(Ivan)

Ivan stood in the middle of a battleground. The destruction of war had ravaged the land. The field around him was littered with corpses. The once beautiful meadow of wildflowers had been trampled and transformed into a gruesome graveyard. The acrid stench of death and decay had spread throughout the valley. It coiled around the battlefield like a serpent suffocating its prey. Haze, born of morning mist, clung to the landscape. Clouds of smoke billowed like ghostly apparitions, writhing and dancing on the dead.

The smoke parted and Jane strode over the corpses. Without a word, she raised Fiery Justice, and charged him with bloodthirsty ferocity.

Their fight was brief but brutal. The deafening blows of their battle frightened even the vultures. The carrion birds took to the sky and circled above them. Their duel ended after he drove Har'esh Ser'on straight into her heart. Her eyes widened, and the color drained from her face. Crimson blood spilled from the wound, drenching her leather armor. She struggled to breathe and tried to say something to him. Unable to speak, she moved her lips but made no sound. Her eyes flickered with regret. Her shoulders sagged, and her chest caved in. She succumbed to her fate. She dropped silently to the ground and was swallowed by the mist.

Ivan woke with a start. His heart pounding in his chest. He wiped his clammy hands on his night shirt and kicked his legs to untangle the bedsheets. His dream had been intense and violent. He let out a harsh breath and closed his eyes. Fragments of the nightmare played back through his mind, and he shuddered.

He sat on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. The memory of his first meeting with Jane flashed through his mind. He had seen her in the Dome of Antiquities on the Tempest. Her thick amber hair had been pulled high up into a ponytail, warrior style. The rest of her hair had tumbled down her shoulders, brushing her back.

He smiled recalling the first time that he had seen her piercing aquamarine eyes. He wondered about the faint scar on her temple, near the hairline. He realized that he had never asked her how she had gotten it. He wondered where she was right now and what she was doing.

The squawking of blackbirds interrupted Ivan’s reverie. He shook his head.

This isn’t the time for daydreaming.

He had recruits to train, a War Council meeting to attend, maneuvers to practice with the Wolf division, and a myriad of other tasks.

He stood up, rolled his shoulders, and stretched. After dressing and doing some exercises, he went to wake Toby, who was sleeping on a makeshift bed of burlap sacks. Toby had passed out late last night, after another long day of training the greenhorns. Archery had quickly become an essential skill for the upcoming siege and capable instructors were in high demand. With his impressive talent, Toby had been an obvious choice for a new instructor.

Before waking his friend, Ivan reflected on some of the other projects in the city. The fletcher shops were working day and night. The fires were blazing at the windblast smithies and the coopers were making extra fireoil casks.

Ivan nudged Toby’s foot. “Oy, it’s time to wake up.”

“Grumph… hurra-muh,” Toby mumbled unintelligibly, turned over, and farted.

Ivan chuckled and shook his head. A steady diet of dragon beans had consequences. He gave a half shrug, raked his fingers through his hair, and decided to let his friend sleep in.

I wonder if Felk is up. He keeps bragging that he hardly ever sleeps.

Ivan stepped outside and saw his Grid Commander chatting it up with a group of sentries.

“Look busy boys, here comes the big blade.” Felk tucked in his shirt and saluted.

“Good morning.” Ivan waved at the group.

“Sub-commander!” The soldiers snapped to attention and resumed their patrol.

Felk hustled over. “So, what’s the latest? What happened at the War Council last night? Anything juicy?” He leaned in.

His Grid Commander reminded him of a gossipy granny. He shook his head and smiled. “We’ve got some saboteurs, so they tripled the patrols throughout the city.”

“Yeah, I heard about the fires. We’ll catch them. So, are the rumors about the Shadow Lands army true?”

“Which rumors?”

“You know, like the fight is finally coming to us.”

“That one is definitely true.” Ivan nodded. “The bulk of their army, over fifty thousand strong, is moving from the capital region toward Stoneridge. Another forty thousand Shadowcloaks are coming to join them from Resan.”

Felk whistled. “Alaras’s beard! That’s over a dozen legions. What about the enemy’s Tork offensive?”

“It looks like they’ve stopped road construction through the Tork quagmire and are retreating to establish a defensive perimeter.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. I bet you that the Torkans are gonna pummel them. So, did you hear the news about their warships?”

“Yeah, Drake reported those last night. Using the Lonely River for some of their reinforcements was expected."

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Right.” Felk nodded. “Let me give you the latest scoop from the street. Refugees are pouring into the city, trying to escape the vengeance of the advancing army. Many fear what the Shadowlanders will do to them.” He paused. “With so many people coming in, there is a shortage of lodgings. Lord Tepi has been converting a bunch of city properties into living quarters but that’s still not enough.”

Ivan had been impressed with the venerable lord. Even though he had been placed under arrest by the Shadow Lands years ago, Lord Tepi was quickly reclaiming the mantle of leadership. Despite his age, he had sprung into action. He had joined the War Council, appointed loyal liege lords for various citywide posts previously held by the invaders, and was directly supervising repairs.

“Yeah, people love Lord Tepi. I saw him at the War Council last night.”

They continued to chat as they strode through the Silo District.

“Ah, I almost missed my turn.” Felk skidded to a stop. “I’ll go wake up Cliff and catch up with you at the arena.”

“Sounds good.”

Ivan continued to mull over the events that had unfolded since the city had been freed two weeks ago. It had been chaotic and frustrating at times.

Occasionally, he wished that he was back on the farm. It was a simpler life. He was fond of the hunting trips with his brother and the evening activities with his aunt. He even missed the simple solitude of chopping wood. Most of all, he missed reading for hours at night. In the last week, he had not finished a single book.

