Firestorm (The Sword of Light Trilogy Book 2) (6 page)

“I hope so too,” she flashed him a sly smile. “Although I couldn’t help but notice some strange goings on in the sky when I looked out the window earlier.”

Eric groaned and Inken leaned across to kiss him. “What happened?”

“I wanted to try something, to copy what Jurrien did when he leapt off the ship.”

“And?”

“It worked, but I pushed too far, too fast. The magic took me well above my limits, and I lost control,” Inken heard the venom in his voice.

She smiled. “Stop being so hard on yourself, Eric. You took control again before anything happened, that’s what matters.”

Eric gave a sour laugh. “Small victory that,” he paused. “I didn’t really have time to think about it. Jurrien showed up again. He had a lot to say about me and my magic.”

Inken’s heart gave a lurch. She suddenly found herself wishing she had followed Eric earlier.

“Ouch,” Eric flinched away and Inken realised her nails had dug into his arm.

She released him. “Sorry, Eric. I do not like Jurrien; he is not like his sister. He is shrouded in anger, where Antonia is a calming force.”

“Was,” Eric’s voice cracked. “Antonia was… He found her in the forest. The demon killed her. She’s… she’s gone.”

Inken gaped, unable to speak. She felt hot tears in her eyes but made no effort to wipe them away. A sound rumbled up from her chest, a half-warped sob that she abruptly cut off. She shook her head. “No,” she choked. “How could that happen?”

“I don’t know,” Eric’s voice broke again. “But we have to go on, for her. It’s up to us now, to ensure Enala gets to the Sword in time. Maybe it will be enough. Jurrien is preparing the Three Nations for war and hunting down the demon.”

Silence fell then, the weight of responsibility settling around them like a lead weight. With Antonia gone, the likelihood any of them would survive the coming war seemed non-existent. Last time it had taken the powers of all three Gods to overcome Archon. With only Jurrien and the Sword of Light, could they even hold their own?

“We have to try,” Inken whispered.

“I know. We can’t give up. I won’t rest until we finish the quest Alastair and Antonia started.”

Inken pulled him close again, leaning over to kiss him. Their lips met, fierce and hard. She held him tight, desperate to feel the life within him. He had come so close to death on the beach. Just thinking of the danger to come filled her with fear – not for herself, but for the reckless young man she loved. Eric told the truth; he would not run from the peril they faced – he would rather die.

Inken feared it may come to that.

Unbidden, hot tears ran down her cheek. Sobbing, she broke away from Eric, turning her face to hide the tears.

He heard her grief anyway. She felt his hand reach up to stroke her hair. Closing her eyes, Inken took a deep breath to calm herself.

“It’s going to be okay, Inken.”

Inken felt a wild, insane laughter bubbling up within her. She held it back. They both knew the lie in Eric’s words. If even the Goddess of the Earth could fall to Archon, what chance did they have? And if by some miracle they managed to defeat Archon, how many of them would survive the battle? How many souls would perish? Who of their company would live to see the dawn of a new peace?

It would be so easy to turn now and run, to find some hole in which the dark tendrils of the north would not find them. But she knew they could not. There was too much at stake, and if Archon conquered, the darkness would find them wherever they hid.

No, there was no choice but to fight.

Slowly the sobs subsided as she regained her composure. They lay there in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Here in Jurrien’s temple she felt safe, even if she now counted the Storm God amongst her adversaries. The darkness felt almost comforting with Eric beside her, as if it could hide them from the world without. But she knew it could not last, that morning would soon bring the light of day. Nor would the safety of the temple. If they remained, Archon would find them.

Only one option offered them hope. Get Enala to the Sword of Light, before all hell broke loose.

Inken closed her eyes and breathed in Eric’s familiar scent. Whatever the future may bring, they still had this moment, right here, right now.

She resolved not to waste it.

“You lied to me,” Enala stood in the entrance to the lounge, arms folded across her chest.

