15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Brokil

In the noon sun, Brokil watched Salthu collide with Murzush.

The midday breeze kissed his skin and settled over him comfortably, his sigh of relief like a weight off his shoulders as he watched the women trade blow after blow. It was, regrettably, the first time since returning home that Brokil was able to make his way to the training grounds. While little could be done about the elf until his father returned their demands, Brokil had been far too busy being hounded by the council and completing the stack of paperwork that had built up while he was away. He missed being able to watch the various fights, missed being able to fight himself.

Coming to the training grounds was like stepping through a veil and into another world. They were cut off from the rest of Ghizol proper, packed circles of dirt surrounded by lush greenery that remained untouched by the coming autumn weather. Where Ghizol was bustling with markets that migrated into homesteads and melted into farmland, the training grounds were solid and constant. Far enough away to ignore the noise of the morning crowds, yet close enough to make the trek every day. It kept the warriors from interfering with the day-to-day business in the city, and kept them focused on their training.

Brokil was usually better at being a present figure to the warriors, new and veteran alike. With all his other recent duties, making time to oversee the new warriors had been harder than he expected. Now that he stood on the sidelines, he could feel how his time away had affected him.

His injury still kept him from jumping in the ring to spar, but just being surrounded by Ghizol's best brought a calm to Brokil that he desperately needed. If he could spar even once, he knew any stress would be eliminated immediately, but he'd make do with what he could.

Though, bedding the fucking prince relieved more stress than he was willing to admit out loud.

Around him, the grunts and clashing metal of the sparring warriors filled the grounds. His fingers twitched, eager to join them, but he brought them to his chest instead, pressing the tips against his still healing wound.

Even with the stitches removed, there was still risk of reopening the laceration if he overexerted himself. If he did that, then he would surely hear an earful from Silvyr who made him swear to be careful in exchange for removing the stitches for him. Though, he wouldn't mind seeing the elf irritated again. The way he furrowed his brow and chewed his lip, trying to keep himself from saying something out of line, was adorable. It rarely worked to keep him quiet, but always succeeded in entertaining Brokil.

A flurry of movement and the loud clashing of blades brought his attention back to Salthu and Murzush, and it seemed he was not the only one. As the women circled each other, eyes locked and muscles tight, other warriors gathered to watch, murmuring amongst themselves and trading bets on who the winner would be.

For many of the new warriors, it was their first time watching these forces of nature smash into each other. Brokil could see the awe on their faces at the skill each woman possessed, with how quickly they moved in their leathers, how each of them thought two, three, four steps ahead of the other.

Brokil had been training with the two of them long enough to know the bets were useless. These fights ended in a draw more often than not, which would only lead to them fighting harder in the next. He couldn't help wondering how many draws had built up to this particularly ruthless match.

Their blades clashed again and Salthu kicked out her leg, hooking her foot around Murzush's ankle to send her to the ground. Tucking in, Murzush rolled to the side and jumped back up, slicing her blade in an upward arc that Salthu parried, spinning to attack with her own sideways swing. Murzush caught her arm, twisting it behind her back in an attempt to end the fight, but Salthu threw herself forward, sending the other woman flying over her back.

With no rules of engagement, Murzush snatched Salthu's leathers by the chest straps bringing her down with her. They tumbled across the pit until coming to a stop, blades at each other's throats, their chests heaving.

"Draw!" Brokil called, ending their match. Around him, the groans of those who lost their bets echoed as they dispersed to return to their own training. He couldn't help but smirk at their disappointment. Had he not been overseeing the fight, he would have bet on a draw.

Salthu stood first, sliding her dagger into its sheath before reaching out a hand to help Murzush to her feet.

"You fought dirtier than usual," Murzush said, smacking her back and earning a deep grin.

"Yeah well, sometimes you have to," she replied.

They looked loose and relaxed, just like a good fight was meant to do. When a warrior first came to the training grounds, many of them took their losses too hard, too personally, but once they realized the spirit of sparring was meant to bring them closer, they were all the better for it. Stronger and happier. Salthu and Murzush fit that mold perfectly with their arms around each other's shoulders, even as bruises formed and scrapes shone in the sunlight.

"It was a good fight," Brokil told them when they joined him at the edge, fighting to keep the jealousy out of his voice. He yearned for the burn of muscle and the slick of sweat that came with a good fight. "You made a lot of the new trainees lose their bets."

The women laughed and Salthu's grin only widened. "Well, now they know better,"

"You look antsy," Murzush said, the twitchings of a knowing smirk on her face.

"I want to spar," Brokil admitted, holding back a groan as he motioned to his healing wound. "Until this is healed, I can't do much."

Murzush snorted and smacked his uninjured shoulder, her smirk growing into a teasing grin. "You'll be back to sparring soon enough."

"When you're ready, I'll be first to fight you," Salthu promised, her low chuckle bringing a smile to Brokil's face.

"I look forward to it."

"How is the prince?" Murzush asked.

"He's well. No attempts to escape, and he causes no trouble. Brokil tried to ignore the prickling of Salthu's glare on his cheek. The lingering tension of their previous conversation still hung around them, and he could tell her suspicions had not gone away in the short time since.

