Mercenary of Lastia - Beyond the Last Hearth - Ch 1-4 (Patreon)

(Working cover for now, still working on getting artist to do it!)

Blurb

Thrown from her life in a tranquil forest village into the fires of fate, Lysandra must reinvent herself in a world ruled by men, mercenaries, and questionable morality.

Defiance in the village of Thornfield comes at a high price.

When Lys stands up to Caius, the privileged son of the village headsman, her life spirals into chaos as she flees to spare her family from vengeance. Alone and destitute after her hoped-for sanctuary burns to the ground, she finds her only option is to join a traveling mercenary company.

Maintaining her disguise proves challenging as Lys excels, drawing both admiration and jealousy.

Navigating through the brutal training and the harsh realities of a mercenary’s life, she delves into the ancient martial practice of cultivation—harnessing inner energies to perform feats that border on the magical.

Mastering this art will take far more than her resolve, as she—and her secret—are pushed to their limits.

—

Chapter 1

Thrown from her life in a tranquil forest village into the fires of fate, Lysandra must reinvent herself in a world ruled by men, mercenaries, and questionable morality.

Defiance in the village of Thornfield comes at a high price.

When Lys stands up to Caius, the privileged son of the village headsman, her life spirals into chaos as she flees to spare her family from vengeance. Alone and destitute after her hoped-for sanctuary burns to the ground, she finds her only option is to join a traveling mercenary company.

Maintaining her disguise proves challenging as Lys excels, drawing both admiration and jealousy.

Navigating through the brutal training and the harsh realities of a mercenary’s life, she delves into the ancient martial practice of cultivation—harnessing inner energies to perform feats that border on the magical.

Mastering this art will take far more than her resolve, as she—and her secret—are pushed to their limits.

—

Lysandra sat on the small cot she shared with her sister Cora, showing Silas a picture book, one of the few treasured possessions her father had left behind before his untimely death in a travel accident.

Her five-year-old brother listened with rapt attention as she pointed out the illustrations and read the simple story.

“Lysandra!” Elena called from the kitchen, her voice carrying through the cottage.

Silas tugged on Lysandra’s skirt, his wide eyes looking up at her. “Lys, Mom is calling you.”

Lysandra smiled and rolled her eyes playfully. She patted him on the head, ruffling his soft hair. “I know, little one. I heard her.”

She closed the picture book and set it aside, the memories of her father still lingering. He had been a merchant, always on the move, exploring the world beyond their small village.

She had been fortunate enough to accompany him on a few trips to Silverpines, the nearest town, before his passing five years ago when she was just ten.

Those journeys had ignited a spark within her, a longing to see more of the world, but her father’s death had been a devastating blow, shattering those dreams.

Rising from the cot, Lysandra made her way through the cramped bedroom, past the living room, and into the kitchen where her mother awaited.

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the air, mingling with the earthy scent of herbs hanging from the rafters.

“What is it, Mother?” Lys asked.

Elena turned from the hearth, wiping her hands on her apron. Her face held a mix of concern and determination as she met her daughter’s gaze.

“I need you to deliver a box of hot cakes to the Headsman’s Inn,” Elena said, her voice carrying a hint of urgency.

Lys frowned, her brows knitting together. They always baked for the Inn, but normally the arrangement was for the Headsman’s son, Caius, to pick up the goods. He was probably shirking his responsibilities again, off with the other boys.

“Yes, Mother,” Lysandra replied, her tone laced with a touch of annoyance.

She collected the small box of cakes, each layer separated by parchment paper.

Her mother truly was the best baker in the village, and their expansive kitchen was evidence of that. It had been their main livelihood after her father’s passing.

That, and her older brother Bran’s hard work with the lumberjacks. But he would be getting married soon. She was the next oldest, so responsibility to help keep the family was going to fall on her.

It was too bad she was terrible at cooking and most crafts.

She wasn’t sure what she’d be able to do, other than help her mother as best she could.

“Hurry back, dear,” Elena said, her eyes softening. “I’ll need your help cooking a batch of trail bread for the herdsmen.”

“I will, Mother,” Lys promised. She carried the box out of the house and onto the dirt path.

The sight of Thornfield greeted her as she exited their little cottage on a hill overlooking the village. The sun-dappled roofs of the thatched cottages below nestled together, smoke curling from their chimneys.

The village green, a patchwork of vibrant wildflowers and soft grass, stretched out along the path, dotted with the occasional oak tree. She looked over her shoulder; the Iron Mountains rose upwards as a formidable barrier, skirted by a thick belt of evergreen.

The distant sound of laughter and chatter from the villagers going about their daily lives pulled her attention back. The sounds mingled with the gentle rustling of long grass in the breeze.

