8
FRIENDS
The clang of metal reaches us well before we enter the training grounds. Excitement quickens my pace as we walk towards the sound. The path we’ve taken looks to be meticulously laid cobblestones, but it’s been trodden so many times that the stones are worn smooth.
Some of Odessa’s smaller feathers flutter in the breeze, and our skirts billow about our ankles. The breeze isn’t cold, only cool enough to diminish the sun’s burn.
Odessa pauses at a wooden archway that marks the barrier between the grounds and the training area. The horizontal beam that makes up the top of the archway has carved letters in a language I don’t recognize, but seems familiar.
“What does that say?” I ask, pointing at the letters.
She snorts. “A relic from the past.” She rolls her eyes. “It says: Those who live without discipline will die without honor.”
The breeze halts as if the very land has stilled to hear the words. The brief pause is interrupted by the reverberation of metal on metal and the grunts of warriors. Odessa steps to the side, my view of the handful of warriors in various activities now unobscured.
My eyes are drawn to the tallest man and woman I’ve ever seen. They are sparring with swords and wooden shields. The man leans quickly to the right as a sword nearly grazes his long, braided black hair. He rights himself, and his shirtless abs flex with the motion before being concealed by the shield he hoists into place, blocking the next blow the woman throws at him with her sword.
I don’t know which is more impressive, the speed at which the man is moving his large body or the strength she is putting behind each of her assaults. She moves like an asp, but the sound of her sword crashing against his shield cracks as loud as thunder.
Odessa nods at the couple I’m staring at. “That’s Tane and Mathilda. Tane is the only warrior willing to spar with her.” She eyes them. “Mathilda is a Valkyrie known for her strength. It’s her blessed power from the Father.”
I nod, not taking my eyes off the scene before me.
Mathilda’s honey-colored hair is pulled away from her face in two braids that are gathered at the top of her head in a high ponytail that whips side to side like thick ropes with each lunge. Sweat is glistening off her tanned skin even though she’s dressed in what I assume is training gear.
The complexity of the woven leather gives me the impression that it was made specifically to keep the warriors cool and comfortable during their physical activities. Flashes of her tanned skin peek out from the crisscrossing gaps in the leather across her chest, which end right above her navel. The overlapping leather has gaps in the back that accommodate her wings, which flare wide with each lunge and tuck tightly when she shields.
The leather of her pants looks like it’s been sewn onto her muscular legs. When she lunges at Tane, they flex with her movements, and her wings slightly spread to counterbalance her bracing stance.
It’s like an ancient depiction of battle.
Tane tries to retreat a step from her lunge, but she’s too quick, and the shield he’s holding is blocking part of his view. She slips a booted foot behind his retreating leg and yanks.
In one swift motion, he’s sprawling onto his back while he reaches out and takes her with him. Mathilda throws her weapon and shield out to the side as she lands on top of his chest, her wings tucked tightly to her body.
They burst into laughter. The affection they exude has me clutching my necklace. My chest aches with memories of Lachlan.
Mathilda’s wings flare as she stands and reaches down to pull Tane up easily. He retrieves her weapon and shield before he hands them to her, and they walk to the refreshments table in the shaded corner of the training grounds.
“Why doesn’t Tane have wings?” I ask, eyeing them as they rest together.
“He’s only a warrior,” Odessa replies dismissively.
The only other people on the grounds are at the opposite end, near a long, metal-roofed, wooden building. The man is the red-headed man from the group earlier, the one with the raven black wings. I study him as he draws back a bow. His copper-red hair glistens in the sunlight while his wings seem to absorb the light.
Odessa turns with me and points at him. “That’s Evander; he’s one of the royal guards.”
“His wings are beautiful,” I mumble.
His muscles flex from drawing the bow taught.
“The men who have been selected as guards for the royal family were either the male children of Valkyries or children of warriors who made the cut for selection. Once chosen, they were gifted with raven black wings by Odin,” she replies.
Evander’s wings vanish right after he fires the arrow thatsinks into the center of the bullseye. I gasp as tattoos now ripple across his arms.
My face twists in shock. “What just happened?”
Odessa chuckles. “Part of their gift is also shape-shifting. He can shift the wings into tattoos upon his arms.” She points at the wing-like black outline inked over his shoulders and down his entire arms, stopping at his wrists. “See.”
