Fire Falling

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Vhalla asked after they tied off their mounts.

“Yes, Danny, are you sure you want to do this?” Raylynn gave Vhalla a sideways glance. Things may have improved between them, but the improvement was marginal.

“I am,” Daniel laughed. “I know Vhalla won’t hurt me.”

Raylynn clearly didn’t share the same sentiment, but Vhalla found Daniel’s trust and confidence refreshing. He seemed to always give her the benefit of the doubt, to trust her without needing a reason. It had quickly devolved into a foreign feeling since becoming a sorcerer.

Vhalla and Daniel squaring off attracted the attention of more than one person, and the other soldiers began to gather, curiously gawking at the sorcerer in black plate opposite a Golden Guard.

“An easy round, then?” Daniel drew his sword. It was a beautiful blade with a golden pommel in the shape of wheat. Vhalla had admired it on many occasions as they had spoken of their homes in the East. “To forfeit?”

“To forfeit.” Vhalla nodded, clenching her fists. She was almost dizzy with power. The winds of the desert were swift, unblocked, and strong.

“Craig, if you’ll do the honors.” Daniel glanced at their friend.

“On my mark.” Craig stepped between them, raising his hand. “Mark!” He dropped his palm through the air, jumping back at the same time.

Vhalla acted on Craig’s breath and was a whole step ahead of Daniel by the time Craig was even moving. She drew an arm across her chest, sending a gust of sandy wind into Daniel’s face. Daniel, to his credit, did not falter over such a probing attack and twirled his sword in his palm for a backhanded swing.

Ducking under the blade, Vhalla spun around Daniel like a dancer. She placed a palm to the center of his back, sending him falling with a gust of wind. She was disappointed; Vhalla had expected more of a challenge from such an esteemed member of Prince Baldair’s guard.

But Daniel was prepared to show her how he had earned his golden bracer. As he fell he dug his sword into the sand, spinning around it to sweep her feet out from under her. In her surprise, Vhalla barely had time to catch herself and, when she did, the tip of a blade was at her throat.

“You’re not bad,” Daniel panted.

“Neither are you,” she replied with a sly smile.

Daniel’s face turned up into a grin as though they shared a wild secret now with each other. Vhalla would’ve never guessed it, but there was something about sparring with a person that was almost intimate.

The moment was quickly ruined as a man stepped forward from the observers. “By the Mother, what do you think you’re doing, Lord Taffl?”

Vhalla recognized the hulking form of a man. He was the one who had confronted her at the start of the march. The one Daniel and Craig had coaxed out of accosting her.

“Getting in some practice,” Daniel spoke to Grun, but he paid attention to Vhalla, helping her to her feet.

“With that?” Grun pointed at her.

“The lady graciously agreed to give me some experience against a sorcerer,” Daniel bristled.

No one spoke; it was eerily quiet as every onlooker seemed to hold their breath. All seemed equally fearful of what the pieces would look like if the tension broke between the two men, Vhalla included.

“I should go, I think.”

“Vhalla, no—” Daniel turned quickly.

“No, I should. Larel’s likely setting up the tent without me.” Vhalla smiled in an attempt to sell the poor excuse.

“I want to practice against a sorcerer,” Grun said before Vhalla could walk away from the makeshift ring. “Spar with me.”

Vhalla regarded him cautiously. She didn’t think for a minute he’d suddenly accepted her. But maybe she could show him she wasn’t dangerous, that she meant him no harm. “Very well,” she said before Daniel could object.

“Vhalla, you don’t have to.” The Eastern man took a step closer to her, dropping his voice. “Don’t feel pressured into this.”

“I don’t.” She shook her head, whispering, “Maybe it’ll be good to show him.”

“Well ...”

“Are you two done whispering your sweet nothings?” Grun asked dryly, drawing his sword opposite Vhalla.

Daniel stepped away quickly, his movements jerky and nervous. Was it the heat of the desert or was there a blush across his cheeks? Daniel lifted his palm; their mark to begin sparring would be when he lowered it.

She noticed how his dark brown hair moved as his hand cut through the air, his hazel eyes darting toward hers.

Distracted, Vhalla didn’t hear Grun move until he was upon her. She turned back at the last second, making a weak attempt to dodge. He smashed the pommel of his blade against her cheek in a backhanded swing, sending Vhalla flying into the sand.

“Grun!” Daniel and Craig both called.

“Just a spar.” The mountain of a man laughed. “If she wants to forfeit, she can.”

Vhalla coughed blood onto the sand. Her lip was split, and her face already felt swollen. She blinked away stars, trying to get her feet back under her.

Grun’s boot connected with her side, echoing against her plate as he kicked her. Vhalla rolled across the sand, the wind knocked from her. She curled in on herself, phantom blows attacking her body. Gasping, she tried to push the memories of Rat and Mole’s assault out of her mind.