Page 1 of The Awakening of Essensia

1

First Blood

The Gods had never cared for Vaelira. She wasn’t overly fond of them either, but this morning she held a particularly sour spot for Vaerun, the God of Storms and Seas.

Rain pummelled the sodden streets of Anhaven as Vaelira raced down the muddied path. Water poured from the slate roof tiles of cottages on either side of her, their wooden shutters closed tightly against the storm, window boxes overflowing, flowers freed of their petals, so only stalks jutted up from the swirling mass of water and soil.

Vaelira dug a hand into her waxed cloak, freeing a pair of gloves and yanking them onto her frozen fingers. Distracted, her foot caught on a stray rock, and she went down hard, cursing and spitting wet dirt from her mouth. She scrambled up, a metallic taste clinging to her tongue as she let her breath and feet find their steady rhythm once more.

Rain streamed into her eyes as blurred rows of dark, hooded figures came into view. She prayed she could slip in unnoticed, but a sharp tug yanked her to a stop.

“You’re late.”

Commander Lysander towered over her like a vengeful god, the dark lines of his face creased with disappointment.

She offered her best apologetic grin, and he mercifully let go of her arm, gesturing towards the group.

Ducking past him, she squeezed herself amongst the others, ignoring their irritated glances. Someone shuffled in beside her.

“The fact the Commander hasn’t thrown your ass off the wall yet is a miracle,” said Freya, raising her voice above the downpour. A pair of green eyes and a wicked smile peeked out from beneath her hood.

Vaelira grinned back, recognising the familiar threat that was regularly hurled at recruits who slacked off during training. In the hundreds of years since it’s construction, no one had ever actually been thrown from the towering stone wall that encircled their town. At least as far as she knew.

Vaelira turned forward as Commander Lysander began.

“The raiders may take cover from a storm, but the demons will not.” His voice rang clear, sharp as steel, cutting through the relentless rain. “This is everything you’ve been preparing for. We shall begin with close combat.”

Vaelira sucked in a breath, letting her hammering pulse steady. Three trials. Three chances to show the Commander that her years of training had paid off. To decide if she was worthy of joining Anhaven’s guard.

Sparring and short sword were today, and she knew archery would come tomorrow, but after that, only the Gods knew. And if experience had taught her anything, it was that they would be no help.

Commander Lysander gestured to two men standing behind him, their grim faces barely visible through the rain.

“As usual, Caerthalyn has sent guards to observe, but I doubt any of you will be good enough for them.”

A ripple of laughter passed through the group. No one had been selected for the Royal Guard in generations.

Vaelira didn’t share their amusement. She had long given up the dream of being selected for the Royal Guard. All she wanted was to protect this town, like her father before her, and his before him. If she didn’t make it through this, she would be stuck working the orchards with her brother, or worse, working alongside Kili in the Sanatorium.

She shuddered at the memory of metal cots, the stinging reek of vinegar, open wounds, and pus and—

“Lira,” Freya hissed.

Vaelira blinked and found heads turning her way. Freya nudged her. “You’re up. Go.”

Vaelira forced her way to the front and threw down her cloak, rain pooling in its folds in an instant. Better she be wet than risk her opponent getting a hold of it. Rain soaked through her tunic, water filling her boots like it was determined to find every inch of her skin. Slicking back a few strands of hair that had come loose of her plait, she looked for her opponent, trying to ignore the stares of the crowd and the ice seeping towards her bones.

Her heart raced in her chest, and she exhaled, steadying herself as someone emerged from the group of recruits.

A sharp face, wiry build. Keenan.

He was easily a head taller than her, but she had a stronger frame. A fair match.

“The Three see all,” Commander Lysander called, “let them find what they seek. Begin.”

They circled each other immediately, only a few feet apart. Vaelira kept her breath even and stepped to her left, her boots sinking into the soft earth.

Keenan’s fist came flying, but she saw the shift of his feet and ducked easily under the blow, shoving him aside as she stepped past. She grinned as he righted himself, and his brow furrowed.