Dancing with Shadows

by Bridie Henderson

  “You don’t speak about your Father,” he said, changing the subject.

  “Not much to say… I don’t remember him well. I was just a child when he died. Most of what I know of him was told to me by my Mother, but I do remember what he smelled like, sandalwood and ash. He used to sing me to sleep with a lullaby, I remember that too but I can’t remember the words or the tune. You don’t know how lucky you are to still have your parents. I would give the world to spend just one hour with either of mine and yet you walk away from yours so freely. And all because they love you too much,” she shook her head before adding, “it’s sad.”

  They continued to talk for a while and little by little she felt his anger recede, until he was calm enough to leave. Of course the three more glasses of whiskey he had downed might have had something to do with it as well. When they left the tavern, he seemed reluctant to head back to his parents cabin and as Aaron had left much earlier having had his fill of ale, she suggested they walk for a bit. He agreed with an eager nod and they walked around the edge of the town. He pointed at things, a reminiscent smile on his face, a stream here, a memory there, and she found herself smiling along with him. Eventually though, he ran out of things to show her and she ran out of questions to ask. They began the relatively short walk back to the cabin, each as uneasy as the other but she was certain it was for different reasons.

  “Slade, I… I need to tell you something,” she blurted out, her fingers twisting themselves in knots, mirroring her stomach. He stopped and tilted his head with concern.

  “What is it?”

  “Its… well, look,” she turned around and lifted her hair, showing the top of her back. He was silent for a moment and she almost turned round but before she could his fingers began running over her back, tracing the pattern there. She shivered against his touch but he didn’t pull away, even as her mind raced with dirty, naughty thoughts.

  Chapter 14

  Slade ran his fingers over the dark, tattoo-like pattern decorating her back. It was beautiful, that much was clear, what wasn’t was why it was there.

  “What is this? When did it happen?” he asked, not removing his fingers. In truth he was probably using it as an excuse to touch her but then he’d already established that he would have his choice of hells when his time was done, so why not enjoy it?

  “I noticed it yesterday, when I had a shower,” By the Gods, why did she have to say that. Now he was having difficulty concentrating on her words and not the image of her naked body beneath a soapy lather. Yep… hells. “But it’s not just me… you have the same pattern on your back,” she whispered, finally turning to face him.

  “I do?”

  “Yes and… and it got bigger. After the field.”

  “So it’s happening every time you use your shadows and then release the fire,” he mused thoughtfully. She seemed a little relieved by his reaction and he realised she was probably waiting to be recriminated. “I needed some new ink, anyway,” he said with a smile. She shook her head but he caught the smile in her eyes.

  “It’s not just the marks, Slade. You had a lot of scars on your back,” she paused and he nodded with a frown, not understanding what she was getting at. “Well some of them are gone. Some are just faded but some of them are gone completely.”

  “That’s impossible, Quinn.” He said, a little more dismissively than he intended. She nodded in agreement however, and it gave him pause.

  “I know… but it is what it is.”

  “No, you don’t understand… the scars on my back were made by silver. The silver was kept inside the wound for days to keep them from closing. There’s no healer in the world who could have helped me then, let alone now.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Slade. They were there and now they’re not. Look for yourself.”

  “Alright, I will when we get back,” he murmured, considering the possibility. “Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “Well… no. I… What happened in the outlander camp, Slade?”

  “What? Um… well you saved my life and then you passed out,” he said. Awkwardly. She frowned up at him and he knew he wasn’t cut out for life as a liar. He supposed that was a good thing really. Still…

  “And the bit in between?” she asked.

  “Well you used your shadow gift, took out the whole camp and when you touched me, your gift rescinded.”

  “Why did I touch you? Did I try to attack you?”

  “Not as such,” he said, clearing his throat.

  “Please, Slade, just tell me.”

  “Fine… you said you and I could rule the world together, that we would be unstoppable… then you said something about really being able to feel and then you went to touch my cheek,” he uttered awkwardly, the sugar-coating of the century.

