She wore his armour. It brought out the colour in her eyes.
“I’m supposed to protect you, after all,” he jested, as he helped with the clasps. It was only a gesture. It wasn’t even a grand piece either; the shoulder was still unprotected. Ah well, it’s the thought that counts.
“And I am quite the damsel,” she said shrugging. It may have been a mocking reply but he wasn’t certain. Regardless, she still wore the armour and like most items of clothing, she wore it well. They walked the first few miles in silence, through thick undergrowth and unforgiving terrain. He marched carefully while she managed to kick every possible loose rock and snap every innocent twig along their path. After a time he could take no more.
“Can you walk quieter, Lea?” he said suddenly. The afternoon heat was now beating down through the broken canopy of greenery. It shone directly into his eyes. He reached for his canteen and drank a little water. Such heat wouldn’t be a problem further south.
“Sorry,” she said.
She knew she was far clumsier than normal. Her mind was preoccupied, what with trying to stifle thoughts of misery and misjudgement. He passed her the canister and she drank deeply. “I’m out of practice,” she said. It was the truth. She wasn’t used to speaking truthfully to him. He took the canister back and shook it. Of course he did. She wasn’t even able to drink water without him having issue.
“We need to get you one of these” he said resealing the cap. He rubbed his ribs and she saw the strain in his features.
“How’s the pain?” she asked carefully.
“It’s fine.”
“We could take a break if it hurts too much. We’ve walked for hours,” she suggested.
“I can take a lot of pain but you’ve seen that already,” he said, shrugging and wincing despite himself.
“It should only have been one fight,” she said quietly.
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry it was more,” she said. Her mouth was dry again. She wanted more water.
“Ha,” he cried out, shaking his head before turning away and walking on. “I apologised in the Cull and you didn’t accept it, so allow me the same courtesy,” he snapped.
“I said I was sorry,” she growled. It was the opportune moment to clear the air but he said nothing. To ignore her seemed like the finer tactic.
“Don’t ignore me,” she said.
He was in no mood to speak aloud, so he skilfully ignored her a little more and felt grand about it until she ruined everything a few miles later.
“Being the son of Magnus doesn’t mean you can have everything handed to you on a silver dish, Erroh,” she muttered.
“I never had anything handed to me on a silver dish,” he said.
“Oh I’m sorry. I meant to say gold platter,” she countered.
“That’s fine, apology accepted,” he growled.
“See, that was easy,” she said, stopping by a tree and leaning against it. Sweat poured down her brow. The going had been tough, but she’d matched his step. Just a little out of practice was all. “I’m also sorry the son of Magnus hated every moment in the Spark,” she snapped.
“I didn’t hate the leaving part,” he muttered.
“That’s because it was with me,” she jested and smiled weakly.
“Aye, that was the reason,” he said bitterly and her smile faded.
He discovered that walking was good because walking was better than fighting. Time passed and their hatred cooled to mere loathing and the world began to return to normal, whatever normal was anymore. He watched the sky and wondered how many silent miles could be travelled before the sun set. They could have a nice fight, once they made camp. It would be better than awkward conversations anyway. He cast a glance back at her and met a hostile glare so he looked forward again. He didn’t suggest any rests and she didn’t either. Her footing improved as fewer and fewer steps made loud noises with every mile taken. Soon enough while taking the lead it was easier to pretend he was still alone out here.
Eventually he slowed and came to a halt by a moss-covered trunk. He reached into his pack and pulled out the innkeeper’s map. It was still true enough for a few hundred miles more, he imagined. She leaned against the log. Perspiration dripped down her forehead, her lipstick had faded, her hair was tangled, but she still looked stunning. Erroh on the other hand looked a ruin. His face was a smear of wilderness, dust, and grime. Worse than that, he felt a ruin as well. The sharp pain in his side had spiralled into complete agony. Erroh was no stranger to this type of anguish. It builds character, his father would have whispered. As was the sound of dislocating bones.
“We’re aiming for this little spot on the map,” he said studying her face as he pointed his grubby finger at a blot on the tattered paper.
“It looks like a stain,” she replied, rubbing her shoulder absently.
He didn’t like her tone. Of course, it looked like a stain, but she didn’t have to say it like that, even if it did look like a stain. “It might be a stain but at least it’s a direction to go in,” he said defensively. It was a fine map; it had cost him a fortune.
“What’s the scale?” she asked.
“It might take us a few more days,” he answered warily. He absolutely did not like her tone at all.
“Long walk for a stain,” she muttered placing her bag on the ground.
That fuken tone. She took his canteen and drank a little too much water again. He didn’t rise to the bait.
“It could be a town,” he muttered, checking the water again. He was thirsty but not enough that he would drink any. It was the point of the matter.
“It’s south and there’s a water line nearby should we run dry. Bad thing to run dry out on the road,” he said.
“We’re walking to the stain then,” she said and reached over and took his flask again. She poured some of the precious liquid into her tangled hair. It felt wonderfully refreshing. The water trickled down her back and she felt even better.
