Don't Fight the Spark

by Kasia Bacon

  I grinned, seeing that his aggravation had ebbed away, and we eased back to safe ground. "Firstly, dine and drink with me, love. Then take me to bed. I'll promise to ravish you until you beg for mercy. How's that for an idea?"

  Judging by the way his arms tightened around me, my plan met with no objections. "Good thing you're the only one I don't mind surrendering to," he whispered. "But you're right. Let's enjoy our last night together."

  My body went rigid in an involuntary reaction to his words.

  Yüu rushed to rephrase, "I mean last before the holiday." The correction sounded a little flimsy, but I recognised his efforts to restore the mood. "I'm sorry. Come here, Ĥaiatto."

  His soft lips advanced on mine. Two strokes of his skilled, inquisitive tongue later, I couldn't remember the reason for my distress, already under the influence of his intoxicating sweetness, and wanting more of it. Even then, despite the dire threat hanging in the air like the promise of an oppressive storm on a summer's day, his kisses still held the power to make me forget the world.

  We shared a light Něssyrian-style meal out on the balcony that night.

  The simple act of sipping wine and watching Yüu smile at me, his hand warm in mine, evoked a feeling of great elation. We acted like a besotted couple in love without a care in the world. And right then---we were just that.

  In the distance, the sharp outline of the Order Fortress stood bathed in the moonlight, its obsidian walls opalescent against the backdrop of the velvet-black sky. Every time my eye caught the eerie sight over Yüu's shoulder, it brought me a fair degree of comfort.

  TRUST

  My day started at dawn in the best way imaginable.

  I woke up to the delight of having a pair of strong, calloused hands caressing every part of my body with lazy insistence. At the sight of Yüu straddling my thighs and lowering himself onto my throbbing hard-on, my morning grogginess wore off in two ticks. The moment he shared his heat with me, I became breathless, despite not doing any of the work myself. Unless holding onto his hips for dear life and producing strangled noises counted for something.

  Our eyes remained locked throughout. He moved up and down in a languid, mesmerising rhythm with the easy grace of an athlete: the perfect specimen of male beauty.

  What had started unrushed and leisurely, soon became wild and ardent.

  Yüu collapsed on top of me a few minutes later. "I love watching your face," he breathed into my neck. "You're so expressive. Beautiful."

  I felt the tips of my ears sizzle and thanked the gods he couldn't see me blushing. Hearing such confessions was hardly a regular occurrence for me, and I had yet to figure out how to handle them.

  "Happy holiday, love," I said, waiting for the thudding beat of my pulse to slow down.

  "It is," he replied and pressed a sloppy kiss to the left of my sternum, melting my heart like a knob of butter over hot crumpets in the process.

  We lingered in bed for a while to mark the occasion and even had our morning meal there---a first for us both, as it occurred. Funny how such a simple, ordinary thing felt thrilling and noteworthy to me.

  It seemed Yüu hadn't burnt enough energy, given that afterwards he headed to train and stretch on the balcony, where he also meditated for a time.

  I used that as an opportunity to pack, which amounted to throwing my saved coin and two changes of green robes into my medical bag. Foregoing all personal items, I added several bottles of hard-to-come-by elixirs and tinctures from the top shelf. I placed the considerably heavier kit back by the door, where it usually sat awaiting an emergency. The leather stretched taut over the contents, but I doubted anyone would pay any mind to its fuller appearance.

  At Yüu's suggestion, we visited the compound's bathhouse, which turned out to be empty at such an early hour. We washed, steamed and then soaked in the pool. Yüu got his usual fighter's massage, while I opted to lounge on a long chair nearby and watch him. Undisturbed by anyone, we returned to my rooms in good humour and on time for noon meal.

  A shift in the mood came shortly after, crude and sudden like a blow to the temple. Bit by bit, the air swelled, ripe with tension.

  Previously sleepy and silent, the compound quickened as the afternoon drew near. Soon, the corridor pounded with the sound of people rushing back and forth. Perched at the edge of my seat as if it were hot, I kept twitching at the faintest noise coming from outside. In the end, too restless to sit, I began pacing the distance between the door and the balcony, surveying the courtyard downstairs in regular intervals.

