The Sparks: Book I of the Feud Trilogy

by Kyle Prue

  Lilly took a quick glance at the carriage. Jonathan and the driver were arguing about something and didn’t seem to notice her new friend. “Leave me alone,” she snarled, as he took another step. “That’s your one and only warning.”

  The man noticed how tightly she was gripping her sword. He snickered. “I’ve heard a lot about your family, girlie,” he taunted. “You’re supposed to be quick. But I’m the strongest and quickest in the market. What do you say to that?”

  “I’m a lot more than just quick,” she fired back. “Do you require a demonstration?”

  Jonathan had finally noticed Lilly was in danger. “Miss?” he asked as he trotted over to her. “We should be going.”

  The blacksmith glared at him. “Take a walk, slave,” he growled. “Me and your master are just getting acquainted.”

  As inconspicuously as she could, Lilly began to remove her sword from its sheath. Her adversary saw the blade catch the sun and quickly pulled a knife out from a holster on his hip.

  Lilly didn’t appear to be fazed. “Last chance,” she said calmly.

  They had attracted the attention of a few villagers who gathered around to gawk at the confrontation, but Lilly only had eyes for the blacksmith. “You sure you want to do this, woman?” he asked. “If you engage me in a duel, I’m sure it’s completely legal for me to cut you up. Even if you are a lady.”

  “Ah.” She cocked her head and a reminiscent smile crept across her face. “So you underestimate me because I’m a woman.” She let the blade slowly slice through the air. “That’s a mistake.”

  He took a moment to size her up. He was around six feet tall and had a large weight advantage over her. With a glint in his eye, he lunged forward with his knife.

  She evaded him easily, leaving him to slice nothing but air. He recovered somewhat gracefully, pivoting on his heel to face her. He lunged again, faster this time, but still managed to hit nothing. He swung wildly at her outstretched arm and, to his relief, made contact. His knife nicked her hand and a stream of blood fell to the street. He grinned and took a step backwards. “What now, love?” he asked, arms spread wide.

  She held up her hand so that her adversary could see it. Before his very eyes, her skin reformed around the wound and left her with nothing but a quickly fading scar. “Now,” she said, slashing across his neck with her sword, “you yield.”

  His hand flew to his throat. Blood dripped between his fingers and puddled onto his toes. It was nothing but a small cut along his throat; Lilly knew it was not enough to truly hurt him, but enough to make him scared. It would have been easy for her to extend a bit more and decapitate him, and he knew it. He dropped his knife, cursing, and retreated into the crowd.

  Jonathan was trying not to beam. “Back to the carriage, Miss?” he asked.

  She sheathed her sword, eyes still on the place where the assailant had disappeared, and led the way back to her awaiting carriage. “Apparently the road is blocked because of a fight. Taurlum against Vapros,” she explained upon re-entering the carriage.

  Jonathan grinned. “So I guess we don’t have to worry about being ambushed,” he concluded. “Our enemies are busy killing each other.”

  Lilly gave Jonathan a rare smile as the driver directed the horses down an alternate route. Every street in the marketplace was Taurlum territory, but villagers and merchants, neutral commoners who held no grudge against the Celerius house, frequented the back alleys. Nobody tried to stop the carriage again.

  When they finally reached the military establishment, the soldiers on patrol waved them through the giant gates and directed the carriage to the stables where the horses could rest. Jonathan insisted on leading Lilly inside, and even though she knew the military base backwards and forwards, she humored her diminutive servant and allowed him to accompany her to her brother’s quarters. Lilly had grown up playing in these hallways, as Anthony would often let her tag along on quiet days when he worked in his office, catching up on paperwork.

  The small office was empty. “Where do you think he is?” Jonathan asked with concern.

  “He’s just late,” Lilly reassured him, sinking carefully in a high-backed chair. “He’s busy. He’ll be here. He’s expecting me.”

  It wasn’t long before the door opened to reveal Anthony Celerius. Lilly rose automatically as he entered the room, her eyes sparkling but her face arranged in a respectful countenance. Her brother was a large man, and when they were younger he used to hoist her up on his shoulders and gallop around the estate like a pony. Those days were long gone. His broad body was clad in shining armor, probably polished just this morning, and a royal blue cape was draped over one shoulder and connected with a gold brooch that bore their family crest.

