Briarthorne Estate housed an elite school that trained Hunters, the supreme choice of the Illiuminari Regency in their crusade against shaman and Lightblessed alike. While neither form of prey was especially abundant, their extermination required special training and skills. Briarthorne Estate happily supplied both.

Chapter 44

Trynneia felt the air rippling over its warm hum as the wooden-clad piece of metal that stood in place of a sword swung towards her head, and she ducked below it, bringing her own similar training sword to deflect it. A following attack came from a training dagger, wielded by Shallin with a gleam in her eye. Falling back into a defensive stance, Trynneia parried blow for blow, her own senses flowing into her magic as colors sprinkled the air about her.

Sweat dampened her skin, wicking through her light exercise clothing. She fought barefoot upon a beaded floor, her form flowing through motions she’d learned quickly over the last month. Shallin pressed her.

“Fight back girl. Challenge me!” she exclaimed, not pulling her blows. Yellow smudges covered Trynneia’s arms and legs, a testament to the bruising attacks Shallin assailed upon her. Clacks filled the air as Trynneia changed her stance, twisting her training sword in an effort to disarm her opponent. Her attempt failed, as Shallin countered it, instead ripping it from her hand while smacking her free wrist with the training dagger.

“Light!” Trynneia swore, clutching her wrist and dropping to her knee. Shallin finished with a blow to the back, knocking her to the ground.

“You really thought she could be trained?” Desi remarked to Lord Elanreu as Trynneia wiped blood from her lips. “What game are you playing?”

“Oh Desi, games within games, and other games besides.” He smiled sweetly at his sister. “I think she’s coming along well.” The siblings watched the two young women sparring.

“Shallin’s no teacher. She wails around beating her into submission. The Oathbreaker is weak as a kitten.”

“She’s had months of…grooming.” Elanreu rubbed his chin. “You don’t see it, but she’s been prepared for this training.”

Trynneia caught her breath and pushed herself up to her feet with her training sword. She beckoned at Shallin wearily. Shallin sighed.

“Seriously, Your Grace? More?”

Blood from her witch’s mark seeped through her exercising tunic, and from broken skin besides, but Trynneia nodded her assent. She hated her weakness, how easily she tired. Now it was just a matter of persistence. She served a penance of her own making now, fighting to purge herself of the guilt she had over Ditan.

With every blow she struck, it was as if she attacked him once more, helpless to defend himself. Only now, he dodged and struck back. Only now, he was human and her size. Only now, Trynneia saw a woman threatening her, and never wanted to feel threatened again. Outmatched, outskilled, and outclassed, all she could do was fight harder.

Shallin’s aura approached the color of aged oak, solid and unbending as the wood itself as she shook her limbs and moved in to strike once more. “Give up, Your Grace. You will never be a Hunter,” she said, looking at the Lord and Lady watching them. “They’ll never allow it.”

“I need this, Shallin,” she said, striking with several quick swings in rapid succession, easily blocked. It felt like outrunning Ditan, taunting him with her height once more. Except now he could keep pace, and was actually faster.

“Are you making this a competition?” Shallin asked as she slipped another attack and kicked Trynneia’s foot out from under her. “It’s more like a massacre. You’re slow, and you lower your defenses when you overextend yourself.” She reached out her hand to pick up her opponent.

“Who said she couldn’t teach?” Lord Elanreu whispered to Desdemona. “Give her time,” he added.

“No,” she replied, then turning to the two adversaries. “I’m tired of this farce. Shallin, go clean up. She’s not worth any more time today. She’s spent.”

-not good enough- -take her blood- -show your worth- Whispers tickled her ears, and Trynneia tried ignoring them. She watched as Shallin returned her training weapons to the rack, her mind racing. The woman was right, her energy flagged, her limbs felt leaden and she could barely focus, though her brain raced with possibilities she couldn’t pin down.

