“Sorry, Shayna,” Seneca said softly.
“No worries. I’m up for whatever she’s ready to throw at us,” Shayna mumbled, her cheeks flushed.
“Let us begin,” said Wren.
Seneca and Shayna exchanged glares as they readied themselves. Wren launched into the most aggressive training demonstration they had seen so far. She focused on every aspect of their bodies. She was precise and focused on each nuance of the various maneuvers. She focused on their balance and recovery.
“I keep hesitating, even though it’s identical to the last spell, and I don’t know why,” said Shayna, breathing heavily as she bent over in exhaustion.
“You must be comfortable in being the attacker. Do not wait for the enemy’s advance, as such tactics will be your end,” Wren said. “Seneca is beating you each time because you are not precise in your attack. Now, do it again.”
Just as they got comfortable with one movement or tactic, Wren would change things up. They were impressed with her ability to contort into a multitude of positions to avoid injury. She stressed the importance of mastering charms for protection. The session went on for hours, and each time they faltered, she would force them to repeat the movement or spell until it was mastered. Once they became comfortable, she would add even more difficult maneuvers and incantations.
The spells came fairly easily to Seneca, as she had an innate sense of rhythm in the words, although she thought most of them sounded like gibberish. She believed it was like a language that had been dormant in her subconscious. Shayna was a natural with the physical elements and excited whenever there was a combination that included charms and the use of her sword. Her sword responded with little effort, even when she forgot a word or two in the spells.
“This is exhausting! Can we take a break? I am not grasping what you’re doing with the elbow armlock move at all,” said Shayna. She leaned forward to catch her breath. She enjoyed a rigorous workout, but what Wren was putting them through was well beyond the norm. Her knees were ready to give out, and she tried her best to steady them.
“There is no time for rest. Your foe will not take time for leisure, and neither shall you!” Wren snapped. She had barely broken a sweat, and her attitude was just as dry.
“I agree with Shayna. We’ve been going at this a really long time, and the sun is about to go down. It’s getting more difficult to see,” Seneca complained, her voice hoarse. She was drenched in sweat, and her clothes stuck to her as if she’d gone for a plunge in the lake.
“What are you quibbling about?” asked Wren. Her nose twitched in irritation.
“There isn’t much light hitting this side of the castle. Maybe we can pick this up again in the morning,” said Shayna. Her throat was dry, and she could feel the dead skin forming on her chapped lips. Her back had a dull ache from the wrenching she had endured when Seneca had clumsily tried to duplicate Wren’s attack technique at her expense.
“If you are both going to whine like kids of a goat, then I have no desire to waste more moments with the likes of you,” Wren huffed.
It was evident Wren had grown frustrated with their less-than-stellar progress. She had resorted to snapping twigs between her thumb and forefinger each time they needed to repeat a failed hold, punch, or spell. As the hours had ticked by, she’d advanced from twigs to sticks and, finally, fallen branches. Both Shayna and Seneca had noticed but did not dare to comment. They tried to keep their focus as they sparred and attempted to incorporate each incantation or move they had been taught.
When Seneca misjudged a countermove that included multiple combinations of complicated charms, bobbing, and weaving, she was thrown off balance and went tumbling backward into the mud. Shayna couldn’t hold back and broke into a hearty laugh. Seneca joined in when she realized how ridiculous she must have looked. Wren was livid and screamed at a raging pitch. She snatched a sizable branch and swung it hard into the trunk of a helpless hawthorn tree. The tree shook from the repetitive bashing it was forced to endure. A family of birds that had gathered on the highest branches took flight. They found refuge in a nearby ash tree, where they chirped angrily in a disgruntled chorus. The abundant branches were no match for Wren’s attack. Several large limbs with clusters of small light green leaves broke away from the tree and came crashing down. Shayna dodged to avoid being clobbered by one. The remains scattered in bits at her feet.
