Storm Unbound

by Leo Hull

  “Wow,” Tristan whispered as he softened.

  Lydia tensed, her brow scrunching with confusion. Tristan relaxed his hug and she slipped from his arms, wriggling free and fading as she scampered away without a word or backward glance.

  “Wait,” Tristan whispered helplessly at her retreating back, her shadow turning down the passage that led to the women’s bath before vanishing from sight. Lydia knew about Talek and Annik and Nessa, and he had no idea how to find her or why she had been here watching Talek.

  She could help him, and he’d just let her slip away.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tristan slumped in the shadowed side-door of Talek’s neighbor. The residence, dwarfed by the complex Talek called home, had been quiet for hours and Tristan used his considerable experience sleeping off a night’s drinking to disguise himself as a reveler unable to finish the walk home. The stone was still pleasantly warm from the sun, but he ached from his slouched position on the hard stone. Tristan wondered how he’d tolerated so many nights with nothing but the ground as a bed.

  Tristan had spent the past days in the salt baths with nothing gained but a few flirtatious exchanges with the cute redhead upfront and free shows from Talek’s entertainment. His target had held a few meetings, but these uncomfortable encounters had only revealed the breadth of Talek’s control over the city and nothing about Annik or Nessa. Brokers, city officials, bankers, merchants, and criminals filed in to be browbeat by the fat naked man, almost always with nubile women doing everything they could to distract the unlucky person under Talek’s thumb.

  Lydia hadn’t shown up again either. Tristan tried not to blame himself for scaring her off. She’d been the one that pushed things between them, but he couldn’t help but wonder if they would be working together had he been able to control himself. Her strange ability to fade into shadows seemed ideal for what he was about to attempt.

  Tristan eyed the wall surrounding Talek’s manor. A balcony overlooking the city flickered with light, but he could see the shadows of servants moving, the scene darkening as they extinguished torches and lamps for the night. Tristan started to work the feeling back into his limbs as he waited for the last of Talek’s staff to turn in.

  His time in the Baths may have yielded little, but the one afternoon spent watching the side entrance proved far more fruitful. Frustrated, Tristan had decided on a whim to watch the exit rather than endure another display by three buxom ladies that would leave him aching with need. His gamble paid off and hours later he had followed Talek to the Relegate and then home to this massive walled compound.

  Guards patrolled the area, but they seemed to focus on the shorter wall abutting against the higher trafficked road out front. Built along a hill, the back-corner of Talek’s compound featured a sheer wall a dozen yards tall with the wind off the sea whipping fiercely around the corner. The guards seemed unconcerned with someone attempting to scale it, so Tristan planned to take advantage of their overconfidence.

  The last lights retreated from the balcony, but Tristan stayed still until one of the infrequent patrols passed atop the wall. As he waited, he summoned the Bolstered’s Gift to drive out his last cramps.

  When he stood, he felt limber and eager to finally take action after days of waiting around. Up close, the wall had plenty of cracks and ledges to wedge his fingers and toes in. He checked to make sure his knives were secure, then began the climb, calling upon his Gift to keep his fingers and legs fresh.

  So much of climbing was practice and positioning and a willingness to patiently move upwards. It helped he didn’t fear a fall from this height—even a drop from the top would have to be particularly unlucky to kill him—and he moved steadily upwards, using his legs to support as much of his weight as possible.

  “What are you doing?” a dark smudge on the wall hissed when he was about halfway up. Tristan’s foot slipped, his legs spilling free from the wall and swinging outwards. All that kept him from plunging below were a few fingers on each hand. He tensed his abs, trying to keep his legs close to the wall so he wouldn’t be pulled off. “Careful!”

  “Careful?” Tristan grunted without looking up as he gingerly raised one foot to a hold. His hands were sweating, his grip slipping.

  “Yes, careful. You’ll make a loud noise and then I’ll have to find a new route in.”

  Tristan’s second foot found purchase, and he sighed as his legs took his weight. The fall might not kill him, but it would hurt like hell and take time to recover from. “What are you doing here?” Tristan asked, scowling at the dark splotch he figured had to be Lydia.

