Spark City

by Robert J Power

  The bloodied champion spat some blood from his mouth and charged past Quig. He swung his golden sword but Erroh sidestepped and ducked away with ease. He retreated to the edge of the fireplace and reached for his weapon of choice. It was the first thing he could think of and under the circumstances; he thought he did quite well. Quig tried one last attempt at reasoning for peace but before he could get between them, Lea touched his arm.

  “It’s going to be fine,” she said calmly and she was right.

  Erroh held out a long black poker in front of him and took up a defensive stance. He knew he looked ridiculous, the nervous laughing from the crowd reassured him, but it didn’t bother him in the slightest. “Surely you don’t want to ruin that pretty blade,” he said letting the glowing tip float in front of the grand champions face. His right hand felt a little naked without a second sword. He found this quite interesting.

  “Blood wipes away easily enough?” Stefan hissed.

  “From a blade perhaps, though not from your hands,” Erroh said coldly. Stefan hesitated until a few dissenting voices braying for blood rekindled his anger.

  The crowd roared as if in the tournament, but there was little cheer as both men faced each other in a bizarre duel. Most called for peace and a drink, others called for vengeance and the others screamed for the Regulators to come and end this madness. Bar fights were always a sign of a good night at “the Sickle,” but blades were a different thing entirely.

  The champion attacked and Erroh just blocked his efforts. His body smooth in motion despite the danger. The champion attacked for a second time and again Erroh just swiped each strike away as if he were suffering the irritation of a child poking at him with a stick. He didn’t intend to embarrass Stefan so much. It just happened that way. He never countered any attack at all. Any loose strike on skin was likely to leave terrible scarring and nasty as Stefan was, he didn’t deserve such a fate for doing little more than being a drunken brute with wandering hands. In truth, Lea’s rear was quite the impressive thing. Who wouldn’t be tempted?

  Soon enough the crowd’s fears turned to humour, as it became all too apparent that even with a poker, this mysterious wanderer surpassed their champion. It was here that the first mentions of the Alphalines were whispered.

  When drunken fatigue began to get the better of Stefan, Erroh parried a laboured strike, grabbed his wrist, and drove the blade into the shiny wooden surface at their feet.

  “Enough,” Erroh roared grabbing his collar and bending his arm into a hold. Stefan struggled and screamed under the powerful clutch. He fought the pain for an impressive three breaths before yielding. Erroh released him and stepped away.

  Without warning, Stefan grabbed his sword and struck viciously. He struck with the speed that had earned him the victory that day and he struck a killing blow.

  When the Regulators questioned him the following morning, he was quick to point out that he had been attacked first. His assault was justified. It was to protect his honour. There were a great many witnesses. He was grand champion.

  The crowd screamed in horror but Erroh swatted away the attack nonchalantly. He followed through with a powerful downwards strike of his own in the dead centre of the freshly tempered blade. He thought about Tye as the weapon broke in half. It was a shame. It would have made a lovely decoration in any homestead. Now it would make two. To finish he elbowed Stefan in the ribs and the vanquished man fell to his knees. The broken piece fell to the ground loudly beside him. The metallic ringing it created resonated throughout the room and fell silent like most of the onlookers.

  Who was this fierce warrior?

  Was he an Alpha?

  He didn’t appear to breathe fire.

  “This fight is over,” he declared, holding the glowing sword near Stefan’s face. The champion finally took the hint and dropped the remains of his trophy. People converged on both warriors and heated words were traded once more. Fists and fingers were raised and pointed accusingly and fresh new tempers began to rise. Complete strangers stood beside Erroh as if he were a family friend. Many local arguments between neighbours took the opportunity to resurface. Age-old disagreements about land and money and possibly perspective mates, reared their ugly heads and Emir was happiest of all among the mayhem. “Enough of this childish shit,” Quig ordered. It was a mildly threatening and terrifying call for peace and it was enough to lower the tension in the room but the atmosphere remained volatile.

  Erroh and Lea slipped away from the dancefloor. Nice town, best not to overstay the welcome.

  “Okay we all just need to calm down,” said Emir taking the diplomatic torch from Quig. He walked between each irate drunkard, and without prejudice patted each one on the back and smiled his warmest smile. He wore a “No need to fight, drinking is so much better,” expression on his face.

  Quig eyed his small friend warily. It was not like him to be the arbitrator. Emir reached Stefan and placed both of his hands on his shoulders. The kind gesture took Stefan off guard completely. It must have been something in the air. The festival of the Puk working its magic.

  “We’re good. We are all good here,” cooed the drunken ambassador of harmony. His warm smile beamed from ear to ear. Aireys wondered when best to suggest walking him home. It was time to do stupid things.

  Lea grabbed her bag and followed Erroh towards the door. He didn’t take her hand and she sensed a fight brewing.

  “Let me take a look at that Stefan,” said the healer to his patient. He began shooing the champion’s comrades away. “It’s fine. I’ll fix him right up,” he pledged and gestured over to his closest friend. Quig wasn’t just good to have as a friend he was also terrific in a fistfight.

