The Demigod Proving (60 page)

In a few strides, they altered their course. He nearly fell once, as in mid-air she curved to the left, pulling him with her—a slight movement, performed with Flux, but all his life he'd learned that when he took a step or jumped, he would go a particular path until he landed, and he couldn't alter that course in any way. His mind and body expected a certain type of motion, and when she changed that, it threw off his balance. It was an odd sensation, moving through the air in a curving path, even though it was slight; and when his boots hit the ground he had to take several stutter steps to stay afoot.

“Don't do that again,” he said.

She looked back at him with an unapologetic expression, and jabbed a finger down and to the right, where they would have landed otherwise. On the other side of a tall sage bush grew a smaller bush of poison sage.

In another several strides, they reached the rise. The yucca trees loomed tall, and the poisoned sage grew up among their trunks, blocking the view of anything behind.

“Let's get behind them,” he said. “We'll ambush them when they come around.”

As she pulled him behind the wall, leading him by the hand, he turned back, expecting to see Calla falling behind on her horse. But instead, she followed Teirn through the air, in a long jump like her son's.

Maybe that explained how Teirn knew how to use Flux. His mother had taught him. One more thing that he'd hidden from Wrend. How much more was there?

But it didn't explain how she could use Ichor. It should have been impossible. Unless his guess the night before, about her being a demigod, was right.

Was it? Or were the rules he’d learned throughout his life
all
wrong?

“How do I use Flux?” he said.

He stepped close to her as they took a position near the center of the wall of yuccas. He drew his sword from its scabbard. He would’ve liked a shield. And any kind of armor. His black vest and tan shirt wouldn't protect him at all from any kind of weapon.

She breathed hard as she looked up at him and poked him just below the sternum.

“Bind it to your center. It's around here, but will change a little with your position.”

He nodded and began to turn away, to listen for Teirn's approach, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him back to her.

“I'm your mate,” she said.

She lifted one arm up to his neck and pulled him down, kissing him on the lips. They both breathed hard from the run, so the kiss only lasted a few seconds. As they parted, she held his forehead against hers.

“If you die now, I'll be very upset.”

He kissed her again, then stepped to the edge of the trees, sword ready. To his surprise, she tore her skirt off and cast it aside. Her white undershorts stood out in sharp contrast to the red dirt and green plants.

“You're staring,” she said, and lifted her eyebrows.

The heat rose in his cheeks, and he looked away. She giggled—an intoxicating little noise—and by the time he looked back, she'd assumed a position near the other side of the prickly wall, crouching and holding her hands out like claws. She almost looked silly. She was such a small thing. If Wrend hadn't known she could use Ichor, he would've laughed at the possibility of her living through the coming encounter.

He returned his attention to his side of the barrier, holding his breath and listening. Teirn would come soon, but Wrend couldn't hear any footsteps or heavy breathing. In the distance, the sound of swords clashing punctuated a draegon’s roar. The noise echoed off of the butte, only another hundred yards on.

He applied a steady flow of Thew to his arms and legs. He had plenty. He'd collected it for years and wouldn't run out any time soon. Flux was another story: he probably didn't have enough to last more than a few miles' run—if he could figure out how to use it without killing himself.

He bound it to his torso, just inside where Leenda had poked him, between his lungs and below his heart, and applied a smidgen—not much, just enough to feel what it did to him. His body moved forward. It felt like a firm hand pressing on him from the inside. But his position was too low, and his hips preceded his shoulders. He cut off the application.

Another few seconds passed. Still no Teirn or Calla.

He started to ask Leenda more about Flux.

“Shh,” she said, giving him a fierce look. She cocked her head to one side to listen.

He adjusted the place of Flux binding, moving it up just a bit—an inch or two, and applied again.

That was the spot. The invisible hand pressed his body forward at an even pressure, and he tilted up onto his tiptoes. Had he been in mid-leap, his body would have simply moved further.

“Good,” Leenda said. She nodded. “That's the spot. If you harvest Flux while in motion, it'll take a long time for your Flux to run out.”

He raised his eyebrows, not sure he could apply and harvest Flux at the same time. For now, he wouldn't press his luck.

With Flux bound to his center, and Thew in his arms and legs, he continued to wait. His heart had never beat so loudly as in those seconds. They stretched long and silent. Still nothing. No noise. No movement. No Teirn or Calla.

Maybe they'd decided to go back. It would be a—.

“Above!” Leenda said.

Wrend looked up as a shadow fell over him, descending straight down. Another loomed over Leenda.

He leapt aside and over a prickly pear, the Thew in his legs and the nudge of Flux giving him extra power and speed, making it possible to clear the sword that lashed at him. It cut the sleeve of his shirt, but didn't graze his skin. Teirn landed where he'd stood. He stopped a dozen feet away.

His heart pounded and his hands trembled. Once he'd started moving, the Flux had pushed him further and faster than he'd expected. He turned back to Teirn.

