A Facet for the Gem by C. L. Murray

seeming a futile effort, he got to his feet and strode out. Scanning the clearing’s perimeter, he went to the large hole that held the old swords and stared into it, hoping dearly that it would be deep enough. Then, he reached into the pocket within the folds of his clothes, and the Goldshard’s jagged edges were sharp against his fingers as he withdrew it.
    He looked at it with starving eyes and could think of nothing but what it offered, for which he had longed so desperately. But now, things would be different, he repeated to himself.
    He extended his left arm and grabbed the ripped sleeve, stripping away a sizable length upon which he laid the Goldshard. Taking in its sheen for one last moment, he folded the cloth tightly, kneeled to place it deep inside the recess, and covered it with the worn blanket that blended so well into the ground. Then he went to the large flat rock that had guarded the secret spot, and flipped it forward onto its rightful place.
    Standing still for a moment, he suddenly felt the sweetest breath of relief, as though an insect knifing into the back of his neck had just been swatted away. He returned to the fire lighter than ever, and bedded down again. When he sank into the grass, he allowed his mind the comfort of knowing that it could look where he hadn’t permitted it to look before. And, this time, rest came to him on quick wings.

Chapter Five
    Lady Valeine
    A dozen sun-bleached skulls with long, curved horns sat atop the walls of the Eaglemasters’ southernmost city, Veleseor. Their vacant sockets stared across the Silver River toward the Ferotaur Wildlands, silently warning all others that wished to trespass.
    In the city’s outer training grounds, hundreds of bright-faced youths clasping untested spears gazed upward at the woman who stood on the wall. Her milky white garments beneath blonde hair distracted no one from the spear she gripped firmly in hand, its blade and shaft chipped and reddened, the weapon of a seasoned warrior who had defied death. Surveying the crowd with pride, she addressed them with a melodic voice.
    “You stand here today, no longer boys of twelve, swept from your mothers to snivel under harsh elements and trials of physical aptitude, but a grown, ready crop, scraped from the weeds. You stand at the city named for the grandfather of our king, because his spear and sword carved a place for you here, and because this realm’s true defenders hold it for you still. To one day be counted among our honorable ranks, you must first see what we have seen, taste, smell, as we have, and bleed, too, as we have bled.
    “You have endured several assaults over the last year, firing beside your friends to halt clumsy handfuls of enemy ships, striking down those few that we allowed through our defenses. You may have even seen a skirmish or two as you progressed through our sister cities.
    “But have you seen a hundred ferotaurs up close, all in the best health that such creatures can be? Have you felt their rough, pale skin on yours, or looked into their ghoulish faces? Have you taken in their rancid breath, billowing out through teeth laced with flesh?”
    Mounted on their eagles that perched conspicuously just behind the captivated soldiers-to-be, her three older brothers observed the address with the good humor of sibling rivalry.
    “She’s doing well,” Ivrild said with a smirk. “Very inspiring of confidence.”
    Verald, the eldest, replied, “I’d rather have her at my side than you against that many.”
    “As would I,” said Ondrel. “And besides, if combat were to fail, I at least could escape if they found her more appealing.” They snickered together, listening in.
    “Four years’ diligence, excellence under controlled conditions, behind our borders, may be forgotten in two breaths out there,” she cautioned, pointing to the hostile territory beyond the river. “Which is why you must all go, very soon, and know the true force that swells constantly