Turns out that I needn't have worried about the bandits who had managed to flee during the 'battle'. In the time it had taken me to kill three, Vera had tracked down and taken care of the rest.

When I emerged from the depths of Gel'mardin, my left hand still encrusted with foul blood and my black blade shimmering softly in my right, Vera was also emerging from the treeline. In her grasp was the near mythical Weapon Illithin, the legendary frost-covered glaive.

I found myself examining the Weapon in my Storm Sight, comparing it to Rionna. Illithin had the same type of white and blue sheen as Vera's own soul, a dim glow emanating from the core of the beautiful instrument of destruction. Even as I watched, traces of blood on its bladed end froze and fell away, dispersing into the chilled air around her. It had a heaviness to it that Rionna lacked and it had nothing to do with the weight of the Weapon. Illithin had simply lived for longer, had seen more and grown alongside her Knight and Smith. I hoped that one day Rionna too would have that sort of presence. Though, I would be happy if she never felt like the ominous Weapon of the King and Queen. The thought of it alone made me shiver, recalling the oppressive invasiveness that I had felt that day in the King's study.

Vera changed when Bonded, something I would have never noticed had it not been for the Gift of the Storm. I could see the Strength and Speed in her limbs, a dancing medley of blue light that left her soul in pulses, spreading throughout her body in a steady rhythm. Stronger than Alden's and my own by a mile. My Gift may be Resonant, but the time that Vera and Annabelle had dedicated to the growth of their Strength was plain for all to see. There was a steadiness to it, a harmony that her Gifts found which mine still lacked. Of course, I couldn't be expected to be at her level of control anytime soon. Her power and mine wasn't something that could be compared. At least, not yet.

Rionna vanished from my hand and the power of the Knight left my body as my two Smiths reappeared in the physical world. Tessa still looked a little unsteady at her emergence which was understandable. Our practice over the past week had been intense, but returning from my inner soul was no doubt a jarring experience regardless. Elora made it look easy, already walking to her horse as soon as the light of her soul faded beneath her skin once more.

“I would ask that next time you don't spend so much time on only three of your enemies, Orin,” Vera called as she walked towards us, Illithin fading away as Annabelle appeared next to her, taking the transformation as easily as Elora, “While I understand your anger, allowing them to escape after seeing you Bond is not a risk we can allow.”

“I couldn't risk losing control of my Bonds,” I said firmly. I absolutely understood the need for secrecy, but I couldn't allow Elora and Tessa to be put in harms way if they were suddenly ejected from my soul. We were never in a condition to fight after even a short period of Bonding.

“Again, I understand. I doubt anything would have come from their escape, but we shouldn't take chances we don't have to. You could have killed them all in an instant if you hadn't been so focused on punishing a few. I'd suggest that next time you don't allow your emotions to rule you.”

Something about her tone grated on my nerves, “And if they had spoken of Annabelle like they did of Elora and Tess?”

“They would have died before the words were uttered,” Vera shrugged, as though that was a foregone conclusion, “But I can afford to be so vengeful. Strong as you are while Bonded with both of your Smiths, you have a tremendous weakness when it comes to how long you can maintain that level of power. Being overly cautious can only help you.”

She was right, of course. I had allowed my emotions to overtake me, something that I couldn't quite blame on the Bond any longer. My newly forged connection with Tessa didn't help things, but it was hardly as potent as when I had first Bonded with Elora. I should've been better. I would be better, for their sake.

I didn't believe I had done anything wrong, but I should have been faster when doling out my attacks instead of taking my time on each of the transgressors. I nodded to Vera thankfully for the inadvertent lesson, something which seemed to take her aback before she returned the gesture with a small smile.

I felt someone grab my wrist and turned to see my wife with a frown of concentration on her face as she used some of her water to clean my hand of blood. I looked on as she went about her grim task, small fingers wiping away the remnants of the ill-fated bandit.

“Did you have any problems?” I asked the First Knight as my wife worked. I kept my eye on Tessa as I asked the question, watching as my mercenary banished the nausea of Etherin with a shake of her head and the clenching of her fists.

Vera rolled her eyes, “Please, they were rapists and cowards. I'm pretty sure they shat themselves as one when I came through the trees.”

“We'd best move as soon as we're able,” Alden said from atop his horse, “While I'm sure that no Knight has the range to see the Bonding from Sind, chances shouldn't be taken.”

I agreed with the Ragoran warrior, remembering how Elora had feared Vera would be able to spot our Bonding even from within Myrin after our escape. It had been a couple of days into our trip before the Princess had felt comfortable enough to enter my inner soul without alerting the First Knight. A spot of panic welled up in my chest as I hurriedly turned to Tess.

“A Knight wouldn't be able to tell that I Bonded with the both of you, would they?”

Tessa frowned, thinking before she answered, “They shouldn't. They could tell a Bonding has taken place and that it was stronger than usual, but I doubt any in Venos would be able to spot the subtle signs of an Heir. Samuel could, I'm sure, considering he has been sent to find you, but his range couldn't be great enough to spot us from Myrin.”

