Isle of Beasts and Shadows (The Forgotten Isle Saga #1)

Chapter 4

Jonathan now stared into those same multi-colored eyes that resembled those of Lysander Devereaux. The girl, Airella, was cautious, and being the only woman on a boat full of men, she was smart to be. Her wariness was a shield in this volatile environment. However, no man would be courageous enough to approach her, since they knew who her father was.

What he was.

Lysander Devereaux commanded a fearsome reputation that even the most reckless soldier wouldn’t dare challenge.

“Can I help you?”

Airella kept a hand on the door to her private cabin held within the confines of the lower deck of the ship. Her posture was defensive, eyes narrowing slightly as a strand of blonde hair fell into her face.

Jonathan felt a magnetic pull towards her. He wasn’t afraid. He had grown up learning to be her father’s shadow, navigating the complexities of loyalty and danger that came with it.

“I just wanted to see how you were holding up. I haven’t seen you around much the last couple of days,” Jonathan gave her a soft smile, his eyes searching hers for a sign of how she was truly feeling. The only times he had seen her mostly was when everyone lined up to get their meals on one of the upper decks of the ship, where the sea breeze mingled with the scent of salt and cooked food.

“I’m good, thanks,” she began to close the door, but Jonathan was fast enough to reach out and stop her before it could shut. She looked at him in confusion, her brows knitting together as she tried to read his intentions.

“Sorry, I, uh…” Jonathan couldn’t make out his words. He didn’t want to sound like he was pitying her, but he also couldn’t ignore the fact that she was alone on this journey. And after all her father had done for him, he felt like he owed it to him to aid her in any way he could. Her solitude on this voyage weighed on him—she seemed so strong, yet so isolated.

“Listen, Airella... do you know how to use that?” He pointed at Dawnbreaker, which she had kept strapped to her side the entire journey. The axe’s hilt gleamed in the dim light, a symbol of protection and power.

She had thought little of it, but it’d probably be best if she knew how. It’d be hard to determine when she may need the skill to fight with a weapon, especially on a journey filled with unknown perils. Her eyes followed his gesture to the weapon, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face before hardening into resolve.

“No, not really. I suppose I have a lot more training to do,” Airella took a glance down at the floorboards, her mind already racing with the daunting task ahead. The ship rocked gently, the creaking of the wood a constant reminder of their precarious journey.

“Well, if you’re up for it, I could help train you when we have the time. I mean, how much different could a sword be from an axe?” He chuckled, gesturing to his sheathed blade. Airella’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Really? You would do that for me?” After everything that had gone down since being stripped from her family, it was a breath of fresh air to find kindness in someone.

Jonathan nodded, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah, I think it’d be good for both of us. Gives us something to do during this long journey,” he replied. He had trained recruits in the past. “Are you free right now?”

She gave him a nod and stepped out of her cabin and into the hallway, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

As they made their way to the deck, Airella felt a flutter of anticipation mixed with trepidation while the sun began its descent, casting long shadows and bathing the ship in a golden hue. Amid their training session, hues of orange and pink painted the sky, creating a breathtaking backdrop. The constant, rhythmic reminder of their solitude at sea accompanied their endeavor—the sound of the waves crashing against the hull, and the salty breeze added a sense of freedom to it.

Jonathan led her to an open space, where they would have enough room to spar without the risk of knocking over anything or anyone. The deck was mostly vacant, except for a few crew members who were too engrossed in their tasks to pay much attention.

“First things first,” Jonathan said, unsheathing his sword with a practiced ease. The metal caught the dying light, reflecting it with a sharp gleam. “Let’s see how you handle Dawnbreaker.”

“You know its name?” Airella grasped the hilt of her weapon and drew it from its sheath. The gold metal gleamed in the fading light, and she could feel its weight, not just physically but emotionally. It was more than just a weapon; it was a connection to her past and a symbol of what she had lost and hoped to regain.

“I’d recognize Lysander Devereaux’s axe anywhere. He won many battles with that at his side. It was forged in the fires of Mount Vorel, tempered by the hands of master smiths who infused it with their skill and dedication. It has a soul of its own, a searing purpose that burns as brightly as the morning sun. Now, keep a firm grip,” Jonathan instructed, positioning himself opposite her. His stance was steady and confident, a testament to his experience. “And remember, it’s not just about strength. It’s about balance and precision.”

Airella took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. She mirrored Jonathan’s posture, feeling the cool metal of the hilt under her fingers. She recalled all the times her father would show her Dawnbreaker, memories that had been etched into her mind. It was his most prized possession, and she was far too young to understand why at the time.

As they began, Jonathan’s voice was calm and guiding, offering corrections and encouragement. She could feel herself slowly adjusting, finding a rhythm that felt both foreign and familiar. The ship swayed gently beneath them, but she focused on Jonathan’s words and the feel of Dawnbreaker in her hands, determined to learn and grow stronger.

