Amidst The Rising Shadows (Book 3) (20 page)

The session ended, and people began leaving the command tent.

“My Lady, I believe you have something that belongs to me,” Aaron said, looking at Sarah. “My swords.”

“I do indeed have them, but you hardly look like you could wield them. I think I’ll hold onto them until you are ready,” Sarah said.

“You’ll find that I am a quick healer,” Aaron said with a smile, standing taller.

Sarah reluctantly removed Aaron’s swords from her back, “Perhaps you’d like to have a go in the training area?” she asked and handed his swords back to him.
 

For a moment Verona wondered whether she was going to give them back or not.
 

“Not right this second. I’d like to tour the camp,” Aaron said, and a number of people standing around practically leaped up for the privilege of showing him around. With a nod in their direction, Aaron left them behind.

Sarah turned to Verona, giving him a pointed look and left.

Verona left the tent with Roselyn silently walking next to him. Jopher had followed them out as well.

“He seems different,” Jopher said.

“How so? He was a prisoner until recently,” Verona said.

Jopher frowned, putting his thoughts in order, “I don’t mean his injuries. All the bowing and formalities, he didn’t seem to mind it at all. It was almost like he expected it.”

Verona’s mind raced, going through the meeting in his mind. “Maybe his imprisonment had more an effect on him than we thought,” he said, catching Roselyn’s sideways glance.

“It’s just not something I expected to see from him,” Jopher said, and the comms device buzzed on his arm. “I have to go; my father’s envoy is arriving from Zsensibar.”

Verona wished him well and could feel Roselyn’s eyes on him as the young officer left.

“I don’t know what to say, my Lady.”

“I know, it’s strange. One moment Aaron is just as he was before, and in the next it’s like we’re dealing with a complete stranger,” Roselyn said.

Verona felt a faint twisting in his stomach at the thought that what if, perhaps, Sarah was right. “It seems that Sarah has her doubts sometimes as well.”

The people of the camp went around them, going about their business, and Verona stopped walking when he felt Roselyn place her hand upon his arm.

“Can you blame her?” Roselyn asked. “More than anyone else here, she wants to believe that somehow Aaron has made it back to us.”

“I can’t argue with that, my Lady. I don’t know what I would have done if it were you trapped in a place where I couldn’t reach you.”

“I know,” she said and leaned in to kiss him.

Roselyn left him, saying she had to return to Hathenwood and would be back in Rexel tomorrow.
 

***

Morning came much sooner than Verona would have liked, and he woke to the sight of Braden, who shed his normally stoic demeanor, shaking him awake with a malicious grin.

“I’m awake!”

“About time too,” Braden said.

“Are we under attack?”

The sobering question sucked the mirth right out of his friend.

“No, but there are a group of soldiers we’re to assess this morning,” Braden said.

Verona nodded and roused himself out of bed, “You’ve managed to drag yourself away from Aaron?”

“He said he would meet us down there later on,” Braden said.

He hadn’t slept well last night. After having spent most of the day quietly observing Aaron, and coming no closer to deciding whether it was really him or not, he went to sleep. Mostly he lay awake wondering when the world had grown so complicated. He had sworn to be at Aaron’s side throughout the measure of this journey, and at times like these, Verona was left grasping where it would finally lead them.
 

He and Braden headed outside the city to one of the various training areas set aside for the soldiers in the FNA.

“Have you seen Sarah?” Verona asked.

Braden shook his head. Sarah had left them yesterday, and he had not seen her since.

“I did speak to her through the comms device, and she said she would meet us,” Braden said.

“What’s so special about this group of soldiers?”

“They were handpicked by Colind, who said they might possess the potential for tapping into the energy,” Braden said.

“I haven’t seen Colind in a while. The last I heard he was trying to find the old members of the Safanarion Order,” Verona said.

Braden glanced the other way, saying nothing.

“When did you become the purveyor of information?”

“What?” Braden asked, a little too quickly.

“You know something. Particularly about Colind,” Verona said.

“He instructed me not to say anything.”

“Well, now I must know,” Verona said.
 

Braden clamped his mouth shut and put a bit more speed in his step.

“Is this what we’ve been reduced to?” Verona asked, matching his pace. “Keeping secrets from each other, my old friend? Come on, what is Colind up to that he saw fit to tell the one person whom most wouldn’t have thought he would confide in?”

Braden eyed him for a moment before answering, “He hunts Mactar.”

“I suspected that such a thing would come to pass in time. What did you say to him when he told you all this?” Verona asked.

“What could I say to him?” Braden asked. “Should I have reminded him of his duty to the Safanarion Order? No, there are some that the world could do without, and if a colossus out of legend wants to make it his mission to take out one of our strongest enemies, then more power to him. Mactar deserves to die.”

Verona was silent for a moment, knowing that Braden still mourned the loss of his brother, Eric. They all did. There were times when he expected to see Braden’s twin brother at his side, and his absence was a constant reminder that any of them could die along the way.

“I can’t argue with that, my friend, but one thing that I have learned, especially in Khamearra, is that we can accomplish so much more if we work together than if we go off on our own.”

“Sometimes,” Braden said.

They were silent the rest of the way, coming to their designated place in the training area, marked with a white eagle. The soldiers were cloistered together listening to Sarah. Her long blonde hair was braided, and more than one soldier’s eyes shone with that cautious admiration that often marked good men when they saw someone as beautiful as the High King’s daughter. He had often told Aaron that he was a lucky man, and he meant it. Sarah noticed them approaching and waved them over. Braden told him he would be there in a moment. Young Sarik detached himself from the soldiers and joined them at the front. He supposed he shouldn’t think of Sarik as young anymore, it was just that he had taken Sarik into his care three years ago when the lad was fifteen. Sarik was the third son of a minor house in the Waylands, and his father had been overjoyed that the nephew of their prince would take his youngest son into his service. Verona never viewed it as taking anyone into his service, but looked at Sarik as a younger brother he never had.
 

