Shadow

Idonia Torbet

“We warm up first, and today we work on you aim.”

“But my aim is terrible,” Olen protests. “Plus I am better in close combat then archery, you’re the archer.”

“A good Viker knows every form of combat, from swords to bows.”

“Fine,” he huffs, then goes to put the swords away. After that I ran with him around the court. We did some arm pull ups on a bar, balence workouts on the same bar, and then stretch his arms and my own. After that, he retrieves a bow and quiver from the armory.

There are five targets set up by the building with markers showing where to shot from. Olen still shoots from the closest marker as his aim is not that good. Olen has little patience for arrows and prefers the fast action of fighting. I learned the bow first, it is my true love in warcraft. Warriors with a bow must be more focused, more disciplined, and more determined. While close combat is like of dead, a bow is the deadly force that kills from afar.

Olen takes his first shot, the arrow flies and lands just before the target. “Draw more, the fletching should tickle your lips.” He tries again, this arrow goes under the target and breaks itself against the stone wall behind the target.

“I can’t do it.”

“You can,” I kneel beaide him. “Use your mind’s eye to aim. You know where the target is, you’re just overthinking. Before you nock your arrow, look at the target, the spacing, the destination. Load and shoot, no more thinking.”

Olen nods once and I step back. He stares at the target like it’s the biggest villain he’s ever seen. Lips purse and eyebrows furrowed; it almost makes me want to laugh. I hold back the amusement and see him draw the arrow from the quiver, nock it, and pull back. Without a second though he releases it, the arrow whistles though the air... barely landing on the target.

“Good job.”

“I barely hit it.”

“But you hit it,” I remind him.My hand lands of his shoulder and I squeeze. “Your steps to improvement are small, but they are steps.”

“Show me again,” he tries to pass the bow to me.

“You know the movements, now do them,” I step back again. Olen fires another arrow, this one landing no closer to the bull’s eye then the other.

“Have you tried knives?” a voice comes from behind us. He rests against a column of the armory deck.

“Pardon?”

“The boy,” he refers to Olen, moving off the column and steps towards us. “His aim is bad yes, have you tried throwing knives to improve the vision?”

“No, he is learning the bow.”

“The boy is still small and the pull of the bow is too strong for him. Throwing knives will help with his aim and strength.”

“I have a name,” Olen protests.

“We all have names, in the Khannun’s army we are simply lycans at his disposal.”

“I am not part of the army,” Olen corrects him. “I train to be a personal Viker of the Khanelea.”

“Olen, quiet,” I tell him. “What is your name?”

“Kosta Nenouf, here by order of the Khannun.”

“An untrained male, I presume?”

“Untrained in sword and bow, but well versed in knives and traps.”

“Will you show him?” I ask next, he nods once. The male, Kosta, steps ups to be beside Olen. He draws a blade from the sheath on his hip. With a swift movement back and then forward, the blade releases from his hand. The knife turns through the air before landing with a thud on the target.

Directly in the center.

“Idonia Torbet,” I offer him my hand. “Where are you from, Nenouf?”

“Waerham, northern Waerham in a town called Bravollr."

"I've never heard of it."

"No, it is very small, mostly a hunting and trading hub. But you, Madam Torbet, I know your name. You're from Theris, in relation to the Aeral Torbet."

"I am his daughter, and this is his youngest son and my brother, Olen."

Olen speaks next, "Teach me the knives."

"If I may, Madam?"

"You may," I allow him. Kosta works with Olen, showing him how to throw the knives. The first few his the target, but with the wrong end. He keeps working though, and while it is harder to get the blade to stick to the target his aim is improving. When he finally sticks one knife into the target, he is within one ring of the bull's eye.

"Good job, Olen," I praise him, then turn to Kosta. "Thank you, Nenouf."

"Will you answer a question, to thank me?"

"Of course."

"What brings two Torbets to Bethlianna? Are you trying to have the Khannun train your brother as a Viker?"

"I guess the news has not been publicly announced, but I am Khanel Raedwulf's mate."

"You're--" he stops and immediately bows. "I apologize, your greatness. You are no Madam but a Khanelea, I hope you are not offended by my mistake."

"No offense taken. The Khannun has not yet given me the title yet, so for all intense and purposes I am still a Madam."

"You are the Khanel's true mate though, he will give you the title," Kosta assures me, though he possess no knowledge of the situation. He is a common male, with little experience with aristocracy.

"Thank you for your confidence."

After Olen lands a few more throws, we leave the training grounds. When we get to the castle halls, I stop a servant to ask directions. The castle is large and ancient, the Khannuns over the years have only added onto the royal homestead, making it mountain over the whole city of Thialos.

The servant leads us up and down, across corridors, and finally down a hallway to Olen's bedroom. I leave him there, letting him settle into his new home. I then find my way upstairs to our floor. Rae's scent catches my attention, but instead of following it I go down to our room.

In the room, I find my two trunks still sitting full. There is a wardrobe waiting for me, sitting empty in the room. I sit at the table in the room, staring at the trunks. Unpacking is the next step for me here, getting comfortable and accepting this place as my home.

In theory, what more could I want? I have my mate, my brother, some people I can see calling good friends in a couple months. What more could I ask for?

Then there is this tension in the castle. I feel it within Rae mostly. He hates it here, the way he acts and speaks. It isn't Rae, its Khanel Raedwulf.

There is a difference.

And it is exactly what I feared coming here. That he would be different, that we would be different. All males have to work, I knew he wouldn't be able to spend as much time with me here. It is only my first day here though, and I already feel alone.