  “Oh wow… I came on to you, huh?”

  “Er… yeah a little, but it wasn’t you so don’t worry about it,” he offered weakly.

  “No, you don’t understand. It was me. Just a more primal version. Sometimes I remember, sometimes I don’t; sometimes I’m more in control of myself than others. It depends on how much I have used my gift… or sometimes it just depends on which way the wind was blowing at the time. I don’t really understand the abilities I have or where they come from. But it is always me. I think it’s just me without a moral compass or a sense of personal boundaries.”

  He mulled that over for a minute… was she saying what he thought she was saying? He wasn’t brave enough to ask the question he wanted to ask, so he opted for a different one.

  “What did you mean… about really feeling someone?” he asked gently, his heart quickening for some undefinable reason.

  She released a breath and began fiddling with the ends of her hair again, looking so vulnerable in that moment, inspiring in him a need to protect her; though he knew she wouldn’t be appreciative of it. Nor did she really need it, except, maybe, from herself.

  “It’s another of my ‘gifts’,” she said with no small amount of bitterness. “My sense of touch is very dull. I can barely feel it when I’m touched. It has its benefits of course, pain doesn’t really stop me but at the same time, I could be really injured and wouldn’t know it.”

  “So you don’t feel touch at all?” he asked, saddened by the thought.

  “I do… it’s just dulled. It’s hard to explain.”

  “Have you ever felt anyone at all?”

  “I remember feeling my Father properly, every time he’d rock me to sleep or hug me when I was young. There was also the daughter of a shaman in a clan back east that I could feel. She had the gift of fire as well. I could feel her and well… I felt you…” she looked away as his eyebrows rose in surprise.

  “You did?” his voice was hoarse as he came to a stop beside her.

  “Yes… it… it was…” she trailed off, turning from him to face the long outstretched fields of patchy green and brown grass.

  “It was what?” he asked, taking a step towards her, his feet moving on their own accord.

  “I…” she paused, frowning as she squinted at something in the distance. He didn’t care how interesting the sunlight might have seemed at that moment, he just wanted her to finish what she was about to say.

  “What?” he prodded, moving closer still but she shook her head.

  “I don’t know…” she muttered absentmindedly, “what is that?” gritting his teeth against her change of subject he looked over to what had caught her interest. It was… hells what was it? A dark shape moving along the horizon. He took a step forward, his hands coming to rest on a wooden fence lining the dirt path and squinted harder. After a minute or two of staring, shielding his eyes from the sun, he realised it wasn’t one large object it was several smaller ones. Heading right for them. Well… shit.

  He realised it at the same moment Quinn did. She reached out grabbing his arm and they both turned as one, running to his parents’ cabin. They burst through the doors shouting. Attack. They were under attack
! Almost immediately everyone fell into action. His Mother leant beneath the table and pressed a button that was hidden there. His Father began moving several gadgets into a cubby hole beneath a hatch beside the door. Their actions were practiced, like a well-rehearsed dance they knew by second nature. Quinn had disappeared upstairs to gather her knives and began checking his gun and packing more ammunition into his pockets. Shay had left to spy on the incoming threat and she appeared moments later looking a whiter shade of pale.

  “What is it, Squidge?”

  “The Kings men… they know we’re here. They’re looking for Quinn.” He frowned but nodded his understanding. They had only been there a few hours. How could anyone know they were there? “How many?”

  “Twenty-two and six Mech mutts… there’s something else though. I’ve never seen anything like it but it looks like some sort of portable prison big enough for a group,” she shrugged, her eyes wide with fear.

  “That’s good; that means they’re looking to minimise loss of life. Unlucky for them, we ain’t on the same page,” Aaron said behind him, a predatory grin lighting his face. Sick bastard.

  “There is only five of us, Aaron,” he said, cocking his gun nonetheless.

