Resistance (Ilyon Chronicles Book 1) Page 6

  She caught another glimpse of the Draicon Arena out past the wall, a better view than on the streets, but she locked her focus on the building settled at the edge of the smallest training field. Inside the sunlit interior, the air glittered with dust particles and tickled her nose with a mixed scent of dusty wood and oiled leather. Large tables and shelves sat along the walls, but it did not contain as much equipment as the other buildings. The young women had no training in swordplay or the use of such weapons, with the exception of archery and self-defense using a quarterstaff.

  At a tall wooden box, Kyrin inspected a collection of smooth oak staves. She pulled one out to weigh in her hand. Satisfied, she walked out to the training yard. A few of the older girls and trainers practiced nearby. They glanced her way, but then ignored her.

  In one corner by herself, Kyrin took the staff in both hands and moved through the different stances she’d learned over the years, paying careful attention to her posture and fluidity. She came out to practice so often, her hands and feet moved almost without thought. She enjoyed this exercise. It was almost like dancing, but more precise, and helped calm her mind.

  Caught up in the movement, the refreshing air of the outdoors, and the warmth of the sunshine, it startled her to turn and find another person standing a few feet away. The sandy-haired young man responded to her surprise with a broad, flashing grin.

  “You look excellent,” he praised. “One of the best I’ve seen.”

  “Thank you, Collin.” She let the end of her staff rest on the ground.

  Of everyone at Tarvin Hall, he would surely be the number one choice for promotion at the ceremony. At nineteen, he excelled in his training and showed extraordinary leadership and teaching skills. He’d trained the young men and women for years already. No doubt his promotion would place him as a lieutenant in Emperor Daican’s army where he would work his way to captain in record time, and, eventually, general.

  Kyrin’s eyes shifted to the staff in Collin’s hand. He was equipped to spar and had another set of sparring armor tucked in his other arm. He followed her gaze, and his grin widened.

  “Thought you’d like someone to practice with.”

  Kyrin bit back a sigh. She enjoyed her solitude, but Collin would insist if she tried to decline. He was persistent that way, and far too confident in the effect of his persuasive grin. Yet, he had a way of being endearing despite his over-inflated ego and propensity for flattery.

  “Sure,” Kyrin responded, but when she glanced over at the other girls, she caught their envious and disapproving frowns. Collin was the catch of Tarvin Hall, and he soaked up every bit of the attention.

  Rolling her eyes, she took the sparring equipment from him. Thick leather bracers protected her forearms, gloves protected her knuckles, and greaves covered her shins. A leather breastplate protected her ribs. While none of it would be effective in a real fight, it did help deflect an accidental blow.

  Lifting her staff from the ground, she faced Collin. He took a step back. With another wide grin, he bowed gracefully at the waist. Oh, the resentment Kyrin sensed drifting her way, but she didn’t spare the other girls a glance. Instead, she held her staff in her favored defense position.

  “After you, my lady,” Collin said. His voice always held a distinct tone of mirth.

  Kyrin reacted with a swift and powerful downward attack. The shattering crack of the two staves echoed across the field. After the successful block, Collin countered with his own swift attack. But Kyrin responded almost before he completed his move. After so many sparring sessions with him, he’d become easy to read with every one of his moves cataloged in her brain.

  Back and forth, they traded blows. At first, it was hard to look on Collin as an opponent with the grin still attached to his lips and his eyes twinkling. He enjoyed this far too much, but as the match wore on, his expression grew more focused, and Kyrin pushed every advantage she had. Soon, they both panted with exertion. Kyrin’s forearms and shoulder muscles burned, but she never let up on her attack.

  A good several minutes later, their staves came together in an unspoken draw.

  “Very well done,” Collin told her, his grin resurfacing. “You’ve become a master since our first lessons.”

  Kyrin couldn’t keep from matching his grin. “Thank you. You taught me well, but you could’ve had me during the match.”

  “Could I have?” Mischief sparked in his eyes at his feigned ignorance.

