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“I have bested you again, Felynn.” Minthara spoke through pursed lips, shaking her head in dissatisfaction. “I am starting to think you are better suited as a slave than serving on the frontlines. It would take another century to make a warrior out of you and I am pressed for time as it is.”
Felynn’s cheeks burned as she looked down, avoiding Minthara’s scathing gaze. She stared at the wooden sword aimed at her throat, wishing it were real so Minthara could end her miserable life then and there. The Nightwarden would probably kill Felynn out of pity when they were through with training anyways, for the sheer amount of embarrassment she had undertaken that day alone.
The sounds of snickering grew at the Nightwarden’s words, the laughter like a thousand lashes against Felynn’s pride. She sensed a crowd forming from the corner of her eyes, bodies of all shapes and sizes lining up around them, like mosquitoes out for blood, eager to watch Minthara degrade yet another aspiring Paladin.
She only had one guess as to what they were whispering about as she continued to sit on her bloody knees, cowering like a fool in the middle of the cadet training grounds.
She’s an utter failure.
A disgrace.
A waste of time and resources.
An insult to all Paladins.
Better off…
The sword pushed harder into Felynn’s throat, pulling her away from the cursed internal dialogue. She held her breath, afraid to move a muscle out of fear of being reprimanded any further.
Minthara trailed the tip of the sword along Felynn’s neck, settling it underneath her jaw. She directed Felynn’s gaze with the sword, tilting her head up so that Felynn had nowhere else to look but into Minthara’s red eyes.
A chill trickled down Felynn’s spine, her arms trembling despite remaining at her side. She wanted to melt into the dirt, to hide under a rock like an insect. Minthara’s smooth face looked like a smile had never touched it, her stare cutting through the very fabric of Felynn’s being. The Nightwarden’s brows furrowed as she studied Felynn, eyeing her as if she was a war map laid out on a table.
“Rise.” Minthara said, removing the sword with a flourishing swipe. “We will continue until you’ve learned your lesson.”
Minthara began to circle Felynn like a displacer beast, walking with confidence, purpose, and poise; yet her grip remained firm on the sword, an indication she was ready to pounce again at any second.
“Always keep your eyes on the enemy, even when death is but mere moments away. Do you understand me? Never give your enemies the satisfaction of beheading you as you grovel in the dirt.”
Felynn clenched her fists, digging her nails into the palms of her hands to stop herself from crying.
“I did not hear your acknowledgement.”
“Y-yes, Nightwarden.” Felynn replied, her voice quivering.
Felynn stumbled to her feet, suppressing a groan at the pain surging through each limb. They were heavier than stones, every part of her body covered in fresh scrapes and bruises. She had been going at this for hours, waiting for Minthara to move on to the next cadet, yet she remained focused on her. Unmoving, relentless. What other lessons could Minthara possibly teach her? Had she not been punished enough for her incompetence?
Felynn reached for her sword but tripped over herself, nearly falling flat on her face. She quickly amended the error, picking up the weapon and holding it close to her chest, as if that might protect herself from the humiliation.
“She’s so pathetic.” Someone said through the crowd, with no effort at being discreet.
Felynn’s heart dropped to her stomach, she knew that deep cocky voice. It was the constant source of her bullying, her nightmares. She never had a chance to escape from the torture even when she slept.
“When will we get a chance to do anything useful? Just throw her into the spider pits already and get on with it.”
The mocking giggles that followed stung, worse than any of the fresh wounds she received that morning. Felynn’s lips grew dry and she struggled to peel her tongue away from the top of her mouth.
Minthara stopped dead in her tracks, turning sharply in the direction of the ongoing snickering. Her eyes narrowed as she searched the crowd. When she spotted the sea of smiling faces she shot them all a cold stare, the creases of her permanent scowl deepening.
“Dilra, your lacklustre commentary is proving to be quite tiresome. Do you wish to take my place?”
The laughter ceased almost immediately, the silence deafening. The air became heavier at the sudden change in Minthara’s tone.
“I thought so. Approach the training grounds.”
The audience of cadets scattered like ants, revealing Dilra standing wide eyed and dumbfounded. She was tall and lean, with short spiky hair and a leathery face, despite not spending much time on the surface. Dilra cleared her throat before proceeding to follow Minthara’s orders, stopping in the centre of the grounds.
Felynn sighed, relieved to finally have the weight of Minthara’s attention lifted from her shoulders.
“Cockiness is but a weak shield. You think you are worthy? Prove yourself.”
Minthara stepped back, aiming her sword at Felynn.
“Her?”
Minthara finally smiled, but not at all pleasantly.
“You question my judgement?”
“No, of c-course not.”
“Good. Then begin. We have a growing audience and I am always one for providing suitable entertainment.”
Felynn raised her sword, a layer of sweat building on her forehead. Dilra rolled her eyes as she shifted her footing, preparing herself in a basic warrior stance. It was always Dilra who led the attacks, coming out on top at the expense of screwing over Felynn.