  Lilly’s eyes widened as she took a closer look at his face. Anthony once had an iron jaw and long auburn hair, but now his once-youthful face was marred with premature wrinkles and his hair was covered in streaks of grey. Being the youngest general in the history of Altryon was clearly taking its toll. “Anthony,” she whispered, dropping a curtsy.

  He smiled. Lilly was relieved to see it made him look younger. “Lilly, happy birthday, darling girl.” He came forward, armor clanking, and wrapped her in a bear hug. She allowed herself to grin. “We will speak in the war room,” he said, releasing her and nodding to Jonathan, who had bowed so low that he was having trouble standing up again.

  They followed him down a hallway into the renowned war room. Anthony pushed through the door, chatting easily, as if he did not realize how exhausted he looked now. “You remember Carlin Filus,” he said, gesturing to the corner where Anthony’s second in command stood at attention.

  Carlin offered the trio a smile, bearing crooked teeth so different from Anthony’s perfect, pearly whites. Lilly suppressed a shudder. Carlin and his smug smile had always unsettled her; he looked like he knew something she didn’t. He slid his palm over his brown military-length hair and came forward. “Lilly Celerius,” he grinned, reaching for her hand. She held her breath and offered it to him. “It has been too long. How are you on this fine day?”

  She was close enough to see the stubble lining his cheeks. He had gained a fair amount of battle scars during his time as a warrior; most noticeable was a deep cut on the upper right side of his lip that made him look like he was permanently scowling. “I am well, thank you,” she replied carefully. He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it formally, his dark brown eyes not leaving hers. It was almost as if he were telling her something silently with his eyes, that he had a terrible secret that he wasn’t willing to disclose. Lilly felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. Then, with a bow to Anthony, he brushed past Jonathan and hurried from the war room, red cloak billowing behind him.

  Lilly shivered once he was out of sight. “He’s terrible,” she said to Anthony, wiping the back of her hand on her dress.

  Anthony moved to close the door. “You don’t know the half of it,” he muttered as he sank into one of the large chairs. Lilly took the chair opposite his, leaving Jonathan to stand awkwardly by the door. “I assume you’ve heard the rumors?”

  Lilly nodded. Anthony flicked his eyes to his sister’s servant. “Jonathan,” he said, not unkindly, “leave us.”

  Jonathan looked mildly offended. “Miss?” he asked, looking at his mistress with wide eyes.

  “It’s all right, Jonathan,” she said, and he went, head hanging down like a kicked puppy. As the door closed behind him, Lilly abandoned her perfect posture and leaned toward Anthony intently. “Are they true?” she asked urgently. “The rumors? Jonathan can be trusted, you know.”

  Anthony shook his head and replied, “Not with this.” He rose and retrieved a bottle of gin from the other side of the room. With a heavy sigh he sat back down and poured himself a glass. “There’s something very important we need to discuss.” She saw him slide a hand over one of his eyes and she realized he had brushed away a tear. “But before we begin, understand that I love you very much, Lilly.”
<
br />   She blinked and said, “Begin what?”

  “Our last conversation,” he whispered as he took a sip of his drink.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE MARKETS

  NEIL VAPROS

  Neil didn’t know Altryon’s markets as well as he knew other parts of the city, but he knew a few key things. For instance, half the market was divided into stalls for farmers and other small businesses, and the other half was dedicated to large stone stores that sold luxury goods. Most of the buildings in Altryon were several stories high. This was due to the fact that the city was walled and needed to accommodate its rising population. This information, however, did not help him make a decision about which way to run for his life.

  Just as Neil began to gain a lead on his pursuer, the hammer soared within an inch of his head and embedded itself in the wall of a clothing shop. He ducked into an alley, clutching at his chest as he ran. He couldn’t take much more of this. The physical exertion was wreaking havoc on his body. Every muscle screamed at him to stop running, to take a break, but Neil couldn’t risk stopping.

