Rift (22 page)

THOUGH AT FIRST
she’d welcomed Barrow’s silence, as they rode into the keep, his stony expression unnerved Ember to the point that her blood felt like ice. Not once had Barrow looked at her nor had he spoken. When they reached the stables, he barked orders to the servants and they quickly assumed care of the steaming mounts.

Without a word he strode away, leaving Ember with no choice but to chase after him. Barrow kept walking until they reached the practice field. She felt a spike of relief that it was empty. Ember wouldn’t have welcomed an audience for her first attempt at sparring, particularly when she’d be facing Barrow. She glanced at him, taking in his height, the massive blade strapped to his back, the broad set of his shoulders. She shivered but wasn’t entirely certain that fear was the cause for the gooseflesh on her skin.

“Lora!”

After so much silence, Barrow’s shout made Ember jump. He raised his hand in greeting as a figure garbed in a dark gray, hooded robe approached them. Ember’s chest caved a bit. She would have a witness to what was sure to be a humiliation. When the stranger reached them, slender hands pushed back the hood to reveal a face with delicate angles and a head of pale blond hair.

“Ember, this is Lora.” Barrow nodded to the blond girl. “Should you ever need to practice sparring on your own, she can assist you. Rarely is she away from the field.”

Lora smiled. “To be away would be to shirk my duty.”

Ember was puzzling over Barrow’s words, for one surely couldn’t spar alone. Lora’s eyes were on her, so Ember forced herself to smile at the girl.

“I doubt this match will offer much entertainment,” she said. “Barrow could probably beat me if he was blindfolded.”

Lora laughed, but Barrow shook his head. “You won’t be fighting me.”

Ember looked from him to the pale girl. “Am I fighting Lora?”

“I’m not a fighter,” Lora told her. “Just a simple cleric.”

“As if such a thing existed.” Barrow smiled at her and the back of Ember’s neck grew hot. When she spoke, a part of her knew it was only to interrupt their exchange.

“If I’m not fighting you or her, then who is my opponent?”

Barrow took a step back, making a deferring gesture to Lora. The slender girl bowed her head. Her palms rested against each other as if she were in prayer. Ember shifted on her feet. Was this part of their regular practice? Should she pray as well?

She glanced at Barrow, who wasn’t praying. He was still watching Lora. The heat on Ember’s neck prickled onto her scalp. She forced her eyes off them and onto the damp ground.

She drew a sharp breath and scampered backward.

The earth at the cleric’s bare feet was bubbling.

As Ember watched, the ground erupted. Earth stretched upward into a column taller than Lora. The mass of soil expanded and contracted, its shape changing as Lora maintained her contemplative pose. Limbs burst out of the block of earth. Arms and legs of mud snaked out of the lump. Hands with five fingers appeared. A neck. A head. But no face.

Lora raised her head and opened her eyes. The mud creature stood before her as if awaiting her command.

“That is your opponent,” Barrow said.

Ember gazed at the strange form. “What is it?”

“Simply a shape called forth from the earth to which I’ve temporarily lent part of my spirit,” Lora answered. “It has no name, for it is not a living thing. Not much more than a poppet for all intents and purposes.”

When Ember turned to Barrow, he said, “I said you would face horrors because of your calling, but you will also witness many wonders. This is the first.”

“And I am to fight it?” She looked at the mud man—if it could be called that. Its body was straight and lacked defining contours, giving no indication of sex.

Lora lifted her hand and the creature moved, its steps slightly halting. “It will engage with you when I command it. It will also learn from you. As your skill progresses, so will its abilities increase.”

“The earth creatures make fitting opponents when you first begin to fight, or later if you’re unable to find a sparring partner,” Barrow said.

The cool steel of Silence and Sorrow whispered to Ember as she slid them free of their leather covers.

“Let the blades speak to you,” Barrow murmured as Ember and the creature began to circle each other. “They were forged for you and you alone.”

The weight of the weapons in her hands was reassuring. Grasping the leather-wrapped handles felt oddly natural. The perfect circle and interior half circle of the blades shone in in the daylight. Their gleam was subtle, reflecting the sublime quality of moonbeams. The thought sent prickles up her arms as if the energy contained within the blades had seeped into her skin and now traveled through her veins.

