Outside in the yard, there was shouting. The drills and training seemed to be constant, even carrying on into the night. Rianaire came to the edge of the landing and looked out on the cause of the noise. Gadaí was at the eastern side of the yard, speaking with three elves, dressed in no armor at all. Two with short swords at the ready and a third wielding a crossbow, short sword at the flat of his lower back. They were normally worn at the side.
The three at the other side, Eala among them, wore things as was standard. Longer swords, leather armor. Gadaí had said they would be beginning practical drills soon. This must have been one of them.
The yard was set up as a hall might be in a keep. Boxes stacked in spaced rows as columns and a pile of feed bags in front of Eala’s group. Some benches laid out through the middle. Gadaí whistled, signaling the start. Eala’s group immediately ducked behind the bags, waiting there. As they did the two with swords at the far end split to either side of the columns and began to run at speed down the hall.
Eala stood, drawing a shot from the crossbowman. The flanking pair stopped dead, taking places behind the pillars. When the practice bolt thunked harmlessly off the stone wall at her back, she ordered her men around the front of the sandbags. The pair at the sides waited patiently as Eala put her men to a dead run. The crossbow was not yet reloaded, she hoped to be done with the ranged threat first, it seemed. Suddenly, she broke ranks, cutting to the side with one of her men, the third still making for the crossbowman. She came around the pillars and her enemy immediately retreated without hesitation. The far side attacker came to the center, trailing hot behind the single elf sent after the crossbow. He turned to face the person at his back. Eala shouted at him.
“No! I said—”
“Gah!” A practice bolt popped loud against his leather leggings and the flanker who trailed put a wooden sword to his neck.
“Turn!” She called to her remaining ally.
Both ran to the center, moving to the attacker who had taken their friend’s head. Another ready retreat.
“Keep on him! Out of the center.”
The other had regrouped with the crossbowman at the head of the field. Eala had spotted it. The enemy pair moved to the far side column. Eala pulled herself to a stop behind one of the columns, but her partner had not noticed any of the things she had. He rounded, squaring himself to the far end. When Eala did not appear beside him, he looked to his side, confused. No sooner than his eyes had met hers, a practice bolt slapped hard against his leather chestpiece. The man crumbled, wheezing. Eala froze in place, frustration plain on her face, even at Rianaire’s distance. She waited there. The attackers split the column while the crossbowman reloaded, sidestepping back to the center of the yard’s far end. Eala waited. Counting steps. Her face now stony and fierce.
The two were on her entirely when she broke from the column, rounding toward the middle rather than the wall side. She moved as quickly as Rianaire had seen an elf do, pulling her wooden sword across the foe’s gut. She kept pace, ducking back behind a column as the thunk of the crossbow sounded. The bolt cracked off of the boxes and she pulled back to the center of the hall. A pair of benches had been laid across the far end. She leapt it as the crossbow clattered against the ground. The short-sword had not cleared its scabbard when she came down on her prey, pulling her own wooden sword across his neck. She began to turn when she felt a dull jab just below her right kidney. The third.
Eala screamed in frustration and threw her sword against the wall. The girl paced back to the center of the yard, screaming and cursing. Gadaí approached her from behind.
“It is only a tenth attempt, Eala. You must find calm.”
“And if they are real lives?! Must I be calm then?” Her face was flushed red, desperate tears came down her face.
“Yes. More, then.”
Eala lost her words and her will to resist and simply cried. Gadaí put her arms around the girl, pulling her close. Rianaire shook her head, expecting the image in front of her eyes to change somehow.
“You are capable. Strong. This face does not befit you. Calm, patient. Those will see you past high walls. Not this.”
Eala calmed at the words and pushed herself away from Gadaí.
“Again.”
Gadaí nodded and turned. “To your places. Rotate roles.”
Eala had not once looked up from the field in front of her to see Rianaire watching. She did not now. She moved her eyes across the field as though trying to understand it more deeply.
“I doubt if she could lead a force of any size. But she has grown quickly,” Inney said. “Her mind for battle is a strong one.”
Rianaire watched the field with passive eyes. “For battle, yes. But there are other ways she must grow to fill the role I have handed her. There are more things in war than battle. So many more.”
The seams that held the world together appeared to stretch out in front of her, threatening to come apart. Though Rianaire forced the fabric back together in one place, two more threatened to snap. Her pride would not allow it. Not after Síocháin challenged her so. If the effort of it all aged her horribly or bored her near to death, she would do what she must, just to be right. She knew she was, after all. Delayed gratification, she thought. And what greater pleasure was there than to watch doubters
