Bound by Darkness (25 page)

Rusty sneered. “Yeah, but what else are they good
for? If they didn't get to kill all the Others they want, who else would they be killing—us? You know they're all hardwired to swing those swords.”

“So what do you want from me?”

“Nothing you don't already do. Keep an eye on things. When you see something that shouldn't be happening, let me know.”

Rusty stared up at one of the towering firs that surrounded them. “I was sent here by one of the higher-ups who is concerned about the dark turn this sector has taken. If we can build a case against the Paladins, maybe we can force the Board of Regents to clean house and assign a new Regent, one who will get things back on track.”

“They already sent Sasha Willis to do that job.”

Duke threw that out to see how Rusty would react. Did anyone else know about her association with Larem?

“She won't be here long. Her daddy won't let her stay. The last thing a Regent would risk is having his daughter take up with a Paladin.”

Duke sneered. “You mean like the judge's daughter shacking up with Trahern?”

“Exactly.” Rusty cleared his throat and spat. “How she can stand living with that crazy bastard I'll never know.”

Duke gazed at the clouds scuttling across the bright blue sky, wishing he knew for sure if he could trust Rusty. It would be different if he knew who was really pulling the strings, but he understood the need for secrecy.

His companion stood up. “We shouldn't hang out here too long. So unless you've got something to report right now, I'm out of here. Wait fifteen minutes and then leave, too. I'll keep in touch. You do the same.”

Duke almost let him leave, but in the end the rage he'd been fighting since the night before forced its way out.

“Before you go, there is this one thing, Rusty.”

Monday afternoon, Sasha had no legitimate reason to be lurking in the hallway outside the gym where the Paladins honed their already lethal skills with bladed weapons of all kinds. She'd never had a chance to see any of them in action. Well, not before the other day in the tunnels, but that memory was blessedly a blur to her now.

The gym was two stories high, with open windows at the back that allowed spectators to watch from above. At the moment, she had the hall to herself. Every so often, she peeked in to see if anyone had arrived. Okay, so not just anyone—Larem. She was still a mass of unresolved confusion over what they'd done Saturday night.

Oh, he'd fed her a good line about why he needed to leave. One minute they'd been in perfect accord and the next he was running for the hills. It couldn't have been something she'd said, because he'd never even given her a chance to speak.

The jerk. She had spent most of yesterday working up a good case for being mad at him. That anger was definitely part of what she was feeling right now, but that wasn't why she was hanging around. No, the blame
for that could be laid right at the feet of an overwhelming curiosity about what was going to go down once all the players arrived.

Devlin had clearly sided with Larem in that near dustup between him and those young Paladins. Even Trahern had waded in on Larem's side. If she hadn't missed her guess, the older Paladins were really looking forward to watching those youngsters face off against a highly trained Kalith warrior. She'd seen Larem in action and actually pitied them if he decided to unleash on them.

The sound of voices drifted up from the floor below. She edged closer to the opening and looked down. Paladins were pouring in from all directions. Most headed toward the row of benches that lined the walls, shoving their equipment bags underneath and out of the way.

She recognized Craig and his two buddies standing over in the corner whispering among themselves and watching the door with understandable trepidation. Their big mouths had gotten them into trouble. It remained to be seen how much they learned from the experience.

A sudden hush fell over the gym as Devlin walked in with Trahern at his side. Barak q'Young was right behind them, along with Hunter Fitzsimon, Lonzo, Cullen, D.J., and Penn. Obviously, Larem's supporters were out in number.

Her heart did an odd little leap when the man himself appeared. His dark hair was down, and he wore what had to be traditional Kalith clothing: close-fitting
black pants and tunic with soft boots. She ignored the little surge of heat that flooded her veins at the sight.

Larem paused in the doorway to take a long, slow look around, then his eyes suddenly turned upward in her direction. She'd thought she was tucked far enough out of sight that no one would notice her, but she'd obviously been mistaken. Larem stared right at her.

