Legacies of Blood

“He said that?” Royce asked incredulously, her brows furrowing irritably. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

The blonde indignantly crossed her arms over her chest, scowling from the uncomfortable chair behind her desk. None of the furniture in Willowridge’s small hospital wing was in excellent condition, but the chair looked particularly uncomfortable to Elaina. The desk looked like it had originated somewhere else on the grounds and been dragged through gravel the whole way there. The beds were in better condition because most of them had been brought by the landgraf’s men for the delve.

“I-I don’t know,” Elaina lied. The more she thought about it, the more she was sure the knocker knew where she was from and how she had left. Elaina still wasn’t comfortable enough to give the vishanti woman that amount of detail. “But suffice to say, I don’t think he’s going to change his mind about the armor.”

“Such an asshole,” Royce grumbled. “I can’t wait for us to get out of here.”

Elaina tilted her head to one side, unable to keep a smile from her face as she gently tested her weight on the edge of the desk before committing any of her weight to it. “You still want me to go with you?”

Royce laughed playfully. “Of course! I haven’t changed my mind on that. You still want to go, right?”

The redhead blushed, a little embarrassed with her own question. “Yeah! I mean,” Elaina cleared her throat. “I’m heading down there anyway. It’s no big deal.”

“Little late to play it cool, babe,” Royce teased, glancing down the rows of beds at the few patients she had recovering. Uncrossing her arms and scooting forward in her chair, the blonde lowered her voice to a whisper. “You might not have armor, but you know what I managed to get a hold of for you?”

The heat in Elaina’s cheeks faded as embarrassment gave way to curiosity. “What?”

“Close your eyes,” Royce demanded excitedly, barely managing to keep her voice at a whisper. Elaina closed her eyes without the need for further encouragement. She heard the squeak of the chair as Royce jumped to her feet and circled around to meet her. “Alright, hold out your hands.”

Again, Elaina did as instructed, chewing on her bottom lip as she held out both hands. A moment later, she felt the familiar weight of a sword placed into them. Opening her eyes, Elaina was amazed to see that it was not just any sword. It was her sword, gifted to her by Kaethe, along with the armor. She had assumed it was lost when she’d been thrown from the bridge. “How did you find it?”

“Well, I wish I could take the credit,” Royce said, sliding closer to Elaina until their faces were mere inches apart. “But the mercs found it while looking for Steinbach’s body.”

“I thought they would have moved on by now,” Elaina mused.

Royce shrugged. “Blackbarn thinks it’d go a long way toward his taking command if they laid the body of the former captain to rest. No luck so far, though.”

“I guess I’ll have to thank him when I get a chance,” Elaina said appreciatively, though Royce seemed to understand she wasn’t actually talking about him. “I’ll need to think of something special. This sword means a lot to me.”

The blonde planted a small, soft kiss on Elaina’s lips. For a moment, the redhead felt as light as a feather or that she might float right out one of the windows. Royce grinned, pleased with the reaction she was reading in her eyes. “I know. And you’re welcome.”

“You better watch it, Miss McKenna,” Elaina warned playfully. “Or I might be compelled to express my gratitude here in front of your patients.”

Royce’s eyes flashed with lustful anticipation. “I don’t think they’d mind.”

“Your desk might,” Elaina laughed, wiggling her hips from side to side, demonstrating the flimsiness of the desk as it creaked and groaned.

“I hate this fucking desk,” Royce muttered, stepping back. “But it’s the only one I have for now, so maybe you’re right. I can wait until tonight.”

“Do you want to get lunch?” Elaina asked, turning the sword over and savoring every contour. She hadn’t realized how much she loved the sword until she’d lost it. Even holding other weapons had felt strange and foreign. After using it in so much in sword magic, she’d grown attached to it on more than an emotional level. At least, that was her theory. Holding it now, with the subtle hum of magical resonance she’d left behind within it, the theory seemed to hold water.

Royce frowned, shaking her head. “No, I just ate, and I have to meet with the landgraf as soon as one of the field medics shows up to relieve me.”

