by Leo Hull
“…meet at the inn tonight after dinner, say tenth bell,” Perran said.
“Talek said we were to stay with you until the job was done,” the shortest of the men said, his voice flat and toneless. He was young, barely past boyhood, but the other guards left a bubble of space around him and even Perran didn’t seem to be able to look him in the eye. “We all eat together.”
“Is that really necessary? I am a man of my word,” Perran insisted, straightening his lanky frame and puffing his chest out like a bird threatening a rival male.
The man stared at Perran, his eyes unblinking and with a strange pale light that held no color until Perran turned away.
Perran deflated and grabbed a satchel from one of the men. “But this would be easier if we had a Spark with us.”
“That’s tonight’s goal. The plan doesn’t need one.”
Perran grumbled a response, peeking in his bag then gesturing the group forward as if he were the leader.
Tristan noted the direction he went, then fetched Annik and Nessa.
“The guards might be as much to keep him in line as to protect him” Tristan told them as they hurried to follow. “The men refused to leave him, and they mentioned a Thallic or someone.”
“Talek?” Nessa suggested. “That’s who holds most of Perran’s debt, so I’m not surprised the man has goons on Perran. Will they be trouble?”
“I hope so,” Tristan said with a grin, rolling his shoulders to loosen up. Annik wore a similar smile, any hesitation about the flashes of her legs and hips replaced with confident eagerness for action.
Perran moved without purpose, his shoulders slumped as he ambled through the Saelian streets. Tristan suspected he had made plans for the evening and now that he was stuck with his escort, he wandered without direction.
That suited Tristan fine. They needed him in a more isolated part of town, or at least somewhere dingier where a fight wouldn’t bring city guards down on them before they could subdue Perran.
Fortunately, Perran seemed to drift outwards on the city’s spokes, the cobbled streets turning first rougher, then to mud. Here, the arches were not quite so soaring and the buildings wore mildew and dirt like a mottled moth-eaten veil.
The people were still bright and happy. If they lived their life further from the wealth and splendor surrounding the acropolis, they didn’t seem to care. Laughter echoed from small balconies and families were setting up tables on the street ahead of evening meals. Already the near constant smell of spiced meat intensified. Tristan hoped they could finish this soon. Despite snacking most of the afternoon, his mouth salivated at the aroma of Saeli preparing for supper.
Ahead, a crowd gathered to watch as a man tossed eggs in the air by the handful while a Spark exploded them with bolts of lightning. He tossed them at her, and she shocked each one with a little bolt that popped the eggs.
Perran stopped, and after elbowing one of guard, laughed when the woman held out a hand impotently as eggs rained down on her. Perran took a small bow in front of the crowd, laughing harder than anyone else. The Spark’s vulta yelled angrily, pushing through the crowd towards Perran and waving a short stick threateningly. The short guard with the flat voice put him on his back with a casual backhanded cuff that sent the crowd backing away and silenced the few that laughed with Perran. The guard stomped on the man’s neck to hold him in place then turned to speak with Perran as the Spark cried out and begged.
The suddenness of the offhand violence made the hair on the back of Tristan’s neck standup. It was like Gori during training, but without instructors to reign in the brutality.
“I want that one,” Annik whispered, her hands shaking at her sides.
Nessa was also a bundle of rage. It bubbled through their bond and fed Tristan’s rising ire. This was the clearest he had felt her outside of the moment of their binding, but Tristan appreciated Nessa’s unexpected fury. She burned with anger as she watched her previous vulta. She seemed surprised by his cruelty.
“Still your eyes,” Annik hissed as Nessa’s eyes flickered.
Nessa took a deep breath and squeezed Tristan’s hand. Her anger retreated, though it still bubbled below the surface ready to erupt.
“Any idea where they are going?” Tristan asked.
“There is a shop ahead that does skewers that we used to go to sometimes. It was one of his favorites,” Nessa offered.
“Good enough for me,” Annik said with a grin. “Any objections to skipping the talking part of our plan? I get the sense they won’t be listening to anything we have to say until a few are bleeding out.”