“Are you completely stupid?” he snapped angrily and ripped the water from her grasp. He screwed the cap on as loudly as he could. Her eyes narrowed to cruel slits. “We can’t waste any water,” he said quickly.
“Don’t call me stupid,” she growled, staring at him while still appearing fierce from her sitting position.
“Don’t drink all the fuken water,” he stated slowly in terms that she could understand.
“I didn’t drink all of the water,” she said sarcastically, fingering her long black damp hair. In the heat, steam had begun to rise from her hot skin. She flicked her long black hair back and a few precious drips flew to a beautiful death in the long dry grass. “You’re a fuken ass Erroh,” she said.
“What’s your problem Lea?” he growled, dropping down onto the ground beside his pack.
She faced him, radiant, perfect, and full of malevolence. She resonated a power in her small frame, something he hadn’t really noticed before. She wasn’t defenceless. He could still take her in a fight though. He shook the unhelpful thoughts away. It was the world’s oldest law, never to strike a female. Before meeting her, he would have thought there was no grey area.
“My problem is my not being Lillium,” she answered coldly.
“Oh, that.”
She grabbed her pack in one smooth motion and started walking. Her point was made and he watched her disappear through the canopy of green. So much for the break. He struggled painfully to his feet and picking up his own bag, followed her.
She walked well despite the terrain but more than that, he found her walk incredibly pleasing. He thought about her last statement and felt a pang of guilt, but then thoughts of the arena and her betrayal sprang to mind, and any guilt swiftly dissipated like drying water on warm porcelain skin. He didn’t think she had the right to be as hurt as she was, while he on the other hand was completely justified. Was he even willing to work it out with her just yet? If she fell to her knees and begged forgiveness for her behaviour, would it even ma
ke a difference? Aye, it would. Until the next fight.
A few miles later, she returned from the bushes demanding the canteen to wash up. Erroh refused and began walking away. Another argument ensued. He gave his reason that she was “wasteful with the water” and she referred to him as “a complete waste of a man.” Eventually they decided that completely ignoring each other was the best thing to do. It was fortunate they were gifted in this particular art.
As the frustrating day drew to a close, they began to search for suitable places to set a camp. She spotted the little dip in the ground, an excellent place to camp he had to admit. His inaudible grunt was enough of an accolade. There was no stream or river nearby but if Lea improved her water consumption, all would be fine. As she settled herself, he hid the canister in the bottom of his pack subtly. It was one of his finer plans.
He did his thing with the fire and she was suitably impressed. He set the kindling alight and caught the spark. She watched curiously, as he dropped the first of the pieces of wood onto the growing flame and the smoke sailed carelessly into the darkening sky. He blew at the little fire and satisfied that it would not die out, sat back, and began the process of making the little spit. She looked around, unsure of what to do next. It would take her a time to remember all she’d learned of the road but watching him would certainly help. She’d never seen anyone light a fire that easily.
“I’m sorry I called you stupid. It’s just we’ve got to keep an eye on our water,” he said, bravely avoiding eye contact.
“I forgive you,” she replied evenly. “Can I help?” she gestured towards the spit.
He shook his head removing a chunk of raw meat from his pack. Mea had been kind enough to part with some onions and a little honey too. As if suddenly remembering he was cooking for two, he took another cut, speared both pieces, and set the meal over the fire. The reassuring crackle of a tiny fire relaxed him immediately.
“What’s it like being the son of the great and unvanquished Magnus?” she asked quietly.
“I call him Dad,” replied Erroh.
She sat down and crossed her legs opposite. Her eyes watched the little dancing flames. They certainly weren’t watching him.
“What’s he like as a father then?”
“He’s a father,” Erroh said shrugging. “A good man I suppose,” he said after a moment. He leaned in closer to inspect the meat. It was a small fire and the spit was a little high. Slow cooking was a pleasant way to idle away the evening though. Better that than concentrating on mending bridges with his beo.
“I suppose it would be hard to see him as anything but a good man,” she said, watching his face.
“What do you mean?” he asked as though he was a bluffing player asking what the latest bet was. He never liked to reveal his feelings for his father to strangers.
She saw him clench his teeth but she didn’t care that she had insulted him again. How had it come to saying cruel things for the sake of it? She just couldn’t help herself.
“I meant no disrespect,” she lied, but he said nothing.
