She Awakens Page 7

  “Well, I’m glad that’ll be my last load of firewood.”

  I stare at him confused. His blue eyes sparkle with amusement, the laugh lines around his eyes crinkling. “From now on, as part of your training, you will get up before dawn and gather and split the wood we will need for the day.”

  I whimper. “But, Father! Chopping wood has absolutely nothing to do with training! I want to train like a real warrior, like Mother!”

  My father's smirk doesn’t falter. “This is how real warriors are trained, you must first learn discipline, and only then will you begin to understand what a real warrior is. Now Attina, get your ass in that circle while I stack these logs by the fire.”

  His statement shocks me about as much as when I learned my mother was Fae. My Father didn’t ever cuss, especially at me. The last time he’d cussed at me was a few days after Oak and I had almost frozen to death from falling through the ice. Back then, he’d wanted to have one of his talks and find out what was running through my head to go home the way I did. The last thing I want is to get a talking to like that again, so I move quickly to the clearing and wait.

  As he joins me, he must see the shock written on my face. “What’s wrong?”

  I gulp and say meekly, “You never cuss. What did I do wrong?”

  His brows scrunch and it appears like there is an inner conflict going on behind those aquamarine eyes of his. “I just want you to realize how serious this whole thing is. This isn't some game. You seem to think being a warrior is some noble privilege.”

  “Of course, it’s a noble privilege!” I shout at Father, stunned. What is he talking about? I glance at him, feeling the confusion spread across my face.

  He drops his head, draws a heavy sigh, closes his eyes, and pinches the bridge of his nose. Then he takes in a deep breath and releases it slowly before fixing his gaze back on me.

  “You know, I once asked your mother why she became a slayer. I thought the same as you back then, it must be some high honor. Being a slayer sounds almost romantic, saving people from the big bad wolf kind of thing. Well, after your mother was done smacking me around a little bit,” he says this with a slight smile and chuckle like it’s a happy memory, “she explained to me why she chose to become a slayer.”

  I sit down on the soft green ground and gape up to my father in awe.

  “You see, pumpkin, in the Fae world, a princess, especially the heir to the throne, is seen as someone who wears pretty dresses and throws extravagant parties. Frankly, in Fae royalty, women don’t matter much. They are only thought of as the propionate of the race and nothing else. Such a lifestyle was not for your mother.”

  I am completely in rapture at this story already. My entire life I've known nothing about my mother, now that Father's willing to tell me things I find myself holding onto every piece of new information like they're pieces of some precious jewel.

  “Growing up, your mother was not watched well by her handmaidens and she regularly snuck out of the castle to play soldier with her father’s elite guard. She started learning to fight at a young age and fell in love with it. Day and night, she would work with the soldiers. Her father, Henrik, didn’t care what she did with her time, as long as she fulfilled her duties of producing an heir when the time came, so at the age of thirteen she joined her father’s elite guard and quickly ascended the ranks. When she turned sixteen, her father waged war on the Eastern Fae. At the time, Henrik was acting king because his father was elderly and not interested in being king anymore. This war was the first time your mother seriously saw how power hungry her father was."

  I feel my eyes widen."Why did he the war?"

  "He had absolutely no reason to start a war with the Eastern Fae. There were no political tensions, no threats, nothing. He simply wanted power. Henrik wanted to not only be acting king of the Western Fae, but he also wanted to be King of all the Fae. Being the only heir to the Western Fae throne, your mother was not allowed to join her soldiers in the battle.” At this my father smiles and chuckles. “Knowing her though, I bet she put up one helluva fight to leave with them."

  "Well did she go?"

  "No, all she could do was sit by and watch as her only friends marched off to war without her. Many of her friends and soldiers did not make it back home. She always blamed herself for their deaths. Maybe if she was there, some of her friends would’ve made it home to their families."

  I glare down at the ground, "how sad I can't imagine being able to get through that kind of pain."