Tristan flashed a smile, a nervous energy building inside him. Outside of training and bars, he’d helped ransack a trading company office that was operating outside of its charter, but the ambush of Perran and Nessa had been his first life and death struggle. He’d barely been out of his self-induced stupor and had little time to prepare.
Then he’d been terrified. Annik was strung up and he had no choice but to attack or risk being stuck alone in a foreign wilderness. That fight had been for survival, but this one would be for something else. Perran had their communication crystal and a claim to Nessa’s money, but Tristan cared less about recovering those than just unleashing a bit of pent up anger and making sure Nessa stayed his.
“We’ll cut them off,” Nessa said, turning and striding to a side street. She walked quickly, her dress flipping up to her bare ass and the knife strapped between her legs. Annik followed her, pulling the long flaps of her skirt up and tying them off to keep her legs free. Even as adrenaline coursed through his veins, Tristan admired the two women’s confidence. They went to battle dressed to attract attention but neither hesitated or balked or complained.
He wouldn’t either.
Out of sight of the main street, Nessa pushed their pace. The girls’ skirts flew behind them as they ran parallel to Perran’s path. A drunk stepped from a doorway, a lecherous gleam in his eyes as he blocked their way with his big frame. He swayed, smiling and holding his arms out as if expecting a hug from the two women.
“It’s been a long time since two pretty ladies came running to me,” he began, his grin vanishing as Annik began sprinting and lowered a shoulder into his chest. He spun from the blow, his arms flying akimbo before he landed with a wet noise in a pile of refuse. Annik didn’t even miss a step.
“Damn!” Nessa said with awe as Annik slowed so that Nessa could take the lead again. “That guy was huge, and you just sent him flying!” She turned to Tristan. “Can you do that too? I guess just watching you two fight each other, I didn’t realize how strong you actually are.”
“Just keep yourself safe up ahead,” Tristan said with a smirk, eager to show her real strength.
“We shouldn’t have trouble with them, but it only takes one mistake to send things sideways, and you can’t heal like Tristan and I can. Best if you just stay out of the way,” Annik added.
“Like hell I will,” Nessa retorted, her rage burning along her bond with Tristan as her eyes flashed. “I can handle myself.”
Tristan eyed his lithe lover. Her silver hair flew wild behind her, lightning crackling at the tips. He felt her confidence, an immovable pillar of certainty in her own abilities.
“Let her strike first,” Tristan said suddenly, a plan forming in his mind. “Nessa can take out a few before Perran can stifle her powers.”
“That’s risky,” Annik said.
“No, it’s risky not to take full advantage of what we have. They have swords, while we have knives. Nessa brought me down with just her hands and took you out too. She can handle herself just fine. Hit them hard, take out a few and the rest might flee. Perran will be surprised too, which should help us secure him alive.”
Annik glanced at him, a surprised but pleased look on her face, and nodded her assent. Tristan hadn’t expected her to give in so easily, but he thought the plan was a sound one and was proud he’d come up with it on the fly. Annik’s approval felt all the sw
eeter.
Nessa led them back into the side streets, a network of dark alleys hemmed in by stone buildings. They slowed, Nessa catching her breath. The two Bolstered weren’t even breathing hard yet. They crept forward and Tristan stuck his head out into the street.
Perran was there, walking beside the short leader of the guard as they ambled along the street emptied by their offhanded thuggery. Perran’s mood seemed to have improved, and while the flat-voiced leader just stared ahead, the other guards were laughing at whatever Perran was saying.
“Boost me up,” Annik said, drawing Tristan back into the alley. She stared up at a balcony that overlooked the street. The windows of the building were dark, and the vantage would let Annik and him add further chaos to their ambush.
Tristan formed a step with his hands and squatted, just as they practiced in the Corp, though during training the women had worn the same formless pants the men did. Annik raised a leg and Tristan found himself staring straight up her dress at a patch of fine blonde hair so thin he could see her lips. His blood, already running hot with anticipation for the fight at hand, boiled at the unexpected view.
