WarriorsApprentice (2 page)

“Name the ones you know.” Tybor pressed relentlessly on.

Huon recited the list he’d learned by heart in a flat
monotone.

Tybor poked a savage finger at him. “These are our enemies.
Concentrate! If you don’t focus on them, on where they can be found, if one of
them gets by your guard because you didn’t register his name, you will die.”

Huon straightened. “Tell me which of them I am being sent to
fight, and I promise you, they will
never
get near enough to surprise
me.”

“I’ll tell you when you need to know,” Tybor growled. “You
just make sure you’re prepared.”

Huon yawned. “They’re only humans. They’re not invincible.”

“Their weapons make them close to invincible,” Tybor
snapped.

“Then why aren’t you training
me
to use human
weapons?” Huon’s voice rasped with tiredness.

“Dvalinn
can’t
use them. Contact with weapons makes
us weak. We can only use fireballs because the chemicals are kept separate. The
moment they combine you compress and hurl them away from you,” Tybor barked.
“Don’t get complacent.”

Huon’s temper flared, snapping him out of his lethargy. “I’m
not,” he yelled back. “You know I can defeat any human I come up against.
You’ve made sure I know everything I need to know.”

The lines of Tybor’s mouth grew hard and tight. “There’s new
information.” His fists clenched. “It was in your orders. The Gatekeepers have
discovered a way to penetrate the underground. One of them caught a young
Dvalinn on the surface. He tortured him and somehow used him as a conduit to
the Underworld.”

For the first time in his life Huon was glad of his pale
skin, hoping his natural pallor masked his horror. “The Gatekeepers can come
here?”

“Using Dvalinn to do so,” Tybor confirmed. “Which is why,
when you go up against the Gatekeepers, you must be strong enough to win.” A
muscle flexed in Tybor’s jaw. “Because if you don’t, you must use what strength
you have left to kill yourself.”

Huon swallowed.

Tybor narrowed his eyes. “Scared? Want to run home to Mommy?”

Huon drew himself upright. “No. I’m not scared.”

Tybor leaned forward, his hot breath blasting Huon’s face.
“Well you bloody well should be. If that doesn’t scare you, you’re fucking
stupid. Stupid people get themselves killed. Go to bed. I’ve finished with you
tonight.”

* * * * *

Tybor dropped to his back on the narrow cot and flung his
arm up over his eyes. His muscles ached from the harsh treatment he’d given
them today. It had been years since he’d pushed himself so hard. Hell, years
since he’d pushed one of his trainees so hard. And he’d never touched…

He cut the thought off, refusing to face what he’d done.

He could justify the pressure he’d put on the boy. To have
any chance of surviving the mission planned for him Huon needed to be fitter
and stronger than any warrior Tybor had trained before. Tybor’s fist clenched.
When he’d first laid eyes on the boy—too slender, too pale, too inexperienced,
too beautiful—Tybor had been certain he would not survive any encounter with a
Gatekeeper. But Huon had earned his respect and, more difficult and far more
rare, had made Tybor admit, at least to himself, the error of his original
judgment. The boy had strength and determination and a persistence that almost
outlasted Tybor’s own. Only pride and refusal to admit his own weakness had kept
Tybor going.

That and the need to work his body hard to bury the strange
feelings the sleeping boy had aroused in him. He’d returned with the sunblock
and found Huon lying there, the dappled sunlight playing over his silver-blond
hair, still eye-catching in spite of being clumped into sweat-soaked hanks. The
long, slender line of his back was relaxed in the curve of deep slumber, his
shoulders glowed from the unfamiliar heat of the sun. Some primitive, atavistic
part of Tybor had stirred, made him do something that here, in his Spartan
room, deep in the underground fortress of the cavern city, he shuddered to
think of.

What if Huon had woken, had confronted him, hadyelled,“What the fuck”?Tybor winced—“fuck” was
not
a word he should
be using when thinking of Huon. Whatever words he might have said, the boy would
have had every right to be outraged, offended and to make a public, formal
complaint.

And yet, for one brief moment Tybor had thought the boy was
awake, that he knew.

He sat up and scrubbed his hands across his face.

He could not let himself be distracted by emotions more
suited to a human than a Dvalinn warrior. He had four weeks to train the boy,
two of them already gone, then he would have to send him up against the most
determined killer of all the Gatekeepers.