"He found it necessary to show the boy around Ghizol," Salthu added, putting her hands on her hips when Brokil finally turned to her.

Murzush looked between the two, no doubt picking up on the tension. "Why?"

"Exactly as Salthu said. I felt it necessary," Brokil said, refusing to be the one to look away first. He had tried to explain it before, but in the midst of his emotions, he knew he hadn't been clear. "The more he sees of Ghizol, the more he will come to understand our plight. He could return home and sway his father in our favor, making negotiations easier. Showing him Ghizol and her people is no hardship or danger."

"Do you believe it will work?" Murzush asked.

"I think so. He's receptive, and seems to be understanding. "He'd seen it in the way Silvyr stared at the pyre that night, seen it in the way he not only asked questions, but listened to the answers. "I plan to take advantage of that if I can."

"What makes you think he's receptive?" Salthu challenged, pushing him to justify his decisions as she always did.

He welcomed it from her, from both of them. Both Salthu and Murzush had been at his side since childhood, and they knew him better than anyone else. They knew how he thought, how he worked, but they wouldn't simply accept his word without question. So, he could not begrudge them their worry, he only wished they understood.

"I believe he cares. Not as much as anyone else in Ghizol, but enough that he could be swayed," Brokil explained. "I believe he does not have the same disposition as the Tyrant King."

Murzush glanced at Salthu with a look that suggested she didn't believe him. That she agreed Brokil was being fooled by the elf.

They didn't trust Silvyr, of course they didn't, and neither did he, not completely. But neither of them had taken the time to speak to Silvyr beyond a few commands when they first took him. They hadn't seen him day in and day out or watched him when his guard was down. If they had, they would see the truth in his words. They would see that Brokil didn't need to trust the elf implicitly, he simply needed to try.

Try to gain favor with the Tyrant King. Try to show him that Ghizol was worth it. Try to protect his people.

Silvyr was a means to an end. Snake or not.

"I think it's dangerous," Salthu said, her lips in a straight line. "The Tyrant King would want him to give up Ghizol's interior and weaknesses, the boy is likely working to reach that end."

An understandable fear. Brokil had thought so himself until he saw the elf's eyes light up at the sight of a mere meadow. If he was gathering intelligence on Ghizol, he was doing a poor job of it to say the least. It almost made him laugh.

"If he is, he's failing miserably." Brokil smirked when Salthu seemed taken aback. "He spends more time picking flowers in the meadow than he does looking through Ghizol's streets. If he's gathering intelligence, then the Tyrant King will learn much about our flowers."

Salthu seemed at a loss for words, but Murzush looked much the same as she frowned. "Picking flowers?"

"Yes. I discovered that he studied medicine in Athowen," Brokil told them.

Murzush rolled her eyes and scoffed. "And you believe that? Medicine is not what the Quilens do," she said.

Brokil could understand her hesitance, he had the same thoughts himself. "I thought so too, but I have a hard time figuring out how else he would know so much, enough so that Solaro complimented his work." Brokil motioned to the scar across his chest. Neither of them could deny that it was healing well, the line smooth and clean.

"Right, he did that while we were on the way to Ghizol." Salthu stepped up to Brokil, leaning in to examine the wound. "And he used only want you had in your tent?"

"Yes. Ointment, thread, and rum," Brokil said. "I am willing to believe that he knows more of medicine than he does of war. The boy was hiding in my trunk when I returned to the tent after the attack."

He could see Salthu finally begin to waver, the suspicion and worry fading into something more like confusion in the pinch of her brows. "If he was trained for battle, I doubt he would have hidden," she finally agreed.

Murzush stared on, arms crossed and silent. Unlike Salthu, Murzush's silence was much harder to decipher. She hid her emotions well and rarely let them show unless she desired it. She was always the quieter of their trio, preferring to step back and review and analyze and consider all of the possibilities. Even now, Brokil knew she was thinking about all the ways Silvyr could have sabotaged his recovery, which was exactly why he had Solaro examine his work, and why he allowed Salthu to demand a second, more thorough investigation from him.

"It's strange. Regardless of any of that, I stand by my decision to show him Ghizol." Brokil pushed on, refusing to let Murzush's silence unnerve him. "If we can sway Silvyr in Ghizol's favor, then we will see the benefit."

"I see," Salthu said, patting Brokil's shoulder. "Then I apologize for my bluntness earlier."

Brokil chuckled and shook his head. "No need for apologies. I need your counsel, and if you disagree with me, then I need it all the more." Without his second in command, Brokil wouldn't get far, and he knew this. So did Salthu. Hell, everyone in Ghizol probably knew that.

"Good. Hurry up and heal so I can fight you again," Salthu said with a light laugh, punching Brokil's uninjured shoulder.

"As soon as I'm able, I'll meet you here for a fight." Brokil grinned wide at the promise of a sparring match with his friend, fingers already itching for his sword. "Until then, I'm continuing my work with the prince. I plan to show him the farms tomorrow. I want him to see how the Tyrant King's laws hurt us."