She’d seen it a million times, though. It was almost boring.

What she wanted was to go travel to Silverpines, which was much larger. They even had two inns.

Lys made her way down the path towards the village center, the box of cakes held securely in her arms. As she walked, she passed a group of girls her age, huddled together and whispering.

They waved at her, but Lys merely nodded in response, not wanting to engage in their idle gossip.

A man with a cart filled with goods trundled by, offering her a friendly greeting as he headed up the hill and out of the village. Lys smiled politely, but she had a job to do.

As she approached the Inn, the sounds of laughter and chatter grew louder. The spring festival had brought in farmers and frontiersmen from the surrounding areas, and many had stayed a few extra days to enjoy the village’s hospitality.

Lys stepped into the building, the aroma of ale and roasted meats filling the air. She weaved her way through the throng of patrons, careful not to jostle the box of cakes.

“Hey, girl!” a gruff voice called out. “Bring me one of those cakes!”

Lys turned to see a burly man eyeing the box hungrily. Panic rose in her chest as she stammered, “I-I’m sorry, sir. These cakes are for the Headsman.”

The man growled, looming over her menacingly. “Who do you think the Headsman gets them for, eh?”

Just as Lys was about to take a step back, a firm hand landed on the man’s shoulder. Headsman Gaius stood behind him, his presence commanding respect.

“Leave the girl alone,” Gaius said sternly. “She’s just here to deliver the cakes.”

The man grumbled under his breath, “I ordered my cake over an hour ago.”

Gaius apologized for the delay and reached into Lys’ box, handing the man a cake. The situation defused, she followed Gaius to the kitchen at the back of the Inn.

Setting the box on the counter, Gaius turned to her. “Did Caius not come to pick up the cakes?”

Lys shook her head. “No, sir. He never showed up, so my mother sent me to deliver them before they got cold… colder.”

Gaius nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a silver coin. He handed it to Lys, then smiled and added two copper coins. “These two are for your help today.”

Lys thanked him, pocketing the coins. She hurried out of the Inn, feeling the eyes of the men on her as she left. The encounter had left her unsettled, but she was glad to have completed her task.

She started toward the path back up the hill to her house when a powerful feeling of wrongness hit her, stopping her in her tracks. She couldn’t explain it, but something deep within her urged her not to take that path.

Trusting her instincts, Lys decided to walk through the market square instead.

She approached a fruit stall and bought an apple for a copper coin. Spotting the large oak tree on the village green, she sat down beneath its sprawling branches and took a bite of the crisp, juicy fruit.

“Slacking off, are we?” a familiar voice called out from behind the tree.

Lys nearly jumped out of her skin as Elie’s head popped out, a grin plastered on her face.

“I just wanted an apple before heading home,” Lys replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Elie’s grin widened. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell on you.”

Lys rolled her eyes. “Of course you won’t, because you’re avoiding Mara and her herbalism lessons again.”

Elie placed a hand over her heart, feigning shock. “I have never heard such vile lies and gossip before in my life!”

Lys snorted. “You’re lucky you got picked to be an apprentice. You should be more dutiful.”

“What’s the fun in that?” Elie asked, her eyes twinkling.

Before Lys could respond, a series of shouts erupted in the village. She looked up to the path on the hill and saw the cart that had passed earlier rolling backwards, careening out of control without its driver or animal.

Several people narrowly avoided being run over as the cart hurtled down the hill, gathering speed. With a resounding crash, it slammed into the side of the Inn, splintering wood and sending debris flying.

Lys and Elie sat stunned, their eyes wide with shock.

As the dust settled, Lys couldn’t shake the feeling that her premonition about not taking the hill path had somehow saved her from being caught in the disaster.

But…

How had she known something was going to happen?

*

Chapter 2

Lys huffed and puffed as she trudged up the steep path, winding her way up the mountainside toward the logging camp.

The weight of the dinner pies, cooked by her mother and prepared for the lumberjacks, pressed down on her back. The smell of the thick pine trees filled the air, and the sight from so high up was exciting, even when she had seen it countless times before.

She paused for a moment, catching her breath and taking in the view.

From the vantage point, she could see all the way to the other end of the valley, where it opened up and stretched into Lastia proper.

A massive blanket of trees filled the area, with small cutouts for farms and fields where people were growing crops. The sight never failed to amaze her, reminding her of the vastness of the world beyond Thornfield.

With renewed determination, she continued her ascent. The sound of axes chopping wood and men shouting grew louder as she neared her destination. She could smell the sweat and sawdust mingling with the scent of the pines.

As she entered the clearing, her brother Bran spotted her. He was standing near an enormous pile of freshly cut logs, his muscular frame glistening with sweat.