  As he hurtled down the alley, lungs burning, he remembered something his father had told him the very first time he’d collapsed after overusing his powers: “You’ll get older and stronger, and so will your powers. Someday, materializing will feel like nothing.”

  Easy for him to say, Neil thought, pushing his raven hair back off his forehead. Neil’s father was the strongest Vapros alive. He had pushed his abilities past every limit imaginable. He could turn his entire body into smoke, envelop live men, and turn their bodies to ash. Moreover, he could accomplish it without even breaking a sweat.

  As Neil neared the end of the alley, he allowed himself a quick glance over his shoulder. The alley was empty. Darius wasn’t following him; Neil either lost him, or the brute had given up altogether. Nearly crying from relief, Neil let himself stop running. He was safe. It was over.

  For a few blissful moments, the alley was silent other than Neil’s heavy breathing. Then the sound of heavy footfalls came within earshot, and Neil cursed and raised his crossbow. As Darius rounded the corner, Neil fired a bolt; the weapon hit Darius’s forehead and broke, not even putting a dent in the Taurlum’s skin. Darius didn’t even seem to notice. Neil sprinted down the alley. “You can’t run forever!” Darius shouted after him.

  Neil was about to collapse. “If you would hold still and let me shoot you, I wouldn’t have to!” he shouted back over his shoulder.

  Darius roared as he charged after him. Neil loaded another bolt and fired. It sailed harmlessly over Darius’s head. Cursing, Neil rounded a corner and tore down a new street, heading for the square. Darius was gaining, but if he could make it to the busiest part of the marketplace, maybe he could blend in with the throngs of villagers.

  Neil had almost reached the square when he was yanked off his feet and into the air. Darius let out a scream of triumph and threw him to the side, sending him flying into the wall of a nearby store. Darius held his hammer high, posing dramatically for the crowd that had gathered to witness the brawl.

  A broad-shouldered man in Imperial armor stepped between the boys. Neil recognized him as the Captain of the Guard. “Taurlum,” he ordered, drawing a long sword, “by order of the Emperor, I command you to--- ”

  Without taking his eyes off his prey, Darius swung his arm and knocked the Captain of the Guard into a wall, where he left a sizable dent. Darius blinked and glanced at his victim, acknowledging the fact that he might have gone too far.

  Neil lay on the ground, groaning in pain. Darius sneered down at his victim. “Here’s to my family,” he said, grinning. “And here’s to the end of yours.”

  Just as he began to swing his hammer down, a silver blur shot through the air and imbedded itself in his neck. A small trickle of blood dripped down onto his shoulder. The impact made Darius jerk his arm to the right, and the hammer hit the ground just shy of Neil’s head. Darius’s expression changed from savage triumph to one of confusion, and then fear. His precious iron skin had been pierced at a pressure point. He was now just as mortal as everyone else around him.

  Neil staggered to his feet, smiling in relief. “Today is not your day, is it, Taurlum?”

  Darius ignored him. His hand was against his neck, pulling the silver weapon (a throwing knife, Neil now realized) from his skin. “It was a second ago …” his adversary replied.

  “Go home, Darius,” Neil said loudly. Darius growled and held the knife tightly in his fist. A few villagers began to whisper nervously.

  “I’m still strong,” he snarled.

  “Yeah,” Neil agreed, “but I have backup.” He gestured to the knife in Darius’s hand.

  Darius narrowed his eyes. “Who threw this knife?” he roared, spinning to glare at the crowd. The villagers looked terrified.

  Neil was regaining energy fast. “You won’t find her over there,” he said quietly.

  “What?”

  “I said, you won’t find her there,” Neil repeated with more volume.

  “I heard you,” Darius said angrily.

  “You just didn’t understand.” Neil said. “It doesn’t make much sense, does it? Who would have thought, a great Taurlum man like you, bested by a girl?”

  Darius blinked. “Bested by a—”

  Before he could finish the sentence, an iron bar had collided with his skull. He stumbled two paces closer to Neil with his arms outstretched and then collapsed. As he hit the ground, a girl with shimmering ivory hair stepped out from the shadows, an iron staff held loosely in one hand.

