Dire Sparks (Song of the Aura, Book Five) (8 page)

Elia was surprised and confused by their choice of opponent for her. Tressa was the small Kinn girl she had seen after her first test; at first glance she seemed weak, but some unknown trauma had left her face and body scarred and pitted, and if pushed too far she exhibited a terrible aptitude for violence. Two days into training under the Institution, Elia had seen her stab a fellow Acolyte boy to death with a mess-hall spoon she had somehow set aflame with Striding.

Elia would have to be more than careful, if she did not want to end the same way. Tressa might be a sorry case, but so was she… and none of these Kinn or rogue nymphs had made any move to befriend her. So why did this all feel so wrong?

Stupid question
, she realized.

“
Let the Ringfight begin, and the Ringblood spilled!”
Elia shook all other thoughts away at those words: it was time to concentrate on winning. The problem that she had trained for a week, and they years, was locked from her mind. She would not consider it.

In the shadows at the far end of the Ring, someone moved. Tressa. Elia slunk to the side, mimicking the Kinn girl’s movement. It wouldn’t do to let her get out of sight. There was no Striding allowed in Ringfights, but those Acolytes born to Pit Striding often used their power to hide in the shadows, anyway.

As far as Elia could tell, the other girl wasn’t Pit Striding… yet. Elia herself couldn’t do more than summon fire, and as far as she knew, that wasn’t Pit Striding. Too much was a mystery here… too much…

Blast, I let myself get distracted again.
Elia swung her eyes across the room for any sign of Tressa, and realized with a jolt she had lost her.

Instinct saved her. A whistle like an arrow caught her ear, and she let her upper body twist away from the noise like clay stretched in a potter’s hands. Tressa struck from the shadows, wielding a black staff with metal studs on either end, stabbing where Elia’s heart had been a mere second before.

The blow hit the wall with a
crack!
that chipped the stone wall, but Elia was already retaliating, aiming a quick uppercut at Tressa’s stomach. The Kinn girl was slight, but fast: she blocked and swung again before Elia had time to think. Instinct served again, and she parried… but her luck couldn’t last forever.

I have to get away from this wall, or I’ll be pinned.

Elia poked one end of her stick at Tressa’s face, then spun it around and whacked away at her legs. Her opponent moved to block, but she hadn’t put much force behind the blow: it was a feint, and now she was pressing Tressa back with stabs like the first. The Kinn was never in much danger, but her short size was working against her, and little by little, she gave way.

Then Elia let herself drop her guard in a purposely clumsy attack, slashing at Tressa’s head. The girl ignored the shot, instead cracking her metal tip into Elia’s ribs. But the nymph was ready, bending to deflect some of the force of the blow, and lurching to the side as if it hurt far more than it did.
Hurts bad enough, anyway.

Tressa smirked, spinning her staff to drive it home in Elia’s throat. But Elia turned her stagger into a sideways roll, ducking under the blow. Tressa stumbled, and Elia came up inside her defense. Without hesitating, she cracked the Kinn Acolyte square between the eyes with the thorny end of her stave.

The blow never hit. Tressa had blocked it at the last possible moment, holding her staff in both hands, grip placed wide apart. Then she twirled her staff around Elia’s, banging her hand and jerking the weapon out of her grip. Elia stumbled into the Kinn girl as her staff clattered away on the ground…

…
But rather than try to defend herself, she pushed off the ground with her bare feet, tackling the smaller girl to the ground. It was unexpected, and Tressa couldn’t catch herself before her head smacked the stone. A grunt of pain left her lips, and then died in a gurgle as Elia slammed Tressa’s own staff down across her throat.

Brutal.
But I have no choice.

Tressa wheezed, trying to breathe past the wood on her neck. Her arms were spread-eagled, pinned by Elia’s knees as she straddled her. The Kinn girl’s eyes were blazing with hate. There was a pause, and a silent struggle for freedom as the red-and-purple light played hypnotic patterns across the darkness. Then the Spine’s voice rang out over the Ring.

“
You have danced well, fought well, died well. This Ringfight has ended.”

Short,
Elia thought,
But thank the… It was good it didn’t last longer.
She loosened her grip on Tressa’s staff.
I was lucky this time. What happens when I face-

Her opponent squirmed free beneath her, and pain lanced through her skull as Tressa kicked her in the back of the head with both feet. Elia didn’t have time to feel shocked before the smaller girl had kicked her free and wrapped both legs firmly around her neck, pulling her down and strangling her. Fingers grabbed in her hair, wrenching her head to one side until she thought she would snap.

Tressa’s ragged breathing came in hot bursts at her ear.
“Going… to kill you… wench!”

Elia was so surprised she almost stopped struggling. Wench? That was no nymphtongue word… and Tressa had been speaking the commontongue of men! Could any Kinn possibly be from Vast? She couldn’t find out, if she died now.

Suddenly the weight of the Acolyte’s attack was abruptly pulled off her. She sputtered and coughed, rising on unsteady feet… to find Tressa lying on her side, some distance away. She had been thrown.

Gramling stood there, wreathed in shadow, having appeared from nowhere to save her. Elia knew full well the Spines hadn’t ordered Tressa off her; they reveled in such offenses. So why was Gramling…

“
You haven’t learned yet, have you?” he said, frowning. “You’re getting by, but you haven’t learned.”

“
What are you talking about?” Elia hissed, gathering her wits. This would be bad for her, among the other Acolytes, no matter how it ended.

