The Soldier in the Woods
Lyssara heard the fighting before she saw anyone.
The sound carried between the trees in broken pieces. Steel against steel. A shout. Something heavy hitting the ground.
Then nothing.
She stopped on the narrow forest path and listened.
The silence that followed felt worse.
She had left the palace grounds before sunrise, telling no one where she was going. She had needed a few hours away from guards, lessons, council meetings and everyone who insisted on following her simply because of the name she carried.
Princess Lyssara of Elarion was not supposed to wander this close to the northern border alone.
Lyssara, however, had never been particularly good at doing what she was supposed to do.
She reached for the bow across her back.
The trees were thicker here, their branches meeting high above her and blocking most of the morning light. She moved quietly, stepping over roots and avoiding the patches of dry leaves beneath her boots.
Then she smelled blood.
She found the first body near a fallen tree.
An elf.
He wore the green and silver uniform of Elarion’s border guard. There was a deep wound across his chest and blood beneath him, already darkening the earth.
Lyssara crouched beside him.
She knew he was dead before she touched his neck.
Still, she checked.
Nothing.
She recognized his face.
She didn’t know his name, but she had seen him before. He had stood near the western gates once, laughing with another guard while she rode past.
He had seemed too young then.
He seemed even younger now.
Lyssara stood.
There were footprints everywhere.
She followed them deeper into the trees.
Another body lay nearby.
Then another.
Human this time.
The black armor and dark red cloak told her everything she needed to know.
Valedorn.
Her stomach tightened.
Humans were not supposed to be this far inside Elarion.
She stepped into a small clearing.
Four bodies.
Two elves.
Two humans.
Broken arrows were scattered across the ground.
Lyssara gripped her bow more tightly.
Then she heard breathing behind her.
She turned.
A man was leaning against a tree.
Human.
Alive.
For a second, neither of them moved.
He wore the same black armor as the dead men, though his was finer. The metal was scratched and stained with blood, and the red cloak hanging from one shoulder had been torn almost completely away.
A wolf had been engraved into the armor over his chest.
The symbol of Valedorn.
Lyssara raised her bow.
The man looked at the arrow aimed at him and then back at her.
“You should probably shoot,” he said.
His voice was low and strained.
Lyssara stared at him.
“That’s an unusual thing to tell someone.”
“You’re already thinking about it.”
She pulled the string tighter.
“Drop your sword.”
He looked down as if he had forgotten he was holding one.
“No.”
Lyssara lifted the arrow slightly.
“That wasn’t a request.”
He gave her the faintest smile.
“You elves are very welcoming.”
“You crossed our border.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Drop it.”
For a few seconds, he continued looking at her.
Then the sword slipped from his hand and landed on the ground.
His knees nearly followed.
He caught himself against the tree.
Lyssara noticed the arrow lodged beneath his left shoulder.
Elven-made.
“You’ve been shot.”
He looked down.
“I was beginning to wonder why everything hurt.”
She almost rolled her eyes.
“You joke too much for someone surrounded by dead men.”
That changed him.
The smile disappeared.
His eyes moved toward the bodies.
“They were my men.”
Lyssara glanced at the dead elves.
“And those were mine.”
He looked back at her.
Something hard entered his expression.
“They attacked us first.”
“You were inside Elarion.”
“Not intentionally.”
“Humans rarely cross our border accidentally.”
“Then perhaps today is special.”
She stepped closer.
He was younger than she had expected. Not a boy, but not much older than her either. Dark hair had fallen across his forehead. Blood ran from a cut near his temple and down the side of his face.
His eyes were grey.
Lyssara hated that she noticed.
“What were you doing here?”
“Following orders.”
“Whose?”
He hesitated.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Then I can’t tell you.”
She lowered the bow slightly but did not put it away.
“You realize I could call the patrol.”
“I assumed that was the plan.”
“You don’t seem concerned.”
“I am.”
“You hide it badly.”
“Actually, I thought I was doing quite well.”
Lyssara looked at the arrow again.
His skin had gone pale.
“You’re losing too much blood.”
“Now you sound concerned.”
“I’m deciding whether you’ll die before I have the chance to question you.”
“That’s much better.”
She stared at him.
He smiled again.
Annoying.
Very annoying.
“What is your name?”
He went quiet for a moment.
“Cael.”
“Cael what?”
“Just Cael.”
“That’s not suspicious at all.”
“It’s the name I have.”
She didn’t believe him.
There was something about him that didn’t fit.
His armor was too well made. His sword was better than anything an ordinary border soldier should have carried. Even injured, he stood with a kind of confidence Lyssara usually saw only in officers.
Or nobles.
Before she could ask another question, voices came from somewhere behind her.
Elven voices.
A patrol.
Cael heard them too.
His hand moved toward the sword on the ground.
Lyssara pointed the arrow directly at his chest.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“If they find me, I’m dead.”
“Possibly.”
He looked at her.
“Possibly?”
“If they’re in a good mood, they’ll take you prisoner.”
“And if they’re not?”
Lyssara said nothing.
The voices were closer now.
For the first time, Cael looked genuinely afraid.
He hid it quickly, but she saw it.