“I agree,” Vera said, “If I didn't know you were an Heir, I don't think I'd have spotted anything amiss. Samuel is powerful, but he isn't a God. We're safe for the moment at least. Still, Alden's point is well-made. We should get moving.”

Tessa and the others made their way over to their horses as Elora finally finished wiping my hand clean before offering me the remaining droplets to drink.

“Are you alright?” I asked carefully. Elora and I had Bonded and fought other Knights in Dunwellen, but that had been war against comparable opponents. This was something altogether different. The bandits had no chance of hurting us. It was more akin to slaughter than actual battle.

“Of course I am, I'm with you,” Elora smiled, kissing me on the cheek and whispering into my ear, “Don't worry for me, my Knight. These animals deserved much worse than what you gave them. By killing them, we may have saved others from a worse fate.”

A surprising response and one I hadn't altogether expected from my Princess. I still remembered the look she gave me when I had killed the defenceless Smith of the Fire Knight in Dunhold after defeating his Bonded partner. Part of me was afraid that she wouldn't quite understand why I had acted the way I did. I was more than thankful that I was wrong and the look on my face must have let Elora know that as she took my hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

“What did anger me, however, was the pointless way in which you took a flail to the shoulder,” Elora quipped, Tessa already nodding behind her from atop her mount. “Why did you feel the need to do that?”

“He did the same with Alden, remember?” Tessa smirked, “He grabbed a hold of his Weapon just to prove he could.”

“It was certainly intimidating,” Deirdric interrupted quietly, his gaze almost wistful as he recalled our brief clash.

“If the enemy thinks I don't feel pain, it scares them,” I shrugged a little helplessly. Saying it out loud made it sound far more stupid than I intended, “I don't know why it works, it just does. Vera knows what I'm talking about.”

“I have never grabbed onto a flaming Weapon just to prove I don't feel pain,” Vera said, “I do feel pain and being set on fire fucking hurts.”

“Vera, please don't lower yourself to using such language,” Annabelle said softly with a roll of her eyes.

The First Knight looked strangely cowed, “Sorry, Annie.”

It was more than a little strange watching the sisters interact without some form of higher official nearby. I had nearly always met with Vera and Annabelle in dire circumstances. Seeing the natural way in which they spoke to one another was strangely comforting in a way. It reminded me that they were human and not the god-like warriors that their reputations often painted them as.

The Princess mounted as I did, just as tense as before as I settled on the back of my accursed horse, who glared at me with beady eyes. It was almost as though he thought I was disturbing his rest by daring to climb atop him.

“So how did your first foray in combat go, Tess?” I asked the mercenary as I settled into place and the lot of us took off at a trot.

Tessa nodded thoughtfully, “Good, I think. Storm and Strength really do work well together, almost as if they were never meant to be used apart.”

“I agree,” Elora continued earnestly, “Your control was fantastic, Tessa. I saw the way in which you gave more Storm to compensate when I let off of Strength.”

Tessa scratched at her face, made uncomfortable by the compliment, “The Thrones helped a lot, but I am improving. I saw what you were doing with Healing and knew how to support you without getting in the way. Your Aurum control is quite something, Princess.”

Elora beamed at the mercenary, all but bouncing in her saddle as her face flushed, “I think we've gotten a lot better at working together.”

“I could feel it,” I said genuinely as we rode, thinking over the skirmish, “Strength or Storm, both came at my call. For some reason it felt easier to use Rionna as well. Almost like we're a little more in tune.”

“That will happen the more you use your Weapon,” Vera butted in, “It'll take time, but your sword is much like an Element. If you think it feels like an extension of your body now wait until you're acting as one. It's quite something to see.”

“How long did it take you to get that far with Illithin?” I asked the First Knight who tapped a finger to her chin in thought.

“Years. True synergy between you and Rionna will only happen in dire situations, when your life or the lives of others are on the line,” Vera looked almost wistful as she stared off into space, towards distant conflicts that I could only imagine, “I'm sure you'll have plenty of chances in the future.”

On that rather ominous note, we all fell into a comfortable silence as I suffered my steed without a sound. Even while with the band I would avoid riding whenever possible. In truth, the only reason I rode at all was because the other mercenaries were doing it and it seemed like the thing a warrior does. If I never had to ride a horse again after this trip, I would consider it a blessing.

“You're glaring at your horse again,” Tessa smirked at me from my left side, easily riding next to me with the same casual grace that she applied to everything she did, “What did he do now?”

“Besides ruining my life with every step?” I asked breezily, wincing as we crossed over a particularly uneven part of the terrain. “Why couldn't I have gotten some old nag with three hooves in the grave?”

“I picked up that one directly from the palace stables,” Vera said ahead, “He's an old war horse. I didn't catch his name, but he's seen conflict before. I believed, wrongly, that a mercenary Knight decorated in battle would be able to handle him.”

