With every step, I could feel the way my feet stung, thanks to a few lovely blisters. They had begun to form within hours of our departure from the palace.

We had ditched the boats when the lights of Himmelsk were no longer visible. I changed into my traveling clothes, and my coronation dress was left in the boats to continue to float downstream. Part of me was quite sad to see Jae's creation go. The dress has even saved my life, but we hoped the dress would wash up or be spotted at the next town or city, effectively throwing the Ithican soldiers off of our trail. From there we began to travel on foot. Our journey served us best hidden in the thick cover of the forest.

After days of travel, my body felt exhausted in a way I was not accustomed too. I thought that my training with Ulric would have helped to prepare me for something like this, but I was wrong. There's not much that readies you for crossing a country on foot. The days of travel had brought a deep ache to my legs and lower back. My feet were tender to the touch and dragged in the underbrush, too tired to lift even an inch higher.

The toe of my leather boot caught on an exposed root, and I pitched forward. I was just barely able to catch myself with my other foot and a supportive hand on Fenrir's back. His pack had been waiting for our exit from the city and ran through the forests following the river until they were able to meet up with us. Since then, he has been a constant at my side.

At the sound of my stumbling, Ulric looked back at me. His eyes still held a look of pity that angered me. Everyone here looked at me with those sad eyes. I felt like I had turned into a piece of glass, and they were trying to be as careful as they could around me, afraid I may break. I was still mourning the loss of Leda, but I didn't need to be babied.

Ignoring Ulric, I continued on, my hand gripped into Fenrir's fur as he helped guide me through the forest. It was growing dark, and the setting sun was barely able to poke its way through the thick foliage.

I retreated into my mind. There wasn't much else to do other than to think. No one spoke while we traveled, I don't think anyone knew exactly what to say. We were exposed and vulnerable as we moved through the forest, knowing that Ithican soldiers were out there, somewhere, trying to track us down.

The paranoia of being watched or followed never strayed far from our minds, but I at least could count on my danger awareness to provide some semblance of warning leading up to any sort of attack.

I felt a tug on my arm, pulling me up short, and I looked down, realizing it was Fenrir. He and the rest of the group had stopped moving, and Soren was giving some directions to set up camp for the night.

This was at least becoming a familiar routine. Whenever we stopped, everyone had jobs to do to help prepare the camp. Firewood would be collected and lit to provide a source of warmth and cooking. Others would begin dinner, and the rest would set up the tents.

As I picked up a variety of sticks to be used for the fire, I tried to ignore the strain of my sore muscles that stretched in ways they didn't want to from bending over. Even with the exhaustion and pain, a part of me enjoyed the activity because it was a break from the monotony of walking, and it made me feel useful. Most of the time, during our travels, I felt more of a burden than a help. Everyone always watched me wanting to help or frankly just treat me like a queen. I guess I was a queen now, something I would have to get used to. Even so, I still wanted to have some sort of autonomy and to just be treated normally.

I set my pile of sticks down next to Sven, who was beginning to form the structure for the fire. With nothing else to do, I sat down with a grateful sigh on a large, fallen log. My tired fingers unlaced my boots, and I slid them off with a wince. A small rock fell out of the left boot, which I think I picked up near the border of Ithica and Breeze.

In the past few days, we had crossed half of Ithica and would be reaching the new headquarters for the resistance soon. Even with the exhaustion of travel taking over my body, I knew that the time of our journey was uncharacteristically fast. It was a direct result of magical absorption. We were all keeping our stamina and strength up, allowing us to move much quicker in this journey. Even so, I still wished we had horses to take the strain off my muscles and feet. Or maybe even a car. What I would do for a car right about now.

"We will be there soon enough," Soren said. He sat down next to me and gripped my shoulder in a way, encouraging me to keep going.

I sighed. "I hope so."

"I remember my first time traveling with the Ithican army to patrol the borders. I was a young lad at the time, fresh out of being knighted and absolutely quaking in my boots." He chuckled.

"He's being modest," Tamas said. Tamas was a burly Elf, much larger than any I had ever seen before. I even wondered if he was a part minotaur. He was also a mighty warrior with a battle-ax as his preferred weapon.

