by LJ Swallow
“We don't have all day, Calla. You go first. Or do you want—”
I interrupt him as I slam my shoulder into his chest, hitting a wall of muscle. Rohan catches my wrists, and before I can follow through, he spins me around until my back is against his chest.
“Too predictable.” His arm diagonally against my breasts traps me against him, and I'm immobile. More annoyingly, his warmth and scent from his exertion earlier overwhelms, and my body reacts with something very different to anger.
"Try again." Rohan releases me, and I pull away before spinning around and backing away.
The sun beats down against my heating cheeks, and I move so Rohan needs to squint to see me. I take a deep breath and calculate his next move, and we stand off. I'm distracted by something I hadn't noticed before. There are no sounds around. No birds. I glance over at the woods. Do I honestly want to travel through there? Maybe I should lose this match, and we can go the other way.
Rohan takes advantage of my distraction and steps forward. I duck as he reaches out to seize me again. And again. I sidestep each attempt, and after the third failure, he stops. Eyeing me, he pushes his blond hair fringe from his eyes, and we size each other up once more.
We breathe heavily, and I perspire in the summer heat. With a smug expression, he beckons me. "Let me teach you a few fighting moves. If you avoid me, I can't."
"Isn't that the whole point of combat? To avoid injury?"
"How can I teach you anything if you won't let me touch you?" he asks." I know you want me to."
Luin screeches, distracting me, and I curse him as Rohan grabs, turns me, and squeezes tight again. “Good. But you need to fight back.” With his murmured words, his breath tickles my ear, and the soft amusement fires me into action.
I move my arms up with force. His eyes widen in surprise as I jab both elbows into his throat. Instantly, he drops his hold but seizes my wrists again. Rohan turns me to him and grips me by the wrists, dragging me towards him until we're almost nose to nose. My breath shallows further. This is the intimacy that worried me because there's no denying the undercurrent between us.
But this man is practiced at blinding girls with his charms as readily as the light he brings against enemies. But I can play that game too. I look up at him from beneath my lashes and bite my lip, deliberately coy. "I guess I'm too weak and will need you to protect me, Rohan."
I tiptoe. My lips are closer to his and confusion crosses his expression. I've flirted enough in my life to know its usefulness.
Rohan places his fingers beneath my chin and tips it upwards. As he drags a rough finger across my lips, I catch his tiny smile. He's playing the game. His mouth brushes my ear as he whispers, "Do you really think fluttering your eyelashes would work against an Ebon and his sharp knife?"
I jerk my knee upwards, into his crotch. Not as hard as I would in a real fight, but hard enough for him to let go with a yell. "Maybe not, but that works."
Rohan glares at me, eyes watering, and I feel guilty about the pain I caused. "That's the end of me being nice, Calla," he growls and lunges at me.
We spend the next few minutes dancing around each other, my size allowing me to duck through his arms each time he has the opportunity to step closer. There's something strange about how in sync we are, able to read each other and anticipate each move.
He stops and looks to the sky letting out a loud sigh as we end in stalemate again. "I don't have time for this. We need to leave soon."
"Not until one of us wins."
Huffing, he bends his knees, swaying ready to attack. I charge at him again, but he retaliates, and several seconds later, I'm on the ground. My back hits hard and I'm winded as I'm splayed in the dirt. Rohan's body immediately covers mine, and he braces himself, hands either side of my head, as his hips pin me to the floor.
"Face it. You’re going to need protection, Calla." He says the words against my ear again and his chest pushes against mine as he does. Something else passes between us because there's more than triumph in his attitude. Our eyes meet in challenge again.
A blur of blue knocks the side of Rohan's head. He sits back, lifting his arms to his face to defend himself as Luin flaps into his face. The high-pitched shrieking is a sound Luin saves for times he's either pissed off or desperate for attention.
I don't think it’s attention in this case.
"Get that fucking thing off me," Rohan yells, as he springs to his feet.