Elaina couldn’t hide her disappointment, but knowing she would see her that evening helped ease her mind. Instead, she decided it was time to get in some proper training. Now that she had her sword in hand, she was all too eager to reacquaint herself with its reassuring weight. She said her final goodbye to Royce and directed herself to the training yard, gripping the hilt of her weapon tightly as she went.

Many men had been lost in the delve, though most had been in the initial attempts to get a foothold in the area. Those that remained were in the process of training replacements, many of whom were plucked from the ranks of the regular workers. They weren’t to be placed on the front line of a battle, but teaching them to handle a blade would go a long way, supplementing the dwindling fighting force under the landgraf. When Elaina reached the training yard, it was occupied by many of those workers learning from the more experienced soldiers under the watchful eye of their commander, Kitch Steelwhisker.

Kitch was tall by kyrsahn standards, standing at roughly four and a half feet tall. Her bearing conveyed the presence of someone even taller still. She watched the drills from an elevated position nearby, atop a wooden platform eight feet from the ground. A canopy provided shade in the midday heat, and a chair was provided for her, though she hardly ever used it. She stood at attention with her greatsword before her, rat-like eyes scanning the training yard at all times. Her large round ears twitched slightly, as did the whiskers at the end of her nose, providing her with a full array of senses to scrutinize her soldiers.

Elaina circled around the side of the training yard to climb the stairs to the platform, bowing her head briefly in respect for the kyrsahn’s position of authority.

“Woodlock,” Kitch acknowledged respectfully. “You are looking well.”

“Thank you,” Elaina replied. “Feeling much better. I wanted to request permission to use the training yard. Perhaps I could borrow one of your men as a sparring partner?”

“*Oui,*” the kyrsahn agreed in her native Orpevan tongue. “I would be most pleased to assist you with this.”

The kyrsahn warrior lifted her greatsword, hoisting it over one shoulder. “Come, let us see if we can find you a suitable partner.”

Descending the platform stairs, the pair moved across the training yard in search of a sparring partner. Many of the drills were pretty basic, but in the section of the yard where the seasoned soldiers were training exclusively with one another, things became more interesting.

“I see you recovered your sword,” Kitch remarked without turning to look at her. “This is good. It is a family sword, no?”

“Sort of,” Elaina responded. “My sister gifted it to me, but I don’t know if it has any history with our family before that.”

“She is a swordmage, too? Like you?” Kitch inquired as they stepped around a pair of soldiers tumbling to the ground, mid-spar.

Elaina nodded again. “Yes, sort of. As much as one can be as a vampire.”

“Yes, I heard of this,” the kyrsahn chuckled a little. “Makes for awkward family dinners, I am sure.”

The redhead stared at Kitch for a moment, trying to remember a time when she had joked with her in such a way. She couldn’t remember one but decided it must have been a sign of friendship with the typically stern warrior. The kyrsahn continued. “My weapon is also such a thing, held in a place of honor among my tribe. It is from this weapon, which we call Steelwhisker, that we take our name.”

Elaina glanced down at her sword and wondered if she should name it as well. Perhaps it already had a name she had yet to learn. Whether the weapon was handed down through their family or forged specially for her, she supposed it should have a name after finding its way back to her the way it had.

“What of your armor?” Kitch inquired as they neared the far end of the training yard. “Any luck?”

“I’m afraid not,” Elaina sighed. “Herrog did his best, but he says Caledonian steel is a little beyond his current capabilities.”

“I sometimes fear the same happening to mine,” Kitch grumbled. “It is special to me. It too, has a name. It is called the Blood of the Fallen, forged with the blood of my ancestors who fell, freeing our people from the bonds of slavery. Their spirits lend me their protection and bravery.”

They stopped at an open area of the training yard, where Kitch removed the weapon from her shoulder. She wielded it with impressive strength despite its relative size. “Well then, are you ready to begin?”

“Pardon?” Elaina blinked a few times, confused. “I’m sparring with you?”

“Indeed,” Kitch replied, her whiskers twitching in a way that was functionally the same as a smile. “We have trained together before, yes? I see no reason why we should not now.”

