Immortal Swordslinger 1 Read online

  “These aren’t on the tour for new students,” she said as she lifted the latch on one of them. “But I know how noisy and crowded the barracks can be. It’s good to have somewhere you can go for a little privacy.”

  We stepped inside, and the door swung shut behind us. Faryn lit a candle on a shelf, illuminating a room piled with pillows, its walls lined with shelves full of folded sheets.

  “It’s good to see you,” I said as I looked into her eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I missed you too.” She lifted her hand somewhat tentatively and sighed as she stroked my cheek. “Far more than I expected.”

  Faryn’s Walls: 0

  Ethan’s Charm: 1

  She pulled my head down and kissed me. Her lips parted as her tongue flicked across mine. My heart raced, and I could feel myself breaking into a grin, but there was something I had to ask.

  “I thought you didn’t want this,” I said. “You being a teacher and me a pupil.”

  “What I want and what I should have are two different things.” She ran her hand down my chest. “As long as no one knows, I think we can get away with some fun.”

  She pulled a bolt across the door and locked it shut, then went to stand by the heaped cushions. The scent of her filled the air around me, as clear and invigorating as a spring day.

  Eyes locked on mine, she unfastened her belt and dropped it to the floor. Slowly, carefully, she unlaced the front of her robe, revealing bare flesh inch by tantalizing inch. I took a step forward, eager to grab hold of her, to stroke her, to kiss her, to pull her close, but she held out a hand to stop me.

  “Patience,” she whispered. “We have time.”

  Her robe fell to the floor, and I drank in the tight lines of her body, her skin porcelain pale. Her emerald eyes shone like light through the forest canopy as she laid herself down on the cushions, naked except for the gold circlet in her hair.

  “Now, you,” she said.

  I unfastened my robe, trying to take my time, to draw out the moment for her. But I felt the urgency of her presence, the desperate desire to touch her. I practically ripped off my own tunic, kicked off my sandals, and dropped my trousers to stand naked in front of her.

  “I see someone’s excited,” she said slyly, looking me up and down. She slid one of her hands down between her legs, letting out a low, contented hum. “I think it’s time we made the most of that.”

  She beckoned me over, and I knelt at the edge of the pile of cushions. Wrapping my hands around her hips, I drew her to me and slid inside her. She moaned in pleasure and pulled me down, kissing my lips, my neck, my chest. After weeks of playful glances and teasing words, our bodies finally joined.

  It was well worth the wait.

  “You’re amazing.” I looked into those eyes like a forest fading into infinity.

  “You’re not so bad yourself, initiate,” she said with a little laugh.

  Our bodies pressed hot and heavy against each other, my skin tingling at her touch. She ran fingertips across my chest, my arms, my face. Then, she shifted my hips and spoke a few words. She guided me how to touch her, how to take her.

  Her breath quickened. Mine came faster too.

  Faryn flung her head back, pressed her hand against her mouth, and stifled an excited cry. A moment later, I did the same as our bodies shuddered together.

  Faryn and I lied together amid the heaps of cushions, kissing, teasing, stroking each other’s bodies. She pulled sheets down off the shelves to keep us warm.

  “That was amazing,” I said.

  “I forget how young you are,” she said with a laugh. “It will get so much better with time.”

  “Better?” I grinned. “So, we’ll be doing this again?”

  She kissed my neck, my shoulder, down across my chest. “I hope so. If we can find the chance.”

  Through the wall, I heard two people grunting—one voice male, the other female.

  I laughed. “Sounds like we’re not the only ones sneaking away for some fun.”

  Faryn tilted her head to one side, raised a pointed ear, and shook her head. “That’s not sex,” she giggled. “That’s fighting. Trust me, after a century, you learn to tell the difference between the two.”

  Despite the undeniable pleasure of lying there with her, I was curious to see what was going on. I slid out from under the sheets and started pulling on my clothes.

  Faryn sighed and did the same. “So young.” She put on a tone of mock exasperation. “So impatient.”

  “Thank you.” I clasped her hands, kissed her fingers, and smiled. “That was beautiful. You are beautiful.”

