Chapter 8: Prodigy

Joan was awoken by a soft knocking. She looked up blearily and glanced around. The sun was still up, allowing light to spill into the room. She shook her head and glanced around, wondering why were they bothering her now. It had probably only been out for a few minutes.

She realized the knocking was coming from the servant’s passageway and shook her head again to try to clear it. She finally decided it must have been dinner time. “Coming,” she said before slowly sliding out of the bed and walking to the door. She glanced down at herself and cringed, she hadn’t even changed her clothes before passing out. She hadn’t thought she’d been that tired.

She unlatched the door and opened it, letting the man inside. She then glanced back down the passageway before sighing. “How do you even see where you’re going in there?” The tray was abnormally filled this evening, with a large bowl of soup and three meat pies. Not that she objected, she felt ravenous.

“Candle,” he said before walking to the desk and putting the tray down. “Though I have walked that path so many times now that I can do it without one. I hear you tried as well, ended up meeting Sir Remesy?”

Joan turned scarlet at the mention of her earlier adventure. “Yes, I heard a noise. I didn’t realize how dark it was, though, and ended up locking myself out. It’s all good now. I won’t make that mistake again,” she said sheepishly.

“Of course not,” he said, a small smile on his lips. “Do be careful if you hear any more noises. Traveling those tunnels can be quite confusing if you can’t see. We wouldn’t want you to trip and hurt yourself, now would we? Or worse, set off an alarm and have half the guards coming to apprehend you.”

Her cheeks went even redder at that thought. The last thing she wanted was to end up accidentally stumbling on something she shouldn’t and infuriate the queen before she could gather the chosen. “I’m sorry.”

“Of course. Now, while I hope I didn’t wake you, I have some good news. The queen asked me to inform you that Lord Hardwin will return this evening.”

“Really?” Joan asked, shoving the thoughts of her adventure aside. “When?”

“He’s expected to arrive a little after dinner time, so it will be delayed this evening.”

She glanced to the tray and then back to the man, her confusion growing. “Wait, dinner? Isn’t this dinner?” she asked, pointing towards the tray.

“No, it’s lunch. You slept through yesterday’s dinner, breakfast as well. I’m very happy to see you managed to awaken for lunch, though. Her highness said this is quite normal considering your injuries, but I was beginning to worry.”

Joan stared at the tray for a few long moments before turning to him. “That’s impossible. I couldn’t sleep that long. I only just laid down!”

“I’m afraid you did, my lady. I saw it for myself.”

“That’s impossible,” she whispered again before shaking her head. “You can go. Just, just go. Please. Go,” she said before walking to the bed and sitting on it. He gave a sigh before turning to leave, closing the door behind himself.

She slept away almost an entire day. She hadn’t been nearly that tired. The only thing she’d done was that small fight and use a single spell. There was absolutely no way her body could be that pathetic now.

Was there? No. She’d used far more straining magic than that in the past. On top of that, she hadn’t FELT tired when she went to bed. Joan idly began to eat from the tray, struggling to come to terms with what happened.

Joan was just being lazy, that was the only excuse she could imagine. She slept a whole day away because she was too lazy to actually do what had to be done. “Stupid, stupid,” she said softly to herself before reaching for another pie. She hit the empty plate and stared. She could barely believe she’d already eaten all three. “Enough!” she said, lightly slapping her cheeks. “Obviously, I’m just letting myself slack too much.”

Joan scarfed down the soup before making her way to the door. She pulled it open and eyed the guard for a moment. To her surprise, it was the same guard from the day before. “Err… have you been here all night?”

“No, we work in shifts,” the woman said, smiling back at her. “I work during the day. But there are only a few of us who are allowed to come up here.”

Joan blinked and glanced towards the servant’s tunnels. Now that she thought about it, the servant who brought her all of her meals, when she wasn’t taken down to the dining hall to eat them with the queen, had been the same the same as well. Perhaps this was even his room, normally. She then shook her head and glanced back towards the guard. “You’re my escort, correct?”

“Of course. Did you want to go somewhere?”

“I saw a fenced off area where the soldiers were sparring each other yesterday. I’d like to go there.”

The soldier froze for a few moments, staring at her. Finally, she gave a soft sigh and shook her head. “No.”

“No? You said you’d take me where I wanted to go, though.”

“I said I was your escort. You’re in no shape to be swinging a weapon around.”