  “I lost my balance, and you hesitated.”

  Collin leaned on his staff. “What can I say? I’m a gentleman.”

  Kyrin chuckled lightly. Ridiculous charmer. “Thank you, sir, for an excellent workout.”

  “Any time.”

  Kyrin tucked her staff under her arm and reached to loosen the laces of her bracers on her way toward the supply building. She didn’t dare check the faces of the other girls. When she did look up, Kaden waited at the edge of the field. Moisture glistened on his forehead and darkened his shirt. His expression bordered on a scowl as he stared past her. She glanced over her shoulder. Collin now mingled with the other girls, to their near-swooning delight.

  When Kyrin moved past, Kaden followed.

  “He likes you, you know.”

  “Collin?” She shook her head in dismissal. “He likes most girls over sixteen at Tarvin Hall.” Half the reason Kaden couldn’t stand him.

  “Do you like him?”

  Kyrin gave a short laugh. “Kaden, really, you know me better than that.”

  He cast one more suspicious glance back at Collin.

  “And anyway, what would you do if I said yes? Threaten him?”

  Kaden’s mouth opened, but Kyrin held up her hand. “Never mind, don’t answer that.” It would probably be more than a threat considering Collin’s cockiness.

  After depositing the equipment in the supply building, Kyrin and Kaden walked back to the Hall. When they entered, they met Master Zocar.

  “It’s about time for afternoon worship,” he announced. He eyed their sweaty, rumpled uniforms. “After you’ve changed, join us.”

  Kyrin stiffened.

  When neither replied, his eyes narrowed a bit. “It’s been at least a year since I’ve seen you two at the temple.”

  Kyrin’s heart beat much harder than she wanted it to. Why did her mind have to go so blank? Before she could formulate a reply, Kaden spoke up in a calm and casual manner.

  “We can pray and worship much better when we’re alone and it’s quiet. It’s distracting with so many people. We notice too much around us. Especially Kyrin.”

  Master Zocar’s eyes slid between them, and he didn’t speak for a long moment. Kyrin held his gaze steadily whenever it turned to her and resisted the intense urge to swallow.

  At last, he nodded. “All right, but I expect you to spend the next hour in prayer and reflection.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kaden responded, almost too dutifully.

  Master Zocar gave them one final semi-stern look and strode away.

  Once he was far down the hall, Kyrin blew out a sigh, glad Kaden had taken over.

  “So how much longer do you think we can hide the fact we’re followers of King Elôm?” he murmured.

  Kyrin shook her head and her shoulders drooped. “I think the bigger question is what will happen when we’re found out?”

  Night had fallen by the time the men finished with the pickerin. Rayad helped Aldor close up the barn, and all three of them stopped at the well on their way to the cabin. Tyra followed, licking her lips contentedly while her sides bulged with pickerin meat. Once cleaned of blood and hair, the men went inside. The savory smell of beef soup and fresh bread greeted them, and they found Kalli bent over at the hearth. She hummed a happy tune as she stirred the contents of the steaming cast-iron pot hanging over the flames of the large fireplace.

  She straightened. “I bet you men are hungry. Sit down, all of you.”

  “Smells delicious,” Aldor told his wife as he and the others took their
seats around the hardwood table.

  “It sure does,” Rayad agreed. Far better than anything he used to make living on his own. He hadn’t eaten so well since his mother passed decades ago. In fact, it was his mother who had helped Kalli hone her cooking skills.

  Kalli smiled in appreciation and turned once more to the hearth. She stirred the soup again and reached for the handle, but Jace pushed back his chair to stop her. “Let me help you.”

  He took the heavy pot for her and set it on the table.

  The old woman gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, dear.”

  A smile rested on Rayad’s lips. What a kind soul Jace turned out to be, especially when it came to Kalli. The two of them adored each other. Considering how despicably ryriks treated women, Rayad thanked Elôm every day for this. After all, he’d been the one to bring Jace into their home, but Jace would far sooner harm himself than the old couple. Any fears Rayad had in the beginning, Jace had laid to rest a long time ago.