A broad grin spread across his face as he called out to her. “Lys! Over here!”

She made her way over to him, carefully navigating the uneven ground. Bran took the basket of pies from her, setting it down on a nearby stump.

“Thanks for bringing these up,” he said, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “The boys will be thrilled to have something hot and hearty to eat.”

Lys smiled, proud to have been able to help. “Mother wanted to make sure you all had a good meal. She knows how hard you work.”

Bran chuckled, ruffling her hair affectionately. “And we appreciate it, little sister.”

Lys handed the pack of dinner pies to Bran, who called out to the other lumberjacks, “Alright boys, take a break! Lysandra brought us some grub!”

The men dropped their axes and saws, wiping sweat from their brows as they made their way over. They eagerly dug into the pies, their hearty laughter and appreciative grunts filling the air.

As the last man took his share, Lys noticed one pie remaining in the basket. She furrowed her brow, confused.

Bran, seeing her expression, let out a chuckle. “Mother obviously cooked one for you too, Lys. Especially after you made the trek all the way up here to deliver them.”

One of the older lumberjacks, his beard flecked with gray, piped up, “If you keep hauling food up to us every day, you’ll be stronger than the lot of us combined!”

Another man, younger and with a mischievous glint in his eye, added, “And growing up to be a fine young woman at that. Whoever you marry will be a lucky bastard!”

Bran’s face darkened, and he shot the man a stern look. “Knock it off, will you?”

Lys felt her cheeks grow hot as she grabbed the last pie. The first bite filled her mouth with flaky crust, warm gravy, and tender meat. She settled down next to Bran, savoring each bite.

As they ate, Bran turned to her. “So, any of the village boys caught your eye yet?”

Lys nearly choked on her food. “You too?” she demanded, her embarrassment mounting.

Bran sighed, his tone growing more serious. “It’s going to be hard on the family once I marry Elie and we’re on our own, you know.”

Lys frowned, a pang of frustration welling up inside her. “I don’t see why you have to go to Heartlehelm. It’s not fair.”

“We’ve talked about this, Lys. Elie’s family needs help, too.” Bran’s voice was gentle but firm. “I know it’s not fair, but things aren’t always fair.”

Lys snorted, rolling her eyes at Bran’s earlier question. “Interested in one of those village brats? I’d rather marry a pig.”

Bran grunted, his expression turning serious. “It would be good for the family, though. I think Gaius has been interested in Mother.”

“What?” Lys’s eyes widened, shock evident on her face.

“They’re both widowed and not too old to remarry,” Bran explained. “Combining the families would make it a lot easier on them. Gaius only has one son and lacks the manpower for the Inn, and it’s hard for Mother to earn enough for all of our siblings with baking alone.”

Lys shook her head vehemently. “That’s a terrible idea. Gaius? Really? Next you’ll suggest Caius for me.”

Bran sighed. “The other way would be for you to get married, preferably to someone offering a large dowry.”

“So Caius. I hate the idea of being sold to the highest bidder even more,” Lys retorted, her voice rising with indignation.

Bran looked at her, his eyes searching. “What do you want to do, then? You don’t like kitchen work, and the tailor apprenticeship didn’t work out.”

Lys hugged her legs, resting her chin on her knees. Her gaze drifted off into the distance, a wistful expression on her face. “I want to be a merchant, like Father.”

Bran frowned, his brow furrowing with concern. “I know, Lys. But we don’t know any merchants to apprentice you to, and there aren’t many traveling female merchants either. You’d have a hard time.”

Lys felt a wave of frustration wash over her. It seemed like every path she wanted to take was blocked by some obstacle or another. The idea of being trapped in Thornfield, forced into a marriage she didn’t want or a life she couldn’t stand, made her feel suffocated.

Lys’s mind drifted back to the village square, where she had watched the hunters train with their spears. And bows. Especially the bows. She turned to Bran, a determined glint in her eye.

“I’d rather be a hunter,” she declared.

Bran wiped his forehead and ran his fingers through his hair, a wry smile on his face. “Sounds like you want to be a boy.”

Lys glared at him, her hands clenching into fists. “I’m fine being a girl,” she muttered. “I just don’t like woman-work.”

Bran laughed, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “I can’t blame you.”

He paused for a moment, considering. “I’ll speak with some of the village men about it and see if there’s a chance.”

Lys felt a flicker of hope ignite in her chest. Maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to break free from the confines of Thornfield’s expectations.

Bran looked at her, his expression turning curious. “Have you kept up with your archery skills?”

Lys grinned, nodding eagerly. “I practice whenever I can, when I’m not being run around.”

Bran nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. “Maybe that’ll help. Keep at it.”