They had been talking before she entered, but they broke off now, staring up at the two of them in the doorway. Silence settled like autumn leaves as Enala looked around the room, eyes lingering on each of them. Inken, Eric, Caelin, and Michael; she knew their names, though she had not spoken to half of them.

She and Gabriel had stayed up half the night talking. He had told her of the past he now remembered, of the storm which had destroyed Oaksville and killed his family. At first she had not believed him when he claimed Eric had brought the storm. She may not have spoken to the young man, but she could not believe he was a killer. But Gabriel was insistent, unwavering in his belief.

Now Enala wanted answers. Inken had said she could trust them, that they cared about her. But if Gabriel was right…

Eric shifted in his seat, looking like he was about to speak, but Inken beat him to it. “No, we didn’t. I know you trust Gabriel, that he saved your life in Chole. But there is more than one side to this story.”

Enala glanced at Gabriel. He stood staring at Eric, his face blank, unreadable.

She looked back to Inken. “Tell me then.”

Inken nodded. She glanced at the others. “Enala and I are going for a walk. Don’t eat all the food,” Enala caught the warning glance Inken shot Caelin as she stood.

Caelin raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me. I was thinking I’d get some exercise before breakfast anyway,” he looked at the others. “Perhaps Gabriel and Eric will join me. You too, Michael, if you’re interested?”

Enala picked her way across the room and joined Inken as she walked out into the cool morning air.

“I’m quite alright thank you, Caelin,” she caught Michael’s words as the door swung shut behind her.

Inken led the way across the grass and into the gardens surrounding the temple grounds. White frost crunched beneath their boots as they made their way through an archway hung with winter roses. Mist billowed from their mouths with every breath, but the sun had just peeked over the rooftops of the nearest buildings. As its rays reached them, warmth spread through Enala’s limbs. The rich scent of roses hung in the air.

“I first met Eric and Alastair in the desert of Chole. I was dying; my horse had fled and I was unarmed and badly injured. If Eric had not spotted me, I would be dead,” they left the grass and stepped onto a gravel path leading through the gardens.

“What does that prove? That he has a soft spot for you?”

Inken scowled and Enala felt her cheeks grow hot. “Perhaps you’ll let me finish before you begin flinging accusations. There is far more to this story than Gabriel knows. Eric has never meant to hurt anyone with his power; he did not even know he possessed magic before Alastair found him in Oaksville.”

“What do you mean?”

“Before Oaksville, Eric spent the better part of two years wandering the wilderness, afraid to return to civilisation for fear of what he thought of as his curse. He did not know it was magic, only that there was some power within him he could not control. But finally, he could no longer bear the isolation. He went to Oaksville to begin a new life, but within an hour of entering the town he was attacked by slavers,” Inken spoke in a soft voice.

“When an emerging Magicker has not been properly trained, their magic is tied to their emotions. It is unleashed when they are overwhelmed. When Eric was attacked, his fear and anger took control, and his magic lashed out to protect him.”

“What do you mean?”

Inken stopped, gravel crunching beneath her boots. The thorns of a nearby rose caught in Enala’s coat as she turned to meet Inken’s gaze. “Eric had no choice in what happened, not once attacked. He had every reason to fear for his life, to feel enraged at the men attacking him. He could not direct how his magic responded to those emotions, not without training.”

Enala looked away, remembering her horror as she hid in the basement, while men murdered her parents upstairs. The anger had almost driven her to madness. She thought of Eric, unarmed and at the mercy of such thugs. Then she felt a pang of horror as she imagined the helplessness he must have felt once the power was unleashed. To know it was his doing, but being powerless to cease the destruction.

Tears sprang to her eyes. “Does Gabriel know this?”

Inken shook her head. “So far, he has not been too receptive to any explanation.

“Can you blame him?”

“No, of course not. But he is not the only one to have lost those he loves,” she paused, choosing her next words carefully. “Eric’s parents were the first victims of his wild magic.”

