Heroes of Vallenthar: A Razvak Series Prequel by Arel B. Grant

Author:Arel B. Grant [Grant, Arel B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BZN Media
Published: 2021-03-20T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13:

WHAT BEING A WARRIOR

When Rodan walked into the empty sparring arena at sundown, Aelwyd was already there, waiting with crossed arms. At the sight of him, her ocean-blue eyes narrowed, and she tied her black locks into a pony tail.

“I don’t need any training.” Aelwyd raised an eyebrow, daring him to challenge her. “The High Mage taught me how to take care of myself.”

The Eldar shrugged off his cloak and formal robe. He’d been presiding court with Erandreid all afternoon and was glad to be rid of the formal clothing his brother insisted upon.

He could feel the Fairest One’s unhappy glare piercing a hole in his nape, but he shrugged that off, too.. Once down to his wide-sleeved kaorï and linen pants, he opened his mouth.

But she was faster.

“I don’t need it,” she repeated. “I am a warrior, not a defenseless little flower that will wither at the slightest breeze of wi—”

“I know,” he said, cutting her off.

Her eyebrows shot up at that.

Rodan continued. “I’ve seen the way you move, My Lady, measuring every step, never making a sound. It’s the behavior of someone who is skilled in the art of combat. I know you are a warrior.”

He let satisfaction rise to the surface of her face before adding, “However, I also know you have no idea what being a warrior entails.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Rodan smiled. “Come with me. You’ll need a weapon bigger than a dagger for what I have in mind.”

Keeping her eyes narrowed, she followed Rodan to the back of the room, where the weapons lined the walls on wooden racks. He gestured towards them and stepped back, wanting her to make the choice. She took a look at the longsword at his hip, but pursed her lips.

Good girl.

Rodan’s blade was a heavy sword, perfect for his larger, sturdier frame, but hardly ideal for a smaller warrior like her.

And she knows that.

He fought against the sudden wave of unjustified pride as he watched her examine every weapon and measure them with expertise.

At last, she picked a golden, intricately carved scimitar and swung it to test the weight. As the sword cut the air it produced a pleasing whistle. Its blade shone, reflecting the glow of Ellen-lights. Without realizing it, the Fairest One nodded with contentment. Rodan let out a small chuckle.

“Your vanity gets the better of you, My Lady.”

The glare he earned was completely worth it.

“What did you mean when you said I don’t know what being a warrior entails?”

Rodan unsheathed his own sword. “You are fast, silent, and always the first to strike. And not just when fighting. A warrior is a warrior whether his sword is in hand or not. Your attitude is,” Rodan shrugged, “arrogant.”

She charged and swung, but Rodan blocked the blow easily. “Now, now, are you trying to prove my point? I didn’t mean that as an insult!”

She let the scimitar fall, gripping the hilt of it too tightly. “It sounded like it!”

He laughed, and she came at him again.

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