  “No there isn’t. I’ve called for reinforcements,” his Mother looked up from the table, other than pressing the button she hadn’t moved. She was pouring over a large piece of parchment with several diagrams of some sort of machine on it and notes all over one side. No sense of urgency whatsoever. He shook his head in exasperation as Quinn came down the stairs, her hair up in a messy pony tail and her knives settled into her belt which she had fastened loosely over her hips. She looked like an assassin taking a day off. Casually enjoying life in the pretty blue sundress but still armed to deadly extremes. She looked up as she landed at the bottom of the stairs, her grey eyes reflecting the storm within.

  “You ready for this?” he asked, turning to take a pair of silver blades from his brother.

  “Always,” she said, a murderous glint in her eye. If it hadn’t been so enticing… so erotic, he might have feared it.

  “Let’s do this,” Aaron said, cocking a gun big enough to suggest he was compensating for something and gripping the door handle. Slade glanced over his shoulder to see his father approaching, a large blade in his hands and an odd looking handgun in his belt. Quinn had removed her two throwing knives from her belt and was twirling them between her fingers, hungry for action. Turning back he gave Aaron a nod and the door was swung open. He exited the cabin, his gun at the ready.

  The horizon was clear and it was eerily quiet. Even the wind seemed to have stopped blowing. Shay appeared beside him, making his Father jump and mutter an expletive. Suppressing the angry growl in his throat as he was reminded of his duplicity, Slade listened to Shay’s report.

  “They’ve split up. Four groups. Two are moving round to the other side of town. It looks like they’re going to try and box us in.”

  “They’ll fail,” Quinn muttered.

  “Where?”

  “One group to the east, the other just to the south. They’ve shielded that tank prison thing by the trees to the east as well.”

  “Good girl. Stay here with Nana, Squidge.” Slade watched her move inside to hover over his Mothers shoulder before he addressed the rest of them.

  “Let’s split up. Quinn and I will take the group to the east. You and Aaron take the group to the south. We’ll meet in the middle and concentrate on the rest of them afterw-,” before he could finish speaking, a loud series of bangs sounded from the centre of town. “Let’s move!” Without a second thought he and Quinn raced across the field that had finally stopped smouldering from Quinn’s fiery outburst. The burnt grass and dirt crunched beneath his feet, most of it dissolving into ash upon contact. They stole across as quickly and quietly as they could with him in front and Quinn on his heels. The sun shone brightly and only a few awkwardly placed bushes and shrubs gave them cover but they made it to the other side of the field, diving behind the treeline without any of the Kings soldiers spotting them. Just beyond they could see several soldiers moving in a trained formation towards the tavern. Six soldiers and two Mech-mutts moved stealthily, splitting into two teams as they approached. One team to take the front and the other to catch any absconders from the back. He looked down at Quinn and she nodded in agreement. They moved together, as though they had been fighting side by side for years. The soldiers charged inside the tavern and a high pitched scream ripped through the air. He had the discipline to remain quiet and continue his slow approach to the tavern but that was apparently where he and Quinn parted ways. Without warning, she abandoned caution and leapt up, racing through the grass. She vaulted over the short wooden fence, throwing a knife at a nearby soldier as she did. Her fluidity, the graceful way she moved… it was hypnotic. He wanted to slap himself silly when he realised he was just stood there, staring, as she rushed into danger ahead. What the hells was wrong with him?

  Chapter 15

  Quinn retrieved her throwing knife from the fallen soldier, a young, pretty woman with blood marring her blonde hair and flecked over her blue eyes. Like Shay’s… a cruel voice whispered in her ear and she batted it away. There would be time to lament her actions later. Right now, there was a fight to win. She raced to the tavern door, peeking in the dirty window and no more able to see inside than she had been earlier. Instead of waiting or listening, she kicked the door with her bare foot, vaguely feeling the impact of it and leaped inside, her jump turning into a roll as she landed on the whiskey stained wooden floor. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting but what she found certainly wasn’t it. Standing from her crouched position slowly and confused, she cocked an eyebrow. The large woman and small man she had seen earlier were still in the same position they had been but now a small silver object sat between them and three unconscious soldiers lay on the ground beside them and that wasn’t the craziest part. On the other side of the tavern, two more soldiers sat at the bar, each drinking a glass of whiskey, a Mech mutt sat beside them, his large metallic head resting on his silver paws.