His brother didn't wait, but bounded with a roar.

Wrend knew what to expect and moved to parry the blow. Yet the power with which Teirn's sword struck his surprised him, and he reeled to the side, recognizing his error: Teirn used Thew. He needed to do more than just strengthen his arms and legs with it. He needed to actively apply it, as well.

He kept himself from falling by steadying himself with one hand. Teirn struck again, forcing him to duck and somersault past sagebrush. The sword bit the ground where he'd dodged from. Wrend found his feet and turned to meet Teirn. This time he gripped his hilt with two hands, used the applied Ichor in his arms to flex his muscles and hold them, and met the slash at this neck with firmness. Teirn's blade struck his with a clang.

And stopped.

For a moment, the swords remained there. They didn't tremble and they didn't slide. They stuck, as if fast-bonding glue had locked them into place the instant they'd met.

Visions flashed through Wrend's mind. He saw a hundred practice spars in the Seraglio—each almost identical to the other—when he and Teirn had crossed wooden blades in the same manner. How could this happen? How could the brother he'd grown up with want to kill him now?

If only he could stop things long enough to talk to Teirn. Maybe he could convince his brother to withdraw. Surely Teirn didn't
want
to kill him.

“Teirn,” he said, “we don't have to do this.”

“Submit,” Teirn said. “Submit to the Master's will.”

Wrend shook his head. “His will is no longer my law.”

Teirn roared and withdrew his sword so fast that Wrend's balance fell off, and he stumbled. He kept his eyes on Teirn, however, and managed to bring his sword up to deflect a blow. It took an extra surge of Thew and an extreme tightening of his muscles to keep the sword at an angle that would prevent Teirn's blade from sliding down his toward Wrend’s head.

He succeeded, but the effort sent him falling further, and he tumbled face-first into the sage bush he'd dodged around only a moment before. The prickly leaves tore through his clothes and dug into his skin. For an instant he panicked, unsure if it was poison sage or not. A glance as he struggled to rise showed him it wasn't. Good thing, or he would've had no chance of survival.

Not that it would make a difference. He had his back toward Teirn and was tangled in the bush.

Chapter 78: Distant application

Watching people who use Ichor as they fight is like watching a circus. Only not as funny.

-Leenda

Leenda landed a fist against Calla's temple that sent the woman flailing to the side. She nearly slammed into the wall of yucca trees and poison sage, but straightened herself—no doubt with Flux—and came at Leenda again.

Leenda jumped up and back, applying Flux so that she lifted high enough to kick Calla in the side of the head, in the same place she'd landed her last blow. She could handle Calla. The woman fought with ferocity and strength, but without finesse. She didn't follow through with her blows, and struck in odd patterns, like someone who'd practiced certain moves against a dummy, but never actually fought a real person. She did have speed, though, and knew how to use Flux as well as Leenda. But that wouldn't be enough to save her.

The problem was that Calla kept Leenda from helping Wrend.

As Calla staggered backward, again toward the yucca wall, Leenda lifted a few feet higher into the air. As she hovered there, she took the moment to glance at Wrend as he fell into the sagebrush. Teirn brought his sword up for a killing blow.

Goat guts! She was too far away. In the time it would take Teirn to lower his sword, she couldn't cross the twenty feet to tackle him. She could only do one thing.

She bound Flux to the blade of the sword, just above the hilt, at its center of gravity, and applied in a rush.

The Ichor flowed out of her in a torrent—faster than any other time in her life. Her soul sagged beneath the strength of such a flow, and her reserves halved in nearly an instant. But she had no choice. Because she had not caused the motion of the sword that she wanted to reverse, she had to use extra Flux to affect its path. If it had been her sword in her hand, and she'd been swinging it down, a fraction of the Ichor would have produced the same effect. But because the sword wasn't hers, she had to apply as much as she could, as fast as she could. Luckily, the sword was light. Affecting a larger object, such as a body, would have proven nearly impossible.

The sword slowed near Wrend's neck, stopped, and gathered speed as it flew up in exactly the opposite path it had descended in. Teirn reeled backward, surprise painting his face. Wrend scrambled out of the bush.

She'd saved him. This time. If she could just take care of Calla quickly enough to help Wrend, they would be fine.

Still floating, she looked back toward Calla as the woman came through the air, foot extended. Leenda applied Thew to her stomach and clenched the muscles, so that the kick didn't completely knock the wind out of her.

The blow fell hard. She still levitated in the air, and so her body rotated up. Calla's momentum carried her on, so that they hovered face-to-face, almost parallel to the ground. Leenda would have been happy to let Calla continue on past her, but Calla grabbed her shoulders and the two of them tumbled through the air, crashing over a yucca tree. Its branch cracked and broke under their weight and momentum. The needles stabbed through Leenda's blouse, into her side. From Calla's cry, the tree got her just as badly.