Hunting the Rogues (Shadow Claw Book 8)

by Sarah J. Stone

  “I believe a weapons class just called me the greatest warrior of our generation,” Nathaniel replied with a grin on his face as he greeted Sybil. “They did a whole lesson on the Bablyon quest that Desmond and I took down single-handedly.”

  “You and I remember Bablyon very differently,” Desmond said as they tried to find seats. “Because I remember it being a whole lot of effort, and you seem to think you just snapped your fingers.”

  “Maybe I did,” Nathaniel answered with a shrug. “A snap to make you work. Here, Maestro. Sit.”

  “At least they respect their elders,” Desmond said to Mariah as they both settled into seats that had been laid out. The gymnasium was crowded and buzzing with energy. The younger children were sitting on the floor, and seeing no other seats, Nathaniel shrugged. He and Sybil settled down at their Maestro's feet, her Tiro gone to find her friends. “Can you even see anything from down there?”

  “Let me worry about that,” Nathaniel grinned. “Besides, what do I need to see? I can sense strong magic a mile away.”

  “This is like old times,” Desmond said to Mariah, who smiled.

  “Isn't it?” she said. “I thought we wouldn't get another chance to be together with everyone. I would have thought by now that everyone would be going off in their own direction.”

  “Life is surprising,” Desmond said as the first group moved into the center of the gymnasium. They were young, and his low expectations were met. At that age, they couldn't do much besides levitate a few objects and practice making their usually visible streams of magic vanish. Still, every once in a while, there was one who stood out; one who was clearly above their class.

  The Tiro-less Maestros were looking for different things. Some wanted fighters; some wanted diplomats; some wanted older Tiros so as to be done training faster. It was a matter of choice, and no one could guess who would be picked out from any given showcase.

  Desmond looked down at some point to see Nathaniel with his com unit, sending a fast message through in between groups. From his vantage point, he recognized Eliza's contact information at the top of the screen. He raised an eyebrow as he watched the message shoot across.

  By six p.m., I can be online.

  Seven p.m. Some of us have a job to do.

  Being a queen isn't a job, your highness.

  If you don't stop, I won't be online at all. And then what will you do with yourself?

  “Nathaniel,” Desmond landed him a kick as the next group came up to the center. “Pay attention. More importantly, dim your screen.”

  “She's just so…” Nathaniel forgot where he was and looked up to meet Desmond's hard gaze. “Right, sorry.”

  Desmond rolled his eyes at his lack of focus and turned his attention to the group in the center. He saw Sienna right away in the center of her group. She stood out from the rest; she was slightly taller and thinner. Her focus was like a laser, and her thin shoulders were tensed in concentration.

  Desmond's gaze became like a laser as he watched her. He reached down to Nathaniel to indicate where his attention was.

  Sienna's magic was clearly stronger than the rest, and she was more powerful than Tiros in the age group above her. It was untrained, though, and messy. There were streams of magic long after the others had vanished. She was so strong, but such a mess.

  And within eight minutes, Desmond caught a quiver in her knees. She was battling to stay upright as the Tiros were tasked with levitation. Her body tensed, and her knees buckled, but she fought it again and again.

  Desmond rose up, the only one in the crowd doing so, and she looked up, watching him rather than focusing on the pain she was clearly in.

  ‘Come on, little one,’ he thought. ‘Come on.’

  The bell rang, the exercise ended, and all the objects dropped like a stone. Sienna put her hands on her knees, panting. But she caught his eyes and gave him a smile that was like sunshine.

  “Maestro?” Nathaniel asked in confusion as the Tiros took a bow. There was a break directly following the exercise, and Desmond remained standing, watching where Sienna went. “Did you see something?”

  “You didn't feel that?” Desmond asked. “The tall one? She was so strong.”

  “With the brown hair?” Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “Strong is not the word I would use. All of that magic serves no purpose if it's all over the place.”

  “That can be trained out, Nathaniel,” Desmond replied, but his former Tiro shook his head.

  “Not for the precision a warrior needs,” Nathaniel replied.

  “And is that all you would consider?” Desmond asked. “A warrior?”

  “Well, yes.” Nathaniel looked surprised, “That's what I am; that's what I want to train.”

  “I think we should meet her,” Desmond replied. “At least to tell her that she was strong.”

  “But she's not,” Nathaniel protested. Mariah picked up on the conversation, turning her head. Despite a lack of sight, her eyes bore holes into Desmond.

  “You felt a connection,” she said, half reading his thoughts.

  “I don't know what I felt,” Desmond answered. “I just want to tell her to keep persisting. Is that so harmful?”