She froze, unsure whether to wave or to take off running. She settled for holding her ground. Finally, he tore his gaze from hers and focused on the men grouped around the gym. It didn't surprise her that the reaction to his presence was mixed outside his immediate circle of friends. Of course, with Devlin and Trahern on his side, the rest of the Paladin contingent couldn't say much.

Larem stripped off his shirt, tossed it on the bench, and then did a series of stretches. God, she had it bad. All she could do was think about how amazing those supple muscles and that sleek skin had felt as he'd surged over her, in her. She'd like to think he was showing off a bit because she was watching, but for all she knew, this was his normal warm-up routine.

Finally Devlin stuck two fingers between his lips and let loose a shrill whistle. Silence settled over the room. He looked around, nodding at a few of the men as he did.

“Okay, we've got a little something extra planned for today's practice. Larem q'Jones is here to give some special training to Craig and company.”

Devlin took a minute to look around again. “It seems every so often I have to remind some of you that the Kalith
warriors who live among us do so because they've earned that right with their courage, their loyalty, and their blood. I will not tolerate anyone treating them with anything less than the respect they deserve.”

Trahern and the rest of Larem's friends spread out around the room, their stances relaxed. But even from up above she could tell there was nothing relaxed about the way they watched the others in the gym.

When Larem was ready, he picked up his sword. Was it the same one he'd carried in the tunnels the other day? The shape was similar, but she couldn't be sure. There was no way to miss how comfortable he looked with the weapon in his hand, as if it were an extension of his arm.

When he walked to the center of the floor, Barak came with him, his own sword in hand. The two Kalith warriors faced each other, smiling briefly before putting on their game faces.

Devlin spoke up again. “Barak and Larem have agreed to give us a demonstration of the Kalith style of fighting before they work with a few chosen Paladins.”

He shot a dark look to the corner where Craig and his friends looked a bit sick. Devlin obviously took pleasure in their discomfort. In some ways, she felt bad for the kids and wondered at Devlin's reasons for insisting on humiliating them in front of their peers. Obviously he had a point to make.

At some invisible signal, Barak and Larem charged at each other, shouting their challenge in their native language. When their swords clashed together, she grabbed the edge of the windowsill and held on for dear life.
Their blades were a blur of motion, the two swordsmen moving with terrifying grace.

As the bout continued, the Paladins gradually gathered closer, no doubt as entranced by the amazing display as Sasha was herself. How could the human body move that way? Of course, they weren't really human, but any differences were negligible. She had firsthand knowledge on the subject.

Gradually, the two men slowed down and then separated. With another nod and wider smiles, the bout was over. Applause broke out as Devlin tossed Barak a towel. Lonzo held one out to Larem along with a bottle of water. He took a long drink before handing it back. A quick swipe with the towel and then he headed back out onto the gym floor.

This time Hunter joined him, sword in hand. Once again, the two men saluted each other before the weapons came up and the action started. Their styles were markedly different but equally lethal. Hunter favored one leg as the match wore on, but he didn't back off at all. When he lunged forward at the wrong time, though, Larem hooked the Paladin's sword and yanked it out of his hand, sending the blade clattering across the gym floor.

Hunter froze, staring down at the curve of Larem's sword poised just shy of his carotid artery. His smile was slow in coming but no less genuine for the delay.

He backed away, laughing and shaking his head. “Damn it, man, that's the third time I've fallen for that maneuver.”

Larem switched his sword to his left hand and held
his right out to Hunter. “We'll keep working on it until you learn to block it.”

The two men shook hands, and Hunter clapped Larem on the shoulder before retiring from the floor. “I keep telling myself one of these days I'll actually win one against you, but thanks for not embarrassing me completely.”

“You're welcome, my friend.”

Larem stayed where he was. He ran a finger along the edge of his sword, perhaps checking it for damage. As he lowered it back to his side, he looked to where Craig stood watching, holding his own sword in a tight-fisted grip. Larem motioned for the young Paladin to come forward.