  "Yes Pumpkin, it is sad. From then on she decided she would protect all of her people at any cost. Her body and soul was no longer her own, but her people’s. She threw herself into her training, learning everything she could from all the masters she could find. She learned about how to become a slayer by mastering poisons, stealth, strategy, and her own powers. Before she knew it, she was the best soldier in her father’s elite guard. She thought if she was a perfect enough warrior, or a perfect enough slayer, she could protect her people. No more wars would be needed and no more of her people’s lives would be lost. She’d give her father whatever kingdom he wanted on her own. You see pumpkin, your mother didn’t become a slayer out of some noble privilege, she became a slayer to protect her people with every ounce of her being and every drop of her blood.” At this Father sweeps his eyes across me. “Now it’s your turn to pick up her responsibility. First for your people, and then for your mother’s people.”

  I jump out of my sitting position and screech “They are the enemy!”

  Father’s eyes grow steely “No, they are not.”

  He shakes his head. "They are innocent. Your grandfather, Henrik, is the enemy. The Fae move on his orders—and his orders alone—and anyone who dares goes against the king’s wishes meets a painful end. They are who your mother sacrificed everything for. They are your mother’s people, and they are your people. You are part Fae and the only heir to the throne. The Fae people need you, they may not know it yet, but they need you to lead them.”

  As soon as the words leave his mouth, he throws a hard punch right into my gut. Instantly, all the air flies out of my body, my legs buckle, and I fall to the ground gulping to get air back into my lungs. The world tilts and black spots sparkle in my vision.

  When I can breathe semi normally again and the world stops spinning I furrow my brows, harden my eyes, and give him a harsh glare. “What the hell? Why would you do that?”

  Father gazes down on me sprawled in the grass with fire in his eyes as he circles me like a predator. “If you’re going to be a leader, then you’re going to have to be a helluva lot tougher than that, Attina.”

  “You snuck up on me! We were in the middle of a conversation! I'm plenty strong, but you didn’t fight fair. You cheated!” I snap as I sit up.

  Father glares at me with disbelief written on his face. “You honestly think someone who’s trying to kill you will fight fair? I know I raised you smarter than that.”

  His answer infuriates me. How could he say such a thing to me? “Of course I don’t think the enemy will fight fair, but I would assume you’d fight fair considering I’m your daughter.” I stand up and brush myself off.

  Father chuckles. “I can’t fight fair if I’m going to prepare you for the future. Assume nothing, and trust no one. I’m not your friend while we’re training. I’m going to get you prepared to defend yourself and to do so, I have to be hard on you.” At this point his voice drops an octave lower. “Now get up and for mouthing off you can do fifty pushups.”

  Who knew stupid pushups could be this hard? I’d watched James do them before when he was trying to show off, but he always made them seem so easy. When I finish my pushups I thank the Gods I can finally rest my arms, but the thought quickly leaves my mind when I check around for Father. I glance all over camp and surprisingly it’s empty.

  When I open his tent flap I see nothing but an empty bed roll. Maybe the horses have seen him? I call out to Oak who’s eating on the right hand side of c
amp, “Hey. Have you seen Father?" Oak lifts his head and shakes it at me.

  Well, if Oak hasn’t seen him, then he couldn't have gone passed him, Oak would have noticed Father. The only other way he could have gone is to the left, past camp, but there’s nothing that way, only the creek and the forest.

  "Feel like helping me search for him, buddy?"

  "Sure my lady," Oak responds happily as he trots over to me.

  "Oh thank goodness." I sigh. "I'm sore from sparring. I could use another set of legs."

  "He worked you over pretty hard didn't he?" He chuckles as he kneels down, making it easier for me to mount him.

  "Yeah he did and then he just disappeared," I say as I climb on him bareback.

  "Well, let's go find him," he responds as we trot off in search of Father

  After a little while, we hear a thwack thwack noise. Like someone is chopping wood. Is he chopping wood? I thought that was my job? Besides, why is Father out here so far from camp?