“Tristan…” Annik whispered plaintively. She looked down at him, her cheeks flushed but she didn’t seem upset and didn’t try to cover herself.
He stood, pressing with his legs. Annik’s muscles bunched as she uncoiled and launched herself upwards to catch the stone railing. She dangled there briefly, her skirt flapping in the wind as she swung a leg over the railing.
“Damn I’m weak,” Nessa muttered, staring up at Annik. “I should start training with you two.”
“That might kill you,” Tristan chuckled. “You have other strengths and I happen to like you the way you are.”
“But you wouldn’t mind having those thighs wrapped around you, pulling you against her, would you?” Nessa teased.
Tristan grunted, but knew she was right. It wasn’t the first time she’d taunted about Annik.
“You really don’t care?” Tristan asked. The two of them had been growing closer, and the bond only seemed to accelerate their connection. Nessa’s lack of jealousy still seemed foreign, and he tried to hide his attraction to Annik.
“Why would I?” Nessa responded carelessly, moving to the alley exit and peeking around. To her this was a conversation not even worth having.
“Quick,” Annik called from above, arm dangling below the rail. Tristan hesitated, looking at Nessa and wondering if he should stay by her side.
The Spark showed no fear, her body tense as she struggled to keep her eagerness from manifesting through her power. Through their bond, he felt coiled energy and her struggle to contain it. She turned to look back at him, her eyes ablaze with a storm’s fury bearing down on a ship caught near shore.
“Stay out of my way,” Nessa said with no playfulness. “Sparks can jump if you get too close, and this time I won’t hold back. Wait until Perran steps in.”
“Hold back?”
“I never tried that hard for Perran,” Nessa said with a shrug, her attention already focused on the street.
Chapter Eleven
Nessa stepped from the alley as the last of Perran’s entourage passed. One of the guards turned as Nessa placed a hand to his chest, the laugh on his lips dying as he took in Nessa’s silver hair and the energy crackling along her arms. She grabbed the man next to him, and before either could react, lightning burst from their bodies, brilliant bolts that lit the street with blinding light.
She stepped past their toppling, rigid corpses, putting both hands on a guard halfway turned to confront her. His body exploded, his legs twitching in place as lightning coursed down them into the ground. Gore splattered outwards, pelting Perran as he twisted. Nessa’s hair rose from her head, streaming outwards with tiny sparks arcing between strands away from her.
Lightning raced down her legs and burrowed into the muddy road. A streetlamp a few paces down the street burst into flames, and the two remaining guards stiffened, helpless against Nessa’s power. Perran alone remained untouched by her fury.
“Nessa?” Perran asked in shock as the guards around him twitched in agony. Nessa reached for the next man when Perran seemed to finally understand the situation.
Nessa’s eyes narrowed and her lightning died, arcs impotently jumping along her curves but unable to find a path outward anymore. Perran smirked, sweat beading on his forehead as the remaining guards relaxed and collapsed to the ground. They struggled to pick themselves up.
Tristan pushed, his legs unfolding as he launched himself silently from the balcony. Beside him, Annik’s skirt flapped in the wind as the two Bolstered sailed over Nessa to enter the fray.
Tristan’s target, a staggering guard that struggled to free his sword, didn’t even look up. He died with a wet crunch, Tristan’s knife slicing down through his throat, breaking his collarbone, and burrowing itself into a rib where it remained firmly caught.
Blood sprayed as Tristan rode the body to the ground, rolling and launching himself at Perran. Nessa’s former vulta stared slack jawed as Tristan closed the gap in the space of a heartbeat. Tristan grabbed Perran, one hand tangling in the strap of his satchel and the other wrapping around his throat.
Tristan savored the look on Perran’s face for all of a second before a light flashed, so bright his head hurt and his skin burned like after hours spent in bright summer sun. He yelled in surprise, echoed by Annik, and then gasped as pain seared through the arm holding Perran’s throat.