  “Enough chatter. I know you want to see what all the commotion is about. Don’t wait on account of me.”

  Once dressed, Faryn unbolted the door, and we both stepped out into the cool, night air. The stars winked in the darkness above us, and a full moon shone down, but far more light came from the flaming brands that lit the arena.

  We walked toward that light and weaved our way through the wooden scaffolding that held up rows of seats for spectators. There was a gap for the entrance to the arena, and we stopped there, still hidden by the shadows of the seats while we watched the combatants.

  One was a petite woman of around 20, only five and a half feet tall, her long, brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She was dressed in loose, blue trousers and a form-fitting tunic of hardened leather, with brass vambraces protecting her forearms. She fought with swift, sharp movements, her attacks stopping and starting rather than flowing into each other as she shifted between stillness and action in the passing of a heartbeat. It took me a moment to recognize her as the student who had asked about clans in our history class.

  Facing her was another initiate, one I hadn’t met but whom I couldn’t help but stare at. He stood over seven feet tall in his bare feet, which were clawed just like his hands. Fur wraps covered his legs and over them was a kilt made from strips of heavy leather, tied at the waist with a belt of red cloth and a gleaming steel buckle. He fought shirtless, exposing swathes of gray skin as well as the fur that sprouted from his shoulders. Pointed ears protruded through long, white hair, but he was too burly and hairy to be an elf.

  The woman darted and weaved around the giant, using leaps and kicks to strike high and low. His movements were slower, but he still blocked most of her attacks and countered with his own from time to time.

  “Is he some sort of orc?” I asked Faryn.

  “A half-ogre,” she said. “His name is Kegohr. A lot of the other initiates look down on his race, so he has to prove that he belongs. That’s why he’s out here so often.”

  “And her?”

  “Vesma has a lot to prove too. She’s from one of the smaller clans. Some of the others objected to her joining, saying her people lack the status to send her here.”

  “Let me guess; Clan Wysaro were among the objectors?”

  “And I thought you hadn’t learnt anything!”

  I watched the fight sway back and forth, the first time I’d seen any of my fellow initiates in action.

  “I might join them,” I said. “See what the competition’s made of, maybe practice my Augmentation.”

  Faryn chuckled. “I’ll leave you to it.” Her hand briefly brushed mine before she disappeared into the night.

  I stepped out from beneath the seating and strode into the arena, straight toward the combatants. As I approached, they stopped and turned to look at me, Kegohr with his vast fists planted on his hips, Vesma with her arms folded in front of her.

  “What do you want?” she snapped.

  “I want to join in,” I said. “To get some practice.”

  “This is private. Go find your own punching bag.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Kegohr said, his voice a low growl. A pair of fangs protruded from between his lips, but they did nothing to impair his speech. “Isn’t this the guy that sent Hamon into a fury? Effin something, yeah?”

  “Ethan Murphy.” I held out my hand. “Uh .
. .lo Pashat?”

  I felt a little awkward introducing myself with my new clan name, but Kegohr shook my hand all the same, his mighty palm dwarfing mine.

  “I like him,” Kegohr said to Vesma.

  She remained unmoved. “Why?”

  “He’s the elementalist. Everyone’s been talking about him. Wood and fire. Real talented. I figure he’s the kind of guy we want on our side.”

  I smiled at him. “I have the fire pathway, but no techniques yet. Although I have a few wood skills.”

  “Ha,” Kegohr chuckled. “An elementalist and a wild. What will you add to this merry band, eh, Vesma?”

  “Shut up, idiot,” Vesma said as she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

  “Wild?” I asked. “What’s that?”

  “Like you don’t know,” Vesma said.

  I thought about what the term might mean and answered confidently. “I get it, a natural talent. Someone who learned to Augment without a guild.” I shook my head. “Am I wild?”

  Vesma palmed her face. “Of course you’re not a wild! Wilds have to be half-breeds. It’s the melding of two different kinds that makes their natural magic grow stronger. They can even create their own techniques. You ever done that? Are you a half-breed who’s hiding a tail or scales?”

