Chapter Nine

Leah stood facing Conor, Jessalyn and three other recruits – the best fighters in their respective classes. They all wore mail shirts and breastplates and bore real swords. Leah was the only one who also had a shield. She appeared relaxed as she worked her sword arm, flexing her fingers. Her friends, on the other hand, were still clearly struggling to get over their surprise at Fredrik instructing them to attack her. Simultaneously.

Nadeen and Artur sat silently on the raised rim encircling the compound, along with their friends and the other recruits; the air of expectation was obvious.

Their master stepped back. “Whenever you’re ready...”

Instantly Leah’s demeanour changed. Concentration sharpened her expression. Her body seemed to coil in on itself, ready to be unleashed. The others slowly began to circle her, swords at the ready. Leah didn’t wait for them to attack. She darted towards the recruit closest to her. He brought his sword down to block her. She turned slightly, hit his arm with her shield instead. With a cry, he dropped his sword.

She used both sword and shield. To thrust. Parry. Dodge. Strike. Her moves were confident. Graceful.

Jessalyn locked swords with Leah who leaned against her, forcing her back. She kicked the other’s foot out from under her. Crying out, Jessalyn stumbled to her knee. Leah rested her sword against the other’s armoured breast, signalling her triumph. Then ducked and danced to the side, barely escaping Conor’s sword.

They circled one another, Leah and Conor, the only ones left standing. A lop-sided grin hinted at Conor’s supreme confidence in his abilities. The confidence that left him in no doubt he was the better fighter.

Leah gritted her teeth. She still cared for him. But at this precise moment, she wanted to hurt him, humiliate him. She dropped her shield, kicked it away. Not once did her steely gaze leave his face; his grin faltered.

Leah launched herself at him. He stumbled back, blocking her attack. She didn’t pause, didn’t slow down. Baring her teeth, sword clenched in a two-handed grip, she slashed repeatedly at Conor, forcing him back.

The tip of her sword grazed his cheek. A gasp escaped him as he staggered back. Leah darted forward, grabbed his wrist and twisted before her knee shot up to connect harshly with his groin.

His eyes widened... his sword fell from his loosened grip. Slowly he crumpled next to it, clutching himself, moaning.

Panting heavily, Leah stepped back, the anger slowly seeping out of her. When she faced the recruits, most of the men were grimacing in sympathy with Conor.

Eyeing her, Fredrik got to his feet. “That... I did not teach you.”

“I improvised.”

Someone started to clap. Exclaiming softly, Leah turned to where Jessalyn stood. A broad smile on her face, she continued to applaud. Karamay and Karel got to their feet and took up the applause. Within minutes, the entire body of recruits were showing their admiration. Swallowing past the sudden lump in her throat, Leah bowed stiffly. 

*          *          *          *

Conor sat on the low wall just outside the communal doors of the baths, his damp hair spiking up from his scalp. He’d hurried through his wash but still wondered if he’d missed Leah. At that moment, she exited the female section of the baths, smiling. Their eyes met; her delight faded as she slowed down.

“That was some fight.” When she remained silent, he indicated his cut cheek. “Was this necessary?”

“It was a sword fight, Conor. With real swords.”

“And... that?” He glanced down at his crotch.

“I had to disarm you somehow.”

“You were twisting my wrist. I was about to drop my sword.”

“I didn’t know that.” Leah broke off eye contact as she adjusted her tunic.

Conor frowned. He realised he barely recognised her now, with her changed demeanour. She seemed so indifferent, so uncaring. When had that happened? “How did you get to be so... so good?”

“Spend more time practising instead of acting like a lovebird and you might get to be as good,” she said, a sneer twisting her mouth. Stepping past him, she continued down the stairs.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He hurried down the stairs to stand before her, blocking her path.

“All your free time spent with your perfect goddess. Think she’ll mind your little scar?” She flicked her finger at his face.

“Why are you so dismissive of Veha? What has she done to deserve your contempt like this? You’ve always been one to treat people fairly, to give them a chance to prove themselves...” His sentence hung in the air, unfinished. “Are you jealous?”

Her head jerked back before her gaze flicked away momentarily. “Jealous? Oh yes, Conor. That’s exactly it, I am jealous.” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. Why would I be jealous of someone who’s happy to spend all her time hanging on your arm?” She stepped past him.

He grabbed her arm. “Then why are you being like this? This isn’t like you, Leah. I thought we were friends.”

“Are we? I’m tired, Conor. Tired of being teased by you, belittled every time we’re together. Maybe I saw today as my chance to pay you back.”  She glared at his hand still on her arm. “Do you mind?”