Salthu hummed, glancing at Murzush to examine her reaction, but when she received none, she turned back to Brokil. "If what you say is true, I believe that is the best next step. Have you gotten him to speak more on the inner workings of Athowen?"

"Just twice, but nothing substantial. He mentioned the Council in Athowen, which I informed the Elders of. He also spoke of their celebration traditions, but I don't know if The Elders would want their time wasted with what the elves serve for dinner or the dances they perform. Beyond that, he just doesn't speak of Athowen," Brokil said.

Of course, Brokil had his assumptions about why Silvyr didn't speak of Athowen. No matter how comfortable they could make him, it wasn't lost on anyone that at the end of the day, the elf was their hostage. Despite what The Elders believed, Silvyr also wasn't stupid, and he wouldn't just offer up the weaknesses of his home.

"Interesting," Salthu hummed, shifting her weight to one foot. "Well, bring him to the farms. Let him see what the Tyrant King does to us. I hope you're right and that he can sway the favor. If we can use him on top of the demands, we'll be all the better for it."

"That's the hope," Brokil admitted. "The boy has political sway. We'd all be foolish not to acknowledge that. Even the Tyrant King would listen to the counsel of his heir."

"You have a point. He may not listen to our demands, but he may listen to his son's, like you say. It's worth trying." Salthu looked at Murzush, waiting for her input on the matter, but Murzush only stared at them before turning and leaving toward the stables.

Salthu glanced at Brokil, seemingly taken aback by her departure, but he wasn't concerned. He imagined she needed time to think, and he was willing to give her that. She could take as long as she needed to roll Brokil's words over until she saw the sense in them, just like Salthu had.

"She's worried," Salthu said.

Brokil knew that of course. Murzush was appointed as his guard when he was elected chief. Though he didn't think he needed one, being capable of defending and taking care of himself, the traditions couldn't be ignored. Even though Murzush knew Brokil wasn't weak by any standards, she took her job seriously. If one didn't know any better, it would be easy to assume that Brokil had never thrown a punch in his life with the way Murzush defended him.

"She just needs time to think," Brokil said. "You know how she is."

"I expect she will want to talk about it again soon. She will see the reason in your words, I'm sure of it."

"Thank you, Salthu," Brokil said, reaching out to nudge her elbow with his. "I think if I'm successful here, we'll be free soon enough."

"I back your decisions, Brokil. I just hope you're right."

???

Returning home before the sun set, Brokil moved the bar from the door and stepped inside. As he expected, Silvyr sat in front of the fireplace with a book in his lap, settled in a nest of blankets and pillows.

The boy looked up as he closed the door, eyes roving over him before glancing out the window. "You're early."

"I finished everything I needed to do," Brokil said, pulling off his shoes and setting them by the door. Taking a seat on the rug across from Silvyr, Brokil leaned back on his arms. "Which book do you have today?"

I found one on salves and ointments," Silvyr told him, sparing the pages one last glance before setting the book aside. "Why do you have so many books on medicine and plants?"

"They were gifts." Brokil shrugged his shoulders. "Not gifts I'm able to pass along."

"Who gave them to you?" Silvyr asked, crossing his legs underneath himself.

"My mother."

He knew his mother gifted them in the hopes that Brokil would read and memorize them all, but it wasn't something he was particularly interested in, as his focus was primarily on battle and maintaining Ghizol's prosperity. There were others in Ghizol who were better suited for it than he was, and he would leave it in their capable hands.

Humming softly, Silvyr looked at the red book and lifted it to his lap. "Do you know where she got them?" he asked. "We have books about plants and medicine in Athowen, but I haven't seen any of your collection in our libraries."

Brokil chuckled and caught the corners of the elf's lips twitching into a smile. "She wrote them herself. Sometimes the merchants bring bookbinders through Ghizol, and she has her work bound."

"Really? She wrote all of these?" Silvyr's touch on the books suddenly became much lighter and filled with care. "Wow."

"She took the knowledge passed down from our healers and compiled them. I suppose that's another reason I can't give them away."

"Did she paint the pages too?" Silvyr asked, and Brokil watched as he opened the book again, tracing his fingertip over the bud of one of the illustrations.

"She did. The traders brought us paint and she learned the craft in her free time," Brokil said, smiling at the memory of his mother in their home, going through page after page of practice before committing to her favorite pieces to be bound when the traders returned.

"It's really thorough." Silvyr tapped the section of script. "Some of these aren't even listed in Athowen's libraries. I mean, we have books with some of these plants, but they're not nearly as detailed."

Brokil gave no response, but Silvyr didn't look like he needed one anyway. The evening chill settled in, and Brokil turned to the fireplace, shoving a few logs in and setting them ablaze. Warmth slowly filled the space and the elf seemed to blossom, stretching out on the rug and rolling onto his stomach as though trying to soak up as much of the warmth as he possibly could. Brokil didn't care if he was caught staring at the lithe little elf, letting his eyes wander over his frame, admiring his soft curves and pale skin.

Oblivious to Brokil's staring, Silvyr opened the book, carefully tracing those delicate fingers along each page. For the first time since they arrived in Ghizol, the elf looked peaceful. Maybe even happy.

Odd that the elf's joy would make Brokil smile.