  “No,” I said, suddenly aware how little I knew of the Seven Realms.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Kegohr said. “So, how’d you learn those wood techniques, then? You don’t look like you were a member of a wood guild.”

  “I had a teacher, a really good one. In fact, I haven’t even been inside a guild house before. I’ve only been learning for a few months.”

  The moment I said it, I knew I’d made a mistake. The whole point of guilds was that they were meant to control who learned to Augment. A tutor could get into real trouble for teaching in the outside world.

  “That’s banshee shit,” Vesma said.

  “Excuse me?”

  She was starting to grind on my nerves with her look of disdainful judgment.

  “I’ve seen you channel in class,” she said. “That’s not a few months’ training.”

  “Maybe you’re overestimating me.” I decided to turn her words to my advantage. “Maybe I’m not as effective as you think. Maybe you’ll pound me into dust once we get fighting.”

  Her eyes narrowed. I could tell she saw the hook in my words, but she couldn’t resist the bait.

  “Lying is dishonorable,” she said. “I should hurt you for that.”

  She unfolded her arms and walked out into the center of the arena, beckoning for me to follow. Kegohr stepped aside as Vesma and I faced off against each other.

  Now that she had my full attention, I noticed details that I hadn’t before. Her body armor was scuffed by years of use, its buckles adjusted to better fit her. The vambraces, though moulded with fine spiral images, had become worn over time, dented at the edges from many battles. These were hand-me-downs, relics of a small, poor clan.

  I raised my fists into a fighting stance and bounced on my feet as I readied myself for action. Vesma stood perfectly still, hands raised with palms open, watching, waiting.

  Suddenly, her hand lashed out, catching me by surprise. She struck the side of my arm. There was a moment of pain and then, a feeling of numbness where she had struck some nerve.

  I stepped back, arms still up protectively, though one of them was almost useless while I waited for sensation to return.

  Vesma darted forward with her hands flashing out to left and right. I dodged one, blocked the other, and saw her kick coming just in time to jump over it. Then, she was back, still as a statue, watching me.

  “You’re stronger than you look,” I said. “Maybe you will manage to give me that beating.”

  “Less talk, more fight.” She leapt into the air, leg extended in a kick straight at my head. I stepped aside, grabbed her ankle with my good hand, and dragged her down. A smile touched my face as I used her own momentum to fling her to the ground.

  Even as she hit the sand of the arena, she twisted and used her legs to sweep mine out from under me. I hit the dirt face first and rolled away. I spat grit as her elbow collided with the place where my head had been.

  I tried to grab her before she could get up, but she snaked away and sprang to her feet. I leapt up too and we stood facing each other, me bobbing and weaving, she still as stone.

  This woman was as strong as I was and just as fast with her fists. But my tutors had deliberately given me an advantage before I came here, and I was more than willing to use it.

  I took a deep breath, drew into myself, and found the peaceful state where the Vigor could flow. I pulled it down through me, into the earth and then, back up.

  Recognition flashed across Vesma’s face a moment too late.

  A pillar of planks burst from the ground, not in front of her but beneath her feet. She yelped as the wooden pillars sent her flying in a spray of sand. Almost as fast as they had appeared, they disappeared back down into darkness, and I went to stand over her.

  “Still think my story’s banshee shit?” I grinned.

  Something slammed into my back. It felt like being hit by a brick wall, a solid mass that sent me tumbling through the air and crashing to the ground. Kegohr looked down at me with fangs glinting at the corners of his smile. His whole body glowed red, and even his patches of fur were tinged with crimson.

  “You might not be a wild,” he said, “but I am.”

  “Bring it on.”

  Pulse pounding with the thrill of the fight, I leapt to my feet. Kegohr approached, looming over me like a mountain of blazing muscle. I could feel the heat radiating from his body as the power of fire flowed through him.

  Kegohr swung at me with his massive fists, and I ducked the first blow that would have caved in my skull. I stepped back from the second, and the hot wind of its passing brushed against my face. I grabbed hold of his arm with both hands and tried to twist it around to throw him off-balance. But his natural strength, Augmented by the power of the element, made him all but immovable.

