Spark City

by Robert J Power

  Days and nights passed in a blur of movement and repetition. They became companions of the road and any feelings of affection hid behind silent hours of riding and the call of sleep. They lived safe routines. Every morning, they shared a pot of cofe beneath the rich blue sky, and then they continued their race further and further south. Where the land opened up they ran their mounts fiercely and swiftly, and where clusters of woodland filled the landscape they eased the beasts through precarious trails leaving fresh paths in their wake. Twice a day they fought with swords in each hand. He even accepted instruction from her on how to use the bow, but she was the true master and every morning she would slip away silently and hunt. All beasts would cower in the shadow of the diminutive huntress. She never failed to make a kill. They spoke just enough that silence was never awkward but exhaustion became their other companion and more often than not one of them would drop off while the teaching of the fine arts of cards was in full flow or before the debate between archery and swordplay was completed. The sun still kept burning their skin but more and more there came the taste of bitter cold in the air, particularly at night.

  There were moments when she looked at him differently and she felt stirrings of what might eventually occur between them. These moments were fleeting, they made her blush, and they were welcome.

  He enjoyed her perfume, her wit, and her victorious smile every time she hit a stinging blow in combat. Was this love? No. It was affection but it was a good start.

  She nearly kissed him once before he ruined everything. It happened after they reached their first destination at the stain on the map.

  There was no settlement, it was a stain, and Erroh was crestfallen. So much for procuring a more reliable map, eating a fine meal, and sleeping in a straw bed without the worry of the turning of the wind. So much for a wonderful night in a welcoming tavern, testing their wits with a few hands of gambling. So much for many other futile hopes.

  “What now, beo?” she asked, taking the map from him. He’d watched the heavy clouds forming all day and with darkness closing in, he’d still taken a chance that the stain would be sanctuary. He cursed his eagerness and foolishness. The land was far too barren to house a settlement yet he’d ignored the signs and led them miles from the cover of forests, miles from their river, and now they stood with nothing more than long grass and a few miserable looking trees scattered here and there as shelter. A wiser young Alpha would have made camp ten miles back and sat out the oncoming storm. The horses shuffled, feeling a change in air pressure. The thunder rolled a few miles away doing its best to catch up. He pulled at some grass bitterly. Grass didn’t burn.

  “It’s going to be a long night,” he said miserably and dropped to the ground. She passed the map back and he almost stamped in into the ground. Instead, he returned it to his pack where it couldn’t do any more damage. It was his own fault but he was desperate to blame anybody but himself. Maybe the innkeeper, fuk him.

  “If we leave now, we might find a bit of shelter,” she suggested as the first flash of lightning struck. She started counting to herself.

  “Night will fall within the hour,” he said gruffly.

  There was no grand cluster of trees to hide from the coming wind and rain but they did have light to find a beech tree with a trunk big enough to rest against but small enough not to attract any stray bolt of lightning. The thunder though was not a beast to be easily countered and as they settled in under the sparsely covered branches, a great roar erupted all around them, loud enough to make the Alphalines jump, and for both mounts to break free from their restraints and bolt off into the darkness. He cursed inwardly at the strains involved in recapturing the mounts but he said nothing. The sky lit up and he briefly saw the fear in her face. She could probably see his. He tried to find the comforting words but no sound came. All that came was another terrifying roar and another flash of light. The storm did not intend to blow out so Erroh held up his cloak and gestured to the most beautiful girl in the world. He invited her to climb into his bed, and she said yes.

  The rain had a taste of the south to it. The downpour turned to a frozen, steady rainstorm and it dashed itself against them mercilessly as they attempted cover. He had been in such predicaments before but the sensation of a girl holding tightly against his chest was something different. Her hair quickly soaked through and she shivered against him just like at the river. With every gust of wind, a fresh wave of frozen water battered them. It was a good cloak and it had always served him well on nights like this but it could not cover them both. He adjusted and pulled it gently over her freezing face. She nestled her head against his chest, curled up, and hugged him a little tighter. Another wave of rain soaked him through. He dug his own head into the wet grass and waited for the shaking in his body to stop. This was his penance for such a foolish action.

