Wilde's Fire (Darkness Falls #1) (12 page)

One night, he snuck us out. We walked down to a river in the night, stars shining above our heads. We made love for hours on a blanket, under an old weeping willow tree by the water. Arland built a small fire for us to sit by and asked me, again, if I’d be willing to leave with him. I waited too long to respond. Two officials caught us and demanded we return to the base.

Arland was allowed to remain by my side as my protector only, but we were never left alone again. When we discovered what it was that made me so special, the military forced me to go out into the world—to fight alone.

What was it that made me special? That part of the dream seems locked away in a section of my mind I cannot access.

“We are going to try something a little more difficult,” Arland says, bringing me out of my thoughts. “Try to stay on your feet. If your enemy knocks you down, you will surely be killed.”

He attempts to knock me off my feet with a swipe from his leg. I can almost feel his attack before he moves in, and, without hesitation, I swipe his legs out from under him, knocking
him
down first.

“Oh! I’m sorry.” I run to help him up.

How did I do that
?

“Do not be sorry. That was an excellent reaction.” Arland straightens his shirt. “Lann, Tristan, please join us for a moment.”

“Yes, sir.” Tristan rushes up to Arland before Lann even takes a step.

“Tristan, I want you to partner with Kate. Lann and I will attack. You two need to work as a team to defeat us.”

Okay, so I was feeling a little bit of confidence building, but now that’s turning back into fear. If Arland could use some of that magic to read my mind, he would know I’m
not
okay with this. I fidget with the sword again.

“I am new at this, too,” Tristan says, trying to make me feel better while we walk away from Arland and Lann.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen. I arrived here last month, after my parents were killed. Some soldiers were passing through the area when my family was attacked, but they arrived too late to save anyone other than me.” Tristan hangs his head low; his words are flat.

“I am so sorry.”

I need to get over my fears of embarrassment and learn to fight; even the children here have had harder lives than I have. I also need to learn to be strong for myself, but more than anything, I need to learn to be strong for them.

“When Arland attacks, he prefers to be direct. If they corner us, put your back to mine. They will be forced to fight each of us individually,” Tristan says, sounding eager for an opportunity to show off his fighting skills.

“Okay, and if they don’t corner us?”

“Corner them.” He smiles.

Tristan is intelligent; he’s going to be a strong fighter as he ages. I hope the war ends before he ever needs to use these skills.

“Are you two ready?” Arland asks.

“Yes,” we say in unison, but Tristan adds, “Sir.”

Lann attacks first, directing his assault at me, slashing his sword, and hitting my shield. His blows come one right after the other. I spin on my toes to get away. The short distance between us gives me the opportunity to get a firmer grip on my sword. I stab it into him, hitting his shield. We push each other back and forth. He swings his sword from under him, meeting mine with what feels like his entire strength put into it. I force back the urge to let my sword fly from my hand and, instead, push harder.

Lann and Arland share a look and twist around each other.

Now, I’m fighting Arland, and Tristan is fighting Lann. It’s obvious who the stronger swordsman is here—Arland.

They are trying to make me tired.

“Switch with me,” Tristan whispers.

I run around Tristan, taking my place in front of Lann again. They don’t corner us, as Tristan had expected, but I can tell they are both tiring. It’s odd, but I’m not tired. I swap strikes with Lann until his sword flies out of his hand, leaving only Arland to contend with. Tristan lunges, swipes, ducks, and strikes Arland’s shield, trying with all his might to win. It’s clear Arland has much more experience; he allows Tristan to wear himself out, then knocks him to the floor with an easy swipe of the leg.

“Get him from the side, Kate,” Tristan says.

Running up to Arland, I try to knock his sword free before he sees me coming, but he jumps and braces for my blow. He slashes, stabs, pushes, hits my shield with his, then backs me up against the wall, his sword locked onto mine. I have nowhere to go, no leverage to use. Or do I? Using my right foot, I push myself away from the wall and knock him back a few steps. Arland swings his sword; I duck and try to trip him.

Everyone in the room has stopped what they were doing; they watch the two of us. Arland is in front of me, stabbing, slashing, blocking, and I return each of his strikes with one of my own. Our swords meet again, mine under his. Using every muscle in my body, I push up and knock his sword out of his hand. The metal clangs on the floor, echoing through the facility. Everyone is quiet except for one small shriek of excitement, coming from a little girl in a corner.

“I believe we have confirmed you are skilled with swords,” Arland says with a laugh, walking back to the center of the room.

Flanna gasps. “You can say that again.”

Excited murmurs rise out of the gathered crowd.

“Sorry I couldn’t protect you.” I offer my hand to Tristan.

“It was my fault. I know Arland is weaker from the side, but I was surprised by how well you were doing and did not pay enough attention to him.”

“Well, thank you for practicing with me,” I say, then rejoin Arland.

“I think that will be enough for today. Would you like to head back to the base for lunch?”