Why talk, when one can brood? He just went back to working the meat. The fire was a little small, she noticed. Or else the spit was holding the meat a little high. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take. She wanted to grab him and scream in his face. This was not how it was supposed to be. Destiny was supposed to have brought a great and caring giant of a man into her life: a man she could love and a man who would love her back. Erroh’s beauty had blinded her. He had such an effect on her while she had little or no effect on him. It was heart-breaking to feel like this. Maybe she had seen a spark in him that wasn’t there. Lea held back a tear. If she cried and he didn’t react she would die. Destined love was for young ones with no idea of the world. It was a few years since she’d come of age and she should have known better. Maybe this was what she deserved. Despite her best efforts, a tear formed in her eye, it filled up and in all its melancholy slid down her face silently. Not to be beaten, her other stunning eye unleashed a tear of its own. Would he ever forgive her for the unfair treatment he received in the city? Could she ever forgive him for his own indiscretions as well? The doubts, the terrible doubts had played in her mind all day. They had danced through her subconscious ever since she had made the choice. Perhaps she should have left Erroh on the final day of the Cull, and now things had gradually deteriorated. She knew what was next. He would try to take her to his bed soon. This she was certain of and though Mea had reassured her that there was something more to those pretty features, she still feared. There were flashes of his warmth on their first night together. Mea and Jeroen were an amazing couple and they brought out the human in him. She wiped the tears from her face, rubbed her eyes, but couldn’t stop thoughts about her home. Was she going to follow in the footsteps of her own parents? She felt her chest tighten as though about to break. Her father’s hatred for her mother had never stopped him from mounting her, for they bred a fine family. Neither had told her of their own Cull because neither had visited all her life. She was the forgotten child. She was the lowest ladder in entitlements and Erroh was to be her first proper family.
She stared into the flickering flames and listened to the sounds of the crackling. It brought a comfort long thought lost, but the worries remained. Would Erroh turn into a beast like her father? Some said Wiidenn was a good man, but she could only remember the fighting. Would she turn into her mother? She watched him turn the meat on the spit and fought the emptiness. What was she doing here?
Erroh was master of the cooking. The spit was only a minor flaw in his plan. She sat opposite in silence, which was no terrible thing for her words were a distraction. It allowed him more time to concentrate on the fine art of cuisine and if nothing else went right, Lea would enjoy the meal. He would make sure of it. When the onion was nearly finished, he tilted the meat to let the greasy juices flow into it. Perfect. He sat back and stared at the meat as it began to sizzle. It would need a turning soon but there was no need for salt. Her words still played on his mind. He placed a small piece of wood onto the fire and the sparks exploded into the night. Far above he watched a shard of the moon tear through the peaceful sky burning away to nothing. It was a fine night indeed but he dared not spend too long enjoying it. Reaching over he picked up the little jar of honey, glazed each piece of steak, and dripped a little honey into the onion. He inhaled the sweet flavour but his mind began to sour. They always wanted to talk about his father, whoever they were. Many in the world believed Magnus a barbaric and cruel man. She probably viewed him no differently either. The Primary and the city wrote history any way they wanted. Magnus and Elise saved the world from itself. There were no great records written of that though, were there? Speaking ill of his line wasn’t the best way to endear herself to him.
Two beautiful Alphas sat opposite each other on the outskirts of the unforgiving wastes. They were completely alone in each other’s company. Erroh glanced at his mate and watched a tear run down her cheek. He felt the urge to let go of his anger. To comfort her just like his father and mother would have wanted him to. He watched another tear fall and his heart broke a little for her. All he had to do was swallow whatever pride he had and reach out to her. She looked from the fire into his eyes. He could read the pain in her perfect and cruel face. Erroh looked away and turned the meat.
She watched him and felt like dying inside.
Miles to Walk
It was a fine evening without the sound of thunder nor the touch of a cold wind. The sounds of the forest against the crackling flames played a gentle lullaby, but Erroh resisted the urge to sleep. He had probably gone overboard with the meal but when she accepted her third helping, he knew he’d done at least one thing right the entire miserable day. Climbing to his feet, he removed his shirt and stood across from her. She barely noticed him, her eyes lost in the flames but there were no fresh tears to be seen.
“I think we should work off that meal,” he said stretching gingerly. He was still in p
ain after the day’s walk but pain could be tolerated, especially in the name of some fun.
Her stomach turned and she stiffened in fear at his words. Was this how it was to be? It wouldn’t be rape for they were mated for life after all. Like mother like daughter in choices, and he was just another charming brute with ill-timed desires on his mind. Her fear quickly turned to disgust and she formed a fist. It was a natural reaction. The last naïve belief in love, honour, and hope began to fade away forever and she whispered to the absent gods above “Please don’t.” She knew that furrowing with him was an inevitability. She knew this and embraced it but such acts were reserved for a few miles down the road, when warmth could be shared between them. Perhaps love? Or at least the sharing of primal urges. Please, not like this. Not with venom and bile, still fresh on both their lips. She looked up at his naked chest warily and his arrogance infused her with hatred. A swift strike to his ribs would halt things for the evening but what of the following night? Perhaps it was best to allow events to occur and overcome this misery as soon as possible. She wondered would he be gentle? Would it would be quick? She also wondered why he was walking away.
Ignoring his injuries Erroh reached into his pack and retrieved the two sets of wooden sparring blades gifted by Jeroen. He tossed her a set. As they clattered down on the ground in front of her, she stared in both bewilderment and relief. She exhaled slowly and he thought he almost saw her smile. Almost but not quite.
“Don’t worry, you can leave your shirt on,” he said lightly. He held the two wooden pieces in his hands and patted their tips against his naked chest. “It hurts more when struck,” he explained. He didn’t understand women but he could grasp a little retribution. She was angry. Let her vent her fury. It was his gift to her.
“I can’t beat you,” she said and climbed to her feet. He began stretching once more and she followed suit. Her own stretches matching his.
Spark City Page 19