  Unlike the fire spirit, Kegohr’s skin actually burned when I touched it. I winced as his flesh seared mine, and I quickly released his arm before taking another few steps back. I was running out of space, almost pressed up against the side of the arena. I needed to buy myself some room to maneuver.

  Kegohr lunged at me, arms wide as he tried to grab me around the chest. Instead of backing away, I stepped into the move and slammed my shoulder into his body. He wasn’t tossed to the ground, but my attack had made him stagger a little. It gave me just enough time to dive past him at waist height and fall into a forward roll that brought me back to my feet a dozen paces away.

  “Tiring yet?” I asked. “It must be hard work dragging all that muscle around.”

  Kegohr laughed. “It must be hard carrying anything on those spindly limbs.”

  He rushed toward me, but this time, I had a plan. Drawing once again on the power of wood, I sent it arcing through the dirt so that a pillar of planks shot up in front of him. He slammed into them with a thud that echoed around the arena.

  With a single heaving movement, Kegohr sidestepped the pillar, only for me to fling another one up in his face. We did it again and again, walls shooting up whichever way he went.

  “Guess I’ll have to go through them!” he called out.

  There was a crash as the latest plank pillar trembled. Another crash, and a huge, flaming fist burst through and knocked planks to the ground. He pummeled at the wooden blocks until they collapsed in a heap of splinters and ashes.

  “What else you got?” he asked.

  I raised my palms and launched a volley of thorns. The wooden shards split the air and punctured his skin. He looked almost comical, like a gray porcupine, and I even heard Vesma stifle a laugh. As the thorns stood quivering in his thick skin, Kegohr looked down and shook his head.

  “You need to keep practicing if you want that to hurt me,” he said. “Si
ze matters.”

  “But sometimes, it’s what you do with it that counts.”

  I summoned a pillar of planks again, not in front of Kegohr but beneath my feet. I shot into the air and launched toward the giant. I reached out, wrapped his thick neck in both my arms, and took him to the ground. The air ejected from my lungs as his full weight landed on top of me, but I kept my grip around his neck. I contracted my muscles and blocked the air running through his windpipe. His hands scrabbled to remove me as he grew desperate for breath. I continued squeezing while ensuring I wouldn’t kill the guy. Finally, he reached out with his right arm and tapped the dirt. I released him, and he let out a wheezy chuckle.

  Vesma scowled in a corner, but Kegohr recovered after a few moments and held out his hand to me.

  “Nice meeting you, Effin.”

  “Nice meeting you too, buddy.” I clasped his hand.

  “How touching.” Vesma rolled her eyes as she joined us. “I bet you’re friends for life now.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Kegohr said. “But not like me and you, Ves. Nobody can catch up on all those years.”

  “Big idiot.” She rolled her eyes again, but she couldn’t quite suppress her smile. “We should go rest now.”

  “It’s not that late,” I said. “How about we find something to drink instead, raise a cup to new friends?”

  “Little idiot.” She frowned at me. “Don’t you know about tomorrow?”

  “What about tomorrow?” I asked.

  “Rutmonlir is taking us to farm our first fire beast cores. You need to be completely ready. Unless you want to wind up dead, that is.”

  Chapter Eight

  The mountainside above the guild house was an expanse of scorched dirt and bare stone. Few plants grew here, and those that did were short, hardy things with tough leaves and no flowers or fruit. The air was warmer than it had been when we started the trek up here just after dawn, a dry heat that left me longing for a cool drink and a rest in the shade.

  Master Rutmonlir was not going to let us rest. Seven foot tall and wrapped in muscle, he stood at the mouth of the Ember Cavern as he looked down at us with piercing black eyes. Guild rumors suggested there was monstrous blood somewhere in Rutmonlir’s heritage, that he hunted monsters out of shame at the dark streak within him. He certainly looked the part, a hulking brute of a man in a ragged leather jerkin, his skin darkened by the sun, his beard and hair a wild tangle bound with rough twine. In normal circumstances, he towered over everyone except Kegohr. Today, looking down the slope at us from on top of a boulder, he seemed more like a monument than a man.