Wren spun around and faced the girls; she still had a firm grip on what remained of the branch. Several splinters were lodged in her palm. Blood trickled down her hand and seeped between her fingers. Her face was ridged, and although she was beautiful, her expression was distorted from its natural form. Seneca and Shayna were speechless as they witnessed the elf’s temper tantrum. They watched with as much fear as fascination. Wren kept her eyes locked on them as she skillfully twisted, snapped, and crumpled the branch into a heap with seemingly little effort.
Seneca didn’t know if she should be concerned or impressed, although neither seemed to be the correct reaction. She realized she was actually confused. In her opinion, Wren’s behavior was an overreaction. It must have stemmed from something other than her blunder with the sparring.
“Look, Wren, I know exactly how I messed up, and we can start again,” said Seneca. “There’s no reason to take it out on the trees.”
“Yeah, I’m tired, but I can probably go another round,” added Shayna. She knew she didn’t sound convincing, but she was too drained of energy to care.
Wren glared momentarily but did not reply. She turned her back to them and began to gather her belongings. She strapped on her belt and fastened a flask and a satchel to it. She snatched her cloak, paused, and then dropped everything in a heap. She took a deep breath and slowly turned to face them. Her face was etched with anger.
“I am done with the two of you! You are becoming more tentative with each passing phase of the sun. You are weak and lack focus.” Wren berated them without pause. “Just because you are sisters within the dominion, you must not hold back from advancing your attacks. If you are strategic in your counter technique, you will avoid injury. You must not hesitate or relent in your advance. Do you not grasp this simplistic action?”
“Let me get this straight,” Shayna said as she placed a hand on her hip. The other hand held firmly to her vibrating sword, which she had summoned unknowingly. “You want us to actually try to hurt each other? Wait! Before you answer, just know that’s ludicrous!” Shayna yelled.
The birds echoed her sentiment with a resounding screech from the ash tree.
“I agree with her—these are supposed to be drills,” said Seneca. “I’m not about to hurt Shayna.”
“As if you could,” snapped Shayna with a roll of her eyes as she shifted her weight to lean more into her hip stance.
Wren stayed silent as she looked at Seneca for the anticipated rebuttal.
Seneca’s ears grew red, and she pressed her lips tightly together. “Look, Shayna, you might have a sword, but that’s all you’ve got! With my wings, let’s just say there’d be no contest—trust me!”
“Flash your little wings, and let’s test your theory, blondie!” Shayna shouted as she wrapped both hands around her sword. The blade glowed brightly as she raised it above her head and locked her elbows. She was positioned to strike. “Come on! What are you waiting for?”
Seneca was unmoved and simply smiled. She turned to Wren and was not surprised to see the gleam in her eyes and the smirk plastered across her face. “Is this what you wanted, Wren?” Seneca asked with a tone of sarcasm. “You wanted us angry enough to be willing to attack each other without cause?”
“What?” Shayna asked in confusion as she lowered her sword. She noticed it felt heavier than she had ever experienced. Her shoulders ached as she let her arms drop to her sides and allowed the sword to vanish.
“Don’t you see? She’s been provoking us all day, and we
wouldn’t react the way she wanted. In other words, she wanted us to turn on each other. My question is, why? Why are you doing this?” Seneca asked.
“You are being ridiculous,” replied Wren.
“What’s ridiculous is you thinking I would ever hurt Seneca!” said Shayna. She walked closer to Seneca and put an arm around her shoulders. She eyed Wren with contempt.
“As I’ve said before, we should call it for the day and begin again at daybreak,” said Wren. “I am pleased with your progress.”
“Excuse me—are you kidding me?” Seneca huffed.
“Tomorrow will prove to be a day to remember! Your instincts are a testament to your druid nature. I was beginning to believe your attunement was out of sorts. Rileau will be pleased to learn that you are quite skilled as a druid.”
“What do you mean by my attunement being ‘out of sorts’?” Seneca asked.
“It simply means I thought you were not connecting to your true nature, and as such, you were somehow blocking or disconnecting from being a true druid. You are damn jammy is what you are! Mark my words: you are surely trapped in the muck that’s cluttering your abilities, but you will be able to overcome that. I’m quite positive,” said Wren. She smirked and nodded, as she was pleased with her assessment.