  "There are finer ways to fight off freezing to death,” he whispered through gritted teeth. The thunder shook the world and some lightning struck the ground far away. He couldn’t stop himself from jumping slightly.

  “You think we’re going to freeze to death?” she whispered.

  “Probably not, but you have to admire my attempt at trying to seduce you,” he laughed and listened as thunder roared a mile above them.

  “You nearly succeeded, my love,” she mocked gently and recoiled immediately at her words. She shouldn’t have called him that.

  “Oh, I have not yet begun to charm you,” he replied and she started to laugh. It was a delightful sound considering the circumstances. She hadn’t blamed him once though she had good reason to. He was eternally grateful that she held her tongue. Pretty tongue that it was, he imagined.

  “I look forward to your attempts,” she cooed, feigning seductiveness. He smiled despite the pain in his head (the pain one can only achieve when using freezing wet grass as a pillow). He shifted his position, which was harder with her wrapped tightly around him. Not that he minded. Her weight was comforting and her warmth spread through him. Her perfume wafted up and touched his senses and if it wasn’t for the mound of stinging ice where he usually kept his thoughts, he could easily fall into a deep slumber.

  “I said that I look forward to your attempts,” she repeated playfully and tore him from his imaginings. Evidently, Lea was not done playing just yet. Silly pretty Alphaline, don’t tempt me any more than I already am.

  “I think I’ve done enough wooing, for tonight,” he answered as arrogantly as he could.

  She raised her head. She was close enough to kiss.

  “Oh have you now?” she challenged.

  “With barely any skill I’ve taken the most beautiful girl to my bed and left her begging for seduction,” he declared grandly. The thunder suddenly returned above them and he jumped bravely.

  “I wouldn’t say I’m begging,” she hissed playfully. “Although my blouse is very constricting,” she added, tugging gently at her shirt. She was closer. Closer than ever before. It was harder not to kiss her. He could feel the warmth of her breath; she held it.

  She loved this play. Play was wonderfully dangerous and play was better than focusing on the cold. She heard him sigh as another wave of unrelenting water splashed against his beautiful face. The world felt still and she knew she was falling in love with him. It had started as a delicate stumble, which had grown into something more these past few weeks. More than that, she believed he too felt strongly for her. They belonged to each other and she knew she was safe in his arms, safe enough that tormenting him with mischievous innuendos was harmless and fun. Unless he took it too seriously. Part of her thought that might be a great deal of fun.

  “If your clothes are bothering you, please feel free to remove yourself of their burden,” Erroh whispered closing his eyes against the next wave of water. A few droplets began to gather at his collar and slid down his neck. “I’m sure you are pleasing enough without them,” he laughed shrugging the fresh drops away.

  “You’ve watched me in enough rivers to know I’m more
than just pleasing,” she whispered.

  He managed to look both brazen and embarrassed at the same time. He was a man of many talents. “I haven’t even seen all of you but give me time,” he declared confidently.

  “Aye, you will see all I have to offer,” she agreed.

  He touched her hair with a freezing hand. She turned with it and looked into his eyes. Raindrops fell against her delicate cheeks as they smiled for him. He was doing a fine job charming her. He stroked her hair and she shivered from his touch. It might have been the rain. She waited for him to lean in and claim his prize and she wanted her prize too. She wanted to lean towards him, kiss him, and never stop.

  He suddenly turned away from her.

  “I’m such an idiot,” he said with a sigh, shaking loose droplets from his hair as he did. All fun aside, he was cold and wet. “I’m sorry for all of this,” he added letting his hand slip through her hair one more time before pulling away. He took a breath, counted a few times in his head, and thanked his luck that he hadn’t messed everything up again. She had him under her spell and one lustful moment could have jeopardised many weeks of hard-earned trust. Their kiss would come in time but there was little sense in rushing matters. He knew little of the ways of females but he certainly knew she wasn’t ready yet.