Lys bent down, tightening the laces on her boots. She gathered the finished meal plates and the copper coins, and then she was ready to head back down the mountain.

As she turned to leave, Bran called out to her. “Don’t worry about it, little bird. We’ll figure something out for you.”

Lys looked back at him, a grateful smile on her face. She nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. With Bran on her side, perhaps she could forge a path of her own choosing.

She descended the path back toward Thornfield, her mind buzzing. The idea of convincing one of the shop owners to let her work for them, even if it wasn’t an apprenticeship, seemed like a possibility. It could earn her a few coins a day, and that was a start.

As she neared the village, she spotted a familiar figure standing by a rock, looking down.

It was Emil, a boy her age who she had always found to be kind. His father even owned a book, and he had let her practice learning to read with it when she was younger. Lys approached him with a friendly smile.

“Hey, Emil!” she called out.

Emil turned to look at her, his expression pained and troubled.

Lys felt a wave of confusion wash over her. Before she could ask what was wrong, a figure stepped out from behind the rock. It was Caius, with his cronies Brug and Vern in tow.

Vern sneered, his eyes glinting with malice. “Well, well, if it isn’t the baker’s daughter.”

Caius let out a cruel laugh, grabbing Emil by the shirt and yanking him forward. “Now you can have an audience while you apologize,” he taunted.

Emil kept his gaze fixed on the ground, his voice just barely audible as he mumbled something weakly. Lys felt a surge of anger rising within her.

“Leave him alone, Caius,” she demanded, stepping forward with her fists clenched at her sides. “Why does he have to apologize?” she demanded, her voice sharp and unyielding.

Brug, the larger of Caius’s lackeys, sneered at her. “Emil didn’t bring us the meat sticks like we told him to.”

Lys scowled, her eyes narrowing. “What, are you just robbing him now? You know that meat sticks cost two coppers each!”

Vern, the other crony, smirked, his eyes glinting with malice. “He broke Caius’s sword, and he has to pay us back.”

Lys scoffed, rolling her eyes. “What are you, twelve?” She crossed her arms, her stance defiant. “Were you forcing him to ‘spar’ with you with sticks again?”

Caius shrugged, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Emil has to learn to be a man somehow.”

Lys shook her head in disgust. She walked over to the side of the path and broke off a branch from a nearby tree. With a swift motion, she threw it at Caius’s feet. “There! Replacement for your broken sword.”

Without waiting for a response, Lys grabbed Emil’s arm and hauled him down the path, away from the bullies. She could hear Vern shouting behind them, “You can’t just do that!”

Lys ignored him, pulling Emil along faster. They broke into a run, their feet pounding against the dirt as they put distance between themselves and Caius’s gang.

As they ran, Lys glanced over at Emil, noticing the fear and relief mingling on his face. She felt a pang of sympathy for him, knowing all too well what it was like to be targeted by their peers.

They continued running until they reached the outskirts of the village, the sound of Caius and his gang’s shouts fading into the distance.

Lys slowed to a walk, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. She released Emil’s arm, turning to face him.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

Emil nodded, his eyes downcast. “Thank you, Lys,” he mumbled. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”

*

Chapter 3

The rest of the week was a constant battle as Caius stepped up his bullying of Emil whenever Lys wasn’t around. Which was most of the time.

She did her best to intervene, but the bullies seemed to find him when she was busy, no matter what. Emil followed her advice on how to avoid them, taking different routes and hiding during breaks, but Caius and his cronies were relentless in their pursuit.

Lys considered going to the adults for help, knowing that this couldn’t continue. But Emil had made her promise not to tell anyone, his eyes pleading with her to keep his secret.

She couldn’t understand why he was so adamant about suffering in silence. It was so stupid, she thought, frustration bubbling up inside her.

“Lysandra!” Elena’s voice called out, interrupting her thoughts. “It’s time to get ready!”

Lys sighed, pushing herself up from her bed. She walked over to her small wardrobe and pulled out her best outfit, the one reserved for special occasions like the Sunday ceremony. She dressed quickly, smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric.

As she stepped out of her room, she glanced over at Silas, who was still curled up in his bed, pretending to be asleep. Lys walked over to him, gently shaking his shoulder.

“Come on, Silas,” she said, her voice firm but kind. “It’s time to get ready.”

He groaned, burying his face in his pillow. “I don’t wanna go,” he mumbled, his voice muffled.

Lys sighed, reaching down and scooping him up into her arms. She carried him over to his own small wardrobe and helped him get dressed, despite his halfhearted protests.

“I don’t want to go,” Silas whined, his bottom lip quivering.

