Seer

by Raven Dark

  “Yes. I need it to create the medicine.”

  “Yes, s—"

  “Setora, what the hell are you still doing in here?” Sheriff’s voice made me turn to the tree entrance. “You’re supposed to be out there doing chores. What’s taking you so long, woman?”

  “It’s my fault, General.” Doc didn’t sound apologetic as he waved at him to join us. He held up the mushroom when Sheriff came over. “We found a way to save Steel. I was having Setora help me get these.”

  “You know what’s wrong with him?” Sheriff said sharply, peering closely at Steel. “You know how to help him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank fuck.” Sheriff ran his hand down his face. “What’s wrong with him?”

  While Doc explained to the General, Hawk took the beaker from me. “I’ll get the sugar for Doc. Go do your chores. As soon as you’re done, come find me, and we’ll talk more about what we discussed.”

  Hawk left the tree, calling for Crash. I glanced at Doc.

  “Go on, Setora,” Doc said. “We got this. And thanks for your help.”

  I nodded and reluctantly let a smiling Sheriff lead me by the leash away from Steel.

  Maybe it made me weak, but I’d have rather done every chore in the camp instead of facing whatever hid waiting for me in those dreams.

  * * *

  A few hours later, after I’d finished every chore Sheriff could think to saddle me with, I found Hawk in a small clearing near the edge of the camp. He was far enough away from the noise of the others, but close enough that the Captain of the Guard was easily visible and could likely see whatever went on in the camp at a glance.

  My eyes widened when I saw him.

  Hawk was dressed in the all-black garb I’d seen him wear the day I’d met Madi’san—a silky garment that covered every inch of him, even his hands. He was moving through what looked like a series of fighting forms, but his hands and feet moved slowly, making the forms look graceful and fluid, peaceful.

  I lowered myself down onto a thick patch of grass a few feet from him, content to watch him in silence. Though unarmed, he looked incredibly lithe and deadly despite the slowness of his movements, as if he were performing a beautiful dance. Rather than appearing feminine, the dance only accentuated his masculinity. The absence of his swords or any other weapons did nothing to diminish the dangerous look of him. He looked focused, and it felt wrong to undermine that focus by interrupting him.

  At first, I didn’t think Hawk knew I was there. He had his back to me, looking at the forest, his arms lifting to a raised position above his head, then making a circle. When he spoke, his voice was the sound of pure calm.

  “Did you finish all your chores, Kitten?” He let out a long breath, turning slowly to face me while he brought his arms in, palms pressing together at his chest as if in prayer.

  “Yes, Master.” I couldn’t keep the irritation with Sheriff out of my voice.

  Hawk’s eyes sparkled as he walked over and lowered himself onto the ground opposite me. “Good girl.”

  The warrior set his palms on his knees, open and facing upward. “So. There are two exercises I’ll take you through eventually. One to analyze these dreams of yours, and a second that will help you learn to suppress them so you can sleep properly without them interfering. For analyzing them, I need Doc’s help, and he’s working on that concoction for Steel, so we’ll start with the suppression technique today.”

  Some of the tension left me when I realized we wouldn’t be calling the dreams forth or bringing up things I wasn’t eager to see.

  “Meditation is not an easy thing to learn. Even when you become good at it, the mind is not infallible. Which is why I still have nightmares. The technique is about finding a safe place within your mind, a place the dreams can’t enter. It takes a lot of concentration and self-discipline, Setora. Even the most disciplined Yantu warrior can’t shut things out from his mind one hundred percent of the time, and even attaining the level of focus needed to do it at all, takes time.”

  “I’m ready, Master. I want to learn.”

  He inclined his head. “Then let’s get started. Sit closer to me.”

  I scooted forward on the grass until I sat with my knees almost touching his, then copied his posture. Back straight, cross-legged, palms turned up on my knees.

  “Good,” Hawk purred. “The posture is important in the beginning. Ideally, a Yantu learns to meditate no matter where he is. But to start out, sitting the same way every time teaches your mind to be aware of your body and where it is at all times. This is also the healthiest position for one to use, leaving every part of you open to the body’s natural energy as it flows through you. Now, close your eyes.”

