Soul Forge (Book One of the Soul Forge series)
Chapter Five...

Elda was up well before dawn, already bathed, with her hair dried and braided, when there was a knock on the door. She opened it to replace Persephone carrying a small pile of clothes and armour. Over her shoulder was a brand new bow and a quiver full of arrows. A pair of pristine leather boots sat atop the armour.

“I told you I’d replace you something better than what you had,” she beamed, setting the lot down on the bed.

“I’m guessing my father was the one who sorted the bow?”

“He was.” Elda looked over the collection, surprised he’d leaned into helping her. Just yesterday, he’d been yelling at her for wearing trousers and using a bow. “I found this too.” Persephone moved some clothes aside to show off a corset.

“What is it?”

“It’s called a basque. It goes under your clothes. It’s not as restrictive as the corsets your mother insists on having you wear. I wear them on wash days to help support my back when carrying the heavy baskets.”

Elda smiled, touched by her generosity. “Thank you.”

“Let me help you get into everything so you can see how it all feels,” the human girl suggested.

Amazing; that was how it felt. She was comfortable in clothes that fit, no irritating skirts bunching up under her feet, or heels to make her feet ache. Her tunic was the same forest green as her cloak, and her armour was tempered brown leather. Sturdy brown pauldrons covered her shoulders, and matching leather bracers supported her wrists, still allowing her hands the freedom to move. Her boots were comfortable, with thick soles made for tramping through forests.

“I love it,” she whispered, a lump catching in her throat when she caught sight of her reflection. She’d never felt more like herself.

“You look ready to kick Sypher’s ass,” Persephone beamed. Elda slipped the quiver over her shoulder and picked up the brand new recurve bow.

“I doubt I’ll manage that today, but hopefully he’ll take me seriously when he sees I’m not a complete beginner.”

“Good luck!” the handmaid chirped.

Elda set her shoulders and left the room, appreciating the encouraging grin Persephone shot her way just before the door closed behind her. She set off at a jog through the halls, warming her muscles on her journey through the palace and out to the courtyard. She made her way straight to the barracks. The flat square of the training grounds was empty so early in the morning, and the sky was still dark when she began practicing her archery.

Sypher arrived when the first rays of sunlight split the horizon, approaching the training grounds and cocking his head as he watched her knock an arrow and let it loose. He was dressed in a navy tunic, the hem tucked into dark leather trousers and the neck open. A long, silvery scar bisected the base of his throat, several more nicking his collar bones where dark runes snaked across his skin. A leather chord hung around his neck, the pendant hidden from sight beneath the fabric of his shirt.

Elda loosed three more arrows as he drew closer, his eyes on her rather than the target she was aiming at. She worked hard to stay focussed, ignoring the prickling sensation crawling over her skin. He hooked a foot around her ankle and dragged it outwards a couple of inches, widening her stance. One gloved hand pushed her spine inwards with just his fingertips, the other drawing her shoulders back to straighten her posture with the most fleeting of touches.

“Shoot,” he commanded. She let her arrow fly, hitting the target almost dead centre. Sypher tapped her left elbow, encouraging her to straighten it as he lifted the other so it was at a right angle to her shoulder. “Again.”

This time, the arrow hit the centre of the target, but Elda didn’t let herself celebrate. She kept firing arrows until her shoulders ached and the stance she needed was muscle memory. By the time Sypher let her stop, the sun was up and the city was alive beyond the palace gates.

“How was that?” she asked, working hard to keep her tone neutral, hiding the hope that kept flickering in her chest.

“Fine, if your bow is light. You’ll need to do better than fine if you want to live.” The hope sputtered, but didn’t die.

“I will.”

“We’ll see how enthusiastic you are in a few hours,” Sypher replied doubtfully. He rolled up his tunic sleeves, showing yet more runes winding up his forearms. The skin bore more evidence of injuries faded by time.

“What are we doing now?”

“I’m figuring out what you can do, so I know where to start. Lose the bow,” he instructed. She set it and the quiver on the ground. “You’re going to try and hit me.”

She raised her fists and nodded. “Alright.”

He arched an eyebrow, beckoning her forwards with one gloved hand. She lunged and swung her fist, only to replace it connecting with air when he simply stepped out of the way. She whirled and circled him, keeping him in her line of sight. She attacked once more, this time trying to sweep his feet from beneath him. He grabbed her calf and twisted, forcing her onto her stomach as she fell, and then his knee was on her back.

“Again,” he insisted. They continued like that for several hours. Elda was sweaty and out of breath, but she refused to give up. She kept going until she was dizzy. Her throat was parched, and she felt light headed after eating and drinking nothing. Her legs folded underneath her when late afternoon arrived.

“We’re done for the day,” the Soul Forge decided.

“I can keep going,” she insisted weakly, laying flat on her back in the dirt.

“No, you can’t. You need to eat something, drink some water and go rest before tomorrow’s session. Same time, same place.” He started to walk away.

“Wait! You didn’t tell me how I did.”

“You really want to know?” He returned to her side, looking down at her blankly. He hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“I want to know.”

“If you moved any slower, you’d go backwards. You telegraph your strikes before you make them, which makes it easy to predict what you’re about to do. You keep tucking your thumb in when you punch, you don’t watch where I’m stepping, and you hit like a girl.”

Elda swallowed. “Did I do anything right?”

“No.” He cocked his head and reluctantly offered her a gloved hand, tugging her to her feet. She was reminded how strong he was, when standing took no effort at all on her part.

“I’ll do better tomorrow.”

“Go eat something.” He turned and walked away, the sputtering flame of hope she’d held onto all day dying out at last. Her head dipped in disappointment. “Princess?” She looked up, surprised to see he’d stopped to look over his shoulder at her.