I lie back on the ground, squinting into the sunshine reflecting from Luin's wings and fighting laughter. I shouldn't; Luin's mouth and claws could hurt. He dives at Rohan again and again, and every time he looks around the dragonkin flies at his face. And each time, Luin is careful not to harm him.
"Calla!" he snaps. "Tell your pet to stop before I snap its fucking neck."
Luin hisses at Rohan's words.
I crawl onto my hands and knees to push myself upright, still struggling for breath after the fight and from landing awkwardly. "I can ask him, but I told you Luin makes his own decisions."
Luin's flapping slows, his tiny eyes trained on me instead, and he soars upwards before coming to rest on my shoulder. A red-cheeked Rohan glowers back at us as Luin nuzzles my ear through tangled hair.
"Why so annoyed?" I ask. "Doesn't that prove I can defend myself?"
"If that flying lizard is around, yes."
"I'm sure he'll never be far," I reply. "He found me this morning."
Leaning over and grumbling, Rohan wipes at his pants where dirt has stuck to his knees.
"I think this proves we have another group member who can fight." I turn my head towards the cottage as I hear Leander's voice.
He has a pack at his feet and gestures to where Galen walked to feed the horses as Rohan 'trained me.'
"Calla?" Galen asks.
"No. Luin." Leander chuckles. "Come. We've wasted time. We should leave before the sun rises too far."
11
CALLA
I ride with Galen today, less tired and more alert to my surroundings. He doesn't hold me as tightly as Leander did, but his straight figure is as hard and muscular, which surprises me. Maybe because his two companions are built more solidly. I imagined elves as graceful and lithe, as he is, but I’d heard they aren't gentle. I continue to wonder if Leander's of noble heritage. Rohan doesn't argue with him as much as he does Galen, and the two seem to be guided by Leander's decisions.
Luin refuses to sit with Galen and me—instead of perching on my shoulder, he flits from side to side around us. On occasions, he disappears into the trees and returns. Some scouting of his own?
The woods thicken into a forest, tall with branches blocking the sun so only trickles of light shine through. The terrain becomes rougher and the ground boggy. Rohan, who's leading, halts his horse as we reach boggy water stretching across the way forward. The water is covered in green slime and the decaying vegetation smell assaults my nostrils. I hold a hand across my face. The eerie silence continues around, broken only by low croaking from frogs.
"We can't wade through this. We don't know how deep the bog is." Galen gently pulls his horse to a stop and climbs down. Immediately, Luin sits on my shoulder. I'm not imagining things—he definitely dislikes the elf. Remaining mounted, I watch as the men pace along the bog's edge, sizing up the best path forward.
A low whistle echoes through the trees, this sudden birdsong strange as I've heard none for hours. A second whistle replies from a different direction. The three men spin around and Galen's horse whinnies. Leaning forward, I place a hand on his nose and add words of calm.
The whistling grows louder, and the horse more unsettled.
A figure steps out from behind a tree, and the world shifts out of focus as Galen's horse takes fright and rears. I grip the reins, sliding backwards as the horse takes off and gallops into the trees. I cling onto him, summoning my poor horsemanship. Only the nobles in my town rode horses. I've ridden a pony, but he was easily controllable compared to this powerf
ul beast.
The horse gallops further into the trees, away from the men. I'm too scared to move to look behind me as I hang on terrified I'll fall. A minute later, two more figures step out seemingly from nowhere and the horse bucks. I lose my grip and tumble to the ground, landing awkwardly on my side. Two pairs of black leather shoes appear by my face.
I lift my head. Two men stand before me, black scarves tied around their faces covering their mouth and nose. A dark purple symbol is printed on the front. First I notice their unnaturally light green eyes. Then I spot their ears, pointed as Galen's are. They're dressed in black leather too, daggers drawn.
These must be Ebon.
I scramble to my feet and look around. The trees that scratched my face and arms as the horse bolted are thick behind me. How far behind are the others? The horse already disappears from view into the trees, the galloping hooves fading and muffled.