  “Leaving.” The darkness seemed to fade, just enough to reveal Lydia’s smirking face, her hair whipping wildly in the sea breeze. She looked amused with Tristan’s close call. “You should too. Talek’s done for the night and there’s nothing more to be learned.”

  “I’m not here to learn more.”

  Lydia frowned. “No.”

  “No?”

  “Yes, no. If you go in there, you’ll get caught and that will mess up things for me. So no, you’re not going up there.”

  Tristan gawked, unsure of how to respond. He barely knew Lydia and despite their momentary connection in the Baths, he owed her nothing. He narrowed his eyes, turned away, then started to climb again, determined to rescue Nessa and Annik. Even if he did meet guards, he was confident they would be easily handled. Only a Spark like Nessa could slow him, and if Nessa had spoken honestly about her strength, he guessed most Sparks would have trouble with his toughness.

  “I said, no.” He felt cool steel pressed to his forearm. The knife could send him tumbling despite its size. “Come down and talk. You can always come back up another night.”

  Tristan growled, but nodded. The first thing he was going to discuss was Lydia’s tendency to pull a knife on him. They’d met twice, and each time her blade at ended up pressed against him. Talking with her could prove useful and he had been hoping to run into her again, but did she have to go straight to threatening to cut him?

  “You go first,” Lydia gestured, her knife disappearing into shadow.

  “You won’t run off again?”

  “No. I think we can help each other. There’s an alcove. Meet there.” Her arm reached from the shadows and gestured to where Tristan had waited. He grunted his agreement as Lydia faded into black.

  Going down turned out to be far trickier than up, and Tristan had to stop and wipe the moisture from his palms at several points, nerve-racking moments where all that held him was one hand and a few toes. When he got to the ground, he moved to alcove and considered how to handle Lydia. She may have pulled a knife on him twice, but he could hardly blame her for the first time since his own formidable weapon had been bumping against her. He’d just decided on forgiving her for the knife when she slipped into the doorway with him.

  “Can I get a bit of space?” Lydia asked hesitantly. Tristan didn’t understand why until she let her cloak of shadows fall away.

  She was as naked as she’d been in the Baths, and this time he had a clear view of her perky breasts that sat high on a taut body. Though short, her svelte frame still managed to form long curves, and her narrow thighs made the gentle swell of her hips stand out. She was shaved bare, which accentuated the expanse of her flat abdomen. If she stood alone, her slender body and long legs would make her look tall, but with Tristan towering over her, Lydia’s pixie stature seemed even smaller.

  She blushed, quickly turning and standing on her toes to reach above her head. Her calves and hamstrings flexed, her back arching gracefully to present the pert ass that he’d been thinking of for days. Lydia pulled a scrap of black fabric from behind a loose brick and quickly slipped on a small tunic that, on her, functioned as a dress.

  Tristan swallowed his remaining anger over her earlier threats.

  “Stop staring and follow me,” Lydia whispered, turning so quickly her hair and dress flipped captivatingly into the air.

  Tristan closed his mouth,
even more off balance by Lydia’s exhibitionism than her sudden appearance on the side of the wall. He hurried to catch her, surprised at how quickly she moved given her height. He walked beside her, silent and burning with questions.

  “Fine, ask,” Lydia said after they’d walked several blocks without speaking.

  “Why were you naked?” Tristan blurted out, immediately wishing he’d gone with one of the dozen other questions that could help save Nessa and Annik rather than the one thing that made his dick happy.

  “The shadows won’t hide clothing. What do I care about being naked when no one is going to see me anyways?”

  “Except me.”

  Lydia glowered at him and walked faster. He rushed to catch up.

  “Where do you hide your knife, then?”

  Lydia grinned at that and flipped her arm over. She had a hiltless dagger strapped to her forearm with thread-like strips of black leather. The blade was short and thin, but Tristan knew just how sharp it was. The metal had been darkened somehow, and only the edge had the luster of polished steel. Shadows began to cloak her arm and left only the glinting edge of her blade visible.