“I think he's sweet,” Elora said as she leaned over to stroke the side of my horses' flank, the big bastard leaning into her touch with vigour, nearly throwing me in his attempt to get closer.

“What's the name of this village we're visiting, Vera?” I asked, hoping to distract myself from my aching body.

“Arn,” Vera said swiftly, “It's a mining town on the edge of the forest. Small enough to be out of the way and big enough that the locals won't ask any questions of a few strangers passing through. It has little more than an inn, a shop and an alehouse for the miners, but it'll suit our needs. Plus, we have to pass through it on this road, so we're not going out of our way.”

“We visited it once on our way back from a mission in the Republic,” Annabelle added quietly, “Myrin it is not, but a warm bed, no matter how lumpy, is preferable to sleeping out in the elements. I believe our ability to cross great distances in short amounts of time has spoiled us.”

“You, you mean?” Vera quipped with a smirk, “I can't say I mind sleeping beneath stars every now and then.”

“Every now and then is fine, but after our little journey back from Paldrum, I am looking forward to spending some time in some semblance of civilisation.”

We continued on the winding merchant road of Gel'mardin, the thick forest lacking the almost oppressive feeling that Estalin, the western forest, held. I had seen this part of Venos before, back during my first year with the band. We had taken a job to defend the Republic's northern border with Fero. It was there, in fact, that I had my now famous clash with Prince Maric, already a near legendary swordsman despite not even being sixteen when we fought.

I remembered him now, the handsome prince looking like he had jumped off the pages of some ancient tale of dragons and chivalry, with his long dark hair and piercing eyes. A sword carried in each hand as he cut swathes through our ranks. Four of the band died that day, with many more from the Yelesi army. I would have followed had the young man not shown me mercy. The other mercs had been quick to remind me of my failure to defeat the Prince for months after that day, never once mentioning their own inability to do so. If nothing else, it had made a good story to tell around the fire at night, even if the terrible injury had left me bed-ridden for near three months after my first ever battle. That had been my last memory of Gel'mardin, staring forlornly out of the back of a wagon at the trees as I lamented my defeat.

I wondered how I would compare against the man now. I'm sure he was already a Knight, as it was expected of royalty in this part of the world. I gave myself good odds. He has two swords, but I have two Smiths, and my own skill has improved drastically since that day. I did find myself occasionally looking back on that short lived fight, wincing at my misplaced footwork and clumsy attempts to repel his attacks. I was glad for it though. It had shown me that nothing less than my best would be acceptable and so I had thrown myself into my training with a renewed vigour as soon as I could stand once more.

Elora and Tessa struck up a conversation as we travelled, comparing notes in quiet murmurs as they discussed how to streamline their Smithing abilities for my benefit. I was glad to see they had grown closer. Perhaps calling them friends would be going too far, but they both shared a common goal as Smiths. The competitive streak that I had caught onto in Myrin had transformed into a cooperative spirit, both women realising that their combined efforts would make for greater results than either of them apart.

I had felt it in the fight. The tearing on my soul was still present and even after the brief bout of combat we had gone through, I felt significantly weakened and near fit to keel over. Thankfully, I had recovered fast but the three of us needed to put more effort into staying Bonded for longer. Maybe I could run through my forms with Rionna while the girls worked Strength and Storm as one? Something to think about, in any case. I needed to push myself beyond my limitations. If any battle I was involved in fell to one of attrition, I doubted I would be able to remain standing long enough to have a chance at victory.

The hours passed us by in rapid succession as I pondered the secrets of my Elements and how to touch upon Lightning and Space. I had decided that Space was a lost cause, at least for the moment. The thing wanted nothing to do with me, almost as if it could sense my hesitation after hearing of the madness it frequented upon its previous wielders. Lightning seemed much more likely to bear fruit and, like Darkness, I tried to find a memory which I could latch onto to unlock its power. As of yet, I was coming up empty. The Dark had played a large part in my life during my younger years. For me it had represented safety, warmth and protection. What did Lightning mean to me? I had seen plenty of thunderstorms, but I don't remember having any meaningful thoughts beyond 'that's not good.'

It was as I was dwelling on the secrets of the world that the treeline suddenly expanded and I caught sight of the first houses.

I was impressed with the sturdiness of the structures. Each well-built and crafted of wood taken from the surrounding trees, they looked to be secure and free from rot, which was something that was surprising difficult to do. Especially in this part of Venos which was prone to copious amounts of rain and cold.

A small sign, hastily erected and looking to be as old as the forest itself, proudly proclaimed this sleepy village to be Arn, home of the Bestin Iron Mine. I was suitably impressed by that alone. The written word was not that common outside the cities of Venos, with it being seen as a luxury more than the necessity my mother seemed to believe it was. A fact she was more than happy to slap into me with a cane if I spoke a word to the contrary.

Alden and I hurriedly hid our swords from sight. While we meant no harm to the people of Arn and Vera had warned us that no questions would be asked, seeing a sword out here in the middle of nowhere usually meant bandits. A label we would much rather avoid. The less trouble we made the better.