Wordlessly, one elf lunges at me and I sidestep, as I did with Rohan before. The elf grabs my long hair and pulls me back. I wrap my fingers around his to loosen them, frightened to move further. A cool blade presses against my neck.
"Careful. She's worth more untouched," says the other.
My eyes water as I stand stock-still. The second elf's footsteps are light, barely making a sound as he approaches. He peers into my face with piercing green eyes in the palest skinned face I've seen.
"Where is your dragon, daughter of shadow?"
ROHAN
The attack happens before we can catch up to the situation. We'd listened for enemies nearby; looked for tracks on the ground, but saw and heard nothing. When I scouted this morning, did the Ebon follow? I've come across Ebon before, slaughtered some who attacked when my battalion trained close to the stronghold in their territory.
These Ebon are different. Their tracking skills are superior to ours, and this attack is stronger and more precise. Planned.
I race to my horse the moment Galen's bolts with Calla still astride him, shouting at the others to follow. But more figures appear from the shadows, invisible before they pounced.
I know they're Ebon instantly. Their faces may be hidden behind scarves, but their pointed ears and blue-black hair sets them apart from others. Galen's kin are light-haired. These corrupted creatures hair darkened from silver to dark along with their hearts. As tall as us, the men look weaker. But these aren't men; they're elves and should never be underestimated. I glance down at their glittering blades. Especially ones with weapons as keen as these.
One launches himself in my direction, dagger blade flashing. He's nimbler than me, and as he knocks me to the ground, his shirt sleeve rides up revealing what I suspected. The branded mark from the Ebon court—a simple image like a dragon curled into a circle—marks his skin.
I roll to one side as the dagger slashes towards my face. He misses and the blade stabs hard into the ground beside me, succeeding only in nicking my ear. In my head, I can hear the scathing words from the others that will follow this fight—how my decision to push through the easy route brought us to trouble.
"Your fucking horse bolted, Galen. Calla's gone," I yell out as I elbow the Ebon elf beneath the chin. He sprawls backwards and I jump to my feet. I look around to size up the situation. Leander manages to mount up and he disappears in the direction Galen's horse ran carrying Calla away from us.
Galen and the other elf stand almost nose to nose. The elf's dagger remains sheathed and they look wordlessly at each other. Their shared elven origins are obvious in their height and build, but the differences in appearance immediately set them apart. Ebon hair is darker and in the sun this shimmers like a black opal, the blue picked out by the light. Their eyes differ too, the bright green Ebon eyes instantly betraying who they are.
What the fuck is going on?
The distraction costs me as a dagger slices through my forearm. Gritting my teeth against the sharp pain, I draw my sword. No elf with one tiny dagger will win against me.
But I forget how easily they dodge. How in a blink of an eye they can appear behind, and by the time I turn have disappeared again. The elf laughs at me as he lashes out and slices again, across my knuckles. The blood taints my gold ring, which he points to. He dances to one side as I strike out with my blade. "Lightbringer. Where is your Light now?"
Ignoring the pain, I lunge again. I need this bastard dead. My biggest worry is the elves will take Calla. How did Galen not track or sense the Ebon presence? We’ve skirted all towns and villages in order to avoid Ebon and stayed off main thoroughfares. I expected to come across the hybrid wolves who bred with the hounds and overran these woods, but not this.
This time I manage to slice his arm, and he howls and drops his dagger. I'm not a fully trained lightbringer yet, but the Ebon doesn't know this. I glance between the pissed off elf and Galen. What the hell is Galen doing?
"Kill the bastard, Galen!" I snarl.
My elven attacker makes a dumb move. Perhaps he knows he'll lose eventually, maybe he's just not as clever as he is agile, but he charges at me. I shake my head at him, and his eyes widen as I run him through with my sword. I hold the blade in place for a few seconds, eyes on his.
"I don't need the light," I growl. "My sword works too."
"Your crusade is futile," he rasps out. "The Ebon queen grows stronger."
Refusing to reward him with a response, I drag the blade from him. He falls to his knees, clutching his stomach. With one kick from my boot, he rolls onto his back. The Ebon looks up at me, blood seeping through his fingers where he holds his stomach, face draining of colour as his life flows away.