She mimicked his stance, legs apart, knees slightly bent. The first clash of their blades sent a shiver down her spine, the metallic ring echoing in the cool evening air.

Jonathan was a patient teacher, guiding her through the basics with a steady hand and calm voice, each word carefully chosen to instill confidence. Each swing, each block, was a small victory, a testament to her determination to survive in a world that seemed hell-bent on breaking her spirit.

As twilight turned to dusk, they practiced relentlessly; the air filling with the sharp sound of clashing steel and their labored breaths. There were moments when she faltered, her inexperience showing, but Jonathan was always there to correct her, to offer a word of encouragement. His eyes, sharp and focused, never missed a detail—adjusting her grip, repositioning her stance, ensuring every movement was precise.

“You’re doing great,” he said after an intense round. Sweat trickled down her face, but there was a light in her eyes, a fire that hadn’t been there before.

“Thanks,” she panted, wiping her brow. “I never thought I could actually do this.”

“You have the heart of a warrior, Airella. With practice, you’ll only get better,” Jonathan gave her a nod of approval.

As they continued, Jonathan corrected her grip and posture with a patience borne from experience. With each swing of the axe, Airella felt a growing connection to the weapon—and to the man who taught her its secrets.

“Your father,” Jonathan began during a lull in their training, his tone shifting to one of reverence, “he had a way with the men. He led with strength, but also with heart.”

“Was he... was he a good man?” Airella dared to ask, her voice a whisper lost amidst the creaking wood and rushing waves.

Jonathan hesitated.

“He was the best of us,” he finally admitted. “To me, he was more than just a leader. He was the father I lost.”

“Lost?” Airella probed gently, sensing the depth of his sorrow.

“Before Eldaraya became my home, I was from Aurian. Your father spared my life after my village...” Jonathan’s green eyes clouded over, his words trailing off as he grappled with the memory. “After they razed it to the ground. My family didn’t survive.”

Airella’s grip on Dawnbreaker tightened, the revelation connecting them through shared loss.

“Yet you stayed,” she murmured, understanding the complexity of his emotions.

“I had nowhere else to go,” he confessed, his gaze flickering to the churning waters below. “Lysander saw potential in me. He trained me, made me his apprentice. But Duran...” Jonathan’s expression hardened. “He and your father were close before... Before everything changed.”

“Changed how?” Airella pressed, eager to understand the shadows that lingered behind Jonathan’s eyes.

“Let’s just say Duran’s heart seems to beat to a different drum now.” Jonathan’s jaw clenched. “Be wary of him.”

“Thank you,” Airella said softly, feeling the weight of his trust. “For sharing that with me.”

“Trust goes both ways,” Jonathan replied, his gaze meeting hers. “And so does learning. Now, show me that strike again. Remember, with Dawnbreaker in your hands, you’re not just fighting—you’re continuing a legacy.”

Airella nodded, the knowledge of her father’s impact on Jonathan, and the soldiers at large, strengthening her resolve. With renewed vigor, she lifted the axe, the blade singing through the air as she repeated the motion, her movements becoming surer under Jonathan’s watchful eye.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the deck as the ship sailed ever closer to the isle. The scent of salt and wood mixed with the distant calls of seabirds, creating an almost serene backdrop to their intense training. Together, united by their shared experiences and goals, Jonathan and Airella prepared to face what lay ahead, the unknown no longer quite so daunting.

Jonathan shared more stories about her father, painting a picture of a man who was both a fierce warrior and a compassionate leader. Airella listened intently, each tale adding to her understanding of the legacy she was part of. The stories were not just about battles and victories but also about moments of kindness and wisdom, lessons that her father had imparted to those he led.

“Your father once said,” Jonathan recounted, “that true strength is not just in the arm that wields the blade, but in the heart that guides it. It’s that heart, Airella, that will make you a prominent leader.”

Airella felt a surge of pride and a deep sense of responsibility. She was not just training to fight, but to uphold the values her father had lived by.

As the following day turned to night, the stars twinkled above them, silent witnesses to their journey. The bond between teacher and student strengthened with each passing moment, forging a partnership that would be crucial in the battles to come.

With each strike and parry, Airella’s confidence grew, her movements becoming more fluid and powerful. Jonathan’s encouragement and guidance were unwavering, his belief in her evident in every word and action. They trained until the moon was high, its silver light casting an ethereal glow on the deck.

Finally, as exhaustion set in, Jonathan called an end to their session. “That’s enough for tonight,” he said, sheathing his sword. “Rest now, Airella. Tomorrow we continue.”

Airella nodded, her body aching, but her spirit invigorated. She knew that with Jonathan’s help, she would be ready to face whatever challenges awaited them on the isle. As she walked to her cabin, she replayed the day’s lessons in her mind, each detail etched into her memory.

And so, under the watchful stars and the gentle lull of the sea, Airella and Jonathan prepared for the dawn of a new chapter in their journey. The path ahead was uncertain, but they faced it together, their hearts and spirits united by a shared purpose and the knowledge that they were stronger together.