Still, he would not change a thing. His cause was just, and he fought for something meaningful. He fought for freedom.

Finally, I’m making a difference.

“Commander Snow… Commander Snow… wait for me!” Ivan recognized the voice and turned around. A scrawny boy ran down the cobblestone street and waved excitedly. He came to a quick stop and gave Ivan a toothy grin.

“Good morning, Del.” Ivan smiled. Del was a few years younger than William and a head shorter. He had a freckled face and nervous emerald-green eyes that stayed vigilant. The youngster had been a street urchin that had recently found a new home. “How are things going with Lady Thistle?”

Del shrugged. “She’s strict, but fair.” He fidgeted, looking left and right before adding, “You should try her cooking.” His eyes lit up. “She makes the best rabbit stuffed potatoes! She likes working in the kitchen, even though she has her own cooks. She’s weird. If I had a cook, I’d spend all my time eating.” He chuckled nervously, and Ivan laughed.

“So, I guess you’ve finished all of your chores?” Ivan raised an eyebrow.

“Absolutely.” Del nodded vigorously. “I finished cleaning Silo Eighteen last night, so I can do whatever I want today. Lady Thistle gave me permission to come with you and train if I finished all my work and I did. I sure did. I finished every single bit. No doubt about it. It’s all done and here I am. I’m ready for sword practice.”

“With that kind of dedication, you’re sure to become a great duelist.” Ivan clapped him on the shoulder.

Del’s face brightened, and he puffed up his chest. “I’m going to be just like you. One day, I’ll go to the Spirit Competition, and I’ll show everyone. People will chant my name. I’ve already picked my hero name. I’ll be the Bonecarver. People will cheer for me.” He clasped his hands into a cone shape and chanted.

“Bonecarver… Bonecarver!” He raised his hands.

“Wahhhhhhh! Everybody is gonna love me. They’ll have a feast in my name and write songs and stories about me.” Del beamed broadly with a far-off look.

“With hard work, anything is possible.” Ivan looked at the skinny boy and smiled. “Today, we’ll work on proper grip and basic techniques. Even the best swordsmen must start with the basics.”

Del grinned and skipped in a circle around Ivan. “Here comes the Bonecarver!”

“Pipe down, people are trying to sleep,” someone screamed from a nearby balcony.

Del’s eyes widened and he whispered, “One day people will stop screaming at me and they’ll start screaming for me.” He grinned.

Ivan admired Del’s resilience. They had met during the invasion of Stoneridge. A squad of his men had been attacked near the market district when Del had joined the fray.

The boy had appeared out of nowhere and had hurled debris from a nearby roof. Del had been skilled with his aim. He had even taken out a few enemy soldiers with broken tiles and bricks.

After the battle, Ivan had located the lad. The boy had been a street urchin since his mom had died last year. Del had quickly become an honorary member of the Wolf division. The Lord Commander had met with Del and had taken the youngster’s struggle to heart. Rob had reached out to a family friend, Lady Thistle, who lived in the city. She had welcomed the boy into her home with open arms.

Ivan grimaced as they passed the charred remains of one of the cocamon flour silos. It was a stark reminder that enemy agents in the city worked hard to sabotage the food supplies and other essential buildings.

I miss my cocamon breakfast cakes, Ivan groaned inwardly. Though we’re fortunate that they’ve only burned a cocamon silo instead of the flour silos.

In the last two weeks after the capture of Stoneridge, the enemy infiltrators had burned several buildings and even attempted to assassinate Lord Tepi. Even though many Shadow Lands agents had been captured or killed, there was at least one Shadow caster still at large.

Invisibility is perfect for sabotage.

The Dark Tower and its iconic crown spires loomed ahead. Ivan knew that the structure predated the city.

One of these days, when I have time, I’m going to climb to the top. He had heard that the view from there was incredible.

It took them about twenty minutes to cross the Silo and Crafting Districts before they reached the arena. The coliseum that stood at the heart of the plaza was an imposing structure. The large elliptical building included six circular towers. Its polished stone columns were unadorned. The walls between the columns were painted with nature motifs. Circular stained-glass windows, nestled under stone arches, separated the columns on the second level.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” a guard barked at them as they approached one of the entrances. The sentry gave them a frosty look. “Come back in an hour with the other greenhorns,” he snapped and made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “Off with you!”

Before Ivan and Del could respond, another sentry hastened toward them. “Good morning, Sub-Commander Snow.” He saluted. The other guard’s eyes widened, realizing that he had been talking disrespectfully to a superior. Looking embarrassed, he stood at attention and executed a perfect salute.

“Good morning, Arval,” said Ivan. “Were you able to find any extra equipment?”

“Yes, Sub-Commander. We found more practice swords and spears, as requested. You’ll find them on the ground level.”

“Excellent! I knew I could count on you.”

“If we can’t find it, we’ll make it,” Arval recited the old craftsman saying.

“That’s the spirit. Commander Hark Bolt and Toby Clearwater will arrive later today. They’ll probably need more bows from the stockroom. See if you can find at least two hundred more.”

“Yes, sir!” Arval motioned for the other guard to follow him.

The arena was the perfect place to train large groups of new recruits. Under the building, there were ten vaults filled to the rafters with all kinds of armor and weaponry. The shelves were piled high with great helms, greaves, and everything in between. The training equipment included enchanted items. There were starlit boards for archery, tumble bugs for dodging practice, and tag turtles for endurance drills.

Ivan and Del spent the next hour dodging obstacles while running away from a tag turtle. The turtle might not have been the fastest, but once it was given a target, it never quit. After the endurance training, Ivan taught Del basic defensive techniques until the recruits started to arrive.