He sat heavily on the step, rubbing his hand through his hair as he watched her walk away. Deep down, he couldn’t deny the truth of her words. He had delighted in teasing her ever since they were children, and she’d never seemed to mind. But not once had he ever stopped to think that there would come a time when Leah would tire of such behaviour, that she would begin to resent it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to her rapidly departing figure. “I only ever thought of it as fun.”

*          *          *          *

Leah slowly sat up, unsure of what had awoken her. Looking around she could barely make out the sleeping shapes of her friends.

“Leah...”

She jumped, just managing to stifle a cry. Standing by the foot of her bed was an old man stooped with age but with a kind, gentle face. He held out a wrinkled hand. “Come, my child. Come to me.”

“… Grandfather?”

He smiled.

“But... you’re... how can you be here?”

“Come, let me look at you.”

Not needing to be told again, Leah rushed into his embrace.

He held her close, stroked her hair. “I have come to warn you, child.”

“Warn me?”

He held her at arm’s length. “You must listen to me. You are in grave danger. All of you.”

“What danger?”

“Death. Destruction. It is coming to engulf you all... everyone in the land, from north to south. It comes in the guise of one called Shalyer.”

“I don’t understand–” She winced as he tightened his grip on her arms.

“Shalyer was fathered by a demon lord. He has magic, which he will use to destroy you all.”

Leah stared before laughter burst from her. “Grandfather, what are you talking about? Nobody knows magic anymore.”

“Do not laugh at me, girl.”

She cried out as he tightened his hold on her.

“Why would I lie? Shalyer tricked the Cardinal Demon Lord into giving him magic powers.”

Leah stared at him a long while, hiding her disbelief. Not really knowing why, she decided to play along. Anything so she wouldn’t have to see that uncharacteristic display of anger again. “What... what can we do?”

“We can do nothing, but you...” His eyes seemed to glow from within. “You now have magic powers. You, Leah, can defeat him.”

She grimaced, aware of an uncomfortable burning sensation on her skin where he still held her. “Grandfather, I know nothing about magic.”

“You do now.” He stepped back. “And you will obey me.”

“But I’ve–”

“Enough arguments. Behold!” His voice changed to a deep, throaty growl. His form shimmered as he grew, towering over her with his broad shoulders and well-muscled torso. Meaty fists rested on narrow hips. Full, sensual lips curled back in a sneering smile to reveal subtly pointed fangs. Blazing red eyes matched red hair, worn swept back and up. A six-sided medallion glowed against his red-hued chest.

Incoherent gasps escaped Leah as she stared at the form she’d only ever seen in the holy books. She wanted to scream. Couldn’t. She tried to move. Couldn’t. Tears poured down her face, mingling with sweat.

“You know who I am, mortal,” said Belosh. “I have given you magic. And you will destroy Shalyer for me.”

Hugging herself, eyes bulging, still Leah managed to shake her head.

“You assume you have a choice? You will do as I say. Or your precious family will pay the price.” He gestured. The sleeping, indistinct forms of Edmon, Maeve and Evalan, so far away, shimmered before her. “Whom shall I start with? The fair-haired child? Or would you rather I leave him to last so he can witness his parents’ slow death?”

Fear for her family loosened her tongue. “No! Stop it. Why are you doing this?”

“Why? Is this not the answer to all that you have wished for?” His tone changed, softened. “See the opportunity that is lying before you. You can now be different. The best. You will have nothing to prove. None will be accomplished enough to stand against you. Be bold. Seize the moment.” He faded from view, but his contemptuous laugh continued to echo around her.

With a start, Leah sat up, sweat-soaked, panting heavily, that awful laughter still sounding in her mind. With shaking hands, she managed to light her lamp but kept the flame low. She took a sip of water, shuddering at the memory of her nightmare. Why was it still so vivid? After all, it was only a dream... wasn’t it?

It seemed like ages before she finally felt calm enough to attempt to return to sleep. She reached over to extinguish her lamp. The skin on the inside of her upper arms felt over-stretched, dry and itchy. Remembering the burning sensation from before, she pulled up her sleeve and twisted her arm slightly.

A gasp escaped her, turning into a soft plea of disbelief as she pulled up the other sleeve. Both arms were marked, branded by the same red pattern... a pair of miniature entwined serpents.

“I own you, mortal.”

Leah jumped. She couldn’t see him, yet she could feel his hot breath near her ear.

“You now bear my mark. Think long and hard before you attempt to disobey me. For it is your loved ones who will suffer.”