“Sarik is going to demonstrate the slow fighting forms, and I want you to pay particular attention to both his form and his breath control,” Sarah said.

The twenty men spread out to get a better look. They ranged in age with the youngest looking about sixteen years of age to some being twice that, but they all lined up and paid attention.

Sarik began moving his body slowly. They both had practiced what Aaron had taught them nearly every day since those days aboard the deck of the Raven. Sarik moved with effortless ease, his whole body becoming one.

“Can anyone tell me the importance of breathing?” Sarah asked.

“Because we like living, my Lady,” an older soldier snickered and was quickly joined in by others.

A smile cracked Sarah’s face as she joined in, “As do we all. You happened to be quite right...”

“Kay, my Lady,” answered the soldier.

“Watch as Sarik moves, his body and breath become one. One cannot happen without the other. When breath is controlled you have greater endurance, which is essential to stay alive,” Sarah said, making eye contact with each of them as she spoke. “Suits of armor aren’t so common anymore, but those warriors who donned them had to build their endurance to wear them. A smarter, less armored warrior could easily tire out his more armored opponent if he didn’t know how to control his breathing. You’ve all heard of the De’anjard?” Sarah asked.

The soldiers nodded, and some glanced at Braden, who joined them.

“The De’anjard were known throughout the realm as being among the strongest of any fighting force on Safanar. Braden can you tell us why?”

“You can’t fight well if you don’t breathe well,” Braden bellowed.

“Forgive me, my Lady, but we were told you were going to test us to see if we could tap into the energy as you do. When are we going to get to that?” Kay asked, and the question was mirrored upon every one of the soldier’s faces.

“In order to open oneself to the energy around them, they must be calm and in control. Mastery of self comes through a quiet and focused mind. Practicing the slow fighting forms will help to train you to focus your mind. Only then you may open yourself up to higher forms of practice,” Sarah said.

The men spread out with each trying to mimic Sarik’s movement. The rest of them walked among them and corrected their form as they went. More than once Verona saw Braden watching Sarah as if he were weighing something.

“What’s wrong, my friend?” Verona quietly asked.

“The rune-carved staff has been stolen,” Braden said.

“And you believe Sarah took it?”

“I’m not sure. There weren’t many who knew about the staff or where it was.”

“Just all those people at the arena in Khamearra knew about the staff,” Verona chuckled.

“The guard on duty was knocked out, and he can’t remember anything.”

Verona glanced at Sarah who was showing one of the younger soldiers the proper form. The soldier almost looked stunned to be speaking with the princess. “Well, if Sarah did take the staff, I’m sure it was for safekeeping.”
Or to keep a certain someone from taking it,
Verona thought to himself.

“And the guard?” Braden asked.

“Now that is something we should be concerned with. If whoever took the staff meant us harm then they simply would have killed the guard. Could you imagine an Elitesman leaving a witness alive?”

“I see your point, Verona. I thought things would have been better when Aaron returned, but instead it’s got us all being suspicious of one another.”

“Or in this case, Sarah. I agree, my friend, things have gotten more complicated. What I’m about to ask you may seem offhand, but have you noticed anything different with Aaron since his return?” asked Verona.

Braden frowned, “Nothing comes to mind. Aaron has always gone his own way.”

“Fair enough,” Verona said.
 

They spent the next hour going through the various fighting forms and then paired the men in groups for some sparring. Verona noticed a group of well-armed Zsensibarian guards making their way through the training yard. Among them a tall, broad-shouldered man with a spiraled crown that sat atop his head. Jopher was with them. Verona liked Jopher, but had never met Zsensibar’s ruler. As far as Verona knew, it was a rare event that required Zsensibar’s king to venture outside his borders.
 

At some point Aaron arrived. He had two of the De’anjard with him and a small group of noblemen watching. Aaron waved over to him as he walked over.

“Have you come to join us, my friend?” Verona asked.

“I thought I might,” Aaron said, smiling and nodding to the others in greeting. His eyes lingered on Sarah for a moment, who gave him a perfunctory nod.
 

“I’d like three volunteers and the rest of you to form a circle around us,” Aaron said.

Two veteran soldiers stepped up, and one of the younger soldiers, Wesley, Verona believed was his name, stumbled forward. The wiry lad fell in line with the other two men.

“When the Elitesmen attack it will rarely be just you against them. There will be many coming at you all at once and without a shred of mercy. Therefore, the Elitesmen shall be granted none,” Aaron said as he slowly stepped toward his three volunteers. “You,” Aaron said to Wesley. “How do you think you’d do against these other two?”

Wesley glanced at the other two men, weighing his options. “I’m not sure, your Grace.”

Aaron nodded, “Fair enough.” He brought out a white piece of cloth about a yard in length. “Here tie this to your belt behind you.”

Wesley’s brows drew up, and he slowly reached out for the cloth and did as Aaron had asked. Verona glanced across the circle at Sarah, whose grim-lined gaze was fixed upon the men in the center.

“The rules are to stay in the circle,” Aaron said to the three men. “The job for you two is to bring me that bit of cloth tied to young Wesley’s backside.”

The two soldiers nodded and turned their attention to Wesley, who gulped and faced his opponents.