  Kalli took her seat, and Aldor led them in a short but sincere prayer to their Creator and Provider. When he finished, they eagerly passed the food around. All the work springtime brought made them hungry. While they ate the hearty meal, Rayad said, “I think I’ll ride into Kinnim tomorrow. Aros has a shoe loose, and it’s been a while since I’ve heard the latest news.”

  He never liked to be kept in the dark too long about Arcacia’s current affairs. He didn’t trust the emperor to keep things peaceful.

  “Good,” Aldor replied. “I could use a few things.”

  Rayad looked across the table at Jace, who appeared too busy with the meal to heed the conversation. “Do you want to join me, Jace?”

  His blue eyes rose briefly, but an answer was slow in coming. He went to great lengths to avoid towns and other people. It had taken Rayad a full year and a half to convince him to come along the first time. He tried to coax him out of his comfort zone when he could and help him develop more trust toward people, but seventeen years of being treated like an animal wouldn’t erase easily.

  When Jace did speak, it was almost too quiet to hear. “Sure.”

  Rayad gave him a smile, thanking Elôm for the progress they had made. It may look small to an outsider, but for them, they’d climbed mountains, one painful step at a time, with many dark valleys in between.

  Jace took another wet bowl from Kalli and wiped it dry with the dishtowel. Behind him, Rayad and Aldor discussed what supplies they needed from town. He grimaced, his stomach already winding up in a knot. He should never have agreed to go along. No visit had ever been comfortable despite Rayad’s encouragement. He simply had no place in the general public—but he wouldn’t back out now.

  “What’s the matter, dear?”

  Jace looked down into Kalli’s plump, motherly expression. “Nothing.” He gave her a weak smile. “I’m fine.”

  She tipped her head with a look of gentle scolding. “Now don’t be fretting about those people in town. They’re fools if they judge you before they know you. It’s their loss, not yours.”

  Jace’s smile strengthened. No other person in the world possessed the ability to cheer him up like Kalli. She had a way of making everything seem all right no matter what the circumstances.

  Once the two of them finished with the dishes, Kalli instructed him to sit down again so she could tend his wound and fussed over how long they’d waited. By her estimation, it was only moments away from festering and causing his death.

  Jace bit back the urge to grin and rolled up his pant leg. “See, only a scratch.” He hoped no laughter came through in his voice.

  Kalli shook her finger at him. “Even a scratch can become infected. Those pickerins aren’t clean animals.”

  Jace didn’t argue, allowing her to dote on him. After all, without a mother growing up, he could use every ounce of Kalli’s love. Tyra sat at his side and rested her head in his lap until it came time for her turn.

  “Well, I’ve got an early start tomorrow,” Aldor said as the evening grew late. He pushed back from the table. “Best get to bed.”

  “I’ll just be a few minutes,” Kalli told him.

  He rose, as did Rayad.

  “I think I’ll turn in as well.” He looked at Jace. “What about you?”

  “After I take Tyra out.”

  Jace left the table and stepped out onto the wide front porch. Tyra followed. The nighttime chill in the breeze sent a shiver across his skin, and Jace drew a deep breath of the fresh air. He liked the quiet and stillness of the night. While Tyra tended to her business, Jace glanced over the farm. Though well past dark, to his eyes everything appeared as more of a twilight. He looked up at the two large moons overhead, their silver and bluish light competing with the stars. Far off in the trees, a wolf howled. His gaze fell on Tyra, but she walked toward him, uncaring of the life she could have in the wild.

  “Ready to go in?”

  She glanced up, crystal blue eyes glowing, and he turned back to the door. Yet, when he gripped the knob, a cold sensation prickled the hair at the back of his neck. Behind him, Tyra growled. He looked over his shoulder. The wolf stared off at the woods across the clearing. Another menacing growl rumbled from her throat, and Jace peered into the shadowed trees. An unexplainable churning took hold of his gut, but nothing appeared out of place.

