wings; blue fire hissed and flared in the wind. A number of
humans looked back in his direction, the terror on their faces easy to read
despite the darkness surrounding them. “Humans, I claim Right of Challenge. One
of your numbers nearly caused my death.” A cruel note, residual darkness from
his Larnkin’s anger, echoed in his voice. It surprised Sorntar, but added a
note of danger. The closest humans moved away a few paces. He smiled.
King Ryanth
snarled at him. Sorntar tilted his head in Marsolwyn’s direction, acknowledging
where his ‘decision’ to answer the challenge had originated. Before the lupwyn
could respond, Sorntar threw one of his twin blades out before him. The sword
flew end over end in a graceful burning arc and landed with its blade partly
buried in soft loam. He speared the closest human with a determined look. “One
of you, take up my sword and fight. If you give me even a bit of challenge, I
may go easy on you.”
There were a
great many whispers and much shuffling about as orders were issued and relayed,
but no one stepped forward. Marsolwyn’s plan was flawed. These humans were too
fearful. None of them would answer the challenge, not willingly as was
required.
Frustration
stirred in his gut. This wasn’t where he wanted to be, what he wanted to be
doing, or—more to the point, what his Larnkin wanted him to be doing. Both he
and his Larnkin wanted to solve the mystery of the mind he’d touched. Whoever
she was, her mind had been strong, and her determination to be free of him so powerful
she’d gained her freedom. To the best of his knowledge, the only mage prisoners
were his sisters and Marsolwyn. If not a prisoner, who was the other woman he
found so interesting? Was it she who had interfered with the Gate—nearly
killing him?
Once the challenge
was over, he’d hunt down the woman who stirred his Larnkin’s interest.
He sank back
down on his perch to wait.
* * * *
A tall, slim
figure moved between human soldiers, being careful to squeeze through or weave
around obstacles. As he came closer, Sorntar saw why. A mage-cloak offered
protection against human eyes, but his passage would only go unnoticed if he
avoided running into anyone. To Sorntar’s disappointment, the cloak also
prevented him from learning much about this person.
The evening
breeze carried the newcomer’s scent—pleasant, with a hint of saltiness,
feminine. A female? Here? Sorntar didn’t think humans permitted their women
folk to learn fighting skills. By her ease of movement, a young, confident
opponent faced him.
Within him, his
Larnkin stirred, its emotions a mix of confusion, wanting, and sleepy pleasure.
It was her—the
woman who had touched his mind earlier. It had to be.
A dozen paces
distant, she unclasped the cloak and let it pool around her feet. A ripple of
surprise—and something else—slid through Sorntar’s Larnkin. Eagerness? Despite
never meeting her before, he sensed a familiarity within her.
She moved with
grace, her long strides covering the distance quickly. A pace away from the
sword, she stopped and tucked her braid down the back of her leather vest. The
movement drew his eyes to her gentle curves, that slight softness an alluring
contrast to her otherwise toned body. She was reaching for the sword, the first
tongues of flame licking at her fingers, when another human ran forward,
bellowing threats and curses.
With barely a
thought Sorntar formed a barrier behind the girl, preventing the male from
coming closer.
From behind the
barrier, the officer’s eyes bored into the woman’s back. “Ashayna, this is not
your challenge to answer. Come here at once.” He slapped his thigh, then
pointed at the ground directly in front of him. “That’s an order.”
“It’s too late.
I’ve already answered this challenge.”
“You don’t
understand the risk.”
“Risks—those I
understand completely.” Then much lower, almost under her breath. “More so than
you realize,
humans looked back in his direction, the terror on their faces easy to read
despite the darkness surrounding them. “Humans, I claim Right of Challenge. One
of your numbers nearly caused my death.” A cruel note, residual darkness from
his Larnkin’s anger, echoed in his voice. It surprised Sorntar, but added a
note of danger. The closest humans moved away a few paces. He smiled.
King Ryanth
snarled at him. Sorntar tilted his head in Marsolwyn’s direction, acknowledging
where his ‘decision’ to answer the challenge had originated. Before the lupwyn
could respond, Sorntar threw one of his twin blades out before him. The sword
flew end over end in a graceful burning arc and landed with its blade partly
buried in soft loam. He speared the closest human with a determined look. “One
of you, take up my sword and fight. If you give me even a bit of challenge, I
may go easy on you.”
There were a
great many whispers and much shuffling about as orders were issued and relayed,
but no one stepped forward. Marsolwyn’s plan was flawed. These humans were too
fearful. None of them would answer the challenge, not willingly as was
required.
Frustration
stirred in his gut. This wasn’t where he wanted to be, what he wanted to be
doing, or—more to the point, what his Larnkin wanted him to be doing. Both he
and his Larnkin wanted to solve the mystery of the mind he’d touched. Whoever
she was, her mind had been strong, and her determination to be free of him so powerful
she’d gained her freedom. To the best of his knowledge, the only mage prisoners
were his sisters and Marsolwyn. If not a prisoner, who was the other woman he
found so interesting? Was it she who had interfered with the Gate—nearly
killing him?
Once the challenge
was over, he’d hunt down the woman who stirred his Larnkin’s interest.
He sank back
down on his perch to wait.
* * * *
A tall, slim
figure moved between human soldiers, being careful to squeeze through or weave
around obstacles. As he came closer, Sorntar saw why. A mage-cloak offered
protection against human eyes, but his passage would only go unnoticed if he
avoided running into anyone. To Sorntar’s disappointment, the cloak also
prevented him from learning much about this person.
The evening
breeze carried the newcomer’s scent—pleasant, with a hint of saltiness,
feminine. A female? Here? Sorntar didn’t think humans permitted their women
folk to learn fighting skills. By her ease of movement, a young, confident
opponent faced him.
Within him, his
Larnkin stirred, its emotions a mix of confusion, wanting, and sleepy pleasure.
It was her—the
woman who had touched his mind earlier. It had to be.
A dozen paces
distant, she unclasped the cloak and let it pool around her feet. A ripple of
surprise—and something else—slid through Sorntar’s Larnkin. Eagerness? Despite
never meeting her before, he sensed a familiarity within her.
She moved with
grace, her long strides covering the distance quickly. A pace away from the
sword, she stopped and tucked her braid down the back of her leather vest. The
movement drew his eyes to her gentle curves, that slight softness an alluring
contrast to her otherwise toned body. She was reaching for the sword, the first
tongues of flame licking at her fingers, when another human ran forward,
bellowing threats and curses.
With barely a
thought Sorntar formed a barrier behind the girl, preventing the male from
coming closer.
From behind the
barrier, the officer’s eyes bored into the woman’s back. “Ashayna, this is not
your challenge to answer. Come here at once.” He slapped his thigh, then
pointed at the ground directly in front of him. “That’s an order.”
“It’s too late.
I’ve already answered this challenge.”
“You don’t
understand the risk.”
“Risks—those I
understand completely.” Then much lower, almost under her breath. “More so than
you realize,
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