Errant Spark (Elemental Trials Book 1)

by Ronelle Antoinette

  “Mmm, Plamen works his forge tonight,” Jex observed around a mouthful of bread, “Wonder what he’s making?”

  Enari didn’t answer and after a moment, he tried again.

  “Did the kvinna speak truth? Are you really still a novice?” He used the remaining crust to mop out his bowl before licking his fingers and wiping them in the grass beside him.

  She nodded, still not looking at him.

  “May I ask how old you are?”

  It was a rude question to ask a woman, he knew, but he’d been watching her all afternoon and hadn’t been able to guess her age. ‘Young’ was all he’d determined for certain. Probably too young.

  Using a stick, she drew a number in the dirt and his conscience eased. Eighteen. Not too young, then, or at least not so much that he felt guilty for looking. And he definitely had been looking. Couldn’t blame a man, really.

  Well, the kvinna probably would. She seemed the excessively protective sort.

  “I have a sister about your age, back in Rowan. Not as quiet as you, though,” he mused, hoping to at least get a smile out of the girl. She was exotically appealing and he could only imagine how much more radiant she would be if she smiled.

  Enari stood quickly. She didn’t know how to fend off interested men and retreating to bed seemed like the easiest way out of this awkward situation.

  “Novice!” one of the guardsmen called out. To Jex, he sounded more than a little drunk. “If you be done with that pretty boy, come and spend time with a real man. The night promises to be chill, but I’ll warm you well if he won’t!”

  Jex rose to his feet upon seeing her uncertainty and embarrassment.

  “You!” he called back, “Didn’t your mother teach you how to address a lady?”

  “Mind your own business, mage,” the man retorted. He got up unsteadily and swaggered towards Enari. She hurriedly backed away, eyes darting left and right as she sought an avenue of escape.

  Before the man could reach her, Jex stepped up and put his palm in the center of the other’s chest. He gave him a stiff shove, eyes dark with menace.

  “Don’t be a fool. I wasn’t sent to protect these women from their own escorts but I will. I suggest you find your bedroll, friend,” he said dangerously, “Sleep it off, or you’ll be no good to anyone on the morrow.”

  Enari stared at the pair with round eyes. The mage didn’t even know her, yet here he was, protecting her honor like she was some grand lady.

  After a moment of glaring at each other, the guardsmen broke eye contact first. Muttering sullenly under his breath, he retreated and Jex released a sigh. He really hadn’t wanted to fight the drunken lout, even though he was confident he’d have won.

  “Silent little thing, aren’t you?” Returning his attention to Enari, he reached out and touched her cheek gently.

  Weariness in blurry waves of gray, spikes of hard red adrenaline and anger, fading sparks of vibrant blue lust... Goddess, she’d be so pretty if she smiled. Too pretty to stay much longer in a group of men with no one but her Sura to look after her. Stupid, stupid to send such a small party across so much open land.

  Quiet thunder of a rapidly pounding heart, the sharp tang of fear-sweat, nervous little brown mouse… That man almost…he could have…and the mage. I don’t even know him, he doesn’t know me, but he stopped the other one. His hand is on my skin and…

  Starting in alarm, Enari recoiled and the string of awareness that was and wasn’t hers snapped like gossamer thread. She took a quick step back and the sudden movement unbalanced her. Her sore leg muscles were unable to compensate and with a surprised gasp, she fell onto her bottom in the dirt. Jex looked down at her, clearly as startled as she.

  A heavy hand grabbed the back of his tunic and the grizzled old guard captain shook him roughly. His voice was deep and his accent was rough. “She dun’a like to be touched, mageling. Keep your mitts to yourself!”

  “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know, I,” Jex stuttered and cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he finished lamely, looking back and forth between Enari and the captain, as if unsure who he was actually apologizing to. He offered her a hand up, took a look at the captain’s face, and put both of them in his pockets.

  “You alright, little mistress?” the captain asked Enari.