She began to move tentatively, sweeping her arms back and forth to become accustomed to the wheels. With each motion the blades hummed through the air, singing their own silvery melody. The strange, alluring sound began to lead her body’s movements. As she flowed over the damp earth, Ember’s arms and legs took on the pattern of a dance that was both surprising and familiar. The mud creature mirrored her movements though it bore no weapons. Behind it, Ember noticed Lora and Barrow watching her, waiting.

Ember struck out with her left arm, bringing the blade up and across the creature’s chest. It feinted and the blade whistled through the air, missing its mark.

“Again,” Barrow commanded.

She jumped forward, this time bringing both wheels up and crisscrossing them in swift horizontal strokes. The blades struck, catching the creature where a man’s collarbone would have been and again at its stomach. Having no mouth, the mud thing didn’t cry out, but the evidence of her blows remained in the chunks of earth missing from its body.

Lora raised her arms and the creature threw itself at Ember. She dodged, twisting around, and struck its back with a series of rapid blade strokes.

With each exchange the creature became more aggressive, its lumbering movements transformed into quick steps that matched Ember’s dance-like combat. The fight continued, and Ember was surprised she didn’t tire. The longer she battled the mud creature, the more connected to her body and the blades she became.

Finding herself crouched low after the thing had knocked her with a painful kick to her stomach, Ember drew on the coil of energy in her chest when it raised its arms to rain down a blow on her bowed head.

Ember sprang up, flying at the creature. She drew the blades in a blindingly swift motion that followed her own path, rising from the ground and tearing through the air. The wheels came up one after the other, connecting with the creature’s upper arm and continuing without pause. Ember sailed past the mud man, hit the ground, and pivoted around, ready for its next strike.

The creature wasn’t moving. It stood facing her but didn’t strike.

A moment later Ember saw the reason for its—or Lora’s—hesitation.

Its arm lay on the ground beside it. Though the mud thing had no eyes, it turned its head to gaze at its severed appendage.

“Uh . . .” Ember glanced at Lora, who calmly picked up the arm and went to the mud creature. It stood still while she held the severed limb to the stump below its shoulder. Earth flowed, drawing the piece back into the body, and the creature was whole again.

Barrow coughed and Ember could hear his laughter beneath the sound. “A point of instruction.”

“Yes?” She didn’t want to turn her back on the mud thing. Though she doubted it had emotions, she still worried it would seek retribution for her slicing its arm off.

“Your blade is sharp enough to take off any limb,” he said. “But under combat conditions your adversary will have muscle and bone to contend with, which puts up much more resistance than clay.”

Ember nodded, tightening her grip on the wheel’s handle.

“And as a general rule you’ll want to kill, not maim, your enemy,” he continued. “If you want to cut something off, go for the head.”

That made her turn, expecting that he was teasing her, but his expression was serious.

Seeing her surprise, he said, “Hesitation will get you killed.”

Barrow’s eyes moved off her. It was only the sound of the creature’s feet squelching on the damp ground that told Ember he’d given Lora some sort of silent signal.

Ember wheeled around to find the mud thing lunging at her. Drawing a sharp breath, she spun around, lifting her blades in a sweeping arc. The wheels hit their mark, slicing through the creature’s neck. Its head toppled to the ground and a moment later its body collapsed into a pile of slop.

She was still breathing hard when Barrow came to her side.

“You listen and you learn quickly,” he said. “Well done. I think you’re ready for more of a challenge. That will be all, Lora. Thank you.”

Lora bowed and, after covering her head with the robe’s hood once more, quit the field.

“Put your weapons aside,” Barrow told Ember as he unstrapped his own sword belt.

When she hesitated, he said, “You’re still acting on instinct, which is fine. But you’ll need to use your mind in battle as well as your will to survive. Until you do that, we’ll spar without weapons.”

She frowned at him, which made him laugh.

“It’s just that I don’t want to lose an arm, Ember,” he said. “We’ll test our blades against each other when you’ve learned control.”