“The inn is further in, near the town square,” Vera called over her shoulder as she trotted down the packed dirt path, “We'd best get there quick and get the horses seen to.”

I almost questioned her need for urgency before I heard the sounds of shouting echo out into the air. The sun had only just began to set but that would mean a return of the miners to their homes. More likely, it meant a trip to the alehouse. While drunk folk in a city tended to keep to their own business, the same couldn't be said for isolated villages like Arn. They always had something to prove to the city-folk, at least in my experience. I had been in enough bar brawls to know that much at least.

We reached the square quickly enough, being little more than a collection of houses with a small statue erected at the circular centre. The statue itself was one I recognised, for it was the Spires of Myrin, clumsily remade in stone. Just beyond the statue was a long building, one which near burst with the yells emanating from within. The warm glow of light poured from open windows as a small cadre of men, smeared black and heavily built, threw back tankards of a foul concoction that I could smell even from where I was. Some kind of slop made from leftovers was what I wagered, though I didn't have any intention of finding out.

When I was with the band, there was a time that me, Dumas, Padma and a few of the other younger members would leave camp to go into the nearby village to start some trouble. We always found it, usually thanks to the large mercenary's big mouth and quick temper.

I found myself looking at Tessa as I thought that. I can't even remember the number of times I had tried to get her to join us on those little trips, only for her to walk away from me mid-sentence. She was wise not to go. All we got for our troubles was a throbbing hangover and a black eye. Still, I was strangely nostalgic for the experience as I watched the group of men that spilled out of the tavern laugh their troubles away.

“Here we are,” Vera said as she climbed down from her steed, pointing towards a large building half hidden in shadow, “Alden, Deirdric, see the inn-keep for some rooms. We'll see to the horses.”

The Ragoran Knight and Smith pair both nodded to Vera before making their way inside the decorated double doors. Above the entrance hung a faded sign with 'Miner's Rest' etched in fine lettering. The inn looked to be a cut above the other buildings around it, which filled me with no small amount of relief. If I had a high chance of walking out of there in the morning with bites all over my skin I'd prefer just to camp in the forest.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

We walked our steeds to the side of the building where a stable was waiting. A young boy of about twelve leaned against the wooden fencing, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he breathed cold air out in great plumes to amuse himself. As soon as he caught sight of us, he stiffened and hurried over, nodding and bowing with great deference as he took the reigns of our horses in turn, guiding them into their new home for the night.

“Careful with this one, he has a temper,” I warned the boy as he took a hold of my own old war horse.

Frustratingly, the asshole remained as tame as a kitten, allowing the young boy to lead him with not a single sound of complaint. I swear he did it just to annoy me. Maybe a night of good food and shelter will make him act a little warmer. Not fucking likely, but a man can dream.

“You three wait out here while we go and assist Deirdric and Alden,” Annabelle said after the horses were squared away, fixing me with a narrow eyed stare, “Try not to make a scene.”

I grumbled and nodded. I know why she said it, but I would have much appreciated if the warning was also given to my two Smiths. I knew the reason they were leaving us outside. The less people who interacted with us, the better. My scar was pretty distinctive and hard to miss, it would definitely be pointed out to any interested parties that passed by this way. I was more than willing to stay hidden from sight if it meant one night of rest.

I glanced at Elora out of the corner of my eye, only to find her staring at me just as earnestly, her face flushing as she looked away hurriedly.

Maybe not rest. Maybe something better.

“Hey there, folks!”

The call came from the direction of the old alehouse and I barely stopped the groan emanating from my lips. I knew it. As soon as I saw a bunch of rowdy and drunken villagers, I knew something was bound to happen. At least when something like this occurred now I could blame the Great Spirit for me being an Heir and drawing trouble to me.

I turned to three men, miners by the looks of them. Each covered in the muck and filth of a dark, dank hole in the ground, each just finishing a hard day's work. I respected the grind, the everyday monotony. It was something that I could have never done, my heart long ago taken by battle and not the need to make it from payment to payment to survive.

“Good evening,” My Princess said sweetly and with a smile that could melt the heart of a glacier. I would've cursed aloud, but instead settled for a small sigh escaping my lips. At best we would be up for a few minutes of banal conversation, at worse one of them wanted to start some shit.

Oh, who am I kidding. It's me, of course they're going to start some shit.

“Not seen you around here before,” The one one the right said. He was a reedy, red-haired lad with a small knife on his hip. “You come from the city?”

“Aye, we do that,” I replied easily, stepping forward. I don't think the three men had seen me yet, cloaked as I was in the shadow of the inn. I felt them tense at my approach. “We've come in from Sind, heading across the border in search of wares to sell.”

Elora threw me a confused glance for an instant before realisation crossed her eyes and she nodded firmly. Tessa stood next to Elora, barely moving and seemingly uninterested in the conversation, her undivided attention fixed on the crude statue of the Spires.

