15th of Mid Year, Morndas, 197 4E

I quickly jump off my horse, and slap her back, indicating she should flee. Frey is already charging towards the bandits, and Mother is pulling out a sword.

I rush over, and start slicing at a couple of bandits attacking my brother.

Something whizzes past my ear, and I turn around to see an archer failing to instantly kill me. I simply run over to him and he pulls out a dagger.

A rush of heat hits my side, and a small jet of flame quickly immobilizes the bandit before I can reach him.

I sigh in frustration, and turn around to look at Mother. She simply sends me a weird look, and runs over to deal with the last few bandits. Annoyance flares in my mind, because she has so far kept me from killing very many things, other than animals.

I then run over to everyone else, where the remaining enemies are quickly dropping like flies.

I finally manage to go over and finish off the last bandit. I breathlessly sigh, and turn angrily to Mother.

“You’ve been teaching us how to fight for a reason! Why are you keeping us from doing what you want us to?” I shout at her. Frey nods, but looks slightly uneasy.

“Freyja, you know how reckless you always have been. You could get yourself and everyone else killed for not listening!” She shouts back.

“I just want to be useful for once!” I tell her, angry at her overprotectiveness.

“You are useful. But even if you know how to fight, underestimating even the weakest of enemies is a death sentence,” Mother tells me, regaining her usual calm expression, and probably preparing to drop a sword over my head.

“It’s how your father died.”

Shocked annoyance fills my mind, and I flinch. Sometimes when my emotions take control, my family discreetly mentions Father. I had always had a better relationship with him than my brother, and so he was probably the most important person in my life before he died. Of course, both Frey and Mother know this, and so they use it whenever my juvenile feelings take over.

I finally stop shouting, and regain control of my temper. “Fine,” I grumble, and walk over to Frey, while Mother burns the bodies. It was a strange habit of hers to do that, even though neither me nor Frey could figure out how it even started. She then leaves to bring back our mounts.

Frey awkwardly pats my back, and I immediately know he wants to show me something while Mother retrieves the horses.

When we were younger, we would make up different ways to communicate without anyone else noticing. Of course, that included hand signs and different head movements, because actually talking would be stupid and very recognizable, even if we made up our own language. This small skill kept developing and getting better as we got older, so it became quite useful.

He starts shoving me towards a large rock around fifty yards away, but Mother then comes back with the horses. We both sigh in frustration. We almost never get time to ourselves, and both me and Frey miss our childhood before Father died. Mother became extremely protective ever since that incident, and we never find a moment of peace anymore.

“Come on,” she says, indicating the animals that tower over her. “Let’s go.”

We all get on our horses once again, and start the journey again towards Valenwood.

I begin wishing that we had taken a different route, both because our mounts are getting tired from trying in vain to trot on the sand, and it’s a lot more tiring to travel in a desert than one would expect.

The now large strip of green slowly becomes more detailed, and I see my family getting a bit more hopeful. It’s obvious everyone hates this desert, and Mother is probably happy to return to her homeland.

—

(Yrsa pov)

Ugh, this sand is horrible. I’m just glad that we can actually see the treeline. I’ve always loved the foresty nation, with it’s beautiful, towering trees. It’s already a relief to be mostly away from all the deserts Elsweyr left in store for us, and it is good to be returning home.

A shame my scumbag parents aren’t alive anymore. They could have enjoyed Valenwood a lot longer if they treated me and Eirik right.

A dark fear creeps into my mind as I worry about Frey, and especially Freyja. She has always been reckless, and trying to keep her alive is a hard job nobody would ask for. I sometimes wish that the Nordic pride that resides within her would give me a break.

I remember back to a few days ago, when the small meeting happened. The leaders told me why I was going to Valenwood in the first place. I can’t imagine what I would do if anything happens to Freyja. I don’t know if she realizes how dangerous the world is, no matter how old she is now. Frey can take care of himself, at least, and hopefully he can take care of her as well when I’m gone. I don’t think those two will ever leave each other, even if I die.

I at least know this mission is dangerous, but can’t be abandoned or given away, no matter what happens.

Freyja then rides closer to me, and I look at her, trying to hide my emotions.

“Mother, can you teach me magic?”