Lys knelt down in front of him, looking him in the eye. “Silas, it’s important that we all go to the blessing. It helps make sure we all stay healthy.”

She paused, her expression growing serious. “You don’t want me or Mom to get sick, do you?”

Silas sniffed, shaking his head. “No,” he whispered, his voice small.

Lys smiled, reaching out and patting him gently on the head. “Then everyone has to go to the blessing, including you.”

Cora, Lys’ younger sister, came into the room, rolling her eyes at the sight of Silas’s tears. “He’s such a crybaby,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain.

Lys turned to her, frowning. “He’s just five, Cora.”

Cora pouted, sticking her tongue out at Lys. “So? I wasn’t a crybaby when I was five.”

Lys rolled her eyes. “Maybe you’re still five too, then.”

Cora’s eyes widened in indignation. “I am not! I’ll be twelve next month!”

“Okay, okay,” Lys said, holding up her hands in surrender. “You’re right, you’re not five anymore.”

From the other room, Elena’s voice called out. “Lysandra! Are you and the others ready?”

Lys glanced around, realizing someone was missing. “Cora, where’s Thom?”

Cora shrugged, her attention already drifting elsewhere. “I don’t know. He was up at dawn and went outside with an axe.”

Lys sighed, exasperated. “Can you manage Silas for a bit? I need to go find Thom.”

Cora grumbled but nodded, taking Silas’s hand and leading him out of the room.

Lys followed into the living room, where Elena was waiting. “Mom, I need to go find Thom. He ran off somewhere.”

Elena’s brow furrowed with concern. “Ack, fetch him, please? I’m getting the Sunday rolls ready for the blessing.” She gestured towards the kitchen, where the scent of freshly baked bread wafted out.

“Yes, Mother, I’ll get him,” Lys said, already heading towards the door.

She stepped outside, the cool morning air hitting her face. She scanned the area, trying to think of where Thom might have gone. With a sigh, she set off towards the woods behind the house, hoping to find him before they were late.

She scanned the area for any sign of Thom. As she approached the tree line, she heard the distinct sound of an axe striking wood. She followed the noise and found Thom out back near the tree line, chopping at a dead tree.

“Thom, what are you doing?” Lys asked, her hands on her hips.

Thom stopped mid-swing and turned to look at her. Lys groaned as she noticed he was covered in wood dust, the fine particles clinging to his clothes and hair.

“I’m helping by chopping firewood so we can sell it in the square,” Thom explained, a proud grin on his face.

Lys glanced at the dead tree, then at the small pile of chopped wood at Thom’s feet. She had to admit; it didn’t look bad, but a thought occurred to her.

“How are you going to get it to the square?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “It’ll take a bunch of trips to carry that much.”

Thom’s eyes widened in horror, his mouth falling open. “I... I didn’t think of that,” he admitted, his shoulders slumping.

Lys sighed, shaking her head. “You need to take a break. We have to go get ready for service.”

“It’s a waste of time,” Thom grumbled, kicking at the ground. “We’re already all healthy.”

Lys crossed her arms, fixing him with a stern look. “It’s important, Thom. We’re healthy because we don’t miss service.”

Thom let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “Fine, you win,” he said, setting the axe down.

“No time for a bath, just change your clothes,” Lys instructed, holding out her hand for the axe.

Thom handed it over and nodded, turning to head back to the house. Lys checked the blade, noting that it was a little blunted, but still usable. She carried it to the well and rinsed off the sap, then took it inside. Grabbing the little bottle of oil from the shelf, she carefully oiled the blade before hanging it up on the tool rack.

“Everyone, it’s time!” Elena called out from the kitchen.

Lys and her siblings gathered in the living room, each receiving a basket filled with the Sunday service rolls. Together, they set off towards the village center, ready for the weekly blessing.

It didn’t take them long to make their way down the path and into the large crowd that had gathered under the village green’s oak tree. They split up and began to hand out the fresh bread.

The village’s head priest, Jhon, stepped up on a small wooden platform and began his sermon. She listened halfheartedly, her mind wandering as she passed out the contents of her basket.

He spoke of Bunzard and how his word had saved them all from the demons across the sea. Lys didn’t think much of it, but since Jhon’s prayers kept the village healthy and safe, she didn’t mind Bunzard’s blessing and help.

She just didn’t know how he could tell them what to do from two thousand years ago; after all, things changed a lot all the time.

Lys froze when reached Emil. His face was covered in bruises, and he looked hurt. She nearly dropped her basket, anger filling her. Emil met her gaze and shook his head, whispering, “Don’t.”

Lys let out a tense breath and continued passing out the rolls, her movements stiff and angry. When she finished, she waited impatiently for Jhon to perform the blessing. He held up a golden cup, which glinted in the sunlight. Then he poured the contents onto the ground. And that was that.