  I hesitated, a hint of anxiety biting at me. I couldn’t have said why, but the sudden vulnerability implied here unsettled me.

  Hawk touched my knee with his fingertips. “Setora. This won’t be easy, but you have to trust me. You are safe with me.”

  I drew a shaky breath.

  He gently curled his palm around my nape. “Close your eyes. Do everything I tell you, without reservation, without question. It’s the only way I can help you.”

  His touch was infinitely gentle, far from the brutal, deadly warrior I knew he could be. His hold on me made me feel secure, completely at ease.

  I closed my eyes.

  “Get the fuck away from her!”

  Pretty Boy’s shout made me snap my eyes open. From across the clearing, he stalked toward Hawk, coming from behind him. My eyes widened. He stumbled slightly, and his voice sounded slurred.

  A sword also glinted in his hand.

  Still facing me, Hawk’s eyes narrowed, his dark brows furrowed.

  “I said get your hands off her,” he repeated when Hawk didn’t move. “Get up.”

  “What in the—” Hawk cut off when Pretty Boy let out an angry growl.

  He ran at Hawk and swung his sword right at the warrior’s head.

  Chapter 8

  Men Being Men

  Dread slid through me like a cold steel blade. A drunken Pretty Boy stalking toward Hawk like a predator. Fear mounted with every step Pretty Boy took, though I wasn’t sure which of the two men I was more scared for.

  Both of my masters were skilled in battle, both deadly. I’d seen them fight often enough to know that. With Pretty Boy obviously inebriated, he’d be even more of a wildcard than he already was. On the other hand, Hawk’s Yantu warrior code wouldn’t allow him to fight in anger.

  This was not a good idea.

  Before I could blink, Hawk jumped to his feet. He spun and knocked the sword out of Pretty Boy’s grip with a kick. The sword dropped to the ground. Hawk struck Pretty Boy in the chest with his palm, pushing him back, giving himself enough time to grab the weapon and fling it behind us into the bushes.

  Righting himself, Pretty Boy went at Hawk like a bull. His fist shot out at Hawk’s head, and my gut dropped.

  “Pretty Boy, stop!” But my words weren’t needed.

  In the instant before Pretty Boy’s fist struck him in the head, Hawk’s hand shot up, lightning fast, and seized his wrist. He brushed it aside, then put himself between Pretty Boy and me. He slipped the end of the leash off his wrist, quickly gathered the slack, tossed it behind me, then pushed me back toward the trees.

  Keeping a distance between me and Pretty Boy, protective.

  “Pretty Boy, what the hell are you doing?” Hawk demanded.

  My blond master held out his arms, a wild sort of smile pulling at his face. He swayed a little. “We’re having this out here and now.”

  “Master—” I started, my words intended for Pretty Boy.

  “Stay out of this, Princess. Come here. I won’t let him hurt you again.”

  “Pretty Boy, stop this.” His voice calm but strained with concern, Hawk addressed him with only a quick wordless glance at me and a hand held out to indicate for me to back up. When he saw I was backing away, he turned to Pretty Boy again, speaking
carefully. “I think you’re drunk and have no idea what you’re doing.”

  Pretty Boy’s eyes scanned Hawk up and down. “Look at you, in full-on Yantu negotiation mode.”

  Hawk didn’t react to the jibe. He remained cool, his arms loose at his sides, yet I had the strangest feeling of readiness from him. “I’m not interested in fighting, Pretty Boy. Why don’t you go cool off. Splash some water on your face, sober up.”

  “We’re doing this now. For weeks, I’ve been dying to kick your ass, Hawk. You went too far this time.” He positioned himself in front of us like a wild cat hunting his prey. Just like the time I’d seen him in Sheriff’s office after I’d been rescued from Talek’s men.

  Hawk’s shoulders tensed, but his voice remained calm as glass. “We’re not doing this. I’m not going to fight you, Brother.”

  Pretty Boy gave a bitter laugh. “Right. You and your Yantu superiority. Never fight a weaker man, right? I’ve always found that fucking annoying.”

  Hawk repeated himself slowly. “I. Will. Not. Fight. You. Brother.”