  “It’s small, but like me, it gets the job done.” Lydia’s smile flattened. “I’m sorry about pulling it on you again.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes. I just didn’t want to argue on the wall and didn’t want you messing up our chance.”

  “Our chance?” Tristan’s forehead scrunched.

  “Yes?” Lydia slowed to a stop, fidgeting with her hands. “Can we talk in your room? I’m between living situations and I’d rather not talk about this out in the open.”

  “Yes, we’re near, actually,” Tristan said, realizing they were only a few streets away. He had a slight suspicion that Lydia’s path towards this part of town hadn’t been an accident, but Lydia looked at him with wide, innocent eyes.

  He’d rented a room from a widow and it was just big enough to fit a bed and leave enough space to change. After watching the stream of businesses that Talek seemed to be involved in and his experience with the first innkeeper, he’d moved away from commercial inns to something less formal and less likely to be in Talek’s pocket. It wasn’t much, but he only slept there. The widow had forbidden any other guests, which just meant Lydia had to come in through the window.

  “Talek has Serana,” Lydia began as soon as she settled cross-legged on the bed next to him.

  “Serana?”

  “She’s my friend,” Lydia blushed into her lap, then looked up fiercely, her grey eyes daring a challenge. “My lover. She was kidnapped and sold a year ago, all because someone wanted to force me to be his Bound. Talek has her, just like he has your two women. We can work together. I know Talek’s compound and where they are each kept, but I can’t go in there alone. The two of us can help each other.”

  Tristan couldn’t believe his luck. He’d given up hope of finding Lydia, and now she sat there in the same situation he was and asking to work together.

  “I’m sorry about Serana,” Tristan began carefully. “But why would you trust me?”

  “I vetted you?”

  “Vetted me?” Tristan asked, the pieces falling into place. “You spied on me, didn’t you? You walked us practically back to my room!”

  “I had to make sure you weren’t some Talek plant trying to snare me,” Lydia huffed. “Besides, you had no idea, right? I’m good.”

  “I don’t think that’s the point! You’ve been spying on me rather than talking to me, and both times we’ve met you pulled a knife on me. Not a sound start to a working relationship built on trust.”

  “You try getting cornered by a man twice your size with his cock out and see how you react,” Lydia spat back. “And I’m sorry about the spying, but I’m here now, aren’t I?”

  “That’s true,” Tristan reluctantly admitted. She made a strong case about how they’d first met, and he had to admit not stabbing him right away showed a remarkable amount of restraint. “You’re right, and I’m sorry about the Baths and how we…”

  “It’s okay. I wasn’t exactly innocent and the two he picked that night were really into one another. Way more than most.” Lydia sighed out a deep breath and looked wistfully out the window.

  “Miss Serena?”

  “Yes! Grinding on you was the first time in a year for me, and I got a bit carried away.”

  “Sorry it wasn’t with Serena. I know how badly I miss Nessa, and she’s been gone only weeks, not a year.”

  “What about the other?” Lydia’s face scrunched in displeasure. “You shouldn’t play favorites with your Bound. We hate that.”

  “No, no,” Tristan rushed to explain. “Just Nessa. Annik isn’t my Bound. She’s my commander and a friend.”

  “Commander? That has something to do with where you’re from. I haven’t been everywhere, but I’ve been around the Albeder Sea plenty and I’ve never heard an accent like yours. If we’re going to build trust, you can start with where you’re from.”

  “Fine, but I want to know about your shadow ability.”

  “We don’t talk about it,” Lydia insisted.

  “You will with me. I already know you can’t hide anything but yourself, but if we’re going to be invading Talek’s compound and rescuing the girls, we need to understand each other’s limits. You tell me about your ability, and I’ll tell you about me.”

  Lydia studied him, chewing her lip as the moment drug on. “Fine,” she agreed curtly. “But I need you to promise you won’t tell others. We’re a small town and we try to stay hidden. We can’t defend ourselves in open conflict against the other cities, and if our existence became more widely known we would be in real trouble.”