She scanned the crowd and spotted Caius joking at the back edge with Brug and Vern. Enough was enough. It was time to tell her mother what was going on so her she could inform Emil’s parents and the Headsman. Maybe he would rein in his son.

Lys spotted Elena and approached, only to see her mother talking eagerly with Gaius. Bran’s words echoed in her head, causing her to freeze, unsure of what to do. Her mother let out a laugh, and the Headsman put a hand on her shoulder.

As the service began to break up, Lys stood there, torn between her desire to protect Emil and the fear of causing more trouble for her family.

Like an over-tightened strap, she finally snapped and turned away from her mother and the Headsman, her mind grasping for something else to think about. With quick strides, she made her way down the village street to the fletcher’s shop.

She stood outside, waiting patiently until the fletcher returned from the service. He was an older man, his face lined with the wisdom of years spent crafting bows. He greeted her with a warm smile. “Well, hello there, young lady. Are you looking for some more trainers?”

Lys nodded eagerly. “Yes, please. I would like a dozen, if you have them.”

The fletcher chuckled, gesturing for her to follow him inside. “Come on in, then. Let’s see what we can find for you.”

Lys stepped into the shop, her eyes feasting on the walls lined with shafts of wood—unstrung bows, each one expertly crafted. The scent of wood and varnish filled the air, and she couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship.

As the fletcher rummaged through his stock, Lys gathered her courage and asked, “Are you looking for an apprentice, by any chance?”

The fletcher paused, turning to look at her with a mix of amusement and regret in his eyes. “Ah, lass, if you had asked me five years earlier, I might have had the time to teach you the craft. But as it is, I’ll be moving out of the village next year. I’m afraid I won’t be able to take on an apprentice now.”

Lys sighed, disappointment washing over her.

The fletcher must have noticed her crestfallen expression. “Tell you what, though. If you want, you could come by and mind the counter for me while I work. I could pay you a few coppers for your time. You might pick up a thing or two as well.”

Lys’ eyes lit up at the offer. It was exactly what she had been looking for the past week—a chance to earn some money and learn something new. “I’d love to!” she exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement.

The fletcher clicked his tongue, a knowing look in his eyes. “Shouldn’t you ask your mother first, though?” He produced a bundle of wrapped practice arrows and handed them to her.

Lys waved off his concern, exchanging the shafts for a coin. She had no intention of letting the chance slip away. “I’m sure she’ll be okay with it. Don’t worry!”

She thanked the fletcher again and hurried back toward home.

As Lys reached the bottom of the path leading up to her house, she spotted a group of boys sitting on a stone wall.

It wasn’t an unusual sight on a Sunday after service, but what caught her attention was Caius sitting with his feet propped up on another boy’s back. It was Emil.

Caius was using him as a footrest, his dirty boots soiling Emil’s Sunday clothes.

Anger flared within her, and she strode over to them.

Vern, one of Caius’s cronies, smirked as she approached. “Caius, better watch out. Your future wife is coming to scold you again.”

A few of the other boys laughed, and Brug, another of Caius’s lackeys, chimed in, “You should learn to control her, Caius.”

Lys’s anger reached a boiling point. She glared at Caius, her voice dripping with disdain. “I’d rather marry a lizard than you, Caius. Get off of Emil, now.”

Vern’s smirk widened. “Careful, Caius, or the wimp will be stealing your girl.”

Caius’s face contorted with fury. He stood up, stomping on Emil’s back as he walked up to Lys, getting right in her face.

Suddenly, a strange premonition hit her—an image of Caius reaching out and slapping her. Instinctively, she took a step back, just in time to dodge his attack.

In one fluid motion, Lys pulled an arrow from her bundle and pressed the field tip against Caius’s throat, applying just enough pressure to make him flinch. He stumbled backward, tripping over Emil and tumbling over the stone wall, his shouts filling the air.

The other boys erupted into hysterical laughter at the sight of Caius’s humiliation. Seizing the distraction, Lys helped Emil to his feet and led him away from the scene.

As they walked, Caius’s shouts echoed behind them, his voice filled with rage and promise of retribution. “This isn’t over, Lysandra! You’ll pay for this!”

She ignored his threats, focusing instead on getting to safety. She knew that the confrontation would have consequences, but in that moment, they just needed to get out of there.

They reached the market square, finding the big oak that was the center of the village. Emil sat down, his back against the rough bark, and let out a heavy sigh.

Lys crouched down beside him, her brow furrowed with concern. “Emil, this can’t continue,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “You have to tell your parents, or an adult, or someone, because I can’t keep protecting you.”