“What?” Seneca asked with a wrinkled nose.
“No need to bother with this now. We can discuss more when we meet again.”
“Let me get this straight—you got all that from me not wanting to fight Shayna?” Seneca asked suspiciously.
“That was a significant aspect of it, yes,” said Wren. “I don’t care to tussle with this now, but know this: druids look for balance in all things. They disarm to find peace and stay calm while others are unfocused. These are essential in being a druid. As I said, we are done for now. You must report back to Rileau.” She proceeded to gather her discarded belongings and made no attempt to address the confused looks etched on Shayna’s and Seneca’s faces.
“And you actually want us to do this again tomorrow?” asked Shayna. “Seriously?” She was dumbfounded by the turn of events and Wren’s turnabout in attitude.
“Absolutely. You have both handled this day to perfection,” said Wren. Her voice was uncharacteristically charming and light.
Seneca turned to look at Shayna, who was slowly shaking her head. They watched as Wren picked up her cloak, adjusted her boots, and repositioned her armbands in preparation to leave. She picked up her staff before returning her attention to them. She cocked her head and twisted her lips into a tight pucker, as though she were preparing to scrutinize them further. She shook her head dismissively and sighed before approaching them. They hadn’t moved the slightest bit.
“I have decided that we shall continue your training at first light but not here. There are far too many distractions. We will meet at my dwelling on the fairest side of the forest, where the flowers bloom only in pale shades and the water from the brooks runs clear. We shall have a meal together and then continue our training. The lighting cascades evenly through the canopy of trees. It will be most ideal for advancing your training,” Wren said.
“You want us to come to your house?” Shayna asked as she watched Wren remove something from her pocket.
“Here is a map to guide you. Arrive before the dew is absorbed by the daylight.”
She handed a tattered scroll of parchment to Seneca, who tentatively accepted it. The map showed Rileau’s castle circled in black. There were several other landmarks, etchings of trees, clusters of forests, trails, and waterways. Wren’s home was clearly identified.
“You will know you’re close when you pass a fairy arch covered in fragrant orchids,” said Wren.
“It looks pretty easy to find,” Seneca mumbled. She looked into Wren’s eyes and was tempted to read her thoughts but fought back the urge.
Shayna leaned in to examine the map and decided she wanted to hold on to it, so she slid it out of Seneca’s hand. “I’ll hold on to it,” Shayna declared.
“Fine, go ahead,” replied Seneca dryly.
“I must see my clan this nightfall. They dislike any delays. As you awake for a new day, you shall meet high challenges. Eat hearty this night, and sleep deeply, as you shall need your strength,” said Wren.
She turned on her heel and sprinted toward the woods, picking up speed with each stride. They observed her move silently and skillfully through the terrain, watching until she could no longer be seen.
Annoyed that Shayna had confiscated the map, Seneca snatched it away and examined it closely. She wondered if there was more to the map than it appeared. She scanned it closely for anything unusual but saw nothing out of the ordinary, so she rolled it up and shoved it in her back pocket.
“Are you sure I shouldn’t hold on to that?” asked Shayna.
“It’s safe with me,” said Seneca.
“Whatever. Hey, what was the sudden stage-left exit all about?”
“She was acting strange all day,” replied Seneca with a shrug.
“Yeah, but she’s off to see her clan? She hasn’t mentioned anything about meeting with anyone before. That is one crazy elf!” said Shayna. “I can’t believe she was taunting us to fight. What’s up with that?”
“And you fell for it!” Seneca snapped. “You were actually going to come at me!”
“No, I wasn’t. Well, only if you came at me first! I’d never strike you unless you gave me a darn good reason,” replied Shayna. “After all, you wouldn’t last two seconds once I made a move. It wouldn’t be an even match.”
“Ha! In your dreams!” Seneca laughed. “Thank goodness we both know we’ll never have to put any of this to a real test. But it makes me wonder.”