  All the while, Yüu remained still at the table, resorting to observing me with a pinched expression. Unable to stop my roaming, I shot him an apologetic grimace every time I passed him on my travels.

  The damn assassins were cutting it a bit too fine for my liking. I shivered under the onslaught of doubts. What if Takano and his men barged in and took Yüu away right from under my nose? Perhaps my agreement with Feninghan stood in place no longer? Had something happened? Had he changed his mind? The Grandmaster's influence couldn't be underestimated, but Old Lyliňg wasn't someone to be sneezed at, either. And he could, after all, refuse to strike a deal with the Order. Were we on our own?

  A gentle tap at the door catapulted me three thumbs up in the air before I reminded myself Takano wouldn't bother with knocking. Unless knocking the door down. A hair's breadth away from an apoplectic fit, I pinched the bridge of my nose.

  Yüu arched a sharp eyebrow at me, got up---calm as you please---and pulled the door open.

  Outside, a freckled servant boy from the ih'mohrô dormitory leant against the frame, his scrawny arms loaded with a long bundle wrapped in brown baize.

  Yüu exchanged a few quiet words and a smile with the youth, who I knew Yüu taught fighting techniques in his spare time. Having relieved him of the packet, he ruffled his hair and closed the door behind him.

  Since Yüu didn't explain the purpose of the visit, I refrained from asking about the package. However, a ruckus from downstairs made me forget all about it the next instant. With a pounding heart, I darted onto the balcony to examine the source of the disturbance.

  It soon became apparent I'd got in a flap over the wine delivery for the compound cellar.

  With the arrival of dusk, brightly coloured lanterns flared all around, each a testimony to a blessing received and offered in thanks. They floated higher and higher, into the darkening skies like tiny beacons of hope, slow and majestic, scintillating with light. While I'd always perceived the evening illumination as the pinnacle of the holiday season, the pretty sight left me unmoved on this occasion.

  About to resume my pacing, I spotted Yüu emerging from my bedroom. His transformation sent me a step back.

  The formidable, hard-eyed ih'mohrô in front of me looked nothing like my Yüu---the one with a teasing smile, golden light trapped in his gaze, his soft waves surrounding his face. An irrational feeling of being robbed of something precious and mine spiked my heart with resentment. I wasn't facing my lover any longer, but the loincloth-garbed king of the arena. In the flicker of the candles he must've lit earlier, every cut of his muscles gleamed with oil. He stood there silent, his hair gathered up in a topknot and lips pressed into a thin line, holding his sheathed yaʼneshi.

  "Yüu..." I started in a small voice, not fully aware of what I tried to convey.

  "Listen to me, Ĥaiatto," he said, pronouncing his words in a slow and distinctive fashion as if addressing a child. "When all is done, I want you to have this." He lifted the slender, curved sword featuring a circular guard and a long grip, presenting the black and silver beauty to me with both hands.

  Not many humans owned yaʼneshi in the Empire. I'd never seen one up close, save in etchings I'd encountered in the old scrolls at my father's library. But I knew well enough that every single piece of the deadly weapon---designed for close-quarter combat by the Elven blacksmiths of Asirhwӱn, who forged it according to the ancient method of nine layers---was regarded as a priceless piece of art.<
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  I gawped at the intricately woven leather strips that hid the wooden core of the hilt. An ornamental scorpion sat coiled around the metal collar just beneath the guard, and I couldn't force myself to quit studying it, mesmerised by its real-life likeness.

  Yüu drew the yaʼneshi from the scabbard, exposing the lower two-thirds of its length and allowing me to read the black runes engraved on the blade: 'Tu-ehr tamök ekūra. Iré ne'hendi'.

  "Know your limits. Go beyond them." I said it out loud despite myself, and then lapsed into silence for a couple of heartbeats. "Why are you giving me your yaʼneshi?" I tried to sound composed. My efforts proved disastrous.

  Where the fucking fuck are the bloody assassins? Is this some kind of test?

  "Because it's the only thing of value I own. The only one that holds meaning." Yüu slid the yaʼneshi back inside its sheath, lowering the weapon until he pushed the cool lacquered wood into my limp hands. "And because a yaʼneshi must be passed from one warrior to another. Otherwise, the sword's spiritual energy dies with the owner."