Enala’s heart twisted in pain. She opened her mouth, but found no words.

Inken nodded, a sad smile on her lips. “You, Gabriel and Eric have much in common. Like it or not, you are linked by tragedy, and will continue, I hope, to fight together on the side of good,” she paused. “You should also know; Eric is determined to put right the debt he feels for Oaksville. That is why he used his magic to bring the rain back to Chole.”

Enala gaped. “What?”

“That was when I knew he was not the demon everyone thought him, and when I decided I wanted to get to know him better,” Inken winked.

Enala stared, lost again for words. Eric may have cursed Gabriel’s town to ruin, but he had saved Chole, her city. How could anyone weigh the two deeds against one another, as great and as awful as they were?

Yet Enala could feel the truth in Inken’s words, that Eric had never meant to harm Oaksville, that he’d had no control over what happened there.

“I’ll try to talk to Gabriel,” Enala finally offered. “But I don’t know if he will listen. The two of them might have to work it out themselves,” accident or not, Eric’s magic had still caused the death of Gabriel’s family. Whatever the circumstances, Enala could not blame him for hating the young man. But perhaps the truth might at least open a dialogue between them.

“Agreed,” Inken smiled. “I think us girls had best stay out of this one.”

Enala shot back a sly look. “You really love him, don’t you?”

She saw Inken’s cheeks redden, and laughed. Inken wagged a finger back at her. “That is none of your business, miss. You don’t see me asking about what’s between yourself and Gabriel!”

Enala felt her own cheeks warm. She opened her eyes wide. “Whatever are you talking about?” she asked. “We’re friends, we slept in separate beds and everything.”

Inken laughed. “I’ll bet,” she sniped, but let the subject drop.

They rounded the corner of a building and found themselves at the end of the garden. In the distance the dormitory’s shale roof gleamed in the morning sun. The far-off ring of steel blades carried to their ears. Beside her, Inken straightened and reached for her sabre. Enala edged closer to the woman.

Enala searched the grassy lawns ahead, her eyes picking out two figures battling in front of the dormitory. They both stopped dead as they recognised the fighters. Gabriel and Eric were locked in furious combat, swords slashing at one another as they stumbled on the icy grass.

Inken moved first, her long legs eating up the distance. Enala trotted after her, reaching out to grab her shoulder. “Wait,” she said, pointing.

Inken tore herself free, but glanced towards where Enala pointed.

Caelin stood nearby, arms folded as he watched the two with an amused grin. Enala could practically hear Inken’s teeth grinding as she switched directions and headed for the sergeant.

Enala could not help but grin. “Like you said, Inken. Maybe they can work it out themselves.”

*************

Eric rubbed his hands against his arms, struggling to warm himself. A shiver ran down his back as the wind whipped past. “What are we doing?” he asked through chattering teeth.

Caelin stood with hands on his hips. “Jurrien paid me a visit this morning. Apparently you need another way to protect yourself, Eric,” he turned to Gabriel. “And I’m sure you could use blowing off a little steam.”

Eric glanced at Gabriel, heart sinking at the mention of Jurrien. The sun shone across the nearby rooftops, but they stood in the shade, the frost still thick at their feet. Eric already missed the gentle warmth of the fire burning in the lounge. The sky shone with the bright blue of morning, without a hint of cloud.

Caelin tossed a long bundle of cloth to the ground in front of them. It rattled as it struck, unravelling to reveal a collection of swords.

“These are practice blades. They’re lead weighted, but the edges and tips have been blunted, so you shouldn’t be able to damage each other too much.”

As he spoke, he drew his own sword and beckoned Eric closer. Eric moved across to him, but stepped back as Caelin flicked the sword into the air and caught it by the blade.

He held it out to Eric. “First though, this is yours, Eric. It saved my life in Malevolent Cove, but I know Alastair would have wanted you to have it. Make him proud.”