  She nodded and climbed stiffly to her feet, brushing dirt from her trousers.

  “I’m sorry for startling you, Nani,” Jex apologized again. Enari smiled and waved it away. He frowned at the captain and opened his mouth.

  As if guessing the younger man’s thoughts, the captain shook his head. “She dun’a speak, either.” He narrowed his eyes threateningly at Jex, thick brows beetling down even further. “But dun’a you be going and thinking she be stupid for it, mage. She ain’t.”

  Jex held up his hands in placation and took a step away. “I would never!”

  “See that you dun’a.” With that, the captain strode away into the darkness. Jex made a face and gestured rudely at his retreating back. Enari covered a smile.

  Turning back to her, he raised a speculative eyebrow and put his hands on his hips. “He wasn’t having me on, was he?”

  Enari’s expression turned distant.

  “Alright, alright. Keep your secrets.” His eyes darted to the bowl of stew she’d somehow managed not to drop or spill all over herself. “Are you going to eat that?”

  * * *

  The beast absolutely would not mind.

  Enari prodded the pony impatiently with her heels in an attempt to urge it out of its rambling gait and into something that resembled speed. She shifted awkwardly and had the sense of losing her balance. Dropping the reins, she grabbed the pommel to steady herself and waited for the brief sense of vertigo to fade.

  “If you sit up straight and relax, you’ll be more comfortable,” a voice announced from her left. Enari glanced up and scowled at the battlemage. He swayed easily in his saddle, reins dangling loosely from one hand as he watched her. She wanted to slap the smug look right off his face.

  “You don’t ride much at the Temple, I presume.” He popped a fresh blackberry into his mouth. She’d seen him leaning over and plucking them from bushes alongside the road all morning and envied his confidence in both his mount and his own horsemanship.

  She shook her head and nearly went over the saddle horn as the devil-pony ambled to the side of the road and ducked its head to pick at the grass. She yanked on the reins and the pony crow hopped sideways, eyes rolling.

  “Stop that!” Jex reprimanded sharply, “You’re hurting her!”

  Swinging a leg over the bay’s back, he slid to the ground and stepped to the pony’s head. He caught the bridle and gently pulled with one hand, tugging the reins loose from Enari’s clutching fingers with the other. Petting the pony’s nose and cooing softly under his breath, he led them forward. His own horse followed obediently.

  “The reins will give your mount a clue as to which direction you want her to go, but you guide her with your legs,” Jex instructed, continuing to walk at her side and still holding the pony’s bridle. He reached to put a hand on Enari’s knee, but remembering the odd encounter and the captain’s warning of the night before, stopped short of touching and looked up, raising a dark eyebrows in question.

  He was waiting for her permission to touch her and Enari felt an odd lightness in the pit of her stomach. No one, not even Vasi, had ever actually asked before and she was a little taken aback. The pony carried her forward several steps before she slowly nodded her consent. She took a breath and held it, fighting the urge to close her eyes as his hand settled lightly.

  His touch, even through her trousers, was warm and not at all uncomfortable and she released her pent-up breath on a quiet sigh of relief. Jex’s lips twitched in the barest hint of a smile, but he otherwise pretended he hadn’t noticed her reaction or the lingering tension in her posture. He squeezed ever-so-slightly and she trembled beneath his palm.

  “To turn left, pull back with a gentle press
ure on the rein in your left hand. Squeeze back, don’t tug, and continue contact on the right rein to control the amount of bend she’ll take as she turns.” He stopped walking and pressed on the outside of her left thigh as she pulled gently on the rein in her left hand. “You want her to turn around your leg. Like this.”

  To her delight, the pony turned smoothly left, making a full circle around the motionless man.

  “Very good. Now turn her to the right,” Jex directed, clearly relishing the role of teacher. He released the bridle and moved out of the way. Enari pulled with her right rein and pressed her right leg into the pony’s side, but too hard. This turn was less smooth and Enari felt herself sway.