Elaina glanced at all the other soldiers in the yard who were taking notice of the match that was about to begin. She was slightly self-conscious about her performance after so long, but she couldn’t allow herself to be seen backing down. She pulled the sword from its scabbard and tossed it gently aside. “Alright, works for me.”

The combatants got into position, eying one another carefully as they brought their guards up. Elaina’s previous sparring sessions with Kitch had usually involved practice weapons of the same type. On the occasion that they had trained with their respective weapons, it had been much more difficult for Elaina. Kitch was the shorter of the two, but the reach of her weapon more than made up for it. Her powerful kyrsahn legs, capable of propelling her at incredible speed in her footwork, only compounded the issue.

“You remember the stance I showed you?” Kitch asked. She didn’t approve much of Elaina’s use of the Solacine stances, which she had acquired during her initial training with her first sword instructor, Alister.

Elaina nodded in the affirmative. “Yeah, pretty sure.”

“Show me,” Kitch said, sinking into the Guardian Stance she was referring to. It was a little lower, with bent knees and legs apart. The blade was held completely level, horizontal to the head, and pointed forward. The kyrsahn favored the stance due to the close quarters they often found themselves in when defending their homes, but unlike the Solacine Style of thrusting with a gladius or spatha, it was capable of exploding out into arcing slashes and strikes at a moment’s notice. Kitch explained long ago that the point was to seem small, not to be small. Most kyrsahn were very small and had to lure their larger enemies close to overwhelm them with swarming strikes.

Elaina mirrored the stance, but when Kitch’s eyes fell toward her legs, she took a moment to adjust her footing. The kyrsahn nodded her approval and then advanced with slow, careful footwork. Elaina did the same, and the two moved in a slow circle around each other, waiting for any mistake or imperfection that might offer an opening to exploit. Elaina’s relative inexperience to Kitch offered it up first.

The kyrsahn’s powerful legs gave her the strength to close the gap between them in the time it took Elaina to blink. Only her reflexes saved her, allowing her to get the blade into a parry without needing to process the moment fully.

“Oui, good,” Kitch said, following her strike with an anticipatory parry of Elaina’s counter. Even the following thrust that Elaina slid into seamlessly was easily predicted by the seasoned fighter. She shifted the blade to one side, whirling around to bring the large sword around from the other side. Elaina hunched, allowing the blade to hiss through the air a mere inch or so above her head.

“Maybe take it easy?” Elaina whinged. “You could’ve taken my head off with that one.”

“Only if you did not dodge,” Kitch argued, continuing to press her attack on Elaina, who was forced to give up ground. “If you did not, then I would have been a poor teacher to you. I am not a poor teacher.”

Elaina let the matter rest, choosing to renew her focus on the duel instead. She surged forward, trying to create some space, but the kyrsahn’s presence was oppressive and held Elaina in check with a fierce clinch. Normally, it would have been a situation that surrendered the advantage to Elaina with her superior size, but Kitch was accustomed to such match-ups. Before Elaina could correct her mistake, Kitch had kicked a leg out from under her, forcing her down to one knee where the kyrsahn now had the advantage of height.

As Kitch brought her weight down upon Elaina, she turned the force to one side, bringing up the hilt of her weapon in a heavy shove before slamming the pommel into her ribs. The kyrsahn fighter jerked to one side, stunned for the briefest moment. It wasn’t enough for Elaina to regain her footing or even put the business end of her sword to work. Instead, she seized Kitch’s tail, which had reflexively lashed out to one side to aid her with balance. That was the actual opening she needed, snatching the tail out of the air with one hand and giving it a sharp yank.

“EUGH!” Kitch exclaimed in surprise, spinning halfway around on one foot as Elaina pulled her into a grapple with one arm while the other held the blade to her throat.

“What do you think of that, eh?” Elaina panted, adrenaline muting the pain screaming through her body from the sudden exertion. “Thought I was small, but I wasn’t.”

Kitch laughed, allowing her body to relax. “Not precisely what I had in mind, but effective enough.”

