Chapter 1

Anula

Sharp metal sliced her skin forcing a hiss from her lips. Bashing the blade to the side with her shield, Anula pushed forward, her sword aimed for the revealed arm. Instead of flesh hitting flesh, her blade sparked off another blade. Breathing heavily, she danced back pulling her shield in tight and crouching, her sword resting on top, calculating her next attack.

“Enough. You have improved greatly.”

Anula lowered her guard and stood tall, allowing her shield and blade to go slack by her sides.

“But still, I cannot best you father.” Anula said frowning.

“I have battled my entire life; I was clumsy and ill trained when I was your age. Compared to my younger self, you are a seasoned veteran.” He grinned and Anula laughed.

“A seasoned veteran that can’t even cut an old man.”

“Old man?” He laughed shaking his head.

Anula kept her smile as they walked from their practice pit to the smithy. Next to the forge stood The Foaming Horn, her father’s tavern. During the day it was quiet and saw little business. The ringing of metal from the smithy drove away most of the guests. Looking over she nodded to one of the serving girls who acted busy sweeping nothing but air off the front porch. She returned her smile and continued to the porch that wrapped around the building.

“Your blade held up to my strikes.” Her father said, grabbing her attention. “Let me have a look at it.” Holding his hand out, Anula held the blade out in front of her. He held the sword by its pummel and began his examination.

“A few nicks, but it stayed straight and true. Just need to work on keeping the steel solid, then you will have a fine blade.” Anula glanced at her shield that had nicks and blemishes.

“Shields are designed for such abuse. They are made to look pretty, so someone will buy it. A well-worn shield becomes a soldier’s patch of honor. Most even keep the shields they no longer use as mementos to their service.”

“Where do you keep your shields?” Anula asked with a raised eyebrow.

“In the cellar, in the wooden box.”

“The box covered with empty bottles and old worn-out leather hides?”

“That very one!”

Anula chuckled following her father into the forge. The blacksmith had finished up for the day and was standing by the doorway looking out at the sunset.

“Rain’s coming.” His gruff voice gritted out when he heard them placing their weapons back on the racks. Chewing on a stem of a weed he squinted up at the darkening clouds that were just starting to cover the last rays of the day. “Gonna be a nasty one.”

Her father looked over the large man’s naked shoulders and frowned.

“Time to get to the tavern then. Folk will want an early dinner. See you in a few then?” The smith grinned, not saying a word.

Following her father behind the tavern they washed the sweat from their face and hair in the rain barrels.

“I know your holding back Anula.”

Anula pushed water-soaked hair from her eyes to see him holding a cloth outstretched to her. Weighing her father’s words for a moment while she dried her face she sighed.

“If you hold back, your body will learn to do the same. You are stronger and more agile than you let on. I see it in your reactions and your form. Why?”

Anula considered her answer, letting the only sound between them be the drops of water from her auburn hair drip back into the barrel.

“Is it because of the rumors they spread of you?”

Anula frowned, lowering her gaze from his eyes, wringing out her hair. Letting out a deep breath she spoke in a low voice so only her father could hear.

“They are not rumors, and you know it. I am a halvras, a half-bull, a half breed…” She stopped, her anger rising. “I can hear their whispers calling me a half breed whore as they eat and drink.” Anula wiped water from her eye unsure if it was from her hair or her eye.

“You are unique. Their words flow from jealous thoughts.”

Shaking her head, Anula dismissed the words. How could she ignore their looks and whispers.

“Why?” Anula asked looking back to her father. “Why did you let me live knowing I am not of your blood?” Anula’s voice rose slightly and her grip on the barrel tighten, the wood cracking from the pressure. Her father lowered his gaze.

“Because, your mother said you would be different. She said you would be strong. She had me promise, no matter what happened, I would not abandon you.” He looked up to meet her eyes.

“And if I had a snout and hooved feet?”

“Then, I would have traveled to the half breed settlements and raised you there.”

“You won’t even serve a half breed in the tavern.” Anula said narrowing her eyes.

“Because it upsets the people who I serve.”

“The same people who consider your daughter a half breed whore.”

They stared into each other’s eyes as the first drop of rain stuck them. Ignoring the first few drops he spoke up.

“I can not stop their whispers and rumors. I have stopped serving many and have set up the tavern from Lasteel’s heart. It has only been nineteen years since that attack. Hundreds died, while hundreds more endured horrors similar or worse than my own. Others were enslaved back to Kreet.” He nodded to the blacksmith who looked out to the sunset, now engulfed in the dark clouds. “Reun was beaten and broken and forced to watch the minotaur ravage his wife and daughters. Once they were done being playing things, his wife was left more broken than him while their daughters were taken back to Kreet. When they recovered, his wife took her own life. Reun told me after, he only still lives because ‘he lacked his wife’s courage to join her’.” He paused, stealing a glance to the blacksmith. “Lasteel has recovered and has grown stronger. If Kreet’s bulls return, we will make them suffer.” His gaze pierced through Anula’s anger and forced his words to register.

“You are a gift from your mother and I treasure it every day. When I held you in my arms for the first time, any thoughts of you being of Asterion blood died. You were Anula Bakka, my daughter.” Anula hugged her father and he returned her embrace.

“I hold back because I don’t want to hurt an old man.” She smiled innocently and he laughed.

“Not that old… yet.”