  “You’re too tense, but I don’t know that I can help you with that while I’m down here and you’re up there, Nani.”

  There was that name again. Enari knew she should probably be offended, but the more he called her that, the more she though she liked how it sounded.

  “Enjoying yourselves, youngins?”

  They glanced up to find the grinning captain beside them. Enari hadn’t even heard his big roan approach, and that bothered her a little. She was usually acutely aware of her surroundings and the people in them.

  “The kvinna asked I check on you, little mistress, as you seemed to be falling behind a wee bit. And you, mage. Are you behaving?” he regarded Enari. “He ain't bothering you, is he?”

  Enari shook her head emphatically and smiled shyly.

  The captain nodded. “Good. Catch up to the rest, now. Both of you.” Clucking to his horse he trotted ahead to rejoin the rest of the party, casting watchful glances back at them as he went.

  “Old grump,” Jex muttered. Enari nudged his shoulder with her knee in rebuke. Captain Bohlale may have been gruff, but he was a kind man and he meant well.

  Still grumbling, Jex swung back into his own saddle and watching her out of the corner of his eye, he tried not to smirk.

  “You sit too stiffly. It makes her nervous and just as uncomfortable as you are. That’s why she’s so disobedient and keeps trying to throw you off. I’d throw you, too, were I her.”

  In response to the unasked for criticism, Enari used the gesture she’d seen him give the captain’s back the night before. Later, she would blame the heat for her rudeness.

  Instead of taking offense, Jex threw back his head and laughed, the sound startling a covey of little brown pheasants into panicked flight. Before she could blink, he drew alongside the pony, reached over, and scooped her out of her own saddle. He deposited her in front of him, shifting his position slightly to make room for her. Her body went completely rigid in shock at so much contact with another person.

  “We’d never catch up at the pace you’re riding.” he informed her, “not without you falling off and breaking your neck, anyway. I’m sure someone would find a way to blame me for that.”

  The explanation barely registered as she fought to control her panic. It was too much, he was too close, and she couldn’t breathe.

  “Relax,” he said after a moment, using the same gentling tone on her as he’d used on the pony. “I’m not going to hurt you, I swear. Sit up straight, but don’t stiffen your spine. That’s why you hurt at night.” He rubbed his thumbs in little circles down her back, kneading the stiff muscles before moving both hands to her hips and trying to coax them to sway with the motion of the horse.

  She tried to do as he bid her, but it was impossible with him pressed against the length of her back and his hands on her. Never in her life had she been touched so intimately and part of her mind screamed at her to scramble down and run.

  But another, a new part, urged her to stay where she was. He was…very male, and very different. The butterflies started up in her belly in earnest now.

  “The Horsemaster at the Tower is a Hendai tribesman and there are no riders to equal them in all the three kingdoms. Have you ever met one?”

  Enari shook her head, mind filling with images of the barbarian half-horse-half-men that had been described by older novices. She shivered a little.

  “That’s a pity. They’re magnificent people. Anyway, he told me once that riding a horse well was like making love. Your movements should be fluid, natural, and in tune with your mount.” He chuckled at the look on her face as she gazed over her shoulder at him. “A vulgar metaphor, to be sure, but not wrong. Although you’re too young for it, I suppose.” He seemed to search for another description, came up empty, and shrugged. They rode on in silence.

  * * *

  Vasi had been keeping an eye on her apprentice and Battlemage Xander all morning. She had been willing to grant the mage a small measure of respect when she saw him dismount to help Enari, and had been shocked beyond words when the young woman allowed him to touch her without a violent recoil.

  But grudging respect swiftly changed to outrage when he reached over, plucked her apprentice from her pony, and settled her in front of him in his own saddle. Panic crossed Enari’s face and her whole body went rigid.

  Kneeing her gelding a bit roughly in her haste, she began to turn and head back, intending to put the man in his place at last. How dare he lay hands on her apprentice in such a way?