Joan’s eyes narrowed and her fists clenched, her annoyance growing. She was so tired of being constantly babied. “I feel fine.”

“Of course you feel fine,” the woman said before giving a soft sigh. Very slowly she knelt down and looked her in the eye. “Listen, child, I understand. But you have to--”

“I’m not a child,” Joan said angrily. She supposed, technically, she was. But she was also ‘older’ than everyone in this castle. How she wished she could just yell that at them. She doubted they’d believe it, though. On top of that, the last person she wanted to know she was the hero was the queen. “I mean, I am. But I’m also a mercenary. I’ve been taking care of myself most of my life. I can handle a bit of sparring.”

“Lady Joan, your legs and arms were shattered. The magic that healed them took a lot from you. Even if you don’t feel it now, you must rest or--”

“I have rested. I’ve been healed like that before and I know my limits,” Joan said, the anger spilling out from her voice. She’d had every bone in her body crushed hundreds of times, but she’d always bounced back. Even if that was when she was the hero, the most she’d ever been laid up for was a day or two. Nothing at all in comparison to the length of time they were making her rest now.

However, her guard looked shocked and slightly horrified. “You have? How?”

“Monsters, demons, an avalanche once,” she said. The woman only looked more horrified at that. “I may be young, but I’m a lot more experienced than I look. I’ve been through a lot more than you could ever imagine. Please. I can’t stand being trapped in here anymore. Just for a little bit? Please?”

The woman sighed once more, but she could see when the woman’s gaze softened. “Very well. But only for a little bit. The moment you feel at all tired or struggling, we stop. Understand? Vow to me that you will not push yourself.”

“I vow,” Joan said, a small smile forming on her lips. “Thank you.”

“Good, come along, then,” the woman said, looking her over once she stepped out from the room. “Is that what you’d like to wear?”

“Yes, is there something wrong with it? They’re standard issue for Crystal Phoenixes.”

“No, they’re perfect,” the guard said before motioning her down the stairs, watching

Joan glanced back at the woman after a few moments, slowly making her way down the stairs. She really wished she had chosen her position differently. Perhaps if she had been a noble, rather than a homeless orphan, they’d be more willing to listen to her and trust her judgment.

Then again, maybe if she hadn’t been just a normal child to begin with, this wouldn’t have happened either. How she missed the abilities of the hero, she’d been so much faster and stronger than adults by the time she could walk. At this age she’d already had so many achievements to her name that nobody could see anything BUT the hero.

But now it felt like all they saw was the child. “If I may ask, where is the queen?”

“Her highness is currently with her husband. The chosen is returning today and, as such, they’re planning their next move.”

“Am I allowed to know where he went?”

“I don’t even know,” her guard said.

“What do you know?” Joan asked with a slightly harsher tone than she had intended, cringing at the look of shock on the woman’s face. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I’m just slightly tense.”

The woman gave a light laugh. “If all you feel is a little tense after everything that has happened, you truly are a unique child, Lady Joan.”

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Joan whispered. She couldn’t wait to see Hardwin again. If she could just get him alone she could convince him, somehow, to believe her. He had to believe her. The fate of the world was depending on her.

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

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing,” Joan said before glancing back at the woman. “What’s your name? You never told me.”

“I tried to, but you slammed the door in my face,” she said with just a hint of coldness to her voice. “Wendalin of house Gregory.”

“Oh. Well. Err. Sorry about that,” she said sheepishly.

“It’s fine. I have a little sister of my own, I know how impatient you can be.”

Joan gave a soft, annoyed huff. She didn’t feel impatient. She was aware of what was coming if they didn’t stop it. The Troll of Reflections was only the first herald of what was to come if she didn’t stop it.

She couldn’t allow herself to be lazy and pathetic.

------

Joan swung the dulled sword a few times, feeling the weight in her hands. It felt familiar. Heavier than she liked, but still easy enough to swing. Well balanced. Not too long that she couldn’t make precise, quick swings, but not too short that she felt she had no reach.

“I’m ready,” she said before turning to face Wendalin.

“Protective gear first,” Wendalin said, motioning towards the hanging row of thick gambesons, one of which she was sliding on, as well as a helmet.

Joan barely suppressed the urge to say she wouldn’t need them. Perhaps as a hero she didn’t need proper protection, but as just another normal person she certainly did. To her surprise there were a few that would fit her relatively snugly. Then again, she supposed she was of the proper age to be an apprentice to a guard.