He knew what would happen if the patrol found him beside dead Elarion soldiers.
Lyssara should have called out.
It would have been easy.
She could already imagine her father’s reaction if he learned she had found an enemy soldier and let him escape.
No.
Not an enemy soldier.
A Valedorn soldier.
One of them.
The kingdom she had been raised to hate.
The kingdom responsible for generations of war.
She looked toward the dead elf nearest her.
Then back at Cael.
“Can you walk?”
His expression changed.
“What?”
“Can you walk?”
“Yes.”
He pushed himself away from the tree and immediately stumbled.
Lyssara caught his arm before he hit the ground.
“No, you can’t.”
“I said I could walk. I didn’t say I’d be good at it.”
“Be quiet.”
She pulled his arm across her shoulders.
Cael stared at her.
“You’re helping me?”
“Don’t make me change my mind.”
The patrol voices were now only a short distance away.
Lyssara led him off the path and deeper into the woods.
He was heavier than she expected, and every few steps his weight shifted against her.
“You could make this easier,” she muttered.
“I am trying.”
“Try harder.”
“I’m injured.”
“I noticed.”
“That seems to be your favorite sentence.”
She shot him a look.
He smiled weakly.
She hated that she was starting to find him funny.
They moved through a narrow passage between two large rocks, then down a slope hidden beneath ferns.
Lyssara knew where she was taking him.
There was an old hunter’s shelter nearby, abandoned years ago. She had found it when she was a child and had used it more than once when she wanted to disappear from the palace.
No one knew about it.
At least, she hoped no one knew.
Cael stumbled again.
This time they both nearly fell.
Lyssara caught herself against a tree.
His face was suddenly very close to hers.
Too close.
She could feel his breath against her cheek.
Neither moved.
For one strange second, Lyssara forgot what he was.
She forgot the uniform.
The bodies.
The border.
She saw only his face.
Then his eyes moved to her mouth.
Lyssara stepped away immediately.
Cael nearly fell again.
“Sorry,” she said.
“No, you’re not.”
“No.”
They continued walking.
The shelter came into view through the trees.
It was small, built partly into the side of a rocky hill. Vines covered most of the entrance.
Lyssara pushed them aside and helped him inside.
The room smelled of dust and damp stone.
Cael lowered himself against the wall.
His head dropped back.
Lyssara crouched beside him.
The arrow was still lodged in his shoulder.
“I need to remove it.”
His eyes opened.
“Have you done that before?”
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
She looked back.
“Fine. Not exactly.”
“Comforting.”
“I’ve watched someone do it.”
“To a person?”
She hesitated.
“A horse.”
Cael stared at her.
Lyssara pulled out her knife.
“You can either trust me or bleed to death.”
He sighed.
“Those are terrible choices.”
“You don’t have better ones.”
She cut the fabric around the wound.
Blood had soaked through everything beneath the armor.
Cael watched her hands.
“Careful.”
“I know.”
“You just said you’ve never done this.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No.”
“Then be quiet.”
Lyssara cleaned the wound as best she could.
She wrapped her fingers around the broken shaft.
“This will hurt.”
“I assumed.”
“Ready?”
“No.”
She pulled.
Cael shouted.
His hand closed around her wrist.
The arrow came free.
Blood followed.
Lyssara pressed cloth against the wound.
“Don’t move.”
“That was your plan?”
“It worked.”
“You have a frightening definition of worked.”
She ignored him.
His hand was still around her wrist.
They both noticed at the same time.
Cael slowly let go.
“Sorry.”
His voice was quieter now.
Lyssara tied the bandage around his shoulder.
“There.”
He looked down at it.
“Am I going to live?”
“I haven’t decided.”
That made him smile.
Lyssara sat back.
The patrol voices had disappeared.
Rain began tapping softly against the roof.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Finally, Cael looked at her.
“You never told me your name.”
Lyssara hesitated.
Giving him her real name was dangerous.
Then again, Lyssara was not an uncommon elven name.
And he had no reason to connect it to the princess of Elarion.
“Lyssara.”
He repeated it.
“Lyssara.”
She wished he hadn’t.
Something about the way he said it made her suddenly too aware of him.
“And you’re Cael.”
“Yes.”
“Just Cael.”
“For now.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“For now?”
He looked away.
“Maybe I’ll tell you the rest if we meet again.”
Lyssara should have said they wouldn’t.
Instead she asked, “And why would we?”
Cael looked back at her.
His grey eyes held hers for longer than necessary.
“I don’t know.”
The rain grew heavier outside.
Lyssara looked toward the doorway.
She had hidden an enemy soldier from her own people.
If anyone discovered it, she would have much more to explain than why she had left the palace alone.
She looked at Cael again.
He had closed his eyes.
Within minutes, his breathing slowed.
Lyssara sat beside the doorway, listening to the rain.
She told herself she had saved him because she didn’t want another body in the forest.
Nothing more. She believed it for almost five minutes.
Far beyond the trees, riders in black armor were searching every road leading toward the border.
Their orders were simple.
Find the missing prince.
Prince Caelan of Valedorn had disappeared during the ambush.
And if the elves had taken him alive, King Edric had already decided there would be war.
