Haunted By You

Chapter 13 Soul Bonds

Her back hit the dirt with a loud thud. Clarke wasn't sure how many times she had hit the ground in the last hour, but she was starting to get used to the feeling of having the wind knocked out of her... and that probably wasn't a good thing. A voice came from above her. "Nodotaim." (Again.)

~flashback~

She followed behind Lincoln as he led her quickly through the winding streets of the Polis market. Suddenly, Lincoln turned and stopped in front of a vendor, causing Clarke to run into him. Blushing, she apologized and turned to the man. She was slightly confused because he sat behind a small table in front of a rather large and closed off tent. Most of the other vendors had very open tents so you could see their products. Clarke wondered why this was any different.

Lincoln greeted him, "Aris." The man smiled at them, "Linkon. Wanheda. What can I help you with?" Lincoln spoke, "She needs to be fitted." Aris turned to Clarke and nodded, speaking fondly, "Of course. Please, step inside." When neither of the men moved to follow, Clarke pushed open the tent flap and stepped inside alone.

Clarke stepped inside and found herself surrounded by swords of all kinds. From small daggers to long-swords and anything in between. She gasped, they were beautiful.

"Hei, Wanheda." Called a woman, standing from where she had been crouching in front of a small fire. "My name is Henna." Clarke nodded, "Hello, Henna, and please, call me Clarke." She smiled and nodded, "I take it this is your first fitting, Clarke?" Clarke simply nodded, walking to where the woman was setting different swords on the table, pulling only certain ones off of the walls as she kept glancing back at Clarke.

"The fitting of a sword to a warrior is a very sacred action, Clarke. It's an intimate things, the bonding of a soldier and their weapon. You are here to find an extension of yourself. That's why neither my husband, nor your friend followed you in here." Clarke made a soft noise of agreement, gazing at the swords on the table in front of her. "How will I know?" Henna just smiled, backing up to the door on the far side of the tent, "You'll know. No two swords are alike. Each is made to connect with a single soul. When you feel that, trust me, you'll know." She pulled open the door, "When you have chosen, call for me."

Clarke stepped up to the table and allowed her fingertips to run over the blades as she observed them. Some swords were similar to the two she had seen Lexa use. Light metal, thin, and long. Others reminded her of Octavia's. Shorter, heavier, and holding a jagged edge like that of a machete. She noted how every sword she had seen her friends use had glistened in the sun's rays.

Clarke's fingers stilled over the one sword on the table that was so completely different from the rest, and from any she had ever seen. She curved her hand around the hilt and picked it up, and everything inside of her just clicked.

It was medium in length, the length of her shoulder to her knuckled, and just slightly wider than her bicep. Though on the heavier side, it was still perfectly light to wield, and the metal did not glisten in the sun, for it was matte and as black as the night.

She gasped at the feeling and without looking up from the sword she called out, "Henna." When she finally did tear her eyes away, she found Henna staring at her with a huge grin on her face. "Congratulations, Clarke." Stepping forward she kneeled on the ground and raised both of her palms up, "May I?"

Clarke handed it to her and followed her to the fire, watching as Henna placed it into the flames. "All blades are kept dull until chosen." Clarke nodded, crouching beside her. Henna waited for the blade to glow before placing it on her work table, Clarke followed. "Would you like me to add anything to it, Clarke?" She was confused, "Like what?" Henna smiled, "Some choose an inscription to make to bond even greater, though you do not have to."

Clarke thought for a moment and was just about to speak when the woman added, "Just note that anything engraved into the blade will remove the tint, making the inscription silver." Clarke nodded, "A star."

Henna smiled, not looking up, and finished sharpening the blade on both sides. "Where?" She asked, grabbing the tool she needed. Clarke watched from the other side of the table. "A small outline of a star. Close to the hilt on each side of the blade. More to the left edge than the center." Henna nodded, completing the sword and dunking it into a deep tub of water. Clarke watched as smoke rose into the air and the water sizzled against the hot metal.

Henna then repeated the process with a matching small dagger and two black, leather sheaths. She dried the two blades and grabbed the sheaths before joining Clarke in the middle of the room.

Henna strapped the sheath properly to Clarke's left thigh before sliding the dagger into it. She stood and asked, "Would you prefer to wield your sword on your hip or on your back?" Clarke thought for a few moments before deciding, "My back, please." Henna strapped it quickly into place before she pulled Clarke into a hug, "Congratulations again, Clarke." She stepped back and smiled, "Thank you, Henna." They clasped forearms in a traditional handshake.

Clarke stepped out of the tent and smiled when she met Lincoln's eyes. He laughed, "I take it things went well?" He teased as they began walking again. She knocked into him and laughed, "Shof op." (Shut up.)

~end flashback~

Lincoln offered a hand to help her up. "You know," Clarke groaned, "I don't think getting my ass kicked over and over again is going to help my fighting skills." "Okay. We can take a break from sparring," Lincoln nodded to the side of the ring, "Grab your sword."

She did as she was told and Lincoln led her over to a huge tree on the edge of the field they were training in. It was one of the Commander's private training grounds, so there was, thankfully, no one there to watch her fail each time she tried to land a blow on Lincoln.