  “Peace, Kvinna. I dun’a think he means her harm,” Captain Bohlale spoke from her side, reaching out to lay a hand on hers. “The little mistress does need the help. She truly is the most unnatural rider I ever did see in all my years.”

  “But—”

  “Arrogant little dandy, I know. He grates on the nerves sure, but you must admit the lad certainly can ride. I’ll whip him for you later, if it soothes your feathers some.”

  “No,” Vasi grated, “Battlemage Xander may no longer be the High Mage’s apprentice, but he is still subject to his authority. I’ll speak to Eryk about this when we get to Rowan and let him do it.”

  The captain’s grin widened. He’d just bet she would…or do it herself more likely if the boy continued to tempt his fortune. He eyed her in appreciation. She was a fine woman, was Kvinna Vasi, and no mistake.

  After several moments of silence, he spoke again, “Vasi, I think it be good for the little mistress to get used to being touched by others. You’re taking her to Rowan, and there be many there who will bump and jostle, mostly without meaning to. She needs to get used to it at some point, and better now than in a crowd.”

  Or in front of the court jackals.

  Vasi looked on the man with a newfound admiration. Simple Zyrite tribesman he might be, but Captain Bohlale was wiser than she’d given him credit for, and he was correct, of course. Rowan was vast and the Imperial palace was a crowded place. Many of its occupants would not be as understanding of Enari’s sensitivities as the kvinnas were. Better to get her ready now, though it pained her to think of the discomfort she knew her apprentice would experience. And Enari did seem to tolerate the mage’s touch…perhaps a little too well.

  She would watch them closely, and make sure to put an immediate stop to things if he became too impertinent. Though she would hold her tongue for now, she still planned to have a private discussion with Eryk when they reached the Imperial city.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The book lay open on the floor, its pages illuminated by the barely adequate glow of candles. The air was still, quiet, the night seeming to hold its breath in anticipation of the impending storm. Lightning flickered beyond the window, though the roll of thunder was not heard for several long seconds. The tempest was still distant, but approaching rapidly. The next flare of light was followed more quickly by the basso rumble.

  A robed and hooded figure knelt within a diamond of silver dust, a lit white candle at each of the four points. A whispered chant filled the room and a slim hand occasionally reached out to turn a page.

  Beyond the northern point of the diamond, a mist began to form. It billowed and swirled, rising from the floor in a rotating pillar of fog as it slowly coalesced into the figure of a man. Though the face could not be seen, there was no doubt as to the gender of th
e summoned.

  He was tall, taller than any mortal man, and lean, with the air of a large cat stalking prey. His armor was plain, unadorned by any crest or symbol, but of exquisite, unearthly craftsmanship. It reflected the wildly dancing candle flames in tiny flashes that hurt the eyes. The naked sword in one gauntleted fist was likewise unadorned, save for the large moonstone in its pommel. The visor on his helm was lowered, but through twin slits, two points of glacial blue light burned like cold fire.

  “You dare to come before me so covered?” rasped a voice. The sound was cold, the words like winter sleet hurled against the senses; stinging, bitter, biting. It was alien and terrible.

  “I did not know what garb was appropriate, my lord,” came the trembling reply.

  “Once only will I overlook such disrespect,” the armored figure warned. He stood utterly still, but the threat in his voice was unmistakable. The hooded form touched its head to the floor.

  “You are most gracious, Guardian.”

  “Why have you summoned me, mortal?”

  “I seek the power to right a wrong, address an injustice done to me,” the supplicant hissed.

  “The Consorts do not give freely.” Contempt, disdain, boredom.

  “With your permission, Great One, may I rise and present my offering?”

  The helmet bobbed once and the hooded figure rose. It glided to the corner and drew forth a struggling child. The little boy was gagged, his hands bound, wide green eyes bulging in abject terror. The front of his worn trousers turned dark as he was pulled into the flickering light and the reek of urine filled the small chamber. He was pushed to his knees, his head yanked back by a fist in his riot of ebon curls. A little whimper of panic escaped the gag.