“So this is the prodigy I’ve heard so much about?” a voice said, making her jump. She quickly gripped one of the helmets and threw it on, before turning towards the entrance of the storage room. A man was standing there in a well fit gambeson, unlike the normal gray ones it was instead dyed solid red.

“Ah! Master Friedrich,” Wendalin said, quickly bowing her head. “Yes. This is Lady Joan, her highness’ guest. Joan, this is Master Friedrich, the royal weaponsmaster”

Joan frowned when she noticed the two share a look she couldn’t identify. She didn’t know why, but she had a feeling the pair just shared a conversation that she couldn’t understand. Her annoyance only grew when Wendalin walked to the man’s side and whispered to him and he whispered back. She knew they were talking about her, but no matter how much she strained her hearing, she couldn’t make it out. Though after a few moments Wendalin glanced back at her with a look of alarm, then back to him. He merely nodded.

“Ahem. Joan,” Wendalin said before turning back to face her. “Master Friedrich will be watching our practice. Any objections?”

“No,” Joan said, though she felt mild annoyance at the new development. Probably another worry that she was just a child and would get hurt. She felt like screaming. She had more experience than they’d have in a hundred lives, fighting monsters and things they could only dream of. She didn’t need this babying. She walked out from the storage room and out into the small, fenced off grounds.

To her surprise, there was nobody else there. When they’d arrived there had been a few others practicing, but now they were all gone. She’d expected at least a few to stand around and watch. But their gear hadn’t been returned, either.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, thoughts racing through her head. She suspected they didn’t expect her to last long and were trying to avoid watching. Perhaps they expected her to get beaten down. They certainly thought she was just some weak, helpless child. A child who needed someone else to save them. To protect them. “I don’t care,” she whispered bitterly.

“I’m sorry?” Wendalin asked.

“Nothing. Shall we?” Joan asked, walking out into the center of the grounds.

“Of course. Please, make the first strike whenever you’re ready,” the guard said before readying her sword in a defensive stance, the blade held out towards her.

Joan glanced towards the storage building and saw Friedrich watching them. She doubted either of them suspected much. After all, to them she was just a child.

She’d break them of that notion. Even if her body was weaker, she had more combat experience than they could ever imagine. Joan took one more small, deep breath, before pulling her sword back and readying herself, her sword tip low to the ground. She saw Wendalin’s eyes widen slightly, just before she struck.

Enhancing her body with her magic, she moved forward, pushing herself to her limits. Wendalin tried to parry the strike, but the woman might as well have been moving in slow motion. She had millenia of fighting practice to draw on, ever movement the woman made was so predictable she was already three steps ahead of every guard. Even if the other woman was stronger and faster, physically, enhancing her body with her magic made up for that fact with ease. It only took her a few seconds to disarm her, the training blade’s tip pushed to the other woman’s neck immediately after.

For a long moment there was silence and Wendalin’s eyes were wide, staring at her with awe. “How did you do that?” she whispered.

“I told you, I’ve had a lot more experience than I look,” Joan said before pulling the sword back.

Wendalin shuddered slightly and stared at her for a moment before kneeling down to pick up her sword.

Again and again they fought, their swords clashing. Sometimes she’d disarm the woman in three strikes, sometimes five. Once even two. It felt good. No, wonderful. Unlike yesterday, she was armed and able to fight on even ground with her foe.

Despite herself, though, she had to admit Wendalin was a lot better than she expected. Her movements were precise and strong. Each movement and parry was almost perfect, practiced a thousand times. Unfortunately, she was fighting someone who had practiced those strikes millions of times. Her body almost moved on instinct, predicting with perfect accuracy every movement.

If nothing else, she could at least be thankful that in her past lives she had enough interest in this war that she had paid attention to her trainers.

A horrible chill went down Joan’s back and she quickly leaped back, searching wildly for some sign of whatever that had been. For a moment it felt almost as if her very soul had been dumped in a cask of ice water.

Then it was gone, as if it had never been there at all.

“Is something wrong?” Wendalin asked, her voice filled with concern.

“No,” Joan said softly, readying her sword again. Was it her imagination? But she would have swore she felt something. Or maybe saw something out of the corner of her eyes. Was it a reaction to some memory she hadn’t managed to pry loose? Or was she so tense that she was imagining things now? The more she thought about it, the more foolish it felt. Who would possibly be watching her now?

