Esterpine

Jeanine froze as the sharp edge of cold steel fell upon her neck. By now she was familiar with the blade's edge, especially the feel of it against her neck. She had felt it other places too, against her arm, her waist, her legs—

"Again. This time, quicker."

Holding back a snort of annoyance, she wiped the beads of sweat from her brow before nodding. Be quicker. That was always Lykan's advice. She was beginning to loathe it. How could she move faster? She wasn't a Sprite, so she didn't have the inhuman speed they were lucky enough to possess. With that as the case, how could she ever hope to best any of them?

Lykan, Jeanine's trainer, was one of many highly regarded sword masters living in Esterpine. He often frequented the Sprite's practice grounds. As such, he had been recruited to assist Master Orin with Jeanine and Jahl's training. Like all the Sprites, his body was covered in glowing markings. His hair was as dark as darkness itself; his eyes were nearly the same shade of black. His face was angular, with high cheekbones and a pointed chin. He often looked stern unless he smiled, which caused his eyes to turn into friendly slits, but he didn't smile often. And unlike many Sprites, he didn't sport a loincloth, but rather, pants and a tunic, as normal people ought.

As Jeanine stepped away from Lykan and moved back into position, she glanced right. She may have been having trouble, but Jahl fared no better. She was forced to suppress laughter as she watched her dear friend land flat on his back. Master Orin's blade point rested neatly against his throat. Red-faced and panting, Jahl batted it away with the swat of his hand and jumped to his feet to begin anew. Their morning had been much the same as they tried over and again to best their assigned opponents.

Schooling her features, Jeanine crouched low and then lunged, attempting another surprise attack against Lykan who stood several arm lengths away. His blade met hers and he parried the blow she had hoped to deal. They danced around, light on their feet, for some minutes until it was obvious that Lykan could have bested her several times in that short span. He did at last by sticking his foot out in a brief flash, which sent her flying head-first for the ground. She landed with a thud in the soft dirt and flipped onto her back with her sword at the ready. She was just in time as Lykan's blade met hers.

"Very good," he said. "I almost thought I was going to have you there."

She offered him a brief smile and said nothing about her suspicions—that he could have bested her several times already. They both knew he had gone easy on her, but she was grateful for the fighting chance he offered.

As he helped her to her feet, she glanced around the clearing. A sudden feeling of being watched crept over her. She had felt it often since arriving in Esterpine, especially during her frequent explorations into the fringes of the city. Perhaps those moments of suspicion—when she looked curiously around her—were mere products of the forest itself. Even now as she took in the sparring grounds, she could see no source of watchfulness.

She took up her stance once more, glancing at her father's sword gripped in her hands. It was slightly heavier than the practice swords she was used to, like the ones she had used in Kaljah. This was a soldier's sword—a sword for protecting the Kingdom of Dragonwall. It came from a time when her father had fought in King Talon's ranks during the Gobelin Wars. Inscribed upon the steel's flat blade were the words, "Fight with honor," on one side and, "Strive for glory," on the other.

Lykan came at her, rushing forward with sprightly ease as he had done a hundred times before, swinging his long, Spriten blade above him. She raised her sword to block his—there was no time for anything else. Lykan never left her a moment for creativity. All she could do was focus on staying alive. She could count on a single hand the number of offensive blows she had successfully dealt him, and such successes were mere allowances; Lykan would have never allowed her through his barriers if she were a true enemy.

As Lykan's blade came around again, she danced backwards, moving her feet gently in the way he taught her. "Do not blunder about," he had once said in a huff as he had watched with disgust the way she thundered around. It had been their first practice, and a tough practice it was. "Move quietly," he had said. "Move quickly but with ease. Know each footstep before it is made." It had taken quite some time to learn the movements Sprites preferred. Even now she performed such tricks poorly, but better than the common man, or so she hoped.

Lykan's blade came down hard, pulling her from her thoughts as it emitted a soft, pleased purr. Over and again she was forced to block as the sword sang its eagerness. That was how all Spriten blades worked. She did not fully understand it, and they refused to share their secrets, but she was certain that some form of magic was worked into the metal itself, for she had never heard such sounds before coming to the forest.

With each blow he dealt her, she felt her frustrations growing. The more she thought about her progress, the more she became disgruntled with her slow improvement. As her annoyance increased, her breathing heightened to match it. She was left huffing and puffing.

