The Ritual (18 page)

Zash didn’t return until late afternoon, carrying a bundle of sticks that might keep us going for around two days, provided we only lit a fire to make tea, and I busied myself with building a little firewood cone while he wet a flannel, took off his shirt and began to sponge the sweat from his torso. I wanted to talk to him, but could not think of anything to say other than inane chatter, and I was not yet so far gone that I was willing to start a conversation with a remark like ‘nice sticks’.

I was rescued by the return of Shani and Mior, looking exhausted, dishevelled and disheartened. They slumped down on their sleeping rolls without so much as a greeting, and I felt my heart squeeze in sympathy at the dull look in Shani’s eyes.

“Did you find anything? Are the sprites there?” I asked, desperate for some news and anxious that we might have travelled all this way for nothing.

“Oh, they’re there alright,” Mior snorted.

“And?” Zash prompted him.

In response Shani held out her arms. They were covered in small red welts and I stared at her in shock.

“Did anyone say they’re playful? The little fuckers are downright vicious,” she said with uncharacteristic vehemence. “Pinched me everywhere, and I’m not even sure that I saw them.”

“Trakan’s Teeth, Shani, those look nasty,” I breathed before looking at Mior. “Do we have something we can treat that with?”

He gave a helpless shrug. “All I have is poppy juice and that wound salve we put on your leg, and I doubt that will work on these. They’ve not broken the skin, just pinched her.” He lifted Shani’s arm and ran his fingers caressingly along her skin before giving her a mournful look. “I’m sorry, you know I tried to get their attention, but they weren’t having it.”

“It’s fine
,” she said, patting him on the cheek. “I’ll heal. I’ll try putting my sleeves back in, see if that helps.”

Mior nodded, then looked at Zash. “This is going to take a while, you know. To be honest, I’m not even sure we can do this at all. The little bastards really are
fast
.”

“We can,” Shani snapped before Zash could reply. “This was only the first day, and once we’ve seen more of them I’m sure we can do it. I’m not going to let those pests defeat me.” She was looking at Mior with steel in her eyes, and after his initial surprise he grinned and kissed her full on the mouth.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, and I looked away as they shared another, more passionate kiss.

“Right, in that case let’s eat, and then you two should rest,” Zash said with a sigh. “We may be here a while.”

And that settled it for me. Uncomfortable as I was in his company these days, anything was preferable to a repeat of today’s utter, mind-numbing boredom. I resolved to stick with him over the next days, whatever it took.

*   *   *   *   *

Morning arrived and Shani and Mior trudged off again, rather less eager than the day before. Shortly after that Zash stood up as well, but I was prepared.

“You’re not running off on me again today,” I stated, crossing my arms.

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not? Since when do you decide that?”

I sighed, realising I had started off with the wrong tone. “
Fine, I’m
asking
you not to run off on me today,” I amended. “You have no idea how bored I was yesterday, and there’s only so much sleep I need. Don’t go away.” I saw his sceptical look and added, “Please.”

“Right, so let’s say I do stay here today. What would you suggest we do together?” His mocking smile and condescending look made it plain that he didn’t think I had an answer to that.

The problem was of course that he was right: I
didn’t
know what we might do together, though I wasn’t about to let him know that. “Can’t we practice something, like Shani and Mior have done?” I asked instead.

His eyebrow shot up again and his grin turned suggestive, but to my relief he didn’t voice the thought that had flashed through my mind – and evidently through his as well – which was that they had been ‘practicing’ more than just their sorcery.

“Practice,” he sneered. “Certainly. Shall we burgle someone? Oh wait, there’re no houses here. Pickpocketing maybe? Oops, no people. Let’s see, what else is there that a thief can do when there’s no one to steal from? Nothing, that’s what!”

His triumphant smile infuriated me, even though I knew he was right. “There’s got to be something else you can teach me!” I shouted. “You know more than just thievery, why can’t I learn that stuff as well? Did you find a stream yesterday? Can you teach me to tickle for fish? How do you catch a hare with your bare hands? Please, Zash, I mean it. I don’t want to be alone again today. Please, there’s got to be something you can teach me.” I didn’t even worry about how pathetic I sounded – all I could do now was look at him in supplication.

He was quiet for a few heartbeats, his face now pensive. “I didn’t think you appreciated my company,” he finally said, all his sarcasm gone.

“You know better than that,” I replied, looking away. “You still exasperate me, but I do appreciate your company, and I know there are lots of things still that I can learn from you.”

“
I
exasperate
you
? This from someone who’s hot one moment and cold the next?” He sighed and waved dismissively before I could say anything back to that. “Fine. Can you fight?”

“Fight?” I repeated, taken aback.

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, fight. Ever been in a tavern brawl, ever had to fend off someone who was getting a little too familiar, ever had to stop yourself from getting caught? You can’t tell me you’ve never had to scrap with someone.”

“Oh, um…” I scratched my head. “To be honest, not really,” I admitted, almost ashamed. He raised another eyebrow and I spread my arms. “We’ve seen brawls start in taverns, but we always scarpered as soon as that happened. We’re only women, and neither of us is very strong.”

“Strength is only a small part of fighting,” Zash said, shaking his head. “Maybe not so much in tavern brawls, but in a one to one scrap it’s usually deviousness that counts. You’ve not had any of those either?”

“One or two when I was a child maybe, but we’ve managed to avoid them since then, and if we couldn’t we always relied on Shani’s magic to get us out of trouble.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll be able to fill the next few days then,” Zash muttered wryly, and I couldn’t help but grin at him in elation. I saw his lips twitch in response, but then he smoothed his features and turned towards me. “Right, let’s try some basics then. Say I was trying to attack you, what would you do?”