She turned to Wendalin and tried to reinforce her body with her magic. To her surprise, the spell wouldn’t trigger. “Huh?” she asked, trying to force the spell through once more.

Then it hit her like a carriage slamming into her. Her legs gave out and she started to drop, though before she could hit the ground Wendalin was there, catching and propping her up. “Shhhh, it’s okay.”

“I don’t feel so good,” Joan whispered, her voice slightly cracked. Her throat felt so dry and for the first time since arriving here, she realized her garments were entirely soaked through with sweat.

“Drink this,” Friedrich ordered before holding out a small canteen. With shaky hands she took it and drank deeply. The water was slightly warm, but it felt incredible sliding down her parched throat. Unfortunately, she guzzled it too fast and choked, having to pull the canteen away and cough for a few seconds. He gave a light laugh. “I’m amazed you were able to keep up that pace. You’re going to be quite the terror once you’ve fully grown.”

“Here’s hoping,” she mumbled, holding the canteen out to him. She felt like her limbs were going to fall off. What was wrong with her? She used to be able to fight days at a time. Now she could only maintain that spell for such a short time before she collapsed.

“I have to say, that trick of yours is quite impressive,” Wendalin said with a small smile of her own. “I think I’m beginning to see why they call you a prodigy. Who taught you that?”

“Taught me what?” Joan asked.

“Your enhancement spell,” Wendalin said. “No normal child could move like that. I’ve only seen a handful of mages who even try to use such a technique, I hear the finesse and control required to enhance just a little bit can take ages, yet you’ve managed to amplify yourself so much.”

Joan blushed just a hint. The spell was one that she had used through almost all her lives, to varying degrees of success. She supposed she likely did have more experience with it than anyone else had, though. “Can’t everyone do that?”

“No. I doubt most would even notice,” Wendalin said gently. “Well, no. Not to that level. Most of us have to enhance our bodies somewhat when we fight. But it’s usually not so powerful a boost. Sir?” she asked, glancing to Friedrich.

“Indeed. That’s far beyond the minor burst you and I would use. When you’re older, who knows? You may even become as powerful as one of the chosen.”

Joan barely suppressed the urge to laugh at that. It was a pleasant thought, but a foolish one. If she trained her whole life so she could draw out that spell to the fullest ability she might, maybe, one day, be as strong as Hardwin was now. But they couldn’t begin to imagine the kind of power the chosen would wield one day.

The smile on Wendalin’s face faltered. “Joan? What’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing,” she said quickly.

Friedrich shook his head. “Joan, if you would allow me to give you one piece of advice?”

“Please,” Joan said.

“You fight as if you’ve already lost,” he said softly. “Every strike is filled with desperation and fear. Even your stances. You don’t fight with even a hint of self preservation. You’re talented, I won’t lie. Probably the most talented warrior I’ve ever seen. Even the chosen could learn quite a bit from you. Yet you fight as if you already expect to lose. The fight against the Troll of Reflections still weighs on you, doesn’t it?”

She cringed but gave a small nod.

“Don’t let what happened there burden you so,” he said gently. “You do not need to compare yourself with the chosen or with such beasts. Humans like us were never meant to face such monsters, it is why the gods gave us the chosen to begin with. If you compare yourself to them, you will only reach for the impossible. Trust them to deal with those creatures and focus on what only you can do.”

Joan struggled to not to let the words cut as deep as they did. Compare herself to them? The only one she was comparing herself to was who she was. More than that, she knew what was coming. The chosen couldn’t win. Gifted by the gods or not, they couldn’t fight such things and hope to win unless she could find a way to end them early.

“Joan? Please don’t cry. It’s okay,” Wendalin said softly, giving her a small hug.

“I’m not, it’s sweat,” Joan said softly, struggling to hold the tears back. Of course she fought like she had already lost. She’d already lost more times than she could count. Defeat after defeat after defeat. It was her past, now her present and if she didn’t get stronger and figure everything out, it would be everyone’s future.

“Come on. Let’s go get you cleaned up,” Wendalin said with a small smile. “Hardwin will return soon. You don’t want to be filthy when you see him, do you?”

Joan almost said she didn’t care, that he’d seen her at far worse. She gave a small nod and let the woman pull her to her feet. “I just want to be alone for a little bit. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Wendalin said gently. “There’s nothing quite like a good soak after a workout like that. The baths here put even the ones at the academy to shame. You’ll love them.”

Joan gave a small nod, following behind the woman as she was slowly guided through the castle once more.