  Oak and I wander through the forest trying to pinpoint where the noise is coming from. We follow the sound until we run into the creek. From our vantage point we see Father across the creek, a sword in his hands slicing through an invisible opponent and striking his sword into a tree.

  "Father!" I yell across the creek. He stops his ghostly fight and turns towards us.

  "Hey guys." He lowers his sword and waves. "Oak, you can head back to camp. Attina, get over here." He gestures with his hand.

  I jump off of Oak and walk up to his face. I wrap my arms around his massive head and nuzzle my face into the top of his head.

  "I love you, old man. I'll see you later," I whisper to him.

  "I love you too. Try to take it easy on him," He winks at me, then turns around, and starts his trek back to camp.

  I turn and call out to Father, "Hey how do I get over there?"

  No answer.

  "Hello? Can you hear me?"

  No answer.

  He must be too far away to hear me now. I search to my left and my right. Down to the right are a few rocks, but the rocks are wet and might be slippery. I scan around again, but no other way to cross jumps out at me. I guess I have to cross over the rocks and hope I don't slip.

  Walking up to the edge of the creek, I can see three rocks, which stand between the opposite bank and me. They're spaced out pretty evenly, but the water is lapping up over the top of them making them wet and a tad slimy. I take a big, long step out to the first rock, my boot gripping easily. The rock is only big enough for one foot at a time so my next step is to the second rock. It's not until I'm taking the step to the last rock that I know everything is everything is going to go terribly wrong.

  It happens in slow motion. I take the step to the third rock and as I'm starting to put weight on the new rock, the foot on the rock behind me slips right out from under me. There's no way for me to catch myself and I fall down into the water, straight onto my butt. Being a klutz I've learned falling on your face hurts way too much. So over the years I've learned how to always fall on my butt. Somehow I get a mouthful of water and I end up chest deep in freezing cold water. My father appears on the other bank of the creek cackling.

  He's doubled over at the waist, hands on his knees, laughing.

  I stand up. "You know, you could be offering some kind of help instead of laughing your ass off at me," I snap in annoyance, but I’m also holding back a laugh myself. What can I say? His laughter is contagious. Before I know it, I'm laughing as hard as he is. I clamber out of the cold stream as I begin to get my chortling under control.

  "Okay, if that's not the way you got over here, then how did you do it?"

  Father puts his hand to my back and guides me farther down the creek. We walk around a bend in the creek. I hadn't bothered walking around it because I assumed Father hadn't gone this far out of his way.

  When we get around the bend I see it, a downed tree stretching across the creek, it’s big, and strong enough to cross over the water on foot. Father places his hand on my shoulder and turns me towards him.

  "Pumpkin, you should remember you have to scout your surroundings at all times. It would have only taken you a few more minutes to find this and you would be dry right now instead of sopping wet. If you were in a battle, the few minutes it would’ve taken you to scout the area could mean the difference between life and death.

  I let that sink in. I was careless. He's right, there's so much riding on me staying alive. There are people counting on me now, I need to be more careful. Even something so small and innocuous could mean life or death for more than just me now.

  Father wraps me in a huge hug, sheaths his sword, and smiles as he pushes me away at arm's length. "Why don't we head back to camp and get you into some dry clothes before you catch a cold."

  As we walk back to camp, I remember I had a question for him yesterday I didn’t get a chance to ask.

  “Um…Father…I have a question for you. I meant to ask you about it yesterday, but I forgot.”

  “Go ahead, pumpkin.”

  “In my mother’s letter she told me to listen to my body when I come into my magic. What does that mean?” I try to keep the panic out of my voice. I know in my bones this magic has something to do with all the objects flying around in my room in my sleep.

  He stops and turns around towards me placing his hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know how I forgot to tell you this earlier. When a Fae grows up, their magic is awakened.