The Dvalinn did not remain deep underground by choice. They
craved the light and freshness and beauty of the upper world, but since
Gatekeepers had declared them the enemy, these vast caves were their only place
of safety.

Once, the Dvalinn had been able to go to the surface, feel
the warmth of the sun, bathe in the glory of natural light—richer, denser than
the pale-blue artificial glow of the Underworld. Few humans had ever seen them,
even fewer had recognized them as something different, and those who had,
steeped in old beliefs of the fae, had accepted them as a part of the mystical
diversity of the world.

But time and new religions had changed that. Those who were
not human had been deemed to be evil. Militant groups had arisen, the Gatekeepers
among the most secretive and strongest, dedicated to searching out and
destroying Tybor’s kind.

The Dvalinn still went above—need drove them too sharply to
do otherwise—but they went in brief snatches, senses alert, wary of all humans.
Gatekeepers tracked them, knew the places on the surface where the Dvalinn
gathered. Waited and attacked.

Tybor knew the names of the currently active Gatekeepers and
Huon’s orders pitted him against the worst of them—a killer so powerful and so
ruthless that to defeat him Huon needed all Tybor’s talent and experience
concentrated on his training. Huon’s unexpected strength and resilience gave
him a tiny flicker of a chance of survival. Anything that interfered with it,
anything that marred his concentration, took his mind off the task, would
ensure Huon’s death.

Tybor had sent hundreds of young warriors to fight the
Gatekeepers—had known he sent many of them to their deaths. He couldn’t stand
the thought of Huon becoming one of them.

* * * * *

Huon leaped into the air and hurled the fireball, another
handful of explosive clutched in his fist before he dropped to the ground. His
skin glistened under a layer of sweat. In three weeks his fitness, strength and
accuracy had developed so much that Tybor doubted if he could match him, let
alone beat him. The boy’s endurance, his doggedness, helped him to survive
every test, every long, punishing hour of training, never calling for quarter.
He could hit the target each time, every time, under torturous physical duress.
Tybor had nothing else to teach him, nothing else to do but send him up into
the surface world to succeed in his mission or be killed in the attempt.

Huon came to the end of the training circuit, dropped his
hands onto his hips and turned to face Tybor, his pale face glowing a warm gold
in the light of the setting sun. “That’s the best run I’ve done. What was my
time?”

Tybor shrugged. “Too slow. And you missed too many targets.”

Huon’s breath rushed in on a gasp that had nothing to do
with shortness of breath. “I hit them all.”

“Bullshit.”

Color rose in Huon’s face, painting bright-red slashes
across his cheekbones. “I hit them. You know I did.”

“And I say you didn’t. Go ’round again,” Tybor said.

Huon’s fists clenched at his sides and his eyes burned, but
lips clamped tightly together, he refilled his supplies of explosives and began
the circuit of the clearing. One after another he hit the targets Tybor had
erected, adding another layer of charring to the already blackened surfaces.

The sun still hovered above the horizon when he once more
confronted Tybor. “Well?”

“You missed three,” Tybor snapped.

Huon stretched himself up to his full height. “Bullshit. You
know
I didn’t miss any. What’s wrong with you? Are you blind?’

Tybor leaned forward and poked Huon’s chest with his finger.
“You missed three. And you were slow. Do it again.”

The red of exertion faded, leaving Huon’s face livid. His
skin stretched tightly across his bones, but he nodded shortly and turned and
ran the circuit again. And hit every target with the same accuracy as before.
His anger lent him extra speed.

He faced Tybor again, his eyes narrow. “You gonna lie about
it again, old man?”

Tybor lifted one shoulder. “If I said you missed three, you
missed three,
boy
.”

Huon stamped forward, jaw jutting aggressively, his voice
shaking with the force of his temper. “No one could run that circuit better
than that. I’m ready to goto the surface
now
!” He took a pace
away then spun back. “You know what? You’re jealous.”

Tybor laughed and let his lips curl into the sneer he’d
perfected to put raw recruits in their place. “Jealous? Of a little maggot like
you? I’m just disgusted that I’ve managed to teach you nothing. Go round
again.”

“Why? You know I got a perfect round.” In Huon’s voice Tybor
could hear the plea for justice.

Tybor leaned forward. “You missed,” he insisted.

“No!”