  “Can you give me a hand over here?” Emir asked seriously and the crowd relaxed and separated. Stefan hated Emir but he still allowed the healer’s delicate hands to inspect the gap in his mouth.

  “Aye that’s bad,” he muttered holding Stefan’s face in his hands tenderly before grabbing an empty glass mug from a nearby table. People knew of his unorthodox healing techniques. They thought him wretched and a drunkard but they also knew his skill as a healer was unsurpassed if not somewhat peculiar. They thought it impressive that Emir treated Stefan’s wounds despite their many years of feuding. It all began when they were in their youth and Stefan had been quite the bully. And Emir? Well Emir had been the smallest target before he left for Samara.

  Emir swung the glass ferociously. Some people heard him laugh as it connected with the back of Stefan’s head and the entire room exploded like the glass. Stefan collapsed on the hard dance floor and Quig allowed his friend to take one punch in the face before he stepped in and joined the melee. Thus began a wonderful flood of violence. From every table at least one patron ran to the dance floor swinging fists. It didn’t really matter who they punched as long as they gave more than they got. Hitting someone they suffered a genuine grievance with was a bonus, and besides, it wouldn’t be a festival without a memorable skirmish anyway. The large innkeeper sighed from behind the bar and made mental note of who broke what. His wife took actual note on a thin slit of parchment while their daughter Lara watched on proudly as her man decimated all who stood before him.

  Erroh grabbed the bottle of sine. They were already at the door before three men, finally sent Quig through their playing table. He climbed to his feet and immediately threw himself back into the fray. Neither Erroh nor Lea looked back and nobody noticed the two Alphas slip out of the door into the streaming rain.

  She missed the warmth of the room immediately. Within a few moments, both of them were soaked through. The weather didn’t help his mood and he stormed off into the downpour, ignoring the rumbles of complete devastation behind him.

  “I think you broke the town,” she said struggling to match his pace in such an outfit with matching shoes. He popped the cork and drank deeply before handing it to her.

  “I lost my temper and I overreacted,” he growled.

  “You were standin
g up for my honour, so does it matter?” she said as they walked over the bridge and the flowing river underneath. The wind blew through them and overwhelmed any sounds of violence behind.

  “It matters to me Lea. We should have sat and played cards and laughed and drank and strolled home without causing any type of stir,” he snapped, looking at her and looking at her dress.

  “Does it matter?” she repeated.

  “People learn of our bloodline and every fool will come looking to challenge. Even you,” he said and shook his head as if she didn’t understand. As if she was a foolish girl from the city, without any clue of the road. He scratched his arm suddenly.

  “I’m proud to be an Alphaline,” she snapped.

  “Mated to the son of the betrayer Magnus and the whore Elise?” he cried.

  So that was it.

  “I’m proud to be mated to you Erroh,” she said warmly.

  He laughed humourlessly.

  “You certainly didn’t give that impression on the dance floor with that thug,” he said and increased his pace for effect.

  It was her time to laugh. Foolish beautiful Erroh, he just hadn’t a clue about females.

  “It was only a dance.”

  “It was not only a dance.”

  “Well it was to me.”

  Silence.

  They walked for a little time until she took his arm and squeezed against him. He pulled away because that’s what foolish young Alphalines did when they were angry at the world and needed to blame someone so they chose their beo.

  “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have played along with Stefan. It was just some fun,” she said.

  “You loved the attention,” he sneered.

  “I love the attention I get from every man,” she snapped back and drew away from him. She’d almost forgotten what it was like being at odds with him. Silly boy.

  “I could have killed him,” he warned weakly.

  “Now that would have been an overreaction,” she said.

  They walked without saying another word until they finally arrived back at the house of Holt, which at this late hour was shrouded in darkness but for two sheltered lanterns burning at the gate entrance. It was here that he stopped to say his piece and to do so in private lest his voice carry and wake their temporary landlord.

  “You shouldn’t have worn that dress,” he hissed and regretted it immediately. She was crestfallen but he couldn’t help himself. “What did you think would happen?” he added.

  “I thought it might be nice. I was wrong,” she said coldly. Her perfume drifted into his nose. He thought of the effort she’d made and he ignored the guilt. He knew he was being unfair.

  “Learn from your mistakes,” he hissed and drank deeply. All around them, the rain poured down. He offered her the bottle.

  “You are needlessly cruel,” she whispered. In the dim glow of a light, he could see the tears forming. She was about to ruin the paint around her lovely eyes.

  “I keep us alive,” he snapped and pushed her away. It was just a little push. So he could turn away dramatically, storm off, and turn in for the night.

  “Don’t ever touch me again like that,” she shouted and pushed him right back. “You’re vile. Just like your parents. Just like history suggests,” she whispered and knew she had gone too far even though he probably deserved it.

  “That’s not how history should have been written,” he said. What colour she could see drained from his face. A low blow, she mused.

  “I didn’t mean that about the dress. I’m sorry,” he said and left her at the gate.

  She was sorry too.

  “I liked it when you hit him,” she said stopping him at the barn door. It was her attempt at an apology.

  “You hit him first,” Erroh said quietly.

  “You finished the job,” she countered and dared a smile. There was barely any light to see but there was enough to see how thoroughly soaked through she was. He thought it best to get her inside, and out of the stunning yellow dress with matching shoes.