Broken bones, the crippling isolation, and her shattered confidence; Felynn never expected training to be a Paladin would come with so much suffering. She wanted to take her oaths and do some good in the Underdark, to make sure no one went through the horrors she had experienced as a child; losing her entire family to a civil war amongst the Drow Houses. And yet, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to make it through these basic drills.
Minthara’s eyes flickered to Felynn as if she could read her thoughts and the two shared a fleeting look. The Nightwarden nodded her head slightly, as if in acknowledgement, a movement Felynn would’ve missed if she wasn’t paying attention.
Before Felynn could register Minthara’s action, Dilra charged forwards with her sword held high.
Felynn blocked Dilra’s attack, the ferocity of the first blow nearly causing her to fall over backwards. There was no time to recover before Dilra swung her sword repeatedly, each strike was sloppy but full of venom. Felynn miraculously dodged each attack, using what she had learned in that day’s training to open her senses. She was able to read Dilra’s movements, anticipate where she might go next by her footing and where her eyes were targeting.
Dilra was relentless, leaving no openings for Felynn to even attempt a parry. Dilra growled as she tried to hit her, constantly missing by mere inches. For once, Felynn found herself grinning, a glimmer of pride shining in her eyes. In truth, this was probably the longest she had stayed on her feet during a squirmish.
Felynn raised her weapon to block another one of Dilra’s violent slashes, but her wooden sword shattered upon impact. It exploded into shards, the wood ricocheting off Felynn’s cheeks like mini projectiles.
“Ha!” Dilra shouted with glee.
Dilra stabbed at Felynn with a powerful thrust, and she quickly jumped backwards, barely missing the strike. As she landed, she lost her footing, tripping and falling on her backside.
“I’ve got you now…” Dilra whispered, her crazed eyes narrowing as they focused on Felynn.
Felynn gritted her teeth as she rolled onto her knees, placing her hands in the dirt to steady herself. The world around them vanished as Felynn locked eyes with Dilra, matching her savage stare. Felynn wasn’t about to back down, she wasn’t going to look away. Not this time. She had nothing, no family, no one rooting for her, no one wanting her to succeed. It was Felynn against everyone, everything. This was her only shot at proving herself, of surviving. If this was the end, if she was never going to become a Paladin, she might as well go out with a bang.
She was not a coward, despite what everyone around her might’ve thought.
And she was not a failure.
Felynn filled her hands with dirt as Dilra ran towards her.
Dilra lunged at Felynn, and she countered by throwing two fists worth of dirt into Dilra’s face. Dilra howled in agony, dropping her sword and floundering away from Felynn. In turn, Felynn scrambled to her feet, watching as Dilra frantically tried to rub the grime out of her eyes.
“You miserable bitch–!”
Felynn took one step and punched Dilra square in the nose, quieting the bully once and for all. Blood spurted from Dilra’s face like a fountain as she cried out in pain. Felynn punched her again because the first one felt so damned satisfying, and once more just for good measure. She could’ve thwacked her a few more times but her hand ached, the knuckles already swollen. Felynn was panting, her head throbbing. Her heart felt like it was about to explode at any second, but she continued to breathe.
In and out. In and out.
Dilra swayed, her arms falling limp. Her eyes glazed over until she eventually toppled to the side, landing head first in the dirt.
The crowd gasped when Dilra fell. A few of her cronies moved as if to aid her but Minthara raised her hand, and they froze.
“How undignified.” Minthara said, walking closer to Dilra’s unconscious body and lightly kicking it.
“Laughter will not take you far on the battlefield, as you just bore witness to. We must fight as a unit. To put yourself first for glory will only lead to your untimely demise; of not only yourself, but your entire band. A lesson I myself learned many moons ago, from some of the most powerful warriors I’ve ever had the privilege of fighting with.”
Felynn inhaled sharply. The surface dwellers, the ones from the legends. She heard countless narratives about them in her youth, listening to so many retellings from drow bards on how they navigated one obstacle after another to defeat the Absolute - the evil that set out to lay claim to the surface. Minthara rarely spoke of them, but Felynn’s ears perked up at even the slightest suggestion of their influence.
One day she’ll be worthy of going to the surface.
One day.
Minthara twirled to face Felynn and she flinched out of instinct, unsure what to expect next. The Nightwarden instead hummed in approval, laying a hand on her shoulder. An intense warmth radiated from Minthara’s fingertips as Felynn’s skull tingled. In fact, that sensation washed over her entire body, like she was standing under a comforting waterfall. A light blue glow enveloped them both, and Felynn watched as all her wounds slowly vanished. She felt oddly refreshed, like she had slept for an entire year.
“You used your environment to your advantage, Felynn.” Minthara said, lightly squeezing her shoulder as the healing completed, “I am content with your training today. It turns out, there might be some use for you yet within my ranks.”