“Oh, we have some high faluting city folk,” The largest of the three, on the left, sniggered, “You and your lady friends should join us for a drink, we're hankering for the company.”

“Thanks, but we're exhausted. We leave early morning so best get some shut-eye,” I fucking knew it.

“Oh, come now, that's not nice,” The central man frowned, offended, “We're offering you a drink and you spit in our faces like that? That what you all act like in Sind? Ain't that insulting, Red?”

“Insulting, it is,” The reedy man nodded, his eyes fixed on Tessa. My soul stirred. Lightning crackled.

“Best be on your ways, lads,” I said quietly, “We want no trouble, just a place to rest our heads.”

“No trouble he says. How 'bout this? You head off to bed and the ladies come have a nice drink with us?” The central man made a mistake then. He leaned in, drunkenly, to grab a hold of Elora's wrist.

I slapped it away easily and stepped in front of my Princess, “Fuck off now. Ain't gonna ask again.”

“You looking for a fucking problem, mate?” The largest growled even as he swayed, “We're just trying to be nice.”

“Touch my wife again and I'll kick the shit out of you. Nothing nice about that.”

The three men bristled then, so taken with the drink that they could hardly stand let alone think clearly. They saw only one man in front of them. One man with one eye. If they knew what to look for they'd already be running but they were well passed the point of no return. I doubted they were even interested in the girls. They just wanted to cause a problem, just wanted to argue, to fight. I had seen it before and I'd even been that way myself more than once. Still, I wouldn't let them touch Elora.

“Then how's about we take this one?” The reedy fuck said creepily, his hand already extended towards my Smith. I moved in front of her and slapped his hand away as well. The other two were just drunk, but this bastard had been eyeing Tess since we entered the square. If he kept looking, I'd snap both his fucking arms, “What? She your wife too?”

The man shoved me, or he tried to.

Tessa had a knife to his throat.

The bare blade of his own weapon, which she had ripped free from the sheath on his hip, was now pressed underneath his patchy beard. She stared at him. Better to say that she stared through him. The reedy man gulped, the action causing his throat to press the blade deeper into his neck and summoning a single droplet of scarlet blood for his troubles.

“Touch him, you die.” The words were simple, delivered with no emotion or inflection, but I could read her well enough to see the anger and disgust in her eyes. She meant what she said with every fibre of her being. The man was unable to move, his eyes locked to hers. He couldn't look away.

“Ho there!” A fourth man ran up behind the trio, this one seeming to be at least in control of his basic motor functions, “Just a misunderstanding! A thousand apologies, good sir, ladies!”

The newcomer moved two of the fools back, pushing them towards the alehouse none too gently. His smile was large, but I could see the strain there, barely hidden beneath the surface. He had a different look about him than the rest. His back was straight, his hair well-maintained and clean. He had the look of a soldier about him.

“Ah, miss,” The stranger said as he approached in full view of Tessa, making sure to keep his hands out to the side with palms up, “If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd like my worker back. I'm the foreman, you see, and it'll be a lot of paperwork if he don't show up tomorrow. He's an ass, I know, but he's a good sort without the drink in him.”

Tessa seemed to consider and for a moment, just a moment, I thought that she was actually going to slit his throat. Then she grumbled and lowered the blade, taking a step back until she was standing beside me, our elbows touching as I sent a shimmer over the Bond. She smiled a little at that, a little tension leaving her body.

“C-crazy bitch,” The reedy man whined over his shoulder.

Well. That just wouldn't do.

I lunged forward and grabbed the man's shoulder, whipping him back around to face me as I landed a hay-maker on his nose, feeling the cartilage crunch under the impact. He fell backwards without a sound, the sheer force of the blow causing him to hit his head off the hard earth beneath him.

A few of the men outside of the tavern caught sight of the ruckus and more than one jumped to their feet. I prepared myself for a scrap, but bloodshed was prevented once more by the foreman.

“Sit your asses down! He deserved it and the matter's done!” He turned back to us, his hands still held out to pacify his men, “Agreed?”

“Alright,” I replied shortly, a slight ache running through the knuckles of my right hand.

The foreman let loose an explosive breath at that and moved to pick up the drowsy drunkard, who was staring about with streaming eyes and a glazed expression. Two others came over to give their foreman a hand, carrying the man back to a makeshift table made from a barrel outside the alehouse.

“Spirit, every fucking time,” He turned to us apologetically, “Sorry 'bout them. Every time we have some city folk pass through, they like to puff out their chests and prove they're real men. Picked the wrong targets this time it seems.”

“Aye, I'd say that.”

The foreman chuckled, “Listen, It'd be best you make yourselves scarce, least till all these boys make it home. They've no love for Red and his little group, but we who work the mines stick by our own.”

“We'll be gone by morning, good sir,” Elora said, peering around my shoulder, “No need to worry.”