Huon launched himself forward, springing into the air,
colliding with Tybor and knocking him off his feet. Tybor hurtled backwards,
landing with a thud on the pine-needle-strewn ground.

Huon landed on top of him, knees astride his chest, mouth
distorted into a rictus of rage. His hands clamped on Tybor’s shoulders, lifted
and shook him.

“Bastard.” Another shake. “I hit them all.” He pounded
Tybor’s head against the hard surface beneath. “Admit it.”

A jolt of pain shot up from the back of Tybor’s head and his
vision blurred. He roared and surged upward, tossing Huon off him as if he were
no more than a toy.

“Who the hell do you think you are, boy? Back the fuck off.”

Huon picked himself up, a film of dust and pine needles
clinging to his damp skin. “Yeah right.” He faced Tybor, eyes grim and steady.
“You’re my superior officer. Gonna put me up on charges? Gonna chuck me off the
program?” His lip curled. “You’re too fucking proud to admit I’m better than
you and too fucking scared to fight me.”

Tybor’s eyes narrowed. “You think you can beat me in a
fight, little boy? Come on then. No ranks, no consequences.”

He made a taunting “come on” gesture with his hand and Huon
flew at him. Tybor blocked him with an elbow to the stomach that would have
winded almost anyone Tybor had ever gone up against. Huon staggered back, but
only until he put out a foot, centered his weight and charged again. Tybor side-stepped,
but Huon landed a solid punch on Tybor’s jaw.

Tybor’s head snapped back, but before Huon could follow
through with a second punch he twisted, grabbed Huon by the shoulder and threw
him over his hip.

Huon’s eyes glazed and he bellowed in his rage, scrambling
to his feet, hands diving into the pocket where he kept the explosives.

Tybor stepped forward, wrapped his hand around Huon’s wrist
and squeezed. “This is personal, boy. Just you and me. Save your weapons for
human enemies.”

Uncurling his fists in his pockets, Huon gasped, “Man to
man.” He drew a deep breath. “I can still beat you.”

When he closed in again, Tybor grabbed him, but oil and
sweat made Huon’s skin slippery and Tybor’s hands slid down the muscled
shoulders across the flat planes of his back. Huon wrapped his arms around
Tybor’s torso and squeezed, trying to push him off his feet.

Releasing his hold, Tybor brought his hands around to his
sides and drove up with his forearms, breaking Huon’s arms apart and freeing
himself.

Both men stepped back, breathing heavily, circling sideways,
trying to spot an opening that would allow a match-winning move.

“Had enough?” Tybor taunted.

Huon laughed breathlessly. “I’m younger than you, old man.
I’ll outlast you.”

Tybor snorted. “I could break you in—”

Before he’d finished speaking, Huon leapt into the air,
spinning into a roundhouse kick. Tybor ducked, caught Huon’s foot mid-flight
and wrenched him down to the ground. As he fell, Huon lifted his other leg and
hooked it around Tybor’s shin.

Tybor toppled, following Huon to the ground and landing on
top of him with a wet smack. Air rushed out of Huon’s lungs, hitting Tybor’s
face in a hot blast.

Huon’s chest, pressed up against his own, rose in a
shuddering, shaky breath, the movement rubbing their sweat-slicked skin
together. Tybor’s nerve endings flashed. The fires of rage burned away, leaving
a blue, sizzling arc of raw desire.

From chest to toe, their bodies connected, groins aligned,
cock lying on cock.

Tybor twisted sharply and rolled to his side, struggling to
his feet. Fuck, if Huon had felt the iron-hard ridge of his cock, he’d think…

Tybor closed his eyes. “Get on your feet, boy,” he said
gruffly. “This is over.”

Huon didn’t reply. Tybor couldn’t hear the sound of rustling
pine needles as Huon got to his feet, or the harsh rasp of oxygen-starved
lungs. Shit, maybe he’d killed the boy. He opened his eyes and looked straight
into Huon’s dazed blue ones.

Huon had pushed himself to his elbows and stared open-mouthed
at the bulge that tented Tybor’s fatigues. Then he dropped his gaze to the
evidence of his own arousal. “Sir? Tybor… I…”

Tybor forced himself to shrug. “It’s a combat-related thing.
Happens in the heat of battle all the time.” He twisted his face into a sneer.
“Doesn’t mean anything.”