He knew he was a good swordsman, even though his weapon of choice were the blades of his trade. He had no difficulty believing he could defeat any warrior in combat, but he wasn’t fighting an ordinary warrior.
Cax knew what sorcery felt like, and the power swirling around him was supernatural. He jerked back from the specter, spun, and tilted his body to kick. His heel caught the warrior in the face, and he staggered back.
“Who are you?” Cax demanded, breathing heavily. “You’re a sorcerer, don’t deny it. The alchemy that swirls in my blood can detect yours.”
Through the chamber a whisper sounded, so soft he barely heard it. Was it Ali? Was Ali talking to him? Without thought he turned to the corridor where Hark’s voice had come from, although he had no idea why.
The air around the specter suddenly shimmered, and another image appeared in front of him, misting together, taking on human form. It was Ali, laying lifeless upon the ground. Laurltrant stood over him, triumphant. Cax staggered back, his heart missing a beat. He shook his head, trying to deny what he saw as he collapsed to his knees, the sword falling helplessly from his hand. Cold air, colder than the chamber they were in, hit him squarely in the chest.
“Stop it,” he whispered. “This isn’t real. It can’t be real!”
The specter returned, attacking. For a split second, Cax had the thought to let the blade finish him. If Ali was dead, how could he go on? How could he face Hark with the knowledge that he’d let their mate die? He could’ve fought harder, could’ve done more, been less indecisive.
But the thought of Hark had him picking up his sword and meeting the specter’s downward thrust. He may want to curl up and die along with Ali, but Hark needed him. He couldn’t give up. He went on the offensive, knowing that he had to help Hark, so he pushed back the spellbinding fear the specter had instilled in him and fought. Over and over he rained blows, until the specter fell upon his back and the sword fell from his hand.
“Go back to whatever hell you came from, Sorcerer!”
He twisted his blade around in his hand and rammed it through the specter’s chest, pinning him to the ground beneath.
Instantly, the cavern disappeared, and he opened his eyes to see Hark and Ali kneeling over him. The heaviness of knowing Ali had died lifted instantly, and he reached for the younger man. Ali gripped his hand tightly.
“You’re alive!” he gasped, then started coughing. “What the hell happened?”
“Careful,” Hark warned. “We’re all feeling the effect of that cursed purple toxin we drank.”
Cax tried to move, but his body felt tingly, as if a thousand needles started pricking his skin. A bitter taste lingered in his mouth as whatever power had brought him to that cavern slowly faded. He blinked and stared up into the concerned eyes of Hark.
“My throat is dry,” he muttered.
The Faither handed him some water, and he studied it for a second, making sure nothing else was in the glass, before swallowing it.
“Welcome back,” Hark said quietly.
Cax blinked and gritted his teeth. His lids felt like sandpaper rubbing against his eyeballs. “I take it I had a vision.”
“Yes. We all had a vision. I was fighting a dragon with you by my side.”
“I think I knew that. At least, I heard you calling for me. And Ali…”
He trailed off as he looked at Ali. Words couldn’t express the anguish he’d gone through in the few minutes when he’d thought him dead.
“You chose Hark, didn’t you?” Ali said. “It’s all right. I told you to.”
Cax shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t think we’re meant to.” Ali smiled. “But you had to choose or you would’ve failed. Never fear the choice you have to make in a split-second, all right? Not any of us should ever fear the decisions we make in the heat of battle.”
The Faither clapped her hands. “And thus your tests are done. Rest this night and tomorrow return to Vermundir.”
She left the room, closing the door behind her.
“I really hate that woman,” Hark muttered.
Chapter Eight
Weary and humbled, they returned to the Mercenary Guild the next day. As if he’d been expecting them, Dalten stood just inside the ornate gate, his arms clasped behind as his back as he surveyed each man. Cax stepped forward and straightened his spine, waiting.
“Congratulations, Cax,” Dalten murmured. “You have successfully passed your trial.”
Can nodded, understanding perfectly what he’d had to face. “I will endeavor to never find myself in that position again, but the lesson was learned.”
“And now you understand why Mercenaries aren’t encouraged to find mates.” Dalten glanced at Hark and Ali. “But I find this union strong. You each faced your inner demons by reaching for one another, and that is the core of a true mating. I think individually you will all be excellent Mercenaries, but together you three will be unstoppable.”
“Thank you, Dalten,” Cax said.
His provost smiled. “I suggest you all rest for tomorrow Hark and Ali begin their weapons training. The use of a broadsword is different than wielding bloodletters.”
After murmuring good night, Cax led Hark and Ali to his room. To his surprise, he discovered his single bed had been replaced with a slightly larger bed.
Hark folded his arms in front of him. “The three of us will never fit into that bed.”
“I guess we’ll have to be creative on space,” Ali replied.
Cax chuckled. “Let’s bathe, and then we can test the limits on how we’ll find those creative spaces.”
****
Through the night they moved in tandem, each taking a turn in topping the other. As one went in the other pulled out, learning how to work together in the limited bed room, panting and moaning as the coil wound tighter. They spiraled together higher and higher, until suddenly the spring recoiled, flinging them off a precipice into a wondrous future.
As they lay entwined together, Cax stared out of the small window into the bright light of the moon hanging high in the sky. Contentment filled him, reminding him that once upon a time he may have not wanted mates, but Hark and Ali filled holes in his heart he hadn’t realized he had. He closed his eyes, and as he succumbed to sleep, he realized their journey was only beginning.
The End
Other Books by Elizabeth Monvey:
www.evernightpublishing.com/elizabeth-monvey
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