Brown pins of color needled their way up from the dirt, swirling lazily as Shallin turned to the door. They rose with muted brick red and light grays, each pinprick surrounded by its own shimmering aura. Trynneia’s amber eyes began to follow their path

“Wait,” Lord Elanreu said. Both girls looked at him. Shallin had been about to leave while Trynneia’s attention had begun to drift upwards. “Where is the training value in this? A sparring session? Shallin’s right, there’s no challenge.” He smiled at Desi. “How about we raise the stakes?”

“Lord?” Shallin asked, watching as he pulled a shortsword from a training rack. He tossed it to her while grabbing a second weapon, taking a few practice swings.

Trynneia backed up, just as confused as Desi looked.

“Which are you, Oathbreaker?” He swung again. “Lightblessed or shaman?”

She rubbed her face, eyes still following those motes as they rose ever higher above them all.

“Elanreu, you’re not seriously going to-” began Desi even as he turned and swung at Trynneia. She tried blocking with her training sword, its wooden cladding splintering from his blow. Her arm stung from the force. Cobalt and steel gray colors surged along the length of his weapon, foretelling his next blow. She stepped back, turning her head at the last second as his next swing slashed her cheek.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Desi screamed at her brother while Shallin hesitantly hefted her own weapon. “She can’t withstand you.” Gingerly touching the cut on her cheek, Trynneia fumed.

“My sister believes this is a farce. I agree. Prove yourself, Oathbreaker.” He slashed again and she deflected again, the metal core of her training weapon heavily exposed as it fell from her numbed fingers. “Be what I know you to be.”

He leveled the sword in front of him, aimed straight at her chest. “I’ve killed Lightblessed. I’ve killed shaman.” A twinkle lit his eyes, and she couldn’t be sure if it was sanity or madness that drove him. “You’re an abomination. A shaman,” he goaded. “A fucking monster. Desi’s right, though. You’re no match for me.”

Blood dropped from the tip of his sword, flecks of black and gold evaporating away from it. Her blood. She crouched, partly to retrieve the weapon, partly to be just out of his reach. From this angle he stood above her, dominant. Trynneia tasted her blood, the gash perforating her cheek, and rage exploded in her.

No, I’m no monster, she thought, even as the voices shrieked in her ears: -Oathbreaker!- -kill him- -your purpose is your duty- “Stop this,” she whispered, coughing. She swung the battered weapon up in time to block once more.

“Come on, girl. What are you? What are you? Prove yourself!” he shouted. Elanreu’s voice remained steady, a Lord in control.

“El, stop it,” Desi continued. “Another day.”

“You’re no fighter, Oathbreaker.”

Copper filled her mouth as a crimson haze filled her vision. Shallin’s hands began to glow red, an aura separate from her own amber one, matched by Desi. Were they thinking of defending her? Trynneia couldn’t decide. He swung savagely for her neck and she rolled, his weapon slamming into the dirt of the training ground.

“There’s only one way for you to survive this,” he said, stalking closer to her as she scrambled away.

Light, he’s really doing this, she thought, terrified. One glimpse at the other two women revealed they were at just as much of a loss as she was. A wicked menace shrouded Elanreu’s face. Completely disarmed, she watched the colors swarming around his arms and felt their coppery taste in her mouth. -mercy of the Light- -do no harm- -savage him-

She wove her hands, and the colors wrapped around him. Wind picked up, flinging dust all about and knocking him down. The auras haloing both of the other women’s hands exploded with red, and they charged in, their own instincts decided. Desi picked up Trynneia’s discarded training weapon while Shallin brandished her short sword.

Trynneia’s eyes followed the colors as words whispered in her ears, intuition guiding her hands to fling the man away. Dirt pelted him even as she curved it around to blast the two women. Desi turned her face and shielded her eyes, while Shallin fell, choking.

“Just stop it,” she yelled, wondering why they’d all turned on her. -kill them- -stop them- -they come for you- the whispers urged her on. Trynneia pushed her hands forward, and a concussive blast knocked the two women to the ground. Beneath the ground, life curled, and she coaxed it to burst forth, feeding it with the humidity of their sweat and the litter of her blood. Coarse grass wrapped around her three adversaries, binding them to the ground. Dirt churned around them, shifting to pull them down.