  My forced laugh came out like a croak. A droplet of sweat ran down my nape. "Silly Barbarian, quit joking around. Firstly, I'm not a warrior. And secondly, you're not going to d---"

  "Ĥaiatto," Yüu's tone retained that patient, teacher-like inflexion, "you're more of a warrior than many I've fought in the pits."

  I didn't drop the yaʼneshi onto the floor, but it was a close shave.

  Yüu chose to ignore my stupor. "I need you to promise me something. Whatever happens, you will not betray yourself to Takano when he comes for me. You mustn't get in the middle of this. Don't try and protect me. Stay neutral. Promise me you won't antagonise or confront him. The man is venom. I can't risk having him turn on you once I'm gone."

  At this, the panic I'd barely held back rushed to the surface. Forming words with numb lips that seemed sown together became impossible. Did Yüu truly expect me to stand aside and watch him be taken? Watch him leave? How could he think I cared about what happened to me if I were to lose him? Didn't he see that any future without him in it would be worthless?

  The set of Yüu's jaw told me he'd read my defiance correctly. "And if you refuse to promise," he continued with calm, "I will kill the son of the bitch the moment he sets foot inside, so help me gods. Just to be sure he won't go after you when I'm no longer able to stop him. Let them drag me into the arena afterwards or tear me into pieces right here. I really couldn't give a toss."

  "But I could, damn it! Why are you so fixed on dying?"

  On abandoning me?

  "It is what it is." Yüu let out a noisy breath. "I belong on the sand."

  "You belong with me," I exclaimed, suddenly in a hurry to clue him in. "Yüu, we simply need to stall a while. The help is---"

  "Takano will bring, what? Half a dozen guards with him?" Yüu wondered to himself, engrossed in some sort of planning. "He won't go for a larger escort. That would be an admission of fear. Anything smaller, on the other hand, would be an insult." The white of his teeth caught the light.

  I shuddered at the way he cracked his neck to the right and then to the left. If Yüu went ahead and killed Takano, any negotiations Feninghan might've secured with the Lyliňg House would be rescinded on the spot. We'd never leave the compound alive. I leant forwards. "Yüu, listen. I---"

  "Ĥaiatto, stop." He shook his head, frowning and pulling away. "We're out of time. Whatever you've been waiting for, darling, I'm afraid it won't be happening."

  "No!" I could taste the hysteria thickening my throat. Searching for something to ground me, I tightened my shaky grip on the sword. "They're coming for us. They will come. You'll see! He said we had an accord. He said to trust him. He said---"

  "Who said all that?" Yüu cupped my shoulders and pressed down on them with the intent to steady me. The strained look on his face indicated he worried for my sanity. "And who are they?"

  I opened my mouth to answer but produced no sound.

  A crouched, black shape alighted on the balcony balustrade. The railing splintered under the impact, scattering sharp pieces of wood across the floor.

  My head jerked towards the movement.

  Having unfolded to full height, the figure leapt down and made a lunge for the treatment room where she faced us.

  The woman was dark-haired, tall and built like a goddess. No curve remained concealed under the sleeveless, body-hugging tunic she wore over leggings. Her non-human irises glowed purple, set like a couple of amethysts within the paleness of her triangular face. One glimpse at her biceps revealed the marking of a double-banded assassin. I thought her a vamper at first, but the instant she showed off her fangless teeth, be it in warning or greeting, I identified her as a Furia.

  She cleared the wood chippings from her path, kicking them with the tip of her burnt-red leather boot, and threw back her long locks.

  I had no recollection of it occurring, but Yüu must've plucked the sword out of my fingers. All of a sudden, I found myself shielded behind his sculpted back.

  Yüu geared up for the attack in an agile manoeuvre, the blade of his yaʼneshi flashing as he wielded the weapon in a two-handed grip above his right ear. He appeared larger, meaner and more predatory that I'd ever seen him.

  Fright rattled the rational side of my brain. But I'd have lied if I claimed a part of me didn't delight in witnessing such a protective response from Yüu.

  "Isn't this heart-melting?" The Furia's sarcastic snort suggested she found it anything but. "I get the shittiest assignments, I swear to the gods," she muttered as if to herself. "Lose that toothpick, ih'mohrô, before I forget I come in peace and have you for dinner."