Emil nodded, his gaze fixed on the ground. “I’ll try,” he said. He looked up at her then, his eyes wide with admiration. “You were amazing back there,” he said, a hint of awe in his voice. “How did you do that?”

Lys tilted her head, confused. “Do what?”

“You handled Caius like a warrior,” Emil explained, “despite being two years younger and a girl.”

Lys puffed out her chest, a spark of indignation in her eyes. “Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I’m helpless,” she said, her voice sharp.

Emil looked down, his shoulders slumping. “Yeah, you’re definitely stronger than me,” he admitted, his voice tinged with shame. “I can’t even stand up to Caius.”

Lys shook her head, her expression softening. She reached out and placed a hand on Emil’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know you’ll do the right thing,” she said, her voice filled with encouragement.

Emil nodded, a small smile appearing. “Thanks, Lys,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude. “For everything.”

Lys returned his smile, then stood up, brushing the dirt from her knees. She held out her hand to Emil, helping him to his feet.

After dropping him off, she’d need to take the long way around back to her house.

She didn’t want to run into the bullies again.

*

Chapter 4

Lys woke before the sun, a sense of purpose driving her from the warmth of her bed.

She tiptoed through the cottage, not wanting to disturb her mother or siblings. Grabbing her bow from its place on the wall, she ran her fingers along the smooth wood, checking for any signs of wear. Satisfied, she carefully waxed the bowstring before stringing the weapon.

As she stepped outside, the crisp morning air filled her lungs. The village was still, save for the occasional chirp of a waking bird. Lys took a moment to appreciate the peacefulness, knowing it wouldn’t last long.

She had just begun to make her way around the back of the house when she heard the familiar creak of the cottage door. Her mother stood in the doorway, a questioning look on her face.

“You’re up early,” Elena said.

Lys shrugged, adjusting her grip on the bow. “I couldn’t sleep. Figured I might as well get some practice in.”

Elena nodded, a slight grin appearing at the edges of her lips. “There aren’t many morning orders today, but I need you to take something up to the Lumberjacks for lunch.”

“Sure thing,” Lys replied, already itching to get moving. She held up her bow. “I’m going to head out now. I’ll be at my archery spot.”

“You’re not going back to work for Fletcher?” Elena asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

Lys shook her head. “He’s out today. I’ll be back in time to take the lunch up to the Lumberjacks. Don’t worry.”

With a quick wave, Lys turned and headed up the green hill toward the evergreen trees. She could hear the sounds of her younger siblings beginning to stir inside the cottage.

As she walked, her mind drifted to Emil and Caius and his cronies.

Anger flared in her chest, hot and insistent. She gripped her bow tighter, the smooth wood digging into her palm.

She found the familiar flat spot deep in the trees and traveled across it.

Her targets, stacked vertically and leaning against a tree, were accompanied by a small wooden stump for sitting. Hundreds of old, broken arrows were stuck in the dirt by them.

The little hidden spot in the trees rustled with a gentle breeze.

More importantly, the early morning sun reached it first thing, thanks to a break in the trees. That gave her ample amounts of light to shoot with.

Lys found her normal spot and sat down, focusing on the breathing exercises her father had taught her. She closed her eyes, not entirely sure how it helped, but it always did.

As she focused on her breath, a little swirl of energy ran through body. She pictured the practice she would be doing, each shot hitting its target. Continuing until she could feel a pulsing in her core, sweat started to trickle down her face. Then, it felt like there was a pop.

She was ready. As she opened her eyes, the world seeming sharper and more focused.

Lys stood and moved to the trees, setting up the targets on the old nails hammered into the trunks. The worn wood of the targets was pockmarked with countless nicks from her previous practice sessions.

She stepped back, unbundling her practice arrows. The fletching was slightly frayed, but the shafts were straight and true. Lys checked her forearm guard, ensuring it was secure, before planting a dozen arrows into the ground by her feet.

Taking her stance, she nocked the first arrow, drawing the bowstring back to her cheek. She exhaled slowly, her focus narrowing to the bullseye of the closest target. The arrow leapt from the bow, embedding itself in the center with a satisfying thunk.

She repeated the process for the second and third targets, each arrow finding its mark. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, a sense of pride swelling in her chest.

Lys reached down, grabbing three arrows at once. She nocked them in rapid succession, switching targets with each release. The arrows whistled through the air. The first two found their marks, but the third arrow on the most distant target was slightly off-center.

Unwavering, she pressed on with her practice, the rhythm of nocking, drawing, and releasing becoming a meditative dance.

Once Lys released her last arrow, she proceeded to retrieve them all. None of her shots had missed.

A quiver would have been nice, but those were crafted in Silverpines and were too costly for her family to afford, especially for something that didn’t generate income.

