her mind she agreed as she blocked another attacking thrust from Tyrnir.

She stepped in close to Kalidir, but twisted to swipe at Ric, leaving her back open to Kalidir in a way she knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. She sensed his muscles tense, ready to lunge. When he did, she dropped, shifting sideways and thrusting her leg out to trip him. Her teacher fell hard, and Cara stepped over him before he could regain his feet, watching as he twisted onto his back. The tip of her sword lightly touched his chest, over his heart.

“Dead, Kalidir.”

He grunted up at her but dropped his weapon and a nodded in acceptance.

Tyrnir ploughed forward again, with increased determination. Was he annoyed she'd managed to down anyone at all?

Cara tripped over Kalidir’s legs as she backed away from his father, losing her balance. She tumbled backward, jarring her spine as she hit the floor. Tyrnir’s blade plunged down as she scooted away, burying itself in her thigh. A surprised yelp of pain exploded from her lips.

When sparring with Kalidir and Ric there were rules. They always halted attacks before causing too much damage.  They avoided inflicting unnecessary wounds and stilled their blades when victory seemed certain, spilling only drops of blood and leaving only flesh wounds. Tyrnir could have gone for her heart but stilled his blade declared her defeated, just as she’d done with his son. Yet he chose to injure her instead, throwing away his victory to do so. Instead of forcing her to yield, he tore straight through her leg, through flesh and muscle and through flesh again to spill a cascade of crimson onto the floor.

Ric’s rage flowed through her as he swung at Tyrnir, furious at the damage he’d done to her. Maybe that had been Tyrnir's intention all along.

She pushed herself up, the blade tearing out of her as she pulled away with another howl of agony. Forcing herself onto her feet, she stepped between the two men, her sword knocking Ric’s away. She shook her head at him.

“No,” she commanded, “you aren’t here to fight him.” She indicate to Tyrnir, who promptly slammed the pommel of his weapon into her nose, shattering it and sending her tumbling back onto the floor.

Ric attacked the elahdril lord again with increased vigour, and Tyrnir appeared more than happy to return his incensed fury. At the flick of a switch, the practise match became a battle to the death. Cara could feel it in Ric’s emotions and see it in Tyrnir’s eye, confirming her suspicions; by injuring her, Tyrnir provoked Ric, and by attacking, Ric had given Tyrnir an excuse to fight. Tyrnir orchestrated everything, and she resented Ric’s willingness to throw aside her orders to brawl with him.

Men!

She pulled herself back onto her feet and shot a desperate glance at Kalidir. He stared back anxiously for moment before leaping back into the fray to grapple his father, turning him from Ric. Cara threw myself at the man she loved, dropping her sword to catch his wrists using her body to press him back, just as Tyrnir twisted from Kalidir’s, thrusting his sword forward without realising she’d stepped between him and his quarry.

She gasped as a blade once again exploded through her chest, spearing her lung. When she coughed, a row of scarlet droplets splattered over Ric’s t-shirt, and she tasted her own blood on her tongue. Taking a faltering step forward, pressing closer to Ric, she eased herself off the blade. A fresh trickle of warm liquid flows down her back as the tip of the weapon left her.

Fuck, that hurt.