  Oh Erroh. Idiot. She accepted his apology with bemusement and laid her head back on his chest. She twisted her body and rested her leg across his own before pulling some of the cloak over his head at the expense of her own comfort. A devastating and kind manoeuvre which left a cool chill along her side. He didn’t stop her, as the relief was immediate. She hugged in closer and somewhere above, the storm began to move off. He began to relax and soon fell into a light sleep. This light sleep lasted the night and for the first time since the dead town, he did not suffer bad dreams.

  When dawn arrived, everything was different. It was different because Lea was not up and ready for the day. Her tiny frame held him firmly as though prey pinned to the ground by a snare. Her thigh still strewn across his lap completed her netting. He dared to stroke her hair once more. In her sleep, she smiled at his touch so he chanced touching her perfect cheek. A few loose strands of perfect black hair lay carelessly across it. He pushed them aside. Aye, a perfect cheek. She was perfect. Everything was perfect. He was falling for her.

  Whoa there little cub, whispered the gods in his mind.

  Was he in love? Surely not. It was all in his mind. It had to be. Besides, it was a stupid word. A better word would be fondness. Aye, he had a fondness for the most beautiful girl in the world. Maybe it was affection with a little desire thrown in as well. That sounded right. It couldn’t be love. He was merely following his instincts. He began counting again but it didn’t help. Love would come with kisses and gifts in a safer time in better lands. For now, love was likely to tear their precarious companionship apart. Had emotion and desire to have a fine night with her not driven them to this dismal place? Was there room in the wastes for young love? No, there wasn’t. Love clouded judgement and that was too dangerous. It was easier when they were on bad terms. He would ignore his natural urge. No problem at all. He would be vigilant until they returned home and it would be fine. It would all work out. Another few months was all he had to endure. She stirred and opened her perfect eyes and smiled, and his resolve was tested immediately.

  I’ve made a Huge Mistake

  They left the city of “stain” and continued across the plains once again. She took the lead and drove her recaptured mount forward. Erroh kept pace. For hours, they pushed forward with a light drizzle following their every move. It was nothing like the deluge from the night before but it still left a thin layer of cold dampness upon their clothing. It felt as though with every mile they travelled, the sky darkened and the season changed a little more. They met up with the river and continued on south as if the detour had never taken place, as if nothing had happened at all.

  Lea noticed the tracks first, but Erroh halted their ride. He did so at a spot by the water where the divots and broken branches were plentiful. He dropped from his mount and muttered a curse under his breath. He dug his fingers into the mud and cursed a few more times.

  She could see the signs too.

  “A massive group made camp here,” he muttered to himself. His eyes danced anxiously across the grass and mud, searching for something, anything.

  “It looks as though it was quite a long time ago,” she warned and rested her hand on his shoulder.

  “Aye,” he agreed bitterly and pushed her hand away irritably. What did she know about tracking anyway? There were plenty of hoof marks but the closer he looked across the clearing the more imprints of infantry boots appeared as well. If it was the killers, they were capable of moving quicker than two steeds over open land. No army could march that swiftly.

  “Perhaps it isn’t the killers,” she whispered, seeing the agony in his face. She’d heard his cries countless times while sleeping to know what haunted him.

  “Perhaps not,” he said gruffly. Her casual words irritated him though he couldn’t understand why. He wanted to be alone, to catch a breath, and work through his memories. When he finally looked up, Lea was already midway through her stretching routine, her wooden swords standing erect in the soft muddy ground. Potential killers or no, it was afternoon and there was training to be had.