I pull down his scarf and take in his pained features. He spits in my face and I retaliate with a punch to his head.
Leaving the unconscious, dying, elf, I wipe my face and turn my attention to Galen and his silent friend. As the Ebon elf draws his dagger, I charge over and thrust my sword in his back before he can touch Galen.
The elf jerks forward as the blade slices into his body like I cut through butter, but he holds himself upright for a few second. In a hoarse voice, he speaks something in Elvish to Galen. Galen's expression flickers to surprise and then anger, before he turns his back on the elf who’s choking on death.
I drag my blade from the Ebon and crouch to wipe the blood tainting my sword onto the grassy ground. I’ve tried to keep my patience with Galen time after time, but the elf frustrates me. This fight is exactly why: he freezes.
"You need to let go of this dumb control you think you have and stop pretending you’re this soft-hearted creature who talks to trees.” He flashes me a look. “You’re as vicious as any Ebon—stop pretending your court is civilised. Your connection to nature makes you as primal as him."
Galen’s face hardens and a muscle ticks in his jaw.
"Even when your life is threatened!” I shout in despair. “Why didn't you kill him?"
Galen looks away. "Because I once knew him."
12
CALLA
I always thought if my life was under threat that my mind would crumble into fear, and I wouldn't have the fortitude to fight back. Instead, as I stand with someone’s blade against my throat and their cool hand on my neck, I feel as if I'm outside my body looking down on myself.
I can sense the metal against my skin, smell the clove-like scent of the elf whose arm surrounds my body. I also see the harsh malevolence in the other man's green elven eyes as they stare back.
"Your dragon," he repeats.
I squeeze my eyes closed. If I don't see anything, this will all go away. I’ve spent the last day trapped in a nightmare; the type of dream you wake from, sweating, and relieved it wasn’t real.
"You definitely saw the dragon?" he asks the other elf holding me. He grunts a ‘yes.’ "If you slit her throat, I bet he'll appear."
I snap my eyes open. I want to know too—where is Luin? When the horse bolted, he flew from my shoulder, shrieking as he shot upwards towards the tree canopies.
"If we slit her throat sh
e'll die, idiot," the man retorts, voice muffled by his scarf. "If she's a Daughter, we need her alive."
"No. Just cut her a little. I'm sure the dragon will sense her blood and come." The elf holds the point of a dagger to my cheek. "Maybe slice her pretty face."
My head spins as my blood drops to my feet. Blood I know will be spilled.
"Don't you talk, girl?" the other asks, face close to mine.
I stare back, mouth hard and thin. They want Luin? He'll be here soon, blood or no blood.
A sharp pain against my skin jolts me away from my dreamlike state as the dagger's point pierces my cheek.
"I thought she was a Daughter?" The guy peers down at me. "Isn't that why the others took her?"
He examines the tip of his dagger, red with my blood and I swallow. "Maybe she is. Maybe she isn't—look at her. I don't feel any power. Do you?"
The elf snorts. "A shadowmancer doesn't need help."
I can’t move to fight or run and bile rises in my throat as the scarf-covered face remains close to mine. They’re hesitating, why? Last time I was threatened by something, my magic triggered but I feel nothing. Frustrated tears prick my eyes. This is worse than what Thomas attempted to do to me, so where is my power now?
A thudding sound from the trees draws their attention and Leander’s horse appears, kicking dirt up as he gallops towards us. Before the horse stops, Leander jumps from his back and lands square on his feet, not missing a beat. His horse continues through the trees in the same direction as Galen’s disappeared.
The Ebon holding the knife at my throat steps back with his hostage, while the other spins around and brandishes his dagger at Leander.
“Release the girl,” Leander growls and reaches for his dagger too.
The Ebon snorts. “Two of us, one of you? Walk away before I slice your throat.”
“There were four of you. We dealt with two, I suggest you walk away, or you’ll join them in the dirt.”