The haze deepened, and she shrieked. Lost in a madness that stepped from nothing to full blown rage, she ran to the dropped weapon nearest Desi, and raised it to strike.

“That’s enough, Trynneia,” Lord Elanreu said. Cold flooded her body, the rage receded, and she fell to her knees. Auras faded, and the flecks of color fell from the air, fusing with the objects to which they belonged. What under the Light just happened? Trynneia wondered, crying.

Lord Elanreu pulled himself free, and helped the other two get loose as well. “So, it seems you’ve got it in you after all,” he said to her. “The elements answer your call.”

She wept, alternating between terror and wonder. This can’t be, this can’t be! -you’ve known it to be true- -use us- Trynneia spat blood out and clutched her burning chest while wiping again at her cheek. I’m Lightblessed. LIGHTBLESSED. Not a shaman, she denied.

“You’ve done it before. Used the air to bind people. Now you’ve moved the earth. Pulled life from seed. You cannot deny what you see with your eyes. No doubt you’ve moved water before, as well.”

Trynneia remembered flinging the water around in the baths in the Atrium, her very actions then proving the condemnation Lord Elanreu laid upon her now. Closing her eyes, she felt at the intuition that had guided her in the past, feeling it flow to her wounds, touching them through her power. No halos now, just the colored lights pulling out of the air, from the dirt, from the water upon her skin, seeking her injuries, pulling them together and knitting them whole. She could feel her original runes dead upon her flesh, their power lost as she opened her eyes a crack, glaring at Elanreu.

“You did this!” she yelled, feeling the burn of the lie upon her tongue. She knew. “What have you done to me!” she raged as Elanreu knelt with her, attempting to wrap her in a hug. Trynneia’s punches fell weak and he blocked her.

“You wanted to be a Hunter. Embrace this, as I embrace you. I didn’t need to see this. You did.” He dabbed at the cut on her cheek, and licked his finger. Rage gripped her and she struggled again. “It’s not just that you’re Lightblessed, but you are a shaman as well.”

-take the life- -the blood- -feel it- Blood pounded in her ears, searing her mind with violence that the Lord deftly restrained. Heat flowed from her into him, and she shivered.

Desdemona approached. “What’s going on, Elanreu? What is this all about? We’ve learned nothing new.”

“She has been forced to accept something about herself,” he said. Trynneia felt nothing of the sort, feeling full of loathing for herself, hating him for this. “This was already discussed, Trynneia. There’s no better way to hone my Hunters than to have you as one of us. As their prey.”

He held her tight, crushing her arms to her torso. “Be their mark.” He looked at her, blood vessels swollen in the sclera of her eyes. Lord Elanreu smiled. “There it is, one more thing I need you to prove, Trynneia. If you’re brave enough.”

-aim for the neck- -sever the power- -serve self- Blood pulsed nearby, distracting her, calling to her now, colored pricks of crimson and rust tracing their way up Lord Elanreu’s neck, so near to her mouth. Succulent steak, roasted lightly, served with sides of carrot and mushroom wafted to her, and Trynneia felt insatiably hungry. The scent drove her to bite his neck, her teeth cutting deeply as the blood washed over her face.

Trynneia sucked hungrily, shifting her arms to hold him even as his embrace relaxed. Desdemona and Shallin tried to pry them apart. No, she thought, digging her grip in with both mouth and hands. Colors blasted everywhere in her vision, her light runes burning in righteous hatred as she feasted, consumed by driving need she could not fathom. -shamans serve the light- -you are Lightblessed- -this is right- Harmonies sung in her head, overlapping the whispers and feelings enveloping her body. When she had drunk her fill, she released him, both collapsing to the ground.

It had only been a moment, a fraction of a moment. Desdemona flung her away, yelling “Witch!” Shallin followed through with the sword, her aim impeccable as it plunged through Trynneia’s chest and embedding itself into the dirt of the sparring court. Blood dribbled from her mouth as her eyes dimmed, seeing the life pulsing out of Lord Elanreu as he mirrored her ecstatic grin.