Guardian (Sequel to Fearless)

Chapter Sixty Seven

*warning -- graphic content

A/N -- I didn't edit this. It's 3 a.m.

The soldiers were scattered by this point around the sanctuary. There were some in the dining hall, some talking amongst guardians, and some that were trying out the training courtyard. Rhalla could not find Azabela with anyone. The mighty woman grimaced a little. She had checked both her own room and her office three times... and no sign. She'd checked the grounds and nothing.

That could only mean one thing. Azabela was pointedly evading her, which could only mean another thing, Bela was angry with her. Which was fan-fucking-tastic. Rhalla already felt the headache coming on.

It was near the end of the lunch hour when finally, Hench got a hint of where her soon-to-be wife was. It actually came as a surprise. Two of the bowmen from the Remorda Guardians had been chatting amongst themselves about the new girl as they were walking down the hall. In fact, one of the guardians had actually went and retrieved the other so that he might watch her. Apparently, she had already drawn attention to herself in the archery range outside.

With a deep breath, Rhalla navigated to the area Azabela had last been spotted... and ran into a considerable crowd. The outdoor area was large, separated from the rest of the grounds by very tall wooden poles that rose toward the sky. More than thirty guardians milled about the range, looking towards the center and chatting amongst themselves. Upon seeing their commander, they parted.

Hench stepped up. The first person she saw was Master Dyran standing at one end of the training yard. She looked to the other...

Oh... oh, damn. A very considerable distance away was indeed Azabela Stryder. Oh, but damn. Hench was nearly speechless. Azabela looked every part her new nickname. This... was not the girl that traipsed about their kitchen humming to herself licking cake batter from the spoon. This was not the reckless, wildly passionate girl that had joined her bed. This... was a stone-cold killer.

The pelt of the dead white wolf sent a rogue chill down Hench's spine. The huntress would never wear someone else's kill. No... something told Rhalla that Azabela had somehow killed that wolf herself. The small war-instruments on her chest were no doubt carved from animal bone. Hench had to wonder what they were for.

Azabela turned her head just enough to where Rhalla could see the black paint on her face, and even more, the firm line of her lips. Her eyes flashed dangerously -focused on something from the other side of the field. But what?

Rhalla turned back to see Master Dyran tossing a fruit between two hands. She caught him just as he nodded and threw it up. Just as it reached its peak, an arrow whizzed right into it and stuck it right against the post behind him. Dyran went to stand at different distances and kept on tossing fruit for the next few minutes. Just as the first, she hit them all. He began tossing them in intervals. At one point, three fruits hovered in the air at different heights.

She didn't miss. Not a one. That went on until the master ran out of fruits. Hench had to admit she was impressed. She hadn't known Bela was such a good shot.

The master walked up to her. Rhalla heard him clearly say, "Very good."

Azabela shook her head. "Child's play."

Dyran looked intrigued. "Is it?" he asked. "Then what isn't?"

The huntress put her bow on her back and whirled around. Everyone bore witness as she ran full speed at the one of the posts. Her small body jumped just as she reached it. As she'd done on so many high trees on so many hunts, she found the flaws on its surface and used those to scale the thing. She went up and up, with precise and quick movements. The muscles flexed in her arms and legs with each advance.