"Do not let your frustrations overcome your skill." Lykan stopped suddenly to scold her. She slid to a halt beside him.

At his words, she sighed, allowing her shoulders to sag. The tension in her arms left her muscles screaming.

"Emotions should never get in the way. When you fight, you must clear your mind. Remember what I have told you?"

"Yes," she scoffed, blowing a chunk of hair from her face. Although she was covered in perspiration, and already exhausted, Lykan looked fresh as morning.

"I think that is enough swordplay for today. Go and retrieve your bow, we shall see if you have been practicing."

"Thank the gods!" she muttered. Despite her eagerness to improve her sword skills, such practice quickly became a chore. Like all chores, her need outweighed her desire. While she was not forced to practice, she knew she needed to if she was to be a true swordsman. If ever she lost sight of the need, she called up the many faces of the Kaljah villagers she had failed to protect. She thought of her father, of what he would have said to her, and of what she might have said to him given the chance. He would want her to be brave; he would want her to be the best swordsman she could be.

There was a large clearing on the outskirts of Esterpine popular for bow practice. This was where she and Lykan often practiced her archery. Standing targets were no longer challenging enough, so Lykan insisted on moving targets. Today he carried a large sack of apples.

"Once sky born, these might be hard for you to see. Our eyes are easily matched for tiny objects but I daresay...Well...let us see how you do." Lykan frequently pointed out human shortcomings, specifically hers. Sprites enjoyed their superiority, though it was never a mean-spirited superiority. They simply knew they were better equipped at most tasks. To argue otherwise was fruitless. In Lykan's case, it was clear that he enjoyed being a better swordsman. She enjoyed being better at things too, when the situation allowed for it. As far as she knew, everyone was guilty of such feelings. And where Lykan was concerned, his statements of superiority were both obvious and truthful.

For the remainder of the afternoon, she worked with her bow. Lykan spent his efforts throwing multiple apples into the air, sometimes all at once, other times one followed by another. In each instance, she attempted to shoot them from the sky, or the trees, or wherever they flew.

At first, she missed her targets. Lykan was correct in that the moving apples were damned near impossible to see. But after some practice, her eyes grew better attuned to spotting the moving orbs, and from there, she let her instincts with her bow take over.

"That was quite nicely done," Lykan said after she hit three apples in one go. Granted, he did not release them all at the same time, but his movements were quick, so he might as well have. She smiled and nodded, turning back to her bow. His praise was rare, but when it came, she appreciated it all the more.

Despite the intensity of her training, she had come to enjoy her time spent in the Gable Forest. More and more she found the idea of returning to her small village of Kaljah displeasing, not simply because there was nothing to return to, but mostly because she no longer wanted a simple life. The Sprites of the forest were complex and full of depth, ancient as they were. There was always something to offer up amusement.

When she wasn't training, she found herself exploring the wooded lands around Esterpine. Occasionally Jahl accompanied her, but she preferred to go alone. The silence of the trees was a welcome alternative to his moody behavior. Since their arrival, Jahl had become somewhat distant towards her for obvious reasons. He was working through the same kind of emotional loss as she was, but everyone dealt with loss differently.

It was especially the case during her many explorations that she felt the same, familiar watchful feeling pour over her like perfume. Perhaps it was the way the forest creatures' eyes followed her—they knew she was an outsider. Or maybe it had something to do with the ancient trees—oak and birch and pine—looming hundreds of feet above her. Day after day she tried to pin down a reason until one day, she found the reason's eyes staring right back at her.

"You!" she gasped pointing a finger at the culprit. "I mean..." She stood from the large boulder she occupied and curtsied. "Pardon me, Prince Feowen. I am surprised to see you here." She felt her face flush as she took in his distinct blue hair, which was tied back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck, his high cheekbones, and his glittering eyes, one blue, the other green.

Prince Feowen crept from the shadows like a prowling cat. His majestic features and sudden appearance distracted her for several long breaths until she had the courage to say, "Have you been spying on me this whole time?"

Instead of replying, he continued to study her as if she were an amusing animal. As he did this, he walked in wide circles about her, keeping to the edge of the small clearing. His silence almost frustrated her. "Well?" she asked again. "Are you going to answer my question?"