"I am not, I can assure you of that. That trip was my first time seeing real combat as well. I nearly fell unconscious at the sight of a dead body."

"The legendary Soren? Fainting at the sight of blood?" Nils laughed and elbowed his twin brother Eadric. They were identical twins with the exact same flash of bright blonde hair, freckled cheeks and noses, and mischievous grins; the only difference was their eyes. While they both had heterochromia, they were the complement to one another. Nils's left eye was blue and the right was brown; Eadric had the opposite combination.

"I did, I really did," Soren said through chuckles.

"How did you ever become the general of the army then?" Eadric asked, still laughing.

"Eventually, I got used to it. The more time spent out there with the army, the more normal it became. I guess it also helped that the rest of my unit could barely hit someone with a sword if they were two feet away."

Another round of laughter chorused out amongst the group. This was one of the first times they had shown such lively behavior. It was a nice change to the very serious and somber travels we had previously been shrouded in.

"For an ex-soldier like myself Soren is somewhat of a legend in the Ithican military," Sven explained to me.

"Ex-soldier?" I asked.

"Yes, before I defected and joined the resistance. That was five years ago."

"I think we can all agree that I will no longer be a 'legend' amongst the army. I am now one of their biggest traitors." Soren chuckled. "Honestly, thank the gods. I was tired of the façade I had to pull within the palace."

"No longer a legend amongst the Ithican army, but still a legend in the resistance. Soren is one of the oldest surviving members," Leon clarified. I hadn't had much of an opportunity to get to know Leon, he seemed a little quieter than the rest, but his amber eyes held an intelligence that was unmatched amongst anyone within our group.

"You make me sound old," Soren said gruffly and tossed part of the liquid in his mug at Pasha, who easily dodged the attack.

"That's cause you are!" Ogen was bent over with laughter as his claim.

"Well, this old Elf can still best you in combat."

"Is that a challenge?" Ogen grinned mischievously.

"What else would it be, boy?"

The rest of the group filled with excited chatter at the spectacle that would be shown before them. The night just got a whole lot less boring.

When both Ogen and Soren were stood with their swords to engage in sparring, Tamas stood between them. "You both know the rules, no deadly blows, first to come near a fatal hit wins, play nice."

The second Tamas moved out of the way Ogen quickly attacked. Soren easily blocked the blow and twisted to lock his blade with Ogen's. They continued in a dance, blow for blow, for quite some time. They had to have been tiring, right? Ogen was showing the first signs of weakness when beads of sweat on his forehead grew to reflect the fire. Soren, on the other hand, appeared as fresh as he had first begun. His kind face was much more severe and much more focused. This was a new kind of Soren that I wasn't used to; this was the warrior in him.

Eventually, Soren executed a strong ovenfrau that forced Ogen to his knees. Soren was then able to quickly knock Ogen's blade aside and point the tip of his sword against Ogen's chest. Tamas grabbed Soren's hand and raised it high for everyone to see, championing him the winner.

"And that is why Soren is considered such a legend, he hasn't crossed a blade he can't beat," Nils spoke.

"Nils, that is not true, all of us know that. I'm sure some of you here could beat me."

"Clearly not Ogen," Nils snickered, and Ogen slugged him in the shoulder in retaliation.

"Would anyone else like to try?"

"I think Amberleigh should." Ulric's voice piped up. I could tell the group was startled at hearing him speak. In the company of strangers, he had spoken little to anyone, including me.

I narrowed my eyes at him in frustration. "I don't know, I don't think I should."

"It will be good for your training. You should experience fighters other than me."

"Soren is a pretty formidable opponent, and well, Amberleigh, you're kind of a little lady," Pasha said.

I felt a small spark stir inside of me. Just because I was little, and a girl didn't mean I couldn't fight. I didn't train all of these months for nothing. Feeling a burn inside of me to prove him wrong, I stood to my feet, my hand at my right hip, where the hilt of my sword sat ready to escape the confines of the scabbard.