Gathering a handful of arrows, she clutched them in her bow hand and moved through the forest, practicing shooting from behind trees, releasing from odd positions, and firing swiftly.

She leapt and rolled, rising to fire. The arrow struck the target, not quite center but close enough. Lys repeated the maneuver, this time hitting the bullseye. A grin spread across her face as she moved to the next tree, her steps silent on the forest floor.

Taking a deep breath, Lys nocked three arrows at once. She aimed at the furthest target, her arm steady. The arrows whistled through the air, all three striking the target in a tight cluster. Pride swelled in her chest as she lowered her bow.

She went through the motions again and again. Eventually, it was getting close to time that she needed to get back.

Breathing heavily, she collected the arrows, her muscles burning from the exertion. But she wasn’t done yet. Lys began again, practicing her mobility shooting, her father’s words echoing in her mind, a constant reminder to keep moving.

She darted from tree to tree, firing as she went. Nearly every arrow hit its mark, while others missed the bullseye by a hair’s breadth. She didn’t let that discourage her. She kept moving, kept firing, determined to improve.

As she retrieved her arrows once more, her thoughts turned to Bran and the hunters.

She was a bit old for starting an apprenticeship with them, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be useful. If she could bring in a share of meat or hides, it would be more than enough to support her mother’s cooking income.

She packed up her things and arrows. Only four of the trainers had shattered in the end, and she added them to her little shaft forest planted in the dirt.

The rest she tied back up into a bundle for later as she headed down the forest bank toward the village. The morning light filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

Lys’s stomach grumbled, reminding her she wanted to get an apple before heading back home and carrying lunch to the lumberjacks.

She popped out of the trees and out into the field near a path to the village. The grass was still damp with dew, and it brushed against her legs as she walked.

As she approached the path, a sudden sense of unease washed over her. Lys froze, her instincts telling her that something was amiss.

A voice in the back of her mind urged her to go back home immediately and forget about the apple.

Lys hesitated, torn between her desire for a snack and the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right. She took a step back towards the forest, but then stopped. Why was she suddenly afraid of just going into the damned village? She wanted that apple.

Shaking off the uneasy feeling, Lys turned back toward the village. She made her way to the fruit stall, where the vendor greeted her with a smile. Lys handed over a copper coin and selected a promising looking red apple from the basket.

As she bit into the crisp fruit, the sweet juice filled her mouth. Lys savored the taste as she walked back towards home, her earlier unease forgotten.

“Lys!” a familiar voice called out.

Lys turned to see Emil hurrying towards her, a look of concern on his face. She swallowed her mouthful and waited for him to catch up.

“What’s up, Emil?” she asked, taking another bite of the fruit.

Emil’s brow furrowed. “It’s Elie. She needs help. You have to come with me.”

Lys frowned, a sense of unease settling in her stomach. “We should get help from someone,” she said, taking a step back.

Emil shook his head, his expression urgent. He reached out and took her hand, tugging her forward. “There’s no time. We have to go, hurry!”

Despite her reservations, Lys allowed Emil to lead her through the village.

They passed the bustling market green, the sounds of haggling merchants and chattering villagers fading as they turned down a side street. The path narrowed, and the houses grew more sparse as they ventured further from the center of town.

Lys glanced around, realizing they were now on a dirt street behind several houses. The area was deserted, and an eerie silence hung in the air. She pulled to a stop, yanking her hand from Emil’s grasp.

“Enough!” Lys yelled, her patience wearing thin. “Tell me what’s going on, or I’m going back to get someone.”

A familiar voice spoke from behind her. “There is no going back now.”

A forceful shove sent her stumbling forward. She slammed into a short wooden fence; the impact knocking the wind from her lungs as she toppled over it head first. Lys hit the ground hard, stars exploding behind her eyes.

Scrambling to her feet, she spun around, ready to confront her attacker.

Her heart sank as she saw Caius standing there, a malicious grin on his face. She turned to run, but her path was blocked by more of Caius’s cronies. They stood on the other side of the fence, their arms crossed and their expressions menacing.

Lys looked around desperately, searching for an escape route. But everywhere she turned, there were more boys, blocking every direction. She was trapped.

Caius turned his attention to Emil, shoving him roughly. “Get lost,” he snarled. “Or this won’t be enough.”

Emil hesitated, his eyes darting between Caius and Lys. He took a step back, his voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry,” he said, before turning and hurrying away.

Lys watched him go, a sinking feeling in her chest. Realization struck her like a blow to the stomach.

Emil had betrayed her, leading her straight into Caius’s trap.

**

Author's Note:

Please let me know what you think of the start of this new story!