“Good to hear, young miss,” The man cursed to himself once again, “Thought they'd learned after that other fellow came in a few days back. Beat seven men black and blue, never seen nothing like it and I served in the infantry for a few years, seen all sorts. Usually I just let these things play out, but after that I decided to be a bit more cautious. We were short for three days after he laid those boys up.”

“What other fellow?” I asked plainly, “Someone from the city?”

“Don't know, but he was an outsider. That's usually enough for Red and his band of idiots,” The foreman frowned, shivering slightly as he looked towards the entrance to the inn, “Fucking giant of a man he was, laughed through the whole fight. Still here, I think, staying at the inn.”

No.

No, it couldn't be.

“Looked like a sell-sword, though fuck knows who can afford that lad. He'd be well worth the coin, I reckon. If you wanted to tear apart an army, that is.”

“Orin.” Tessa looked worried.

My soul screamed, the black flames spat sparks of silver and bolts of blinding lightning.

“Wait here.” I said insistently to my Smiths, urging them to obey me, at least this once.

I walked through the doors of the inn as though in a daze. I immediately caught sight of Alden, Deirdric, Annabelle and Vera. All of them stood at the counter directly opposite the entrance, talking with a sharp-eyed old man whose face held the expression of disbelief at having so many customers. They didn't notice me. I saw the sign for a taproom and followed it, pushing past a curtain to the bar beyond. It appeared to double as a dining hall of sorts, with fine wooden furniture thrown about seemingly haphazardly. It wasn't empty, but it was hardly full and held an altogether different atmosphere than the alehouse across the way. I guess this particular establishment didn't allow men from the mine to drink here, despite its name. A few people sat around their tables, quietly drinking and laughing amongst themselves. I ignored all of them.

I found what I was looking for.

I walked up to the small bar and took a seat on a stool, noticing just how clean the place was as the barkeep approached. A lovely young woman with dark hair tied up in an elaborate bun smiled at me gently.

“What are you having?” She asked and the question seemed to carry more weight than she intended.

“Whisky.” I said hoarsely, waiting a second and tapping anxiously on the bar top as she poured me a dram. I was honestly rather surprised they had any in this sort of place. You could expect ale in a village, but little else. I took a sip and felt the warm burn of the spirit as it went down my throat, sweet like honey and delicious in equal measure.

“Hey, kid.”

The voice was one I knew as well as my own. I continued to sip at my whisky, focusing on the burn in my throat and not in my soul, “Hey, boss.”

“I was wondering when you'd show up, lad.”

I kept drinking.

“Was beginning to think I was wrong, maybe you'd taken a different road,” I heard him scratch at his beard, “Thank the Spirit I was right.”

My eye scanned the room around us. The few folk that were in seemed well dressed, for a village at least. Must be those with an actual trade, maybe even some who had some interest in the mine itself. No one would be a problem. They'd run.

“You not want to know how I found you?” There was a pause at that before he kept talking, “Mastan left a letter in one of our old drop-boxes. They haven't been used for years but I check them now and again, didn't expect I'd find anything. Heard 'bout Samuel. That's some mean luck, kid. Was supposed to meet up with you in Myrin. That was my plan anyway.”

I chuckled at that before taking another sip of my whisky.

“Message mentioned Alden. Knew you wouldn't be staying in the city for long. Odds were that you'd be sticking to the roads. Ain't no hiding from Samuel, fucker's like a dog with a bone when he catches your scent. You only have a couple of points to cross over if you want to do it fast. Quickest brings you through Arn.”

I took another sip and admired the bar. It was quite the thing, ornately carved from some wood that definitely wasn't from Gel'mardin. Imported, maybe?

“So I set up shop here. Had some trouble with the locals, but I sorted them out fast. I heard the noise outside. You have some problems yourself, lad?”

I didn't answer his question. Instead I lifted a hand and pointed it at my now empty glass which was quickly filled at my call.

“Course, if Tessa still had those marks on her skin I could've used that talisman Mastan gave me to track her. Take the fact that it doesn't work means you came to your senses?”

I put the glass down hard and turned to face the man who was speaking for the first time. My mentor, my boss, my father. The man who had made me what I am today, who had taken a kid from the slums of Myrin and forged him into a warrior. I stared at Boldrin the Bold.

He hadn't changed much. Still huge, his body so big that he barely fit on the tiny chair he had decided to punish with his presence. His bearded face still carried that devious grin and the promise of booming laughter, his eyes shining with the same wicked intelligence that had made him such a successful mercenary commander. His black hair, streaked with grey, was oily, as it always was and lay limp against his skull. My eye skittered past him and caught sight of his axe leaning against the next stool over.

“Shit, that's one hell of a scar, kid.” Boldrin winced, “Tessa not fix that for you? She said she could. I'm happy about that, by the way. After all the shit that kid's seen... well, she deserves a little happiness.”

I didn't answer the man. There was so much I wanted to say to him. I wanted to ask him about the band, wanted definitive answers as to how everyone was doing after our assault on Dunwellen. I wanted to ask him how he was doing. The last time I had seen him was when he was attacked by Craven, smashed into a tree like a child. I had thought he was dead and that alone almost destroyed me. That I had killed him by being weak. I wanted him to tell me of his past, to know his relationship with Craven and the Mentor he served.