  I could swear she didn't mean it figuratively. Her harsh-sounding laugh bristled the hair on my arms. Yüu might've been the Empire's most brilliant pit fighter, but going one-on-one against a Furia, he stood little chance.

  "Please, love," I rasped, reaching out to brush his elbow. "She's here to help."

  Taking his time, Yüu lowered his sword bit by bit, clutching the hilt with his right hand. Ever so slowly, he backed away, unblocking my view. His eyes swept over me as though making sure I'd come to no harm.

  The assassin clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. "You turtle-doves need to keep these on you. Until you get your tattoos, anyway." She threw two small items our way.

  She intended one for me, judging by its trajectory, but I just blinked and froze. The memory of standing in the courtyard of my family's Ysêmyrian mansion---my mouth sticky with copper, my ears taunted by laughter---flooded my mind. Forcing the sickly bookworm to partake in ball recreation with normal children hadn't proved my father's brightest idea.

  My face didn't get smashed in on this occasion only because Yüu seized both black objects left-handed. He examined them, before passing mine to me.

  Flat and cold, the stone just about fit in my palm. I ran the pad of my thumb over the unmistakable embossing of the hawk. I'd never seen a real Order Obsidian, only the fake ones sold by local peddlers to excited visitors, who considered the disks of glass-like rock great souvenirs. Holding the token of passage to the legendary Black Fortress like a set of keys to a new home felt surreal. I choked back the manic urge to crack up.

  With effort, I contained myself and risked a glance at Yüu, trying to gauge his reaction. Pleading with him silently. Waiting for him to communicate his decision, while my stomach tied itself in knots.

  Yüu met my gaze wide-eyed, his jaw slack in bewilderment. At long last, he tossed the Order Obsidian up, sending it spinning into the air. When his fist closed around it, he gave me a curt nod.

  I beamed at him, inundated with a sense of relief so great it made me giddy. And right then, when I finally relaxed a smidgen, the door burst open.

  Before it hit the wall with a hefty thwack, Takano barged inside and sprinted towards us, his face pale and contorted with fury. Behind him loomed a small army of broad-shouldered guards, each of them sturdier than the next. So much for the accuracy of Yüu's predi
ction regarding their numbers.

  The air whooshed around me. Just as Yüu and the assassin sprang to the front, I realised the guards weren't assisting Takano to attack us as much as chasing him.

  The fuck's this about?

  My mouth hanging open, I peeked over my defenders in time to observe the two fastest big'uns catching up with Takano, grabbing him by the arms and holding him back. The next thing I knew, the third guard chipped in by applying a rear chokehold, constricting the carotid arteries in Takano's neck with expert know-how.

  Within a couple of heartbeats, the blood supply to Takano's brain had been cut off and his unconscious body sagged backwards, supported by his attacker.

  The room fell silent, the intruders' panting aside.

  A hysterical chortle I couldn't squash any longer slipped out of my mouth at this bizarre standoff. Because, damn it, to say the happenings of the night weren't what I'd expected would have been an understatement.

  "Well, that felt somewhat anticlimactic," murmured Yüu, evidently dissatisfied with the missed opportunity to fight Takano.

  The Furia gave a grunt that resembled assent. "Hm. Perhaps I could learn to tolerate you, ih'mohrô."

  Some tentative shuffling commenced amongst the guards by the entrance.

  "Take another step forward and be sure to lose a limb." The Furia's hopeful tone indicated she would love nothing less.

  The tapping of a cane echoed across the room. "No bloodshed, Mistress von Brenn. As agreed with your employer," said the Head of the Lyliňg House while walking through the door.

  His shrewd and youthful eyes glistened in his weathered face, belying his silver hair. Clad in his signature white robes and poised straight as a board in spite of severe arthritis, he carried himself with the bearing of a high-born. Not many would guess his ancestors used to work the fields. Sweat and blood---and none of his own---had elevated his House to wealth and power.

  Mistress von Brenn uttered a few curses under her breath, juicy enough to make a pirate blush.

  Old Lyliňg continued his slow advance towards us. On passing his grandson, he halted to check on him.