  He pauses and squeezes my shoulder like it explains everything. “Now with you being half Fae, I’m not sure if you’ll even have powers or how they will manifest, but I will help you navigate through them if they show up.”

  “So, would objects flying around my bed while I sleep count as powers?” I timidly ask. I’m never timid but this subject makes me nervous.

  His eyes widen. “Has that happened to you?”

  I nod my head. “Yes, it started a few days before we left town. It started as just a dream I thought, but it turned out I wasn’t dreaming. I started waking up with my things floating over my bed.”

  Father sucks in air and takes a big gulp before continuing “Well, that definitely counts as powers. It appears you really will have magical abilities.” His voice comes out almost awed and he pulls me into a big bear hug before holding me an arm's length away.

  “No worries, pumpkin, we will get through this.” He ruffles my hair exactly like he used to do when I was a kid worried about something minor.

  As a kid, those worries were trivial but now, this isn’t trivial. I might have magical powers? How is this real life? What is happening to me?

  He didn’t really answer my questions, but I decide I’ll ask him more about it later. Right now all I want to do is get into some warm, dry clothes. The only positive thing about finding out I have magical powers is now I know the reason my things started soaring around my room of their own accord.

  10

  Attina

  The next morning, after I collect wood for the day and Father and I eat breakfast, I follow him back to that fallen log and cross the creek, back to the spot where he was practicing yesterday.

  Today, Father is carrying two swords, one sheathed on his side and one across his back. When we make it across the creek he unsheathes the sword on his back, arcing it over his head in one swift motion, and hands the sword over to me.

  "Today we're going to learn swordplay."

  In my hands, the sword feels awkward, like some foreign object that doesn't belong there. Both my hands grip the handle and I hold the sword out a respectful distance with the tip pointed to the ground.

  "Attina, what are you doing?" Father admonishes.

  I study the sword as I answer. "I'm afraid I'm going to hurt myself and accidentally cut off a finger or something.

  "Well the only way you're going to get over that fear is by practicing with it."

  I give him a look, I exaggeratedly widen my eyes and shrug my shoulders, which I hope shows him I think he
's crazy. He ignores my scowl and walks past me up to a huge old knotty Pine tree.

  "I want you to swing and hit this tree. Once on the right side then again on the left; over and over until I say stop.

  "Ugh that's ridiculous. I can’t chop that thing down." I complain, more nervous than upset.

  "I don’t want you to chop it down. You need to get used to the weight and feel of a real sword."

  "Yes, I understand Father." I hesitantly lift the heavy sword and swing it, slashing it into the Pine's bark. I feel the repercussion of the strike vibrate up my arms and down my back. I do the same on the other side and feel that same sensation again.

  Without taking my eyes off the tree I say, "I don't know if I can do this."

  "You can do this Attina. I know you can." He puts his hand on my elbow and lifts it into a different position. "Choke up on the hilt." I glare at him, confused at the terminology and he chuckles. "The handle, choke up on the handle."

  I do as he says and feel a lightness in the sword I didn't feel a second before.

  "Lift your elbow a little bit more. I want you to swing this the same way you swung the ax this morning. Can you do that?" I nod as he continues, "Just instead of swinging the ax downward, you're swinging it sideways.”

  I nod my head again. "The vibrations after making contact with the tree; I don't know if I can handle those."

  Father steps in front of me and looks me right in the eyes. "Yes, you can. When you use this sword on a person and you hit bone it will make the same vibration. It's something you need to get used to."

  "But isn't there some other way we can do this?"

  I feel like all this swinging is going to hurt and I'm already in agonizing pain from our other training yesterday, so a day wielding this sword does not sound appealing.

  He doesn't answer right away, simply stares at me for a second, then turns and walks away shouting over his shoulder "You know what. I don't need to explain myself to you; get it done. I'll be back later. Keep practicing until then. Get to it." Almost as an afterthought he adds, “And I’ll know if you put in the work or not, so just do it.”