The pride Ember had felt after decapitating the mud creature melted away. As she unbuckled her belt, her confidence wavered. Barrow was right. She might have overpowered that thing Lora had summoned, but she’d been nothing more than a wild thing—an animal fighting for its life.

She set her belt and weapons aside, exhaustion disheartening her as much as the weight of the lesson.

Barrow stood face-to-face with her, and Ember steeled herself for the next round of instruction.

Now that they were so close, she had to lift her chin to meet his eyes. He was a head and a half taller than she and built like a statue. Even if she’d had her blades, Ember doubted parting Barrow from any of his limbs would be an easy feat.

“The clerics can summon creatures of the earth to supply us with convenient practice partners,” he said. “But they are mindless things and only offer limited challenge.”

Ember nodded, rolling her shoulders back to free them of tension. She knew it was only a matter of time—probably minutes—before she’d be asked to fight again.

“In the field you’ll face creatures that embody cunning and deceit,” he told her. “They will constantly search for ways to exploit your weaknesses. To turn your skills against you. If you only lash out against these fiends, you will not prevail.”

Cold fingers crawled over Ember’s skin. “I understand.”

“Know your strengths and use them.” He looked her up and down. “Tell me how you can beat me.”

She stared at him, waiting for him to break into a grin at any moment. He’d just finished lecturing her about how she relied on instinct alone to fight. She had no chance of besting Barrow Hess. He had to be joking. The smile she expected didn’t come.

“Your strengths,” he said again.

“I—” He wanted an answer and she had to find one. But what could he be thinking? She was armed only with the ceremonial dagger she’d been given the night she was called to the Guard. They were on a practice field so she could learn how to fight—but she had yet to gain any skills.

Barrow folded his arms across his chest. “Very well, then. Start with my weaknesses instead.”

“But you don’t have—” Ember bit her tongue, blushing as she realized she was about to proclaim his perfection.

The ghost of a smile passed over his face.

“I mean . . . how could you lose?” she asked while her pulse skittered anxiously.

“I rarely lose.” He let his full smile appear then. She looked away, feeling unsteady, and not just because she still didn’t know how to answer him.

“Let go of your expectations,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and forcing her to look directly at him. “Forget anything you know of me. Look at me as a body—the body of an attacker, an enemy. Your enemy.”

He stepped back to let her assess his frame.

“What do you see?” he asked.

“You’re tall,” she said. “Broad shoulders. I see strength.”

He nodded. “How you do defeat strength?”

She ground her teeth, wanting to prove herself capable, but all she felt was her lack of experience. She didn’t see a way to fight him and win.

“Let me tell you what I see.” Barrow tilted his head, walking around her in a slow circle. “A girl. Sinewy but lithe. And she has fire in her eyes.”

He was behind her when he suddenly lunged at her back. Without thinking she dove for the ground, tumbling until she came up in a crouch.

“What do you have that I don’t?” His question was tinged with laughter.

He stood over her as Ember watched him. She was still coiled up like a cat ready to pounce. When she didn’t answer, he lunged again, arms stretching toward her. She took advantage of her taut muscles and launched over him, pushing off his exposed back as he lunged at her. She landed on all fours and rolled to her feet, ready for the next strike, but was surprised to see Barrow sprawled face-first on the ground.

He swore, climbing out of the muck. “Speed. Instinct. That’s what you have. You’re even faster than I thought—that’s why I ended up in the dirt.”

She was relieved when he smiled at her.

“Again,” he said, lunging before she could raise her guard. Her only choice was to flop onto her stomach, rolling over in the mud so Barrow’s charge took him past her.

“What was that?” she shouted, but she was laughing as she looked down at her mud-covered tabard.

“Payback.”

She laughed, but the sound became a shriek when Barrow rushed at her. Ember tried to scramble out of the way, but she didn’t move quickly enough. Barrow’s arms locked around her legs, dragging her on her stomach through the mud.

“Remember what I told you,” he said as she struggled. “Your opponents learn your skills and adjust their tactics.”

Ember squirmed loose and rolled onto her back, but in the next moment Barrow’s body lay across hers, pinning her to the ground.