  Pretty Boy prowled to the left, and Hawk did the same to the right until the two of them were moving in a circle around each other.

  “I know you’re a sick fuck, Hawk. Hell, I’m no angel, but Setora is. I’m not going to let you hurt her anymore. No more mind games, no more hot and cold.”

  Hawk opened his mouth as if he meant to say something, but Pretty Boy shouted and ran at him. Hawk cursed and flipped over Pretty Boy’s head, landing behind him. Pretty Boy spun, swinging his fist at Hawk’s face.

  Hawk back-flipped twice away from Pretty Boy. When he landed on his feet, he dropped into a crouch, with his knees bent, hands raised to protect his face and chest.

  Pretty Boy shouted again and ran at him. He aimed his foot in a jump-kick at Hawk’s face. If the kick had connected, I was sure it would have broken Hawk’s neck. It didn’t connect. Hawk blocked the kick, grabbing Pretty Boy’s ankle with both hands above his head. He knifed to his feet, then flung Pretty Boy’s leg upward, forcing Pretty Boy into a back flip. Pretty Boy landed on his feet, but barely. Hawk shoved him backward with a sharp grunt.

  “Pretty Boy,” he snarled. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

  “Not at all, Brother. The opposite, actually. I refuse to let any more people I care about get hurt. This fucking trip, Steel, Pup, Latch. Setora almost dying? No, man. At least this is something I can put a stop to.” He held his arms out at his sides again. “Come on. Are you too good to fight me?”

  Whether it was pain, the alcohol, or both, Pretty Boy was beyond reasoning with. There was only one way to stop this madness before my masters killed each other. After what had happened with Steel, I couldn’t handle the thought of any more fighting.

  “Sheriff!” I screamed. “Sheriff! Master, help!”

  Just as I spun around, I saw the General sitting on a fallen log not far away from me. Where he had a good view. With the end of my leash around his wrist.

  He winked.

  I blinked at him, confusion turning my thoughts to mush. He should have been rushing to stop them, but instead, the Dark Legion’s General had one of his boots on his lap. He was polishing it, a mending kit lying on the log beside him.

  I hurried over to him. “Master, you have to stop them, they’re going to kill each other.”

  He said nothing in response, just continued with his work. Behind him some of the Rebels had gathered to watch. I even spotted Diamond and Emmy with them.

  “Clear out of here, all of you,” Sheriff ordered, waving away the Rebels and the two Legion women while my two masters behind me cursed and pummeled one another. “This is Legion man’s business. Nothing to see here.”

  The rebels departed, muttering, some of them glancing back at the fight before reluctantly following the rest. A couple of the men led Diamond and Emmy away.

  “Master?” I blurted, gaping at Sheriff. I couldn’t believe my eyes. He looked…satisfied? “Master, this is madness. Please do something.”

  “Relax, sweetheart.”

  What in the Maker’s name?

  “Take a seat,” Sheriff said casually. And then he set the polish on the log and started lacing his boot.

  Two of his men were in a death match, and he was worried about his boots? Had the whole Legion gone insane?

  “Master, I don’t understand. Will you—”

  “Sit.” His voice was still calm, but it had an edge to it.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to regain my equilibrium.

  He pulled me down beside him.

  “How can you be okay with this, Master?”

  “You’ll see. Shut up and watch.” He finished lacing one boot, then picked up the other and started polishing it.

  I drew in and then blew out a long breath and turned my gaze back onto the fight. He was the General, and I’d already seen what happened when I went against him, when I didn’t trust that he knew how to take care of business.

  “Enough, Pretty Boy. I don’t want to fucking hurt you,” Hawk growled, narrowly blocking Pretty Boy’s blow to his kidney.

  “You hurt her!”

  “I know what I’ve done, Brother. You don’t know how much I regret letting that night happen. I—"

  “What did you do to her? What did you do that she had to scratch you like that?” His nose was bleeding, his lip split.

  Hawk deflected a jab at his side and grabbed Pretty Boy’s wrist, then flipped him neatly over his shoulder so that he landed on his back. “If you’re talking about the other night, I let her sleep with me. I broke my rule. I shouldn’t have. You don’t think I know that?”