  “It’s your turn,” the soldier closest to her muttered.

  “No it isn’t. I did it last time. You do it.”

  “Flip you for it?”

  Just then, Slade burst through the door. The soldiers turned, looked over at him, nodded and then went back to their discussion.

  “What the hells?” Slade murmured and she nodded, equally as confused. Twirling her knife she walked a little closer, eyeing the Mech mutt with distrust.

  “Seven Hells, I guess it is my turn.” The second soldier grumbled, having lost the coin toss. He pulled a small blade from his belt and climbed down from his bar stool. He was tall, not as tall as Slade or Aaron but tall enough.

  “Your turn for what?” Slade asked, while she lifted her knife poised and ready.

  “To take out the last soldier,” he muttered, moving around her with a frown… as though she were the crazy one.

  “You mean the blonde outside?” Slade asked, his own blade at the ready. “She took care of it,” he finished, nodding towards her.

  “Ah… excellent. Thanks,” the soldier smiled at her, a large toothy grin that made her want to smile back despite herself and took his place back at the bar, resuming his drinking.

  “Who are you?” Slade asked angrily, discomfited by the lack of fighting. So was she.

  “Oh sorry, I’m Dax, this is Colt. The rebellion is at your service.” Dax, the toothy one, gave a little bow from his seated position with a flourish of his arm.

  “You’re with the rebellion?”

  “What’s left of it,” Colt grumbled beside him, not looking up. Apparently Dax was the friendlier one.

  “Ignore him. You must be Aaron’s brother?”

  “That’s right. Why did you bring a battalion of soldiers here?” Slade growled, apparently unappreciative of the intrusion.

  “We didn’t. They were coming here already. We intercepted on
the way here. Figured it would be easier to dismantle them from within.” Dax said with a sadistic grin. He was likeable, that one.

  “I see.” Slade nodded thoughtfully, though he didn’t seem convinced.

  “No you don’t.” Colt growled. “They knew to come here. They knew you were here. That means two things. Either you’ve been betrayed or you are the betrayer. Weren’t you at the rebellion base in Monkshood the day before it was attacked? Mighty suspicious,” he finished, turning slightly to watch Slade out of the corner of his eye.

  “Oh please, I met one of your men. If your scouts and soldiers were as clumsy and untrained as he was, anyone could have found the rebellion. They just needed to look hard enough. Don’t blame him for your own ineptitude,” Quinn growled, speaking for the first time. She felt the need to defend him despite the sense they made.

  “What did you say?” Colt stood from his chair. He was short, but what he lacked in height he made up for in width. His shoulders were as broad as the tavern doorway, his arms as thick as tree trunks and his chest the size of a barrel. She stood her ground even as he paced towards her slowly.

  “You heard me, asshole.”

  “Do you know how many people were slaughtered? How many women? How many children?”

  “I’m sure it was just as many as when the Kings men attacked my clan and the clan before that. You think you have the monopoly on loss?” She wasn’t sure why she was arguing so hard. She had been gearing for a fight and these two had deprived her. And he had accused Slade of the unthinkable. Colt took a step towards her, his hands balling into fists. Slade took a step forward as well. Dax just rolled his eyes and turned back to his drink. And she’d thought him likeable? She felt tiny, sandwiched between the two large men, but before it could escalate further, a shout sounded outside.

  “Come out of there, now! We have your men!” She glanced up at Slade worriedly before moving to the window. It was much easier to see out of than in to and what she saw had her cursing like the best of them. “We just want the girl.” A soldier shouted. Blood poured from a wound on the side of his face and he held a handgun to Aaron’s head. Behind him, two other soldiers each had a hostage. One was a man she didn’t recognise and the other a small woman who seemed somewhat familiar. Worse, three Mech mutts stood around them, growling with a sick metallic whirr.