  She smiled. “You fight like a girl, Neil,” she said calmly, dropping her iron weapon.

  The crowd of bystanders, realizing there would be no execution today, began to disperse.

  Neil looked the girl up and down. “You dress like a man, Bianca,” he countered playfully.

  She looked down at herself briefly before meeting his eyes again and asked, “What’s wrong with armor?”

  Neil grinned. “Most girls who look like you tend to prefer dresses. Besides, isn’t leather armor a Celerius thing?”

  Bianca said,. “I could wear a dress, I suppose, but I wouldn’t want to drive you crazy. You might get distracted and lose another fight.”

  “I had it covered.”

  She snorted. “Of course you did.”

  Bianca was several inches shorter than Neil and had a shapely figure. The noticeable curves were a recent development that Neil expertly pretended not to notice. Her grey eyes always seemed to retain a smile. She had a small smudge of ash on her cheek. Neil could only guess where that had come from. He glanced around at their surroundings. “You should get out of here before more Taurlum show up,” he warned. “You know how word spreads around here. They’ll be after us both as soon as they hear Darius Taurlum got his ass kicked by a girl from the markets.”

  Bianca tried to pry her knife from Darius’s iron hand but she realized that it wouldn’t budge. “Yeah,” she muttered, “I probably made some enemies today.”

  Neil stared down at Darius’s body. “Are you gonna kill him?” Bianca asked.

  Neil drew his knife. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

  He approached Darius and pulled his head up by the hair. He felt a familiar dizziness beginning to arise but suppressed it. Bianca watched him with quiet curiosity. Neil sighed and dropped Darius. “No, not with all these witnesses…. he’s learned a lesson, I think.”

  Bianca raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Whatever you need to tell yourself,” she said. “I’m sure we’re both going be on the Taurlum’s most wanted list after today, anyway.”

  “True,” Neil said and started down an alley. Bianca followed, matching his pace easily. “But things aren’t all bad.”

  “Why not?”

  Neil grinned and slung his arm casually over her shoulder. “At least you get to walk down the street on the arm of a handsome Vapros warrior.”

  Bianca laughed and ducked out of his embrace. “Yes, it�
�s an absolute privilege,” she said with a mock curtsy, and then she tossed her hair over her shoulder and skipped down the street ahead of him.

  Bianca knew the streets better than anyone else and she led Neil through a twisted back-alley route until they reached the safety of the nightlife district. Neil had dozens of memories just like this one. Since they were children, Bianca always knew how to get where she wanted quickly and she loved to drag Neil along.

  Neil slowed as they approached the Vapros house. It wasn’t a grand, pretentious building like the Taurlum mansion; in fact, most of the building was underground. The only part visible from the street was a small shack with the Vapros crest etched into the side. The family motto was inscribed on the door: “Victory Lies in the Ashes.” Neil put his hand on the iron door as if he meant to open it, then sighed and let it close.

  Bianca offered him a sympathetic smile. “He sent you alone. It was practically a suicide mission. He should be happy that you made it home alive.”

  Neil stared at the ground. “I don’t …” his voice faltered, “I don’t think he’s going to give a damn.”

  Bianca squeezed his hand. “Good luck.”

  He smiled at her weakly. “Please. I don’t need luck. No one can resist my apologetic smile.”

  Bianca turned to leave. “I’ve seen your apologetic smile,” she called over her shoulder. “It needs work.”

  Neil managed a little smirk in Bianca’s direction before he turned and knocked on the heavy iron door.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  VAPROS BUNKER

  NEIL VAPROS

  As Neil stood in front of the Vapros bunker, a hatch about the size of his torso was opened from the inside. Neil materialized through the hatch and found himself face to face with his younger brother.

  Rhys was Neil’s opposite in nearly every way. While both shared the Vapros dark hair and green eyes, Rhy’s eyes were jade whereas Neil’s were emerald like those of his sisters. While Neil was tall and more athletic, Rhys was smaller and more slender than the other siblings. He was a quiet, intelligent type, with hair he kept short and eyes that were constantly darting around. With his innate curiosity, his eyes were constantly wide with fascination.