“Are you scared to fight me again?” I taunt, pointing at his sword. I don’t know what makes me do it; the thrill of the fight is so addictive. “Let’s go one more time?”

Flanna laughs in the background; our audience cheers for us to go on. Arland cannot resist. He picks up his sword, winks at Lann, and takes his position in front of me. It’s as if I can read Arland’s mind; for every move his feet make, mine move away in defense, and then my arm commands the sword into his, crashing against the shiny metal of the claymore, over and over again. The battle takes no exertion on my part.

After a few minutes, he looks frustrated. Fighting the instinct to stab at him, I allow Arland to get his sword under mine, then knock it from my hand.

“Got ya. Good work,” he says, wiping sweat from his brow, then turns to address the rest of the room. “Now, if you all will excuse us.”

My deflated strength seems to be returning. Maybe if I can fight, I’ll have a chance to save Brad, to see my family again, and maybe even save my people.

The others give a short bow to Arland. He points at Flanna and Lann; they run up the stairs in front of us.

“Oh, I forgot to put this back.” I return to the weapons table, intending to replace the sword and shield.

Arland comes up behind me and clasps his hand around mine where I still hold the sword’s hilt. “Keep this. I believe you should remain armed from now on. You can certainly handle yourself, if the need to use it should arise. There is a leather strap on your belt right here—”

He tugs at my belt, helping me slide the claymore through the loop. His fingers graze my stomach, sending a shiver through me.

Clanging of iron, feet scuffling, thuds when quivers hit their targets, bring the room to life. A little boy and girl, who had been practicing with knives, wave goodbye to me as Arland and I leave the room.

The locks open and the hinges creak.

“All clear,” Lann says.

We step out into the dark forest, Arland takes me by the hand, and we proceed along the path between the two buildings.

“You are full of surprises.”

“That was the most amazing experience. I really don’t know where I learned to move like that.” I smile, adrenaline still pumping through my veins.

“I am beginning to think that is the first of many surprises to come from you.”

The way Arland speaks makes me nervous—not about what kind of surprises will come from me, but in a
nervous about being around a guy
kind of way. For the first time in my life, I’m concerned with what my hair looks like, how I smell, if I’m sweating, but I’m not about to do anything that would make him aware of how I feel. I shake away the thoughts.

He leads me through the door to the base and abruptly drops my hand. The absence of his touch leaves me empty. I know it’s wrong to think like this, with Brad stuck in a coma, but I can’t ignore six years’ worth of romantic dreams.

Arland turns to face me. “I must attend a meeting.”

“I’ll help Flanna in the kitchen while you’re gone. Will you be back soon?”

The memory of that first dream has me utterly confused. I want to spend more time with Arland, have him hold my hand longer, but then where does that leave me and Brad? Arland said he doesn’t understand my dreams, but there’s no way he can deny I had them. I know his name, his position in the military, and his mission to protect me. Maybe portions of the dreams are wrong, but my familiarity with him, and ability to predict his moves, make me wonder if I might be a Seer, like the one who prophesied about me before my birth. If I’m not, I must have some other strong connection to Arland.

“I am afraid I will be gone the remainder of the afternoon. I will come by your room tonight, after I finish my meetings. Oh, and Kate, try not to be too nice to Flanna, or she will want to keep you for herself. No one has ever offered to help her in the kitchen like you did this morning.”

He reaches for my hand again, then brings it to his lips and kisses it. My heart skips a beat—or three—as he heads back into the corridor, then goes through the door on the right.

When Arland is out of the room, Flanna—who had been staring at us without shame—smiles, hands me a knife, and points to a basket of potatoes.

lanna and I busy ourselves with preparations for the two upcoming lunch rounds. Since there’s not enough room for everyone to sit in the dining area at one time, the children eat first, followed by the adults.

Twenty-five or so young boys and girls eat their stew and bread in less than five minutes. Two of them stop to talk to me in the kitchen before leaving for their afternoon chores; they have to wash clothes and bed linens. Marcus and Anna, who Flanna tells me are brother and sister, ask in high-pitched voices if I’ll give them lessons in sword fighting. I have to stifle the laughter rising inside me, because in all honesty, they probably know a lot more than I do.

“I will talk to Arland to see if he will allow it,” I tell them, after a moment’s pause. Since he appears to be in charge here, I figure this is my best bet at getting out of teaching anyone anything.

“Thank you!” Marcus trills.

The two of them, who I’m guessing are about ten and twelve, run to the corridor and through the door on the left.

A distant memory of Brad and me running through the barn, a delighted Gary promising to teach us how to break the young horses, surfaces and sends a fresh, stabbing pain through my chest. I wonder what Brad would think of all this—if he’d try to sneak us out while everyone was asleep, or if he’d support the notion I’m some sort of hero. Forcing my thoughts onto other things, I serve lunch to the adult crowd.