  Pretty Boy kicked one foot up into his face, or he tried to. Hawk blocked it with his palms and shoved his foot away. Pretty Boy got him in the face with a fist.

  “Sleep with you? I doubt what you were doing had anything to do with sleeping. You pushed her too hard that night, and she tried to get away, didn’t she?”

  “No!” Hawk snapped. He threw the first offensive move then, punching Pretty Boy hard in the chest just as he moved to get up. “Fine. You want to fight me? I deserve whatever I get for breaking my rule with her, but I won’t have you kick my ass because you think I did something I would never do to our woman.”

  For the first time since I met him, Hawk looked and sounded angry with his Brother.

  “Ah, finally.” Pretty Boy rolled away from him and came to his feet. “There’s the anger I was looking for. Come on, let’s do this.”

  Pretty Boy swung his fist at Hawk’s face. Hawk blocked the blow and struck Pretty Boy’s chest hard with his palm, the blow like the strike of a cobra.

  “Stop this,” Hawk spat. “You’re angry about Steel. I get it, Brother. You want someone to blame. Fine, blame me!”

  “That’s not it, and you know it.”

  “Sure it is. I am Steel’s superior, I should have protected him. I should have known he was too sick to fight. Take my head off for failing to protect him when he was under my command. It’s better than drowning yourself in a fucking bottle. But don’t question my honor with our woman.”

  “Shut up!” Pretty Boy’s voice sounded off key. “This is not about Steel.”

  “It is so. Or at least it is now. Go on. You want to beat on me to make yourself feel better, go ahead.”

  “Fuck you!” Pretty Boy howled.

  The two of them traded more blows. Soon, they were rolling around on the ground, each one trying to pin the other down.

  “What did you do to her? Huh?” Pretty Boy rolled on top of Hawk and grabbed his throat. “Did you choke her? How fucked up is that, she fucking almost died a few weeks ago, and you endanger her life cause your cock’s hard?”

  Hawk grabbed him by the neck, holding him off but barely. “I would never fucking hurt her like that!”

  Pretty Boy had released Hawk, only to draw his fist back for a head-on blow. “I can’t lose her again, man. I won’t. Just because you won’t let anyone in—”r />
  Hawk huffed, his voice pleading, broken with as much emotion as Pretty Boy’s. “This isn’t about me, man.”

  “Stop!” Pretty Boy punched him. Hawk punched back. Hawk pushed him off, and Pretty Boy bounced to his feet. Hawk vaulted to his.

  “Feel better?” Hawk growled. “Come on. Do that again. Get it out.”

  Another punch from Pretty Boy.

  Then Hawk.

  “How do you do it, Hawk? How the fuck do you not feel? I can’t do it anymore. Steel…I can’t…”

  And that’s when my blond master broke down. His shoulders shook until Hawk pulled him into a tight hold, fighting to cage Pretty Boy with his arms until Pretty Boy stilled.

  “Brother, I do feel. I feel a fucking lot. Steel’s going to be okay. Setora is alive. We lost two good men on this trip, and I own that too. I’m not made of stone like you think. It hurts.”

  Both men stood holding each other, panting, looking exhausted. Clinging to their friendship, blood and sweat between them.

  “About Setora…” Hawk grunted. “I promise, I will never hurt her, and I didn’t hurt her the other night. She was having a dream about someone choking her. When I tried to wake her, she lashed out in her sleep.”

  “Well, fuck.” Pretty Boy’s voice broke.

  Hawk gave a soft laugh. “Setora has changed all of us. Even me. I would never hurt her. But I think you know that, deep down. We’ve lost enough on this trip, and neither of us wants to lose any more, Brother.”

  They pulled apart, giving each other space.

  “Man, I kind of hate you right now,” Pretty Boy huffed. And then he started laughing, a rough, shaken sound. “You’re too damned insightful. Too fucking logical. Would it have killed you to tell me this earlier?”

  “I know. I know, Brother.” But I had a feeling Hawk was responding, not to his words, but to something he hadn’t said.

  “It’s going to be alright, Pretty Boy. We have to stay strong, stay united. No more bullshit. From now on, you let me in. Don’t let it fester anymore, you got that?”

  “You really are an asshole, Hawk.”