Until I happened.
I sighed, staring after the man. “It’s a trick.”
“It always is,” Calder agreed. “But if the Darkness comes for you, would you rather be somewhere they can help you, or somewhere they can’t reach you?”
It sounded like an easy question. I was out of options. Alone in this battle, except for Calder. I should be seeking all the help I could get … but if it was possible, I trusted the five great masters about as much as I trusted the Darkness.
“He didn’t kill you,” Calder muttered, staring at the Sky Keep in angry confusion. “He could have, during the battle, but he didn’t.”
“You saw that?”
He nodded, turning his eyes down to me. “Where you go, I go. What do you want to do?” It wasn’t a grand profession of loyalty, but more of a grim, resigned statement.
I began walking back towards the fortress that was the Sky Keep. Slowly. Uncertainly. Calder fell into step beside me, and I turned, examining the side of his profile.
“You sacrificed yourself, Calder. For that battle. You could have died trying to help me.”
His lips quirked. Almost a smile. “You don’t sound grateful.”
I shook my head, ignoring the tide of emotion threatening to batter down my composure.
“If you do anything like that again, I won’t forgive you,” I promised.
I sounded so strong, but the words almost shattered me. Calder didn’t have control of his own life—our bond was forcing him to throw himself between me and danger at every turn.
If he was going to willingly die for something, I didn’t want it to have anything to do with our own twisted connection.
It had to be something he truly cared about.
“Was it for you, Ven?” He grabbed my arm, spinning me around, halting our progress. “Or was it for everyone else?” His eyes narrowed on my face, flicking between my eyes, his lips pressing into a harsh line.
“You tell me,” I challenged.
His eyes heated, the blue of his right iris cracking apart until it burned, his energy whipping around me.
“What did you trade to return my sight?” The question was a soft accusation, but it cut into me all the same.
We couldn’t help it. We were two parts of a whole. Saving each other was a reflex, a defensive compulsion. I averted my eyes, but his finger brushed my chin, bringing my attention back.
“Wishes,” I managed to get out. “My mark is a wish. Skayld is the granting of a wish. I have to pick one of them to marry before the end of the festival.”
For just a moment, Calder’s power swelled, his eyes burning hotter. His grip grew tight, his skin uncomfortably hot … but then he was suddenly under control again, his expression wiped clean, his power tucked neatly away.
“For now,” he muttered, releasing me.
We walked the rest of the way back to the Sky Keep in silence, my eyes drifting out to the Sea of Storms as it churned below, battering angrily against the Winged Passage. We were already on the cliff that housed the fortress, which meant that Calder had fought past whichever Sentinels guarded the passage marking the beginning of the Keep’s reach. All around us, the land was thick with untempered wildlife, thatches of forest separated by bubbling streams that seemed to originate somewhere at the top of the range, to the northwest of the fortress. The biggest stream traced through an orchard bordering the path we walked, where it formed a thin waterfall over the edge of the mountain. If I turned around, I would be able to trace the Winged Passage to the bay formed between Edelsten Keep and Edelsten Town. There were scores of stewards building platforms, raising tents and wheeling out stalls either side of the road. I wanted to examine the decorations a little more thoroughly, but instead I kept my eyes on the gates before us, and the angry, bleeding man now shaking his head at us.
“Only the Tempest may enter,” he said, gritting his teeth as though preparing for the inevitable fight.
“Give it up, Christian,” another of the Sentinels groaned. “You’re not going to win.”
Christian turned his eyes to me—they were bright green, made brighter by his heavy brow and dark hair. He had a thick mouth, accustomed to smiling, and indentations in his cheeks. He was also tall and well-built, but he didn’t stand a chance against Calder.
Very few people did.
“Just the Tempest,” Christian reiterated when neither of us made a move, his eyes on me.
I wished I was dressed more like Calder. My silk covering looked more like something a princess would sleep in, than what a Legionnaire would fight in. I wasn’t even wearing shoes.
I turned to Calder. “Are we really going to fight our way in?”
“He only wants to fight one of us.” Calder shrugged. “It’s a Legionnaire thing.”
Of course.
The Vold were fuelled by the magic of war, and the Legionnaires were, by definition, the most respected, revered, and feared type of warrior in Fyrio. There would be people who would challenge us simply out of respect—after all, what bigger compliment could there be? There would also be people who would challenge us for the fame, or to test the legend itself.
Were we really the best warriors in Fyrio?
“Go on then,” I said to Christian. “Do you want him, or me?”
It sounded like a trick question. There I stood, barefoot and in silks—next to Calder, who oozed strength and power from every pore. In truth, it wasn’t a trick at all. In the week leading up to my Legionnaires battle, I had undergone back-breaking training … but a week of training didn’t make up for Calder’s many years of very real experience on the battlefield.
“You.” Christian pulled out his broadsword, tossing it to the side of the path, drawing a few chuckles from the gathered Sentinels as he pointed his finger at me.
A healthy dose of fear prickled along the back of my neck, and I embraced it, welcoming the anticipation that raced along after it. It matched the spark of anticipation in Christian’s gaze as he emptied his weapons belt, tossing various blades, shackles and other things to the side. There was a strange camaraderie in the air, a sense of expectation, the excitement before a good fight.
Despite how Calder had clearly out-matched the man before me, the gathered Sentinels had decided that this would be a close fight.
To finish off his preparations, Christian kicked off his boots, peeled back his socks, and tossed them away. I shook my head as a few of the others laughed, and a strange kind of peace came over me, pulling me back from my body, separating me from the scene so I could look down upon it in wonder.
Was that really me? As a child, this was my wildest dream. Becoming one of them. One of the Sentinels. And now here I stood, as they looked on with respect and anticipation, challenging me like they would one of their own.
Christian ran at me, snapping me back to my body. I quickly sidestepped him, both of us twisting to regroup and face each other. He was fast. He ran at me again, but anticipated the direction in which I would evade, his shoulder slamming into mine. We both fell to the ground, but I pulled my legs up at the last moment, kicking his chest before he trapped me with his weight. He laughed, my legs buckling as his bulk suddenly increased, his Vold energy crackling into the air.
The fear at the back of my neck prickled into something more as his fist flew at my face. The blow caught me on the side of my cheek, mottling my vision in splotches of light. I pulled my arms up to protect my head as he sat on my torso, easily ignoring my struggles to get out from beneath him, his magic pressing him down until he was easily three times his normal body weight. I could feel the drumming of my heart as he hit my chest, trying to draw my arms from my face.