“Wonder about what?”
“Why Wren was trying to provoke us into actually fighting. We’d done drills and sparred all day, but something snapped. And I’m not talking about half the tree limbs in the forest. Didn’t you see that look in her eyes when she thought we were going to really fight?” asked Seneca.
“Yeah, she was practically licking her lips and chomping at the bit. She was like a hard-core fan in a front-row seat for the brawl of the century, just waiting for blood!” said Shayna. “She said it was basically about testing you and your attunement. I’m still not clear on what that’s all about.”
“Precisely. I know she supposedly knows more about being a druid because she’s an elf and whatever, but there’s no way that confrontation between us had anything to do with whether or not I was acting like a true druid or not,” said Seneca. Her head was spinning, and she didn’t like questioning Wren’s motives, but she felt something was off.
“On the other hand, maybe she’s just high-strung. You know, like she’s coiled too tightly. She’s all business, and we weren’t up to her level of expectation. She’s probably just feeling the pressure of trying to prep two newbies for a war against a barrage of magical creatures and who knows what else,” Shayna replied.
“I think it’s more than that,” said Seneca. “There was something off about her.”
“All I’m saying is that you could be reading too much into it. We were both getting tired, and maybe we just need to regroup,” said Shayna. “I doubt Rileau would have her training you on being a druid if he didn’t trust her.”
“I’m not sure Rileau knows her tactics. To push us to the point where we might attack each other? Come on! I bet she went way off the grid with that one,” replied Seneca.
“Maybe,” said Shayna. She knew Seneca was suspicious, and she didn’t care to fuel her suspicion by pushing the conversation further. “Anyway, we should probably get back inside. I’m starving.”
Seneca knew it was Shayna’s way of dropping the topic. She reluctantly agreed, knowing she should be hungry as well, but instead, she felt slightly queasy from exhaustion. Seneca allowed Shayna to take the lead and trailed close behi
nd. Her thoughts shifted to Wren’s methods as she recited some of the complicated spells in a whisper. They started the long climb up the spiral staircase that led to the dining room.
A wonderful aroma lingered in the air as they reached the top. Seneca and Shayna were lost in their own thoughts and exchanged little conversation as they reached for their plates and began piling on the offerings. Jake and Conner were in the midst of a debate as to who had devoured the last slice of chocolate cake. They paid little attention as the girls reached around them to claim the small portions of what remained from the obviously lavish dinner spread.
Seneca felt an uneasiness wash over her. Something was not right; she sensed there was something brewing. She glanced at her forearms; they were covered in goose bumps. The fine blonde hairs that covered her arms were raised, and she shivered in reaction. She rubbed and cupped her hands together and then raised them to her mouth. She puffed hot air into the hollow opening and continued to rub them together in an attempt to counter the sudden drop in her temperature.
“You okay, Seneca?” Conner asked with his cheeks puckering from the mounds of food he was quickly devouring. “You don’t look so good. I left you plenty of beef. Don’t pout!”
Seneca forced a smile and nodded slowly. She picked up a slice of rye bread and nibbled the thick crust. She realized it was the only thing she had managed to put on her plate; it alone was overwhelming. Her stomach rebelled in reaction as she took a deep breath to keep from vomiting. There was definitely something wrong, but she had no way of proving it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Dupelene
Seneca cradled her head in her hands. She couldn’t figure out how to breathe. She was choking on her own oxygen. It was a classic panic attack. She had experienced enough of them to recognize the signs, but this one was different. She could feel the salt forming beneath the cold beads of sweat above her lip. She wanted to lick it away, but her tongue was paralyzed. Her mouth was open, yet she could neither exhale nor inhale. Her arms flailed wildly to maintain her balance. A sense of vertigo had kicked in, and she felt the room spinning as nausea began to build. There was a voice screaming inside her head that she tried hard to focus on. The intensity of her efforts sent a shooting pain that pierced through her temples as her head rocked back. “Just breathe. Come on. Do it—now!” She gasped and then coughed hard.