"Are all humans as curious as you?" His low voice caught her by surprise.

"Um..." All the witty things she might have said fled her mind. She simply stared back at him.

He stopped and took up the seat she had vacated. She moved several paces away to regard him. He sat with his legs crossed and his arms propped on his knees. His chin rested on his hands and there he continued to study her.

As the moments stretched on, the silence grew awkward for her. She wasn't some kind of performance for his amusement. Perhaps it was best to leave.

She was about to bid him goodbye when he said, "I asked your friend Jahl about you. The answers I sought were refused. I suppose he dislikes me. Perhaps he simply misses his home."

She scowled. Of all the things they might have discussed, Jahl was the last thing she would have guessed. Composing her thoughts to sound smarter in front of the prince, she said, "I doubt it is his home that he misses. His family, maybe. He was preparing to leave Kaljah when the Gobelin attack happened."

"Is that so? I see. A man of his age must make a place and a name for himself in the world. That is how one discovers one's identity. Where does that leave you?"

"Me?" Jeanine gazed at Prince Feowen. He gazed back without responding so she said, "I suppose I was upset at the thought of losing him. But I always knew he would want to leave our village. I could hardly fault him for it. I wanted to do the same."

"You do not wish to return home? Humans are creatures of familiarity, are they not?"

She considered his words carefully. While humans were creatures of familiarity, some, like her, craved adventure. "My coming here has opened my eyes," she said. "I could never be happy returning to Kaljah, even if it was rebuilt. Perhaps it is time I too find my identity. Maybe I can do that here"—she shrugged—"maybe not. I have a feeling...well...never mind."

Prince Feowen tilted his head to the side. "You do not seem to fit the picture I had painted."

Jeanine's eyebrows drew together in obvious confusion. "What picture?"

"I can assure you it is a good thing," Prince Feowen said, smiling. She liked his smile. It made him appear less intimidating. "Maybe it is too early to tell," he added. "I shall have to consider it more." Then he stood.

Before she could demand any further explanation, he slipped away into the thicket behind him, disappearing in a single moment. She was left to gawk at the forest in his wake and contemplate his strange statements. She spent the remainder of that day reenacting their conversation in her mind, hoping to find hidden meaning. She wasn't sure why she got a thrill from the prince's attention, but ever since Jahl's statement about him watching her, she often found her mind wandering to him. It wasn't necessarily that she found him attractive, but she certainly found him curious.

Later that night during the evening meal, she caught the prince's gaze. It was brief, yet it spoke of their secret encounter in the forest, like he was taunting her to press him further over what he had said. She felt her face warm and she was forced to turn her eyes upon her plate in hopes that no one would see.

The Sprites took their meals out in the open under the canopies of trees. These were always merry occasions. Large, low tables were assembled that allowed them to sit upon pillows on the ground. Each table was laden with food provided by the forest—fruits, vegetables, nuts, seeds, and mushrooms—as well as food obtained through trading, like bread.

Their noble steeds, the unicorns, were treated as equals. They were said to be wise creatures unto themselves. None were tied or stabled. They roamed freely through the city and often showed themselves during mealtimes such as this, eager to share.

During these evening meals, many Sprites told stories or sang songs. Most of them lived so long and had such good minds for memory keeping, that each of them was a walking, living, breathing, wealth of information.

Jeanine learned a great deal about them during their evening meals, listening to what they had to say. Tonight, she learned about the formation of the forest and its mysterious King Tree. It was Prince Feowen who volunteered a rendition of the sing-song story. She felt her face flush as he stood. He caught her eye right before launching into his performance. Just as he opened his mouth, a stringed instrument was struck to accompany him.

It gave us life when we did roam,

For roam we did aplenty,

A place that we might call our home,

For home still had no country.

Its waters which we all took part,

For they did quench our thirst,

Then steadied even faintest heart,

We no longer feared the worst.

And so in joy our voices lifted,

For song we did hold dear,

A gracious thanks as ever chanted,

To fill our world with cheer.

Then from our words did rise the trees,

The bushes, bugs, and birds, and bees,

The forest in our giant's likeness,

Took shape and form around us.

In its misty shade did we decree,

For our words were ever mighty,

To moniker the noble giant

A most fitting name of King Tree.