Then Tressa was up, eyes blazing. With no heed for the danger she was in, the Kinn girl swept up her staff and charged Gramling with a sharp cry. Elia almost yelled at her to stop… but it was too late.

Gramling wheeled, almost without looking, and a white blade flashed from his robes, painted red in the bloody light… and from Tressa’s blood. The Acolyte fell to her knees, clutching the stump of her right hand and screaming in pain and anger. Elia gasped, stepping back, but the Pit Strider barely seemed fazed.

“
See,” he growled quietly, “Even now, there’s still some of the old you left. You’re surprised.” Was it her imagination, or did his voice seem unsure for a second? He continued on. “Fight me.”

Elia balked, shaking her head. Tressa had stopped wailing, instead rocking back and forth and whimpering quickly.

“
Just like her, just like her, just like her,”
she moaned,
“I’m just like the one-hand. Just like the white woman. No, no, no, no…”

Gramling advanced so close to Elia that she could have bit him, if she dared. His face was dark with fury. “Fight. Me.”

“
No…” she whispered, wondering if he would kill her now, and all her efforts at survival would be in vain. Suddenly the scarred visage softened, just a bit, and Gramling grunted.

“
It’s because I look like
him,
isn’t it?” he whispered. No one else could hear, and she didn’t think they could see, either… so Elia nodded, feeling tears welling in her eyes.

Gramling’s frown grew so deep she thought his face would crack… but he slowly backed away, blood trickling down his sword, turned, and vanished into the darkness again. She heard no door open, but in moments she knew he had left.

What would happen now? She barely dared guess. Would the Spines take Gramling’s visit to her as positive, or negative? It could mean her life, now… Then why did she feel so little worry?

I’m thinking of him,
she realized. And not Gribly.
What is he trying to do? What does he want with me?

“
Can’t… can’t… can’t…”
Tressa was moaning. Elia squeezed her eyes shut, and one tear leaked down her cheek from each eye.

I just can’t keep doing this.

Days flowed into weeks. Elia’s body grew lean and hardened, and when she stared in a piece of glass her reflection looked back at her with darkened, haunted eyes. But she was more powerful than ever, in strength and in Striding. The other Acolytes grew jealous of her prodigious talent, whispering insults behind her back and sometimes straight to her face. It didn’t help at all that she was one of the few nymphs in the Sepulcher, and the only one with skin as pale as a human’s.

The only comfort was Tressa. To Elia’s utter surprise, the young Kinn did not die from losing a hand… in fact, it seemed to strengthen her resolve. None of the other Acolytes had been able to put a knife in her back, yet, and she even seemed to be attempting friendliness with Elia on several occasions. Elia didn’t know why, but she accepted it: if it came down to a fight, someday soon, Tressa might be her only ally.

Now though, she once more had to put her thoughts away and concentrate. Through intense sessions of lectures and lessons, she and the other Acolytes were being taught the basics of Pit Striding at a previously unheard of rate. It seemed the entire Golden Nation was mobilized for war, and hundreds of groups like hers were being trained by the Institution to be leaders in the second wave of invasion into Vast.

“
Now shall we learn it, the process of fire-making,”
explained her teacher’s voice, snapping her out of her reverie. She was gathered with the rest of the Acolytes in a long, vaulted hall lit by stained-glass windows. Their teacher, a newly raised Malcyte Pit Strider with limited experience, was placed on a medium-height stone platform just wide enough to stand on. She and all the other Acolytes stood on similar platforms, straining to see in the dim light.

Anticipation filled the room. Most of the Acolytes were too weak to make fire at all, and looked forward to overcoming their weakness. Elia allowed herself some grim satisfaction: at least here she had some advantage, unlike the previous exercises.

“
Assume with yourselves, the First Stance.”
Elia complied, crouching slightly with one fist at her side and the other pointed straight at the ground, her mind focused completely on the task. A trickle of heat ran through her chest, as it always did when she practiced this. It surprised her that Pit Striding was even possible for her… but then, nothing here seemed to follow the rules she had known as a child.

When her legs began to hurt from the strain, the Malcyte licked his red lips and ordered them into the Second Stance. Again, she complied, and the trickle of heat grew stronger. The Third Stance, and Fourth, and Fifth… they were practiced over and over, until she was in the hypnotic, throbbing state needed for Pit Striding.

“
Assume with yourselves, the Sixth Stance.”
A thrill ran throughout Elia, and she knew instinctively that she could make fire
now
, without preparation or training… but she held back. No need to draw any more attention to herself.

“
Assume again, the First Stance… and close the eyes of your body. Open the eyes of your mind. Let the mazes of glass guide you…”
The Malcyte’s voice faded into a meaningless babble as Elia obeyed, opening her mind to Striding.

Something inside her lurched, as she reached for the Power of Sea. This wasn’t right. It shouldn’t work this way… somehow she knew it, and yet… it was happening.

“
Bleed the glass, strike the flame, burn the spirit, fire tamed…”

This wasn’t how she made fire… she was sure of it, now. The sense of wrongness in the back of her mind was almost overwhelming. She felt that continuing to listen to the Malcyte’s voice would either drive her insane, or corrupt her soul.

Don’t do it this way, then.

The solution was so obvious it almost made her laugh. Doing her best to block out the Malcyte’s chanting, she cupped her hands and concentrated on the bending of reality that allowed her to summon flames. The chanting reached a climax…

“
Let the fires of Kerbus fall!”
screamed the Malcyte…