  “I can swear to that. I don’t care about the politics here, just getting Annik and Nessa back.”

  Lydia considered Tristan, her grey eyes unblinking until she let out a deep breath. “I’m a Shade. We’re rare, which is part of the reason few outside my hometown of Viela even know about us. We like to keep it a secret since our ability wouldn’t win us any friends.”

  “I can see why. You turn invisible and are deadly with the knife. You’re the perfect assassin.”

  “I don’t like to think of myself like that. I’ve killed, but only to protect Viela or Serana. And we don’t turn invisible.” She faded, a blotch of darkness dressed in a tunic. Vague colors and texture were visible on her side closest to the room’s flickering candle. “See? In brighter light I’d be completely visible, but even a candle is enough to notice something if I’m out in the open like this.”

  She faded back into view.

  “That’s still impressive,” Tristan said, in awe at the talent. “Nessa is a Spark, but she needs a Ground bonded to throw her bolts, and the Ground seems to be able to counter her power. She seemed surprised Annik and I had the same power.”

  “You have a Gift?”

  In answer, Tristan pulled his dagger free. Lydia scrambled backwards, her tunic sliding up her slender thighs as Tristan drew the blade across his palm until blood welled up. “Watch.”

  He poured his focus into his palm, and Lydia gasped as the flow stopped. He wiped away the blood, and only a rapidly fading pink line remained.

  “Why were you upset about my knife if you can do that?” Lydia asked.

  “It still hurts, and I can still die. I’m not invulnerable and falling just right or losing all my blood before I can staunch the flow will take me out or set me back days or weeks.”

  Lydia reached out and took his hand, her delicate fingers rubbing the lines on his palm. She took the edge of her tunic and wiped at the remaining blood, flashing her pale thighs up to the junction with her hips.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Tristan insisted. “You’ll get your dress dirty.”

  Lydia shrugged. “I stole this. I tend to lose my clothing for some reason.”

  “I can’t imagine why,” Tristan deadpanned, drawing a shy smile from the pale beauty on his bed.

  “T
he men of Viela are Gleams. They control light.”

  “Like that bastard with Perran that blinded us!” Tristan grimaced at the memory. “I guess they can reveal you. Seems unfair that the men’s powers always seem to counter the women’s, but at least a Gleam seems useful on his own.”

  Lydia’s grip on his hand tightened, her eyes narrowed to slits as she trembled. “The man with Perran? Describe him.” Tristan flinched backwards in surprise as Lydia’s grasp tightened. “Tell me!”

  “Short! He seemed to be in charge of the guards and perhaps even Perran too. He had grey eyes, like yours, but they were dead, flat. He broke a street performer’s neck, stomped on it right there in the middle of the street like the guy was a bug, but his eyes never changed. His voice too—always the same toneless timbre like he was asking someone about the weather.”

  “Osred,” Lydia hissed. Her whole body shook, and Tristan clutched her tight to provide a steady anchor against her rage and fear. “We grew up together. He’s my half-brother.” Lydia turned her eyes up, tears glistening at the corners. “He’s the one that kidnapped Serana, and he tried to bind me.”

  “Bind you?” Tristan asked, his stomach twisting into a sick knot. “Your own half-brother? Is there another way other than…?”

  “No. Just the one way.” The side of Lydia’s face pulsed as she ground her teeth. Her visceral fury made sense now, and Tristan shared her revulsion. “I have a plan. I’ll help you rescue your two women.”

  “They’re not mine,” Tristan grumbled weakly, “but I’m listening. You want my help with Serena?”

  “And I want you to kill Osred.” Lydia watched him, unblinking to see if he flinched at the request.

  Tristan had never considered himself a killer. Unlike some of the recruits back in Aeol, he hadn’t spent his early years puffing his chest out and bragging about the body count he’d have one day. Some men needed to die, though. Even if Osred wasn’t Lydia’s half-brother or the monster she made him out to be, he’d worked to kidnap Annik and Nessa and that was reason enough for him.