“Oh for Inari’s sake, will you just drop it?!” Nyra shouted.

Chapter 15 — The Forest of Evenfall. Mark of the Shadow — Book 1 of the Phantom Lord Saga.

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The Forest of Evenfall. AI-Generated Image.

Their journey through Evenfall commenced in the early hours before dawn. The forest was dense and oppressive, with darkness enveloping them. The path Ned had found was shadowy and winding. To Ivel, it hardly resembled a path at all. Yet, trusting Ned's judgment, they pressed on, stopping only briefly for meals and rest.

As Ivel trudged along, he often found his head brushing against the low-hanging branches, forcing him to stoop to avoid getting caught. This constant ducking was giving him a tremendous headache, and he eagerly awaited the end of today’s journey.

Evenfall was aptly named, for when evening fell it was like midnight itself shrouded the forest. When at last they could go no further, they finally stopped to make camp. The darkness was suffocating, and Ivel felt relieved when Nyra kindled the evening fire. The flames offered warmth and comfort, drawing them close together, as Evenfall exuded a strong mustiness, leaving the air damp and cold.

After eating, Ned rose.

“Well my friends, it's time for a little bit of training,” he said. “Who wants to start?” 

“I’d like to,” said Revilo. 

“Anyone but Revilo,” said Ned. Revilo scowled, but Ned ignored him. “You need to give yourself time to heal up.” 

Nyra’s hand went up, rather timidly. 

“I do have magic,” said Nyra. “I don’t know if I necessarily need to rely on…rudimentary fighting techniques. But I could try.” 

“In a battle, you never know what could happen,” said Ned. “What if you don’t get a chance for a spell? In that case, knife work might be good. You're smaller, so it would be less of a weight.” 

“I mean, I would like a chance to try a sword,” said Nyra, blushing. “Even if it's just for a minute.”

All eyes turned to Revilo.

"What?" Revilo said, clutching Havashal tightly in hand.

"Would you mind lending Havashal to Nyra for practice?" Ned asked.

Ivel gazed at the pair, eyes wide with worry, fearing they might erupt into another shouting match right in the heart of the forest.

Much to Ivel's relief, Revilo grunted handing it over with a grimace on his face. The chef had not parted with the weapon since Ned had given it to him, despite being unable to wield it yet, with his shoulder bandaged up as it was. Nyra took hold of the hilt with eager hands, the blade plummeting earthward.

"Oh," she exclaimed, visibly surprised by its weight. She shifted her stance, grasping the hilt with both hands and raising it. "Not so bad."

Ivel watched Nyra carefully as she adjusted to the weight of Havashal, the massive sword glinting under the firelight as she struggled to lift it. The weapon was undeniably too heavy for her, its heft causing her knees to slightly buckle, but her determination was unmistakable. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead as she gripped the hilt tighter, her eyes focused and unwavering, showcasing a resolve that belied her physical limitations.

"Alright," Ned said with a worried expression. "Let's begin with the basics. First, try a thrust. Keep your posture strong and step forward as you extend the blade."

Nyra followed Ned's directions, her movements slightly awkward, but she managed to thrust the blade forward with decent speed. However, her stance was not steady enough, and Ned quickly corrected her.

"Keep your feet planted firmly on the ground," Ned said, demonstrating the proper stance. "Otherwise, you'll lose your balance and leave yourself vulnerable."

Ivel clapped his hands, encouraging Nyra as she continued to practice under Ned's tutelage. Despite her initial hesitation and struggles, she was improving a little with each attempt.

"Now, imagine someone is coming at you from your left side," Ned said. "What do you do?"

"I turn and swing the sword at them?" Nyra guessed tentatively.

"Exactly," Ned instructed. "Pivot on your back foot and swing the sword in an arc, using your hips and core to generate power. Let's practice. I'll act as your opponent. Ivel, toss me a stick."

Ivel quickly gathered a sturdy stick from the nearby brush and tossed it to Ned, who caught it with ease.

"Let's begin!" Ned shouted, raising his stick in an offensive stance.

Ned lunged from the side, his movements purposely slower, yet still swift enough to outpace Nyra. Nyra attempted a swing, but Havashal's unexpected weight overpowered her, causing the sword to slip from her grasp. With a metallic clang, the hilt landed squarely on her foot.

"Ow!" she yelped, recoiling from the impact and clutching her foot as she grimaced in pain, hopping on one leg for a moment. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and tears rolled down her eyes, probably more from the shock than the pain.

Ned quickly stepped forward, a reassuring hand at the ready. "It's okay, Nyra," he said gently, his voice both firm and compassionate. "We'll keep practicing, and soon you won't be dropping it at all."

“I think you were right, Ned,” she admitted, glancing at Havashal lying on the ground. “Can I try with that small hunting knife you mentioned earlier?”

“Of course, Nyra,” he said, handing her the smaller weapon.

“What about you big guy?” asked Ned. “Did you want to give Havashal a swing?”

Ivel glanced at the sword resting on the ground. It really was a thing of beauty, and unlike Nyra, who struggled with its weight and balance, wielding the blade would pose no challenge for him. Yet, despite this, he felt no urgency to learn the art of fighting. He'd already seen enough bloodshed, and the idea of shedding more blood made his stomach ache. He shook his head.

“It looks a little small for me,” said Ivel, shifting uncomfortably.

“No problem," Ned said, "You can borrow my axe instead."

“I’d rather…not use a weapon,” said Ivel weakly. 

“I don’t doubt that you can take someone with your fists in a tight spot,” said Ned. “But it's not going to help you much if you get caught up in a deluge of enemies.” 

Ivel glanced down at his hands, still haunted by the sensation of blood from that ominous night in Eradad. Though his hands were now clean before him, he could still feel the warmth and wetness. He clenched his fists, grappling with the memory.

“I don't like fighting,” said Ivel. “I’d rather not learn.” 

“Don’t like fighting?” frowned Revilo, leaning forward. “What if we need to fight someone like Brahm? He’d snap our necks like toothpicks. You’re the only one who could fight him.” 

Ivel shook his head.

“I don’t want to use a weapon.”

“And what if it comes down to it?” argued Revilo. “Would you just let us die, rather than fight?”

Ned frowned. 

“Hey, Rev, lay off the big guy,” said Ned. He turned to Ivel. “If you don’t want to learn how to use a weapon, I won’t force it.”

“Thank you,” said Ivel. 

“Not fighting is cowardly,” said Revilo stubbornly, leaning back against the tree, but he did drop the subject. 

Ivel squirmed uneasily, averting his gaze from Revilo's angry face. Shame and fear churned within him. In some respects, he knew Revilo was right — he was a coward. He had always chosen the path of least resistance, evading conflict at every turn. Agreeing to stay with the group inevitably meant facing battles sooner or later. So far, he'd been fortunate, escaping the Scavs unharmed and avoiding confrontation with the giant snake monster in the cave, but how much longer would his luck hold out?