Heart pounding in his chest, Eric reached out and gripped the hilt. The worn leather felt warm and the short sword light in his hand. It shone in the morning sun, revealing the faint traces of runes etched in the metal. Eric looked closer, but could not make out the writing. He guessed it must be something to do with the spell on the blade, which protected its user from magic.

Remembering himself, he grinned up at Caelin. “Thank you, Caelin. I will.”

“What did you want with me?” Gabriel asked.

Caelin’s eyes turned on Gabriel. “I thought you might enjoy being Eric’s sparring partner.”

Eric made to object, but Gabriel beat him too it. “Why would I want to help
him?
”

Caelin met Gabriel’s stare. Eric looked from one to another. “Maybe because we saved you, pulled you from the ocean waters rather than leave you to drown. Or because we rescued Enala, when you had failed her,” Caelin paused, a sly look in his eyes. “Or perhaps you’d just like the chance to land a few blows on the boy.”

Gabriel glared at Caelin, then shrugged his shoulders and approached the pile of weapons. Retrieving a practice blade, he stepped in front of Eric. “Well, let’s see what you’re made of then.”

Eric scowled back. Gritting his teeth, he stepped around Gabriel and found a practice blade of his own. Lifting the heavy weapon, he laid Alastair’s blade by the pile of swords. As he turned to face Gabriel, he drew in a deep breath of cool air. Bracing himself, he walked across the grass and squared off against his foe.

Caelin clapped. “Good! Now, before you begin, let me show you a few things about fighting with the sword,” he picked up a blade for himself and moved between them. “The first thing a good swordsman needs to learn is how to stand in a fight. A true fighter will use any number of stances in a fight to overcome his opponent. Different stances allow you to move in and out of attacking range while maintaining your balance, and without overexposing yourself to an attack. I’m going to show you one or two, and hope that’ll be enough for now.”

He moved his feet so they were shoulder width apart and facing forward, with the right about a foot in front of the left. “This is called a forward stance. It doesn’t matter which foot is in the front, so each time you move you can step straight into this stance. It gives a fighter a solid, balanced base to launch and defend against attacks.”

Eric moved his feet to mimic Caelin’s, feeling awkward with the heavy blade in hand. He followed the soldier’s movements as he drilled them in the basics of thrusts, parries and blocks. Eric immediately began tripping over his own feet as he struggled to obey Caelin’s instruction. His body ached from the brief scuffle the night before, and within his magic felt drained and weak.

He watched Gabriel swinging the practice blade to match Caelin’s movements, a bored smile on his face. His large shoulders wielded the blade with ease, although his movements were slow and somewhat clumsy. Still, Eric could not help but think the power in his swing would leave a nasty bruise.

“Okay, that should be enough for now. How about the two of you show me what you can do,” Caelin stepped back and folded his arms. “The practice blades may be dulled, but you will still need to be careful,” he gave them each a hard stare. “Blows to the head are off-limits.”

Gabriel grinned and raised his blade in mock salute. “It’s about time,” he crouched low and crept towards Eric.

Eric wiped sweat from his brow and took a firmer grim of his sword. He kept the tip pointing at Gabriel the way Caelin had shown them, and slid into the forwards stance. After half an hour of practice, it almost felt comfortable. Pushing down his fear, he summoned an arrogance he did not feel, and waved Gabriel forward. “Come on then, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Gabriel grinned, and charged.

Eric held his ground until the last moment, and then ducked beneath Gabriel’s wild swing. He leapt backwards as Gabriel attempted to reverse the cut, lashing out with his own blade to counterattack. The blow went wide, but Gabriel still flinched backwards in surprise.

They eyed each other. Eric smiled, masking his nerves, and motioned Gabriel forward again. The larger man scowled and edged his way to the left. Eric followed him, careful to keep his stance tight. His eyes narrowed as he searched for an opening. He held his sword low, ready to strike when Gabriel moved into range.