I looked him over – lean but solid and half a head taller than I was – and threw up my hands. “I don’t know, kick you in the balls?”

“Fine, go ahead.”

“
What?
”

“Go ahead and give it a go,” he said, grinning at me. “I can assure you that I won’t just stand here and let you kick me in the nuts.”

I peered at him and he changed his stance, spreading his legs and putting his fists on his hips. “Right here,” he pointed when I still hesitated, his grin now mocking.

I shrugged and kicked out my leg, aiming for his crotch. He moved like lightning, caught my foot before it could connect and held it firmly in his hands. It was not at all what I had expected, and I nearly lost my balance, hopping awkwardly on my other leg until I had regained it.

“Right, so that didn’t work,” I commented when after a few moments he still stood there, holding my foot with a smug smile.

“Nope,” he said. “Now, under normal circumstances what I would do next is twist. Either direction works, though inward is better.” He demonstrated by turning my foot a little, and I realised that if he continued the motion I would either lose my balance altogether or end up with a leg twisted well past what was natural.

“You see?” he asked, and let go when I nodded. “Now, it is of course possible to disable an opponent by kicking him in the nuts, but you have to be a little less obvious about it,” he lectured. “We’re very protective of our balls, and most men develop a kind of sixth sense about danger to that area. You stand a better chance when grappling, like this.” He motioned me closer and put my hands on his shoulders, placing his own on my upper arms. “When you’re this close to someone it’s harder for them to avoid what you’re doing, though it’s still not impossible.”

“In this position I’d use my knee,” I said, and he nodded.

“Exactly. And if you did, I’d do this… Go on, try it, slowly.”

I raised my leg and he twisted his hips away, then dropped his arm and caught me behind the knee. “And then you’re in a similar position, because if I pull up now…” He lifted my leg higher, and again I knew that if he continued the motion I’d lose balance, so I indicated my understanding.

“So what should I do then?”

“The first thing you should do is realise that a man’s balls aren’t his only vulnerable spot, and that not all your opponents will be men. A quick fist right here,” he indicated the apple of his throat, “is often just as effective. And a double blow to the ears will make your head ring something fierce.” He demonstrated that too, showing his cupped hands and how to slap those over both ears simultaneously.

“But those can be blocked too, surely?”

“Of course, but a fight is all about attack and block. If you’re fast enough then they can’t block everything, and you can get in a few good hits. If you lack strength, speed becomes very important. Also, be careful with using your fists. It’s very easy to break a finger or knuckle when punching someone, and even if you don’t, if you deck someone on the jaw then often it’ll hurt you a lot more than it hurts them. Fight dirty; use your knees, elbows, nails, head, teeth even.”

“Right. Anything else?”

He stroked his chin for a few moments, then said, “I think the best way for you to learn is to just try it. I hope you’re not afraid of getting bruised?”

I grinned. “Bring it on, Black Eyes.”

His grin in return was a challenge and an encouragement. “Good. Come at me.”

I launched myself forward, trying to shove my shoulder into his chest, but he caught me without effort and casually swiped my feet out from under me so I landed on my back on the ground, though he slowed my fall as best he could. “Too obvious. Again.”

I spent a while trying to attack him, but every time he managed to block, stop or avoid me, after which he would point out what I had done wrong and how I could score a better result. It was a new world for me, a revelation, and although I was starting to tire I wolfed away my lunch, then prodded him until he laughed, stood up again and resumed my lesson.

Then, early in the afternoon, I managed to drop him to the floor. He tried to scramble up again, but I quickly pinned his arms to the ground by the wrists like he’d taught me, and grinned in triumph as I lay on top of him. “Gotcha!” I crowed.

He smiled. “There you go. It seems you have me entirely at your mercy.”

That slammed me back to reality. I became aware of his body underneath mine, hot and hard, and the intensity in his eyes as he looked at me unsettled me. I let go of his wrists and tried to get up, but his arms darted up, quick as a snake, and encircled my waist to hold me tight.

“Let me go,” I croaked, suddenly afraid – of my own feelings which threatened to overwhelm me, and of where this might go. I could not tear my gaze away from his and felt like I would drown in his deep, dark eyes, full of something that made my blood run hotter.

“Your mouth says let me go,” he said quietly, “but your eyes, Chiarin… Your eyes say something else altogether.”

It was the first time ever he had said my name, and the way his velvet voice caressed the syllables woke a hunger in me that frightened me near to death. I thought I had wanted him before, but it was nothing compared to the need he kindled in me now. And then he lifted his head and his mouth closed over mine.

I had expected him to be teasing, but he was hungry, his kiss demanding. His tongue when it met mine was hot and tasted of spices, and when he put his head back down on the ground his lips drew me down with him. I moaned in my throat – a small, needy sound that seemed to inflame him further, and his hands started to move, caressing my body and tugging at my tunic.

Panting, I drew away. “Zash, are you sure you–” I began, but his mouth came back, silenced me and
he kissed me until I was dizzy with lust.

“Don’t say anything,” he murmured, trailing kisses along my jaw to my ear. “We always mess up when we talk.” By now his hands were buried underneath my tunic, and with a quick motion he drew it over my head, rolled us over and closed his mouth over my breast, his tongue teasing my hardened nipple.

Any further protest I wanted to utter died in my throat at the feeling, which spread through my body with every tug of his teeth, and I realised that he was right, that I didn’t want him to stop – not this time. His fingers trailed fire down my sensitised skin, his hungry mouth made me gasp in pleasure as he laved my breasts, and I wanted him naked, now, right now.

I pulled at his shirt so he ducked out of it, and as I smoothed my fingers down his sweat-slicked back I could hear that his breath came as fast as mine, and heard him moan softly when I caressed his buttocks.