  For a while, the two of them just stood watching and listening. Eventually, Tyra joined him at the door. Jace released a pent-up breath, and his stomach settled a little. Probably just another wolf or a bear, but for most of his life he’d had to watch his back, never trusting anyone. Even now, it was difficult to live without such suspicion. With one last sweep of the farm, he followed Tyra into the cabin and bolted the door securely.

  Kalli had gone to bed, but left a candle burning on the table. Jace’s smile crept out. Even after three years, she still forgot he didn’t need light to see in the dark, but he appreciated her thoughtfulness. He blew out the flame and climbed the stairs to his room. Tyra trailed behind.

  His small bedroom held little more than his bed and a dresser, yet it was the first private room he’d ever had. The first private sanctuary he could call his own. Tyra found her place on the old rug at the foot of his bed and, after turning a few times, nestled in for the night. Before preparing for sleep, Jace walked to the window and opened it wide so either he or Tyra would be able to detect anyone or anything prowling around the cabin. Braced against the sill, he peered out at the forest. Another chill tickled his arms, but he tried to convince himself it was only the breeze.

  With quiet strictly enforced after dark, Kyrin treaded the halls with care. Light still peeked under many of the doors along with whispered voices. She left the girls’ dormitory behind and slipped outside, relishing the coolness of the night. Sleep eluded her, and another headache threatened to take hold. Ever since the confrontation with Master Zocar about their worship practices, she felt jumpy. Kaden seemed unconcerned, but then he always would in order to comfort her, even if he worried privately.

  She glanced at the gate, which stood closed this time of night, and crossed the courtyard. To the right of the Hall rose another impressive circular building with many windows. Warm, glowing light from dozens of candles streamed through the glass.

  At the entrance, Kyrin pushed open one of the double doors. The old hinges creaked, and the musty but pleasant scent of books and scrolls wrapped around her as she walked inside. She stepped out from under the ornate archway that supported a huge balcony overhead and shadowed her small form. In the center of the building, towering shelves filled to bursting with books surrounded her. How long must it have taken to write and collect them all? Tables and chairs for studying claimed most of the open spaces. Kyrin never grew tired of the sight. Tarvin Hall had one of the most magnificent libraries in Arcacia, and how she loved it. It was the one and only good thing about living here.

  “Ah, my young pupil returns.”

  The deep, rumbling voice filled the space. Kyrin turned. Just emerg
ing from under another archway was a man of impressive stature, his skin dark and rich like freshly tilled soil. Kyrin had to tip her head back to look into his bright eyes, which gleamed the color of the emperor’s finest gold, flecked with copper. He had the build and bearing of a formidable warrior, yet, as a talcrin, he was much more a scholar than a fighter and held the position of Tarvin Hall’s wisest instructor. Kyrin never could guess his true age. Mid-forties, perhaps, but whenever she asked him, his response was always a smiled, “Old enough.” A good foot or more taller than her, his presence intimidated many, but for Kyrin, it brought calm, and she smiled.

  “Good evening, Endathlorsam.” Most Arcacians would never bother to remember the talcrins’ lengthy traditional names, but Kyrin liked to use his on occasion as a sign of respect toward him and his people’s culture. After all, there weren’t many talcrins around since most lived on their secluded island country of Arda.

  He grinned with straight, sparkling white teeth. “You’re the only person here to ever use my true name.”

  “I like it,” Kyrin said with a shrug, “but I do like Sam too.”

  He chuckled, and his metallic eyes shone with fondness. “Have you come for another night of reading and study?”

  Kyrin didn’t answer immediately, and Sam gave her a knowing look. “Or, perhaps, for discussion?”

  She nodded, and Sam guided her to a grouping of couches and chairs. Kyrin sank down onto the couch and its familiar comfort while Sam occupied the stuffed chair across from her.

  “What’s on your mind?” the talcrin asked gently.