But there was something else we had to deal with. Another matter that needed to be discussed. Boldrin was quiet for moment longer as he pondered his ale, taking a quick swig before staring off into space with a frown.

“I suppose you know everything now. Well, mostly everything,” Boldrin said softly, his huge fingers touching his mug with a gentleness that belied his appearance. “I'm sorry I lied to you all these years, kid. I'm sorry that you didn't know what was going on. If it means anything, know that I wanted to tell you a thousand times. I just couldn't do it. There was too much at stake. If the Hall got word of you before we were ready, that would be the end of all of us. Not just you, but the band as well. We'd all be targets.”

“I get that, Boldrin,” I stated. “I get why the Sister didn't tell me either. I know you did it with the best of intentions.”

The mercenary seemed taken aback by that because he quieted down afterwards before speaking up again, “But that ain't what you're angry about.”

“Nah, boss. It's not.”

Boldrin knew. He knew it as sure as water is wet. “I did what I had to do, son.”

“She was seven, Boldrin,” I said, just as quietly, focusing on keeping my voice from cracking, “You made a little girl kill a man when she was seven years old. She suffered alone. In the dark. I didn't know she was there. All those years, she watched me through a window and I didn't know she was there.”

We sat there for a moment longer, the two of us quietly sipping on our drinks, taken up by our own thoughts before the large man shifted in his seat, the stool bending dangerously beneath his great weight.

“We fighting, lad?”

I lifted my glass to my lips and finished the whisky, savouring the flavour as I placed it down gingerly upon the counter, almost regretful that I had finished it so soon.

“Aye, boss. We're fighting.”

I smashed Boldrin's head against the bar.

* * *

Tessa watched Orin's receding back with frustration and fear welling up in her chest. As soon as he disappeared into the inn, she began to pace, noticing the distinct lack of any emotion in her sister-Smith. Elora stood next to her with clasped hands and an even expression, staring after Orin with indifference in her eyes. It was feigned only. Tessa could see the nervous twitch running through the Princess' hands. She and Elora hadn't known each other for long, but she was beginning to pick up on a few things.

Boldrin was inside. She knew it in her heart, knew that he had somehow managed to track them down. She had told Orin of Boldrin's promise to meet them in Myrin but he had only grumbled in reply. She could see the turmoil inside of him, something that she had planted by telling him of her history, of the part that Boldrin played in shaping who she was.

Tessa also knew why he went in alone. She had felt his soul, its beautiful black flames trembling with a potent mixture of silver and white. She could feel his rage and not all of it was directed towards their former band leader. Some was aimed towards himself and Tessa didn't know what to say to take that pain from him.

The last thing she wanted was for Orin to blame himself for her childhood. He hadn't known she was there. He couldn't have known, couldn't have helped. Could he not see that the mere act of Bonding with her was enough? That being one with him, being his Smith, was worth a thousand lifetimes of pain? How could he not see it?

“I should go in,” Tessa said doubtfully, hesitantly. Orin had bid them to stay. He had never ordered them to do anything before and his tone was like iron when he spoke, but she couldn't let him ruin his relationship with the man who had been like his father. Not for her sake. She wasn't worth the effort.

“No, Tess,” Elora smiled at her sadly, placing a hand on her arm and squeezing tightly, as though it would stop her, “He has to do this.”

“But why?” Tessa said quietly, not pulling from the Princess' grasp. She had gotten better at letting people touching her. Well, Elora was only the second but it was something at least, “He doesn't have to go through this. Not for me.”

Elora didn't look surprised at the direction of the conversation, so she too must have come to the same conclusion as Tess and Orin. Boldrin the Bold had arrived in Arn. For what purpose, Tessa could only begin to guess at.

The Princess was quiet for a moment, her eyes distant as she continued to stare off after Orin. When she spoke it was with a great care, “He blames himself for what you went through.”

“But he shouldn't!” Tessa yelled, drawing a few glances from the alehouse across the way, “What? Does he have to shoulder every fucking problem I have?!”

“When it comes to you, yes he does,” Elora said it with such resoluteness, such firmness, that Tessa was momentarily taken aback, “You are his Smith. We are his, Tess, as he is ours. Our problems are his problems and he'll do everything he can to make them right.”

Tessa fell silent after that, unsure of how to respond. The Princess was right. They were one now, Bonded at the soul. Even if sometimes she feared it wasn't the case. When she awoke in the mornings she would do so in a panic, her spiritual senses travelling down into her soul space just to catch sight of that golden thread, to reassure herself that it was still there. She would cry then, relief flooding her as she shook with arms folded around her knees, simply examining the Bond with awe.