Sasha could feel the tension ramping up in the gym as the two men faced each other. The situation had the potential for turning ugly fast. She crossed her fingers and hoped for the best.

Larem studied his new opponent. They were about the same height, but Craig carried more muscle than he did. Without having seen the young Paladin in action, he figured his fighting style would be similar to Trahern's—more strength than finesse—although he could be wrong.

“Shall we?”

There was a certain determined grimness in Craig's expression as he nodded and brought his sword up into fighting position. Larem had to give the kid credit for facing him without flinching.

With a quick flick of his blade, Larem signaled that
the dance was on. Within seconds he was impressed. Craig's technique was rough around the edges, but he definitely had the potential to be one of the best. He'd never be fast enough to master the style that Barak and Larem used, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be just as lethal.

Larem flashed back to when he used to train recruits back in his own world, loving the challenge of tailoring the lessons to best suit each individual. Craig was a quick learner, countering when Larem deliberately left him an opening. The second time, though, Larem hooked the kid's sword and came close to striking it out of his hand.

He danced back out of the way and held his hand up to signal a stop. Craig retreated, his attitude clearly suspicious when Larem moved to stand beside him.

“You'll get yourself killed if you make that mistake in battle. Watch me.” Then he went through the correct maneuver in slow motion, repeating it several times.

“Now you.”

Craig mimicked his technique, flinching only slightly when Larem took hold of the kid's thick wrist and corrected the angle just a bit. “Good. Go through that several times slowly so that you do it right. Rushing only reinforces bad habits.”

At least the kid listened. After a few more repetitions, Larem faced off against him again. “Okay, bring it on.”

This time the young Paladin grinned, clearly loving the challenge. They both went at it full tilt, laughing when one or the other managed to score. Larem finally
called a halt when he could tell the younger man was tiring. There was no use in risking injury to either of them by continuing.

Maybe next time their paths crossed, the encounter would be a peaceful one. To his surprise, Craig held out his hand.

“I apologize for my behavior the other night, sir. I'd heard that you and Barak were handy with a sword, but you're flat-out amazing. I appreciate the lesson.”

Larem accepted the peace offering. “Anytime. And I mean that. You have great potential. If you and your friends would like me to work with you, don't hesitate to call me.”

“I will, sir.” Craig looked past Larem. “I guess I'd better go let Devlin pound on me some.”

“Go easy on him, Craig. No use embarrassing him in front of everybody.”

Larem was fully aware that Devlin and Trahern had walked up behind him. His new friend tried unsuccessfully to hide a grin, a mistake he'd no doubt pay for with a few bruises. Luckily, his Paladin DNA meant he'd heal quickly.

Devlin gave them both a narrow-eyed look. “Craig, go guzzle some water and collect your buddy. I'll be ready for you in a couple of minutes.”

Craig gave Devlin a sloppy salute. “Yes, sir.”

But before walking away, he turned back to Larem. “If you meant what you said, I will be calling you.”

Larem nodded. “I'll look forward to it.”

When he was gone, Devlin smiled at Larem. “That was well played. Looks like you've gained a friend—and a student. You down with that?”

Devlin was well aware of Larem's conflicted feelings on the subject of helping the Paladins in a way that would be used against his own people. However, this was his world now, and he needed to feel useful.

“Yes, oddly enough, I am. Especially because with a little help, in a couple of months he'll rival you and Trahern on your best day.” He wiped down his sword, checking for any nicks to be smoothed out.

Trahern looked skeptical and a little insulted. “Care to put some money on that?”

“Sure. Say ten dollars? In two months, he'll face one of you in a match and win.”

“A measly ten bucks?” Trahern snorted. “That's what I thought. You don't think he can do it.”

“Okay, make it a hundred.” A bet Larem was sure he was going to win. “Unless you're afraid Brenna will kick your ass when you lose the grocery money.”