"On second thought." I pulled the weapon free, allowing it to reflect the flames of the fire for all to see. I noticed a few eyes looking at it. No one had paid much mind to how I had gotten a sword during the battle, we had too many other things to worry about, but now I noticed Ulric, Soren, and Sven study it carefully.

I moved to stand across from Soren, and Tamas was once again between us. "The rules of sparring are as follows. There will be no deadly blows, this is not a fight to the death. The first to come near a fatal hit will win. This can be from a point or a tap. Small scratches are allowed, any serious harm will result in disqualification and the ending of the spar."

Soren and I both nodded our heads in acknowledgment and took our places across from one another. As my hands gripped onto the hilt of my sword, my brain briefly wondered if I was really going to do this? Soren always felt like a sweet old uncle to me. Was I really going to fight him with a sword?

The question was soon answered for me when he attacked so quickly, I barely had time to register the pressure indicating his attack, but only barely. I raised my sword to block his blow and stepped to the side so his momentum would take him past me.

He recovered quickly and swung back in a move I had never seen before, nearly tripping me up. Moving with a speed gleaned from the earth beneath my feet, I parried his low blow and pushed his sword away. We continued on trading blow for blow. His fighting style was much different than Ulric's. Grudgingly I admitted that Ulric was right; it was doing me well to fight someone other than him for once.

While Ulric danced with the blade, Soren moved like a ghost. His blows were lightning-quick, and yet he could conceal every move before he enacted it. The only reason I could keep up was the danger awareness that let me know where he would be attacking before he did.

I continually sucked magic up through the ground to keep my energy going, our fight felt like it would never end. As we continued, I could tell that the cogs and gears in Soren's mind were curious about my ability to parry every blow. Of course, similar to sparring with Ulric, while my defensive skill was superior, my offensive was weak. I could only block the strikes, but I found it challenging to find the time or place to go on the attack. It was only when Soren began to show signs of weariness that he opened himself up with a jab to the right exposing his left side. Knowing the action a few breaths ahead of his movements, I stole the opportunity to move out of the way and tap his side with the flat of my sword.

It was silent amongst the group as they simply stared at me. I turned to face Pasha, "What was that about me being a little girl?" I smiled sweetly at him and moved to sit back down on my spot on the log.

"Remind me never to underestimate you," he mumbled.

"I will remind you not to underestimate any woman," I said and began to put the sword back in the scabbard.

"Amberleigh, the symbol on the pommel," Sven began. I paused in putting the sword back in the scabbard. "That is Vihtia's blessing, is it not?"

"Yes, yes, it is." Ulric's face clouded in confusion and curiosity at my words. He was truly beginning to question the origins of the blade. Frankly, I was surprised Ulric hadn't said something sooner, I know he had seen it during our escape from the palace

"Where did you pick up such a blade?" Leon asked.

"It was a gift."

"From whom, Amberleigh," Ulric pushed.

"From Vihtia."

There were a few gasps of shock and rumbling amongst the group. I hadn't even told Gerard or Ulric of my time during the Ceremony of the Gods.

"How is this possible?" Gerard asked with a nervous bleat.

"During my ceremony, she spoke to me. All of the gods did, they want justice for those in Erivale."

"So even the gods support our cause?" Ogen asked with glee.

"The gods support an end to corruption. They didn't say how," I explained.

"May I see the sword?" Leon asked gently.

I nodded my head in agreeance to him and handed him the blade. His nimble fingers followed the lines of the sword; he paid particular attention to the symbols on the pommel.

"The blade has been blessed by Vihtia herself," Leon eventually said. "It provides protection and success in battle. This is a mighty sword you have. The gods look favorably upon you."

He handed the blade back to me, and I once again sheathed it. The group was staring at me now, and I shifted uncomfortably under their gaze. "It's not that big of a deal, it's just a sword."

"Not a big deal," Sven scoffed. "Amberleigh, this is a very big deal."

"I must admit Amberleigh, that Sven is correct," Gerard began. "There are only a few recorded cases of the gods providing magical gifts to us mortals. There has not been an instance of godly gifts for hundreds of years."