Elaina released her from the hold, knowing full well that Kitch was humoring her to some degree. Had it been a real fight, Elaina wasn’t confident her cheeky trick would have been the end of it.

“I’d say whatever works,” a familiar voice called from across the yard. Elaina hadn’t realized it, but among those who had gathered to watch them spar was the landgraf herself. She didn’t know how she had missed her; the woman was on the tall side with rich, tanned skin and ash-blonde hair. The group parted around her as she sauntered to the front. Her long, beautiful legs moved with such sensual grace that Elaina struggled to keep her eyes on the woman’s strawberry-pink lips or her rich brown eyes as she approached.

“It would seem, to me, that you’re feeling much better,” Elsebeth remarked as she placed a friendly hand on the redhead’s shoulder. “Perhaps fit enough to join us raiding the vault?”

“Ah,” Elaina responded, slightly blushing. “Well, I learned this morning that Herrog can’t salvage my armor.”

The landgraf’s face scrunched up a little. “We’ll lend you some, then. It won’t be for long. Just speak with Mr. Arkere; he’ll have you outfitted soon.”

Elaina and Kitch exchanged glances as Elaina lowered her voice. “I spoke with Trevik this morning, and he denied my request.”

The landgraf appeared to be at a loss, her smile fading as he looked between the two. “That’s... ridiculous. Did he give a reason?”

“He did, but...” Elaina sighed, spreading her hands defensively. She didn’t know how to explain it without getting into the sensitive details of her past, nor did she know how to explain why it was important to the knocker.

Elsebeth searched Elaina’s eyes for an answer but could see that nothing concrete would be forthcoming. Realizing it was likely a private matter, the landgraf offered the redhead a subtle nod. She was one of the few people who was familiar with her parents---or rather, this world’s version of her parents. They’d agreed to keep it between them, and Elaina supposed that the landgraf had concluded that the matter was related.

“We’ll discuss it later,” the landgraf suggested. “Over dinner, perhaps. It’s been too long since we’ve chatted. It’ll be nice to catch up.”

“Yeah!” Elaina blurted a little too enthusiastically before clearing her throat. “I mean, of course. That sounds lovely.”

“Excellent, I’ll see you then,” Elsebeth offered Elaina a gorgeous, pristine smile and excused herself, leaving the redhead behind in the training yard to stare awkwardly into space.

“Shit,” Elaina muttered, pressing her lips into a thin line and letting out a long exasperated sigh.

Kitch glanced off in the direction of the landgraf before turning her attention back to Elaina. “What troubles you?”

“I said I would have dinner with Royce later,” Elaina explained, not looking directly at Kitch.

The kyrsahn’s whiskers twitched downward in a way Elaina understood to be akin to a furrowed brow. “So cancel. The landgraf takes priority, yes?”

Elaina pursed her lips as her gaze drifted toward Kitch. As she feared, the kyrsahn could read her like an open book once the two made eye contact. Elaina had never had a girlfriend before and wasn’t sure how to properly navigate the situation she’d found herself in. Not only that, but Elaina couldn’t help but feel a strong attraction for the landgraf. She’d accidentally encountered Elsebeth in a dream where they’d had sex. Elaina hadn’t known it was with a real person, and with the amulet Resius had lent her, it hadn’t happened again. What had just been a dream long forgotten by the landgraf had been a very real memory for Elaina.

Kitch couldn’t possibly know all the details, as unusual as they were, but she picked up on enough to understand Elaina’s general dilemma. “Ah,” she sniffed. “Well, unfortunately, that’s not something I can help you with.”

The kyrsahn gave Elaina’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Good luck. I hope to see you with us when we raid the vault.”

“Thanks,” Elaina muttered as Kitch returned to her post, and the rest of the crowd dispersed. Perhaps Royce wouldn’t have a problem with it, she told herself. But if Kitch could understand the conflict inside Elaina, Royce would surely pick up on it even faster. Even with a few hours ahead of her to consider things, she didn’t know how she would explain to her girlfriend that she was having a private dinner with another woman she was madly attracted to and had technically already had sex with.

Technically.