And still it stands unto the end of all days,

Protected by our peoples,

Its secrets lie within our hearts,

And will remain forever and always.

The song Prince Feowen sang spoke of a time long ago, a time when the Sprites had once been a wandering tribe known as Spirit Singers. In their wandering, a single woman embarked upon her own quest. In so doing, she discovered the lone King Tree. After speaking with it, the King Tree encouraged her to bring her people to it. When they came, they partook of its waters and uttered their thanks. The tree was much like they were. It was a lonely sentinel upon a barren landscape with only a pool for company. The Spirit Singers had no home of their own, so they began to sing for the tree, who rejoiced in their beautiful voices. Their song created the forest, which grew up around them, providing the King Tree with company. It was within this forest that the Spirit Singers built a home for themselves. In so doing, they became known as Sprites.

The story left Jeanine full of curiosity. Where was this mysterious King Tree? In all her exploring, she had never found a tree different from the rest. Yet, it had to be out there somewhere, hiding within the vast depths of the forest...

For many days following her mysterious meeting with Prince Feowen, Jeanine found herself looking for him everywhere, especially when she went off alone, which she found herself doing more and more often. Sometimes she pretended that she was searching for the King Tree, though she doubted she would ever find it. The feeling of being watched did not disappear. If anything, it grew stronger. At one point, after she'd had enough, she shouted out into the stillness of the forest, "I know you're following me. What is the point of hiding if I know you are there?" All she got in return was a quiet snicker.

It wasn't until she had been in Esterpine a fortnight that Prince Feowen again presented himself to her. She had experienced a particularly unsuccessful day, performing dismally in her training with Lykan. She was sitting at what had become her favorite place of contemplation, the boulder where she had originally encountered the prince, when he again materialized from the underbrush.

This time her mood was too foul to say a single word of greeting. She did not bother to curtsey nor pay him respect of any kind. Instead, she sat sullen.

"If you let your emotions get the better of you, you will never master the sword."

He could have chosen anything to say but this was what he had settled for. Her frustration peaked and she snapped at him. "You sound just like Lykan." Slipping off the boulder, she blatantly left him standing alone in the clearing. As an afterthought, she called, "Maybe the two of you should laugh at me together," just as the trees swallowed up the clearing. "Let him chew on that," she thought, traipsing through the trees.

Though she could not see him, she heard his laughter, the sound of which lifted her mood immediately. "Come now," he called, his voice drifting through the forest. "I meant no offense, Jeanine."

She stopped when she felt his watchful eyes upon her back. Then she turned and confronted him face to face, ready to unleash her frustration. "You have—"

"Lykan was my trainer once," he said by way of explanation, cutting her off. "He can be difficult—nearly impossible to beat with a blade. I can understand your frustration." His expression changed and he grew thoughtful. "Perhaps..."

"Perhaps what?" she asked, trying to disguise the impatience in her voice.

"Perhaps I could give you a few pointers?"

"You?"

His mouth twitched. "You do not think I am qualified?"

"It isn't that."

"I see. Are you embarrassed about being beaten by a prince?"

She scowled at his joke, her mood souring again, and then she stalked off. Maybe Feowen was right. Maybe she was afraid of being bested by a prince.

"Come now," Prince Feowen called again, his voice quietly echoing from tree to tree. "I was only teasing."

She stopped again, although she should have continued on.

"I promise I shan't tell a soul," he said, coaxing her. "It will be our...secret. I will even let you win—if you so desire." He came up beside her. There was no smile upon his face now. There was no emotion at all, making him impossible to read.

"If we're going to practice, then I don't want your—"

"My what?"

"I do not want you going easy on me simply because I am a human."

"Ah...In that case you must accept in advance your loss to a prince."

"Gods!" she cried. "You Sprites are so full of yourselves." The words sounded far more offensive once they were out. She was relieved that Prince Feowen did not reproach her. He simply shrugged, accepting the truth that she had given.

At last she sighed. "I suppose I have done nothing but lose to Lykan, what's one more loss? I am used to it by now anyway."

"Well then, shall we?" he asked, drawing his sword.

Hers was strapped to her back. She put her hand upon the grip and hesitated for several breaths before nodding. "I think we shall." And thus began the strangest friendship she had ever chanced upon.

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