  “We work well together,” he said shrugging.

  “Maybe we should become mates,” she said and stroked his chin.

  “My parents would never approve, you’re not nearly enough of a whore or barbarian,” he said and leant his hands upon her waist. She was warm.

  “Oh, give me time my love,” she said and gazed into his eyes.

  Stop talking Erroh. Kiss the girl you fool.

  “So you do love me?” he whispered.

  “I’ve loved you longer than you’ll ever know you moron,” she muttered in disbelief.

  Their lips met.

  Finally.

  He pulled her tightly and she let him. They fell through the barn door without breaking their embrace and crashed against the wall. They did not part; they did not breathe, they just gave themselves to each other. It was perfect. She conquered his mouth passionately and he countered with all he had. It was the greatest moment of his life. It was the greatest moment of her life too. She pushed herself against his body to experience all of him. His hands moved around her body and she wilted under his touch. She thought of his oath.

  “It won’t be tonight,” she said suddenly.

  “As you wish Lea,” he gasped before she set upon him once more.

  He lay on his back in the soft dry hay in the loft. The hanging light above gave the dimly lit room a warm feel. The rain was beginning to clear as the night moved on towards morning. He wore only an undergarment but he covered himself in a blanket. Lea emerged from behind the cloak she’d used as a curtain hanging from one of the barn’s old beams. She was radiant in her nightgown and he craved her dearly. His heart skipped a beat as she crawled under the blankets next to him and ran her cold fingers across his chest.

  “You’re very subtle in what you want my love,” she whispered allowing her hand to move a little further down before kissing his neck.

  He smiled awkwardly. Sorry about that.

  “It will not be tonight,” she reminded him and he nodded in agreement, as he touched her chest delicately. She did not resist, instead she bit her lower lip and smiled.

  “We should sleep soon,” she suggested before climbing atop him, pinning him wonderfully, and meeting his lips once more.

  “A few more kisses before sleep,” he whispered and met her challenge with equal vigour.

  All the Time in the World

  The first rays of a virgin dawn shone through an open gap overlooking the courtyard. The early morning amber sky suggested a stunning day ahead. The world shimmered after the rain. There was a fresh taste to the world and there was something in the air.

  Erroh and Lea were oblivious to the natural beauties of the world. They still hadn’t slept. She lay across his body and her warmth stirred him in many wonderful ways. He looked into her eyes and kissed her for the thousandth time since the night before. He was proud of his behaviour. He held her beautiful face in his hands and brushing her long black hair from her eyes, thanked the gods for good fortune. Such fervent kisses and delicate, exploratory caressing was enough to drive any man deliriously insane. He wanted more though. He wanted it all. He wanted her all. Then again, there was no need to rush for there was plenty of time for both of them to become closer. This night had merely been a wonderful beginning but they had all the time in the world.

  After paying their debt for the night, the Alphas saddled up their mounts and departed Keri. There was little movement in the late morning sun. The town was having a sleep-in ahead of the final night of the festival and as much as they would have enjoyed a few hours’ sleep, they thought it best to leave before questions with authorities’ about Stefan’s assault were brought to light. They were justified but still, some settlements had their own peculiar laws. With barely any sleep and the taste of a hangover in their mouths, they still found themselves in good cheer. Though neither said it, they both were looking forward to camping down for the night and continuing where they left off. She sipped from her canteen
. It made the drilling pain in her head tolerable but she didn’t mind too much. She couldn’t stop smiling and neither could he. They left the town of Keri through the gap in the mountain down a slope and out into the clustered forest beyond. They followed the river south like always.

  When she laughed, he thought it one of the prettiest sounds. He laughed too and continued with the story. “The entire night I just kept slapping the exact same ace of queens down on the table time and time again.”

  “How did he not realise you were cheating earlier?” she cried.

  “We may have been a little tipsy,” Erroh admitted.

  “I’m surprised he didn’t kill you,” she said between gasping breaths.

  They had been riding all day through broken woodland. His mount “Highwind” was agitated. Erroh could sense its displeasure at their leisurely pace. Calm yourself silly beast. It’s a beautiful evening, the land is opening up, and we will return to full pace come the morning.

  “When I slapped the same card down three games in a row the massive brute finally drew his sword,” he sniggered. “It was a fine blade too,” he added. Trying and failing to remember any further details about the drunk card player.

  “Yet, somehow you survived,” she gushed wiping the tears from her dark, tired eyes.

  “I happily exchanged monetary reparations with many apologies and he saw sense. As big as Quig he was. Looked like him as well,” Erroh said thoughtfully.

  “You’ll always find a way to talk your way out of anything,” she jested, but her voice trailed off, as a flicker of movement caught her eye in the distance. She wasn’t quite sure what it was, through the thick briars and undergrowth.

  “I can convince anybody to my way of thought, given enough time,” he said.

  “You convinced me, beo,” she said and met his eyes. She wanted to kiss him.

  “It’s a good story,” she said returning her eyes to the way ahead.

  “I should work on some new stories. Maybe you’ll show up in some too,” he said.