“You may have forgiven Boldrin for what he did, Tessa. You might even believe there is nothing to forgive in the first place,” Elora stated grimly, “But Orin doesn't see it that way. I've seen him, watched him as he watched you. He blames himself for not seeing you sooner, for not trying harder. Even above Boldrin, Erin or your father, he hates himself the most and I believe he'll spend the rest of our lives trying to make it up to you.”

“He shouldn't think that,” Tessa replied weakly, “There was nothing he could have done.”

“I know you're right. Maybe he does as well, but that won't stop him from trying to fix it. We protect the people we love, Tessa.”

The mercenary held back, her hands curling into fists as she shook in place. Elora released her, knowing now that she wouldn't take another step forward. The Princess' words were like hammers smashing against her soul, the truth behind them undeniable. Perhaps Tessa had yet to accept that she truly was a part of something more than just herself. She was Orin's Smith now, connected to him through a fundamental force that bound all living things. Yet still a small part of her believed that she didn't deserve it. That was the reason she woke in a cold sweat, dread dripping down her neck as she tried to summon the courage to reach out to him, to touch their Bond and feel his instant, comforting response as it passed along the thread that tied them together.

“If the Bond starts playing up, tell me,” Elora said as she stood shoulder to shoulder with her sister-Smith, “I'll help if I can.”

“It was never the Bond.” Tessa admitted softly. Her possessive need to protect Orin, to be around him, hadn't faded in the slightest, nor had it magically dissipated upon Bonding with him. It was slightly easier to control now, her proximity to him allowing her irrational feelings to settle slightly, but it was still very much a part of who she was. She had used the excuse of the Bond to explain away being ready to attack Alden. In truth, the influence of the Bond was near laughable next to connection she had made with him when they were children.

“I know.” Elora smiled and nudged her gently. Tessa wasn't surprised that the Princess saw through her. There was far more to the young woman than met the eye. “I think he knows that as well. Our Orin is an idiot, but he can have the occasional insightful thought.”

Tessa laughed, the Princess swift to follow. The mercenary felt something close to a kinship with the Elora at that moment, both of them suffering through the foolhardy actions of the man they called their Knight. Both of them knowing that nobody else could ever hold that title, not for them. No one could hold a candle to him in their eyes.

Vera, Annabelle, Deirdric and Alden all emerged from within the inn, talking amongst themselves as they approached. Vera didn't look happy.

“He doubled his rate, I know it,” The First Knight complained to Annabelle, “Thirty silver a night? Really?”

“Vera, you are the First Knight of Venos and one of the wealthiest women in the Kingdom. I very much doubt that thirty silver is going to suddenly change that.”

“But per room, Annie. Per room!”

“Lady Tessa, we have procured lodging for the night,” Alden walked up to the young mercenary, bowing stiffly in her direction. Tessa schooled her expression as he approached.

Her feelings for Alden were... turbulent, to say the least. The man had delivered her to Venos, to her lonely fate. Yet she still remembered him from when she was a girl, the man more her father than Mastan ever was. She found herself being quietly thankful that Orin had held back his own anger towards the man. She had hardly said to two words to him the entire trip, yet being in his presence brought back memories of a simpler time, when all she had to worry about was climbing trees and going to her lessons on being a lady.

She found herself grinning internally as she thought that. While she was nervous to see her family once again, she was looking forward to their reaction. She had been scared of her father once, long ago, but with Orin she had nothing to fear. Even if she was cowed by Mastan's presence, her Knight wouldn't be.

She felt it then. A roar came across the Bond, one which touched Elora just as much as it did her. They both looked slightly to the right of the entrance, the Princess and the mercenary fixing their gazes on a large window. It was dark beyond and they couldn't see much beyond shadows dancing in the light.

“Where is Orin?” Vera asked with a frown, her expression suddenly becoming serious, coin forgotten as she threw a glance around the square. “Princess, where is your husband?”

The window of the inn exploded into a shower of shards as two figures fell through, snarling and shouting into the night even as they laid into each other with crushing blows.

It was then, in a moment of perfect clarity, that Tessa came to a realisation. She hated that Orin felt the way he did, hated that she could make him feel so much pain, but she hadn't for one second believed that he wouldn't do everything he could to help her, to save her.

It was the promise she made with him upon creating Storm. Her belief in him was absolute. It trumped all her worries, all her irrational doubts. Because if there was one thing she knew about Orin it was that he protected those that he loved. Elora had said the same, but it had taken Tess a moment to realise what she meant. What she needed to do was accept what she already knew, what she had been struggling with since she was a little girl. She had known it since they had sat in the orphanage courtyard as the storm raged around them, when he had focused on her and only her to the exclusion of all the chaos surrounding them. She thought she understood then, but only now did she see.

She recalled the feeling of drowning, Storm eating her up as she pushed her soul beyond its limits to see the Gift Forged. Then he was there, emerging into the light, cloaked in shadow, silver and thunder. She knew then, as she did now, that everything was going to be okay.

This was him keeping his promise.

Yes, Orin would do anything for the people he loved.

It had taken her this long to accept that she was one of them.