“Yes?”

“I expected to be starting at square one. Tomorrow will be much harder.”

And just like that, the flame lit once more. She watched his retreating back with a small smile. It was barely a compliment, but he’d acknowledged that she wasn’t a complete beginner. She’d take whatever she could get.

The bath worked wonders on Elda’s sore muscles, its lavender-scented heat relaxing every knot and ache. By the time she was clean and able to move without groaning, her stomach howled like a starving wolf. She dug into the plate of bread and sliced meats Persephone had left for her, savouring the salty taste.

A knock at the door startled her. She swallowed the strip of beef she was eating and got up to answer it, eyebrows rising when she had to crane her neck to look up at the Soul Forge.

“...Hello?” she greeted him uncertainly, the word becoming a question half way through.

“Can I come in?”

“I’m not sure that’s appropriate.”

“I brought a chaperone.” Persephone peeked round his shoulder and waved cheerfully.

“Oh.” She stepped aside, watching as the saviour of everything she knew walked into her bedroom and looked around. Persephone shut the door behind them with a soft click that sounded far too loud in the quiet room. Elda tensed when Sypher noticed the hand carved bow on her dresser and picked it up, examining the repaired crack down the middle.

“Princess Elda carved that herself,” Persephone boasted proudly.

“I can tell.” The handmaid’s smile dropped when he set the bow down with disinterest and folded his arms across his chest.

“What can I help you with, Saviour?” Elda asked, valiantly ignoring his complete dismissal of the weapon that had taken her days to perfect.

“You need to meet the Spirit that chose you.”

“I...what?” Elda blinked. She’d worshipped the Spirits her entire life. They were the creators, the ones responsible for every life on Valerus. They were revered and beloved across the world, but to actually meet one?

“The Spirit that selected you has requested a meeting with you.” He pushed open the terrace doors. “She’s tall, so it’s best to meet her outside the first time.”

“Are you serious?” Persephone asked.

“As an aneurysm.” He waited for either of them to move. When they didn’t, he rolled his eyes and went outside without them, letting the door shut behind him.

“You know,” the handmaid mused, “he’s kind of a jerk.”

“I noticed.”

“Handsome though.” Elda sighed and followed him outside, not entertaining Persephone’s mischievous remarks. She found Sypher at the far end of the terrace, stopping dead when she saw who was with him. Her feet suddenly felt nailed to the floor in their silk pumps.

Standing beside him was a woman so beautiful, it made Elda’s heart thunder just to look at her. She was tall, even taller than Sypher. Her hair was pale, the strands fine and translucent as they billowed out around her like they were suspended in water. Her skin was equally pale, and a mist of cold air rose up all around her. She turned to face them and smiled, the moonlight seeming to shine through her in places as she moved. She looked like a masterpiece, carved of ice and marble, and yet she moved like a real person. Her eyes, pale white and framed with frosted lashes, crinkled at the corners in a delicate smile.

“I’ve been waiting for you, little elf,” she said gently. Her voice was smooth and lyrical, drawing Elda forwards several steps. Without realising it, she was suddenly reaching out to the strange woman. The Spirit met her with joy, taking both of her slender hands in frozen fingers. Her touch wasn’t cold, though mist continued to fall from her icy skin. It coalesced around her body in a white dress that shifted around her frame whenever she moved.

“You wanted to meet me?” Elda asked uncertainly.

The Spirit nodded. “My name is Irileth, and I have spent a very long time waiting for you to replace me.”

“You’re a Spirit,” Elda murmured, eyes so wide the night air was beginning to sting them. “A real Spirit, right here on my terrace.”

“I am.” Irileth squeezed her fingers and stepped back, twirling so her misty skirt fanned out around her. Elda saw her legs ended in sharp, translucent points beneath the skirt, not quite touching the ground. “Aren’t I beautiful in my earthly form?” the Spirit gushed, taking Elda’s hands in hers again like they were old friends. “We make quite the pair of beauties, don’t you think, Battle-born?” She turned to Sypher, who quirked an eyebrow at the nickname.

“Battle-born?” Elda echoed.

“Yes, little friend. A creature forged in fire and war. The Soul Forge is mighty, and I’ll address him as such.”

“Do you also address him according to his attitude?” Persephone piped up. “Because it needs an adjustment.”

“Do you hear that, Battle-born?” the Spirit asked. “Someone other than myself thinks you can be an ass.”

“You say that like I’m supposed to care,” he retorted irritably. “Can we get on with this?”

“Patience,” Irileth tutted, her frozen brows pulling together in disapproval before she returned her attention to Elda. “My Keeper. I have chosen you to bond with me against something terrible. There are two tasks we must complete, both of which will ensure the safety of this world.”

“What tasks?” Elda asked reluctantly.

“First, we must fix what is broken. Then we must expose the lies. Only by completing the first task, can we achieve the second.”

“What could be so broken that the entire world is at risk?” Sypher asked. Irileth shot him a pointed look, something unspoken passing between them. “Point taken,” he muttered, retreating further into his black mood and looking away.

“What is it?” Elda asked.

“You will learn, in time,” Irileth smiled. “For now, I have a question for you.” She straightened and placed a hand over her heart. “Princess Elda Gild of Eden, do you accept your role as Keeper of the Soul Blade of Light, and bind yourself to me to ensure our purpose is fulfilled?”

Elda looked at Sypher, at the way his eyes narrowed and his shoulders tensed. She knew he didn’t like her. Even though it was what he’d tracked her down for, she got the distinct impression that saying yes to Irileth’s question would only worsen their relationship. She glared right back at him, squaring her shoulders.

“Yes. I accept.”