He fought through the agony, summoning his Gift to drive back the damage from the light and whatever had been done to his arm. He blindly clutched at Perran’s bag and tried to pull him closer. A strap tore, and he surged forwards, his fist connecting with someone’s abdomen and driving the breath from their lungs and sending them stumbling out of reach.
Tristan flailed about in search of Perran or the guards, but by the time he could see, he and the two girls stood alone in the street surrounded by blood and bodies. A dagger stuck from his bicep, which he quickly pulled free with a wince and put his Gift to work.
“You both okay?” Tristan asked, breathing hard as he pressed the narrow slit in his arm closed and focused.
“I can’t see,” Nessa gasped, stumbling forwards with her hands stretched in front of her. Nessa wandered, lost and vulnerable and a strange contrast to the chunks of the erased guard that caked her. She blinked her eyes against the darkness, and Tristan reached for her. She clung to his arm, drawing back when she felt the blood running down it.
“You’re hurt?”
“Barely and I’ll be fine in a few minutes.” Tristan turned to Annik. “Are you injured?”
“Nothing but my ego,” Annik frowned. “What was he? That light burned.”
“I’m not sure,” Nessa muttered. “I’ve never seen anyone like that.”
“We should move. I think I can get us back to the inn.”
The trio moved quickly, sticking to the alleys and avoiding streets with traffic. Annik knew her way, but when Nessa could see again, she guided them past their inn to the banks of the river. They were covered in blood and Nessa had bits clinging to her that Tristan would rather not think about.
They washed as best they could, their clothes hopelessly stained. The water was cool and Tristan luxuriated in the refreshing wash and considered Nessa. She hadn’t been lying about holding back in the woods. The pair of legs left standing after her attack proved her capable of damage even the strongest Bolstered couldn’t resist. Her newly revealed strength was terrifying, but Tristan’s heart soared—Nessa wielded her Gift for him in a way she never had for Perran.
Tristan sat on the bank, bare chested as his shirt dried, and watched the two women emerge naked from the water with their dresses in hand. Night had fallen, but the moonlight highlighted the alluring curves of his nymph-like companions.
Nessa smiled, at ease with her nudity. Annik blushed but seemed determined to match the smaller woman’s confidence and let her hands fall to
her side. The women wore only their Slivers, though Annik’s was only a prop for the Relegate. Even after their displays of unrestrained violence, Tristan couldn’t shake lustful thoughts of the two supple beauties approaching to join him.
“This is why leather is better,” Nessa complained, holding her sodden dress up. It dripped water and even if she got all the blood out it would never drape right again.
“How are we going to get back to the inn?” Annik asked nervously, wringing her dress out and trying to pull the wet fabric back on. Her breasts swung as she struggled against the cloth sticking to her, and she cursed as one of the ties along the side tore free. Her arms were stuck above her head, her full body on display.
“Here, let me,” Nessa offered, giggling and stepping forward. She skillfully moved the wet fabric down Annik’s body, whispering as she went. Whatever she said turned Annik’s blush deeper, and she shyly glanced at Tristan.
“Somehow, I don’t think anyone will look twice at three sodden fools staggering back home,” Tristan said. “Especially not with you two distracting them.”
“He’s right,” Nessa giggled to Annik’s horror. “Just a vulta and his Bound on the way home to celebrate after a swim.”
“If only we had more to celebrate. I had my hands on Perran! I should have been stronger.”
“It was my fault,” Annik countered. “I should have taken the short bastard, even after he blinded me. He moved in mid-air, and I clipped him with my knee instead of burying my dagger in his chest.” She eyed the satchel next to Tristan. “Wasn’t that Perran’s?”
Tristan shrugged and tossed it to Annik, then inspected his wounded arm. The pink skin was already brightening, and it looked like it would be healed by morning. The muscle was sore, but at least the knife hadn’t severed anything vital. Those could take days or even weeks to heal.
“You’re healed,” Nessa gasped, sliding naked into his arms. She was wet, her skin cold from the river and covered in goosebumps.