  She had loved her night with him but dared not say a word come the humid dawn. She had tasted briefly what her future could be like with him and she had found it sweet. She had seen the love in his eyes desperately fighting the inevitability. Her childish beliefs suggested as much and though her own emotions were stirred, she still took her wooden swords in her hand to batter him down. Love was love but their exchange of violence was divine, like duelling gods in the tales of acolytes. He was the wild son of Magnus and Elise and she was simply Lea the unloved of Samara, but she would be more.

  “I’m ready,” she called from across the invisible sparring ring and she could see the distraction on his face as he nodded feebly. She didn’t hesitate. She charged forward striking viciously. These last few weeks had hardened her but since his recovery she was yet to beat him. That day would come. Erroh countered and grazed her cheek as he did.

  “Sorry,” he muttered and attempted to finish her off but she spun away easily. His movement was an education in war and she was an ample student. She spent many a quiet hour swaying easily in the saddle dissecting their bouts. It was a fine waste of daylight trying to understand her own ability as much as he did his own. Her gruelling lessons in the city had only taken her so far. The dances she shared with her mate were something else entirely. They were incredible and she strived to be incredible as well. In fact, she strived to better him. On fleeting occasions, she could sense where the attack was coming from, as though the world slowed and she was gifted generous time to manoeuvre. In the blink of an eye, such ethereal moments were lost to her, while she knew that Erroh was ever present in that world. Nevertheless, all of that would change. This she knew as truth, as true as the feelings she was developing for him.

  Erroh didn’t have the heart for the fight today. His mind was askew with thoughts of dead towns, eerily familiar tracks and foolish pledges, but despite this, he attacked with shattering violence for it was a given that he should win. They clashed again and again until she countered a weak strike with a hefty kick to the shin. It was hardly a devastating blow but it irritated him nonetheless.

  “Sorry,” she said, grinning, and kicked him once more before laughing gleefully and leaping away from retaliation. To add further insult to insult she spun both her blades gracelessly. “You’re not so tough son of Magnus,” she mocked, her beautiful eyes wide open, alive and dazzling. His eyes fell to the path again and fury struck him.

  “I’m tougher than you’ll ever be, woman,” he snapped and rubbed his shin. This rebuke delighted Lea and she charged back towards her man, eager to hurt him.

  His mother had once suggested that all
Alphas were unable to let the world pass them by without interfering. They could only live their life and actions without restraint. They could not walk, they must stride. They could not whisper, they could only speak. They wouldn’t let matters rest; they could only act and sometimes not for the best. The fire in their blood stirred by a lifetime of rigorous training under brutal masters caused extremes in behaviour, and in Erroh’s defence, his mother was correct.

  Both Alphas moved around the campsite. Lea was a constant motion of grace, her face impassive, her body perfectly balanced with each strike. She felt as though she were on the precipice of divinity as everything slowed around her and the world took an extra breath just for her.

  Erroh was a tempest. He was ferocious, unpredictable, and devastating, his usual calm torn away in his own wake. He was laboured in every motion, blinding anger stealing his flow and each missed strike adding to his fury.

  “I think we should follow the tracks for as long as they head south,” he growled suddenly, revealing his thoughts while retreating away from her onslaught. He spat in the dirt and muttered a curse under his breath. He wanted to tell her everything that troubled him but he was not capable. He was but a little angry cub being stung by an oblivious goddess, so he did what instinct suggested. His retreat brought him closer to the edge of the river. He glanced sideways briefly as she hunted him down and for a moment forgot the anger.

  “I trust you,” she grinned and battered him to the edge of the water. It was a melancholic grey reflecting the dreary clouds above them. The drizzle falling upon them matched the mood of the river and he lured his beloved in.

  She saw the opening; he parried a hit and slipped back. His balance went and he crashed into the water beneath. His feet held firm though and he did not fall as though expecting it. She hesitated and withdrew her attack. After so many weeks of sparring, she stood above him victoriously. A delighted smile upon her face she prepared to finish him. A little rap across his knuckles would finish the job and add a little smugness to her victory. She might follow through with a satisfying crack to his face. That would be enough. They would laugh about it later.