  “We are just watching, Desmond,” Mariah said, but he got her meaning. She was apprehensive about his approaching a potential Tiro when they had just gotten through a conversation that this wasn't their future.

  “I'm just watching,” he echoed. “Nathaniel? We'll be right back.”

  “I don't see why I have to go,” Nathaniel answered, but he clambered up anyway.

  Sienna was sitting on the floor on the other side of the gymnasium, looking winded. Still, she smiled when Desmond came into her line of sight.

  “Hello, little one,” he said, crouching down. “You did well.”

  She clearly did not understand his words, but she understood a compliment and nodded her thanks.

  “You…are…” She looked between Desmond and Nathaniel and made a motion with her hands. Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, looking to Desmond, who understood right away.

  “Nathaniel is my former Tiro,” he said. “A year or two gone now.”

  She paused, searching. Nathaniel turned back to Desmond.

  “Why doesn't she speak Basic?” Nathaniel asked.

  “She wasn't properly trained offsite,” Desmond admitted to him. “On the offsite facility, they are assisting her because she is a witch, and all witches belong with us. But they didn't train her well.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” Desmond sighed, “she has the acridid gene, and they consider that too difficult to deal with.”

  “The acridid gene?” Nathaniel blurted out in surprise “Well, no wonder they don't train her. That's hopeless, Desmond.”

  “Is it?” Desmond asked him sharply. “There were some who said you were hopeless, too.”

  “You are perception?” Sienna finally managed to Nathaniel. He turned back to her.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Perception…” Desmond struggled through the few languages he knew, translating back and forth to see if he could come up with what meaning she was going for. “Looking. She wants to know if you are looking for a Tiro.”

  “Oh,” Nathaniel answered. “Yes. Eventually.”

  “Yes?” she picked up, sitting up a bit straighter.

  “A warrior,” Nathaniel practically yelled, thinking she might be able to understand him if he was louder and clearer. “I am a warrior. I'm looking for a warrior.”

  She jumped at his raised voice, pushing father back against the wall.

  “Nathaniel,” Desmond said, giving him a look.

  “What? That's what I'm doing.” Nathaniel rose awkwardly. “Good job, kid.”

  She watched Nathaniel with awe as he rose, sensing magic in him that was strong as well. “Warrior,” she echoed. “Warrior is the best.”

  That caught him off guard. “I think so,” he said. She pushed against the wall, and Desmond rose, exten
ding a hand so that she could take it and rise as well. “We should get back.”

  “Thank you,” she said, looking to Desmond and waving to the showcase floor. “Thank you.”

  “There's no need to thank me,” he said. “It is your right, and you fought well.”

  “Thank you,” she repeated. She lingered another moment or two and then headed off to her friends, leaving the two of them standing there.

  “Maestro, you can't be serious,” Nathaniel said once she was out of earshot. “There's nothing there.”

  “Don't jump to conclusions, Nathaniel,” Desmond replied. “I merely think she's interesting.”

  “Sure, as a case study,” Nathaniel shrugged. “But is it ethical, you think, to get her hopes up by letting her showcase?”

  “There are other kinds of witches besides warriors,” Desmond answered. “You do know that, don't you?”

  “Of course,” Nathaniel answered. “I just know what I want. Now, please, can we go back? I haven't seen Sybil in forever.”

  “If you can keep your eyes on the showcase floor,” Desmond replied, not eager to go back to Mariah's wrath. He could feel it following from across the room.

  If he didn't walk such a fine line, he could make choices by himself without taking anyone else into account. But he had chosen a life that meant there was more than just the magic at stake.

  The rest of the showcase finished without incident, and although Desmond was clearly distracted, Nathaniel was eager to head back to his room. It was late, and he was hoping Eliza would be on early.

  Sure enough, his monitor showed a video call just as he let himself him.

  He always forgot how beautiful she was until she saw her face. With blonde hair and sapphire eyes, she only had to turn her head slightly to make his knees weak.

  “Eliza,” he said, sinking into a chair as she settled into hers across the universe. “Sorry, there was a showcase today.”

  “Is that where your order puts children on display like cattle for sale?”

  “If you think so,” he answered, logging onto the quest system. New quests were posted at seven p.m. nightly, and currently, it was the best time in his life to grab them. Without a Tiro, he didn't have to take anyone else’s qualifications or expectations into account. He scanned the list as he talked. “Wasn't anything interesting, really.”

  “Nothing?” she replied. “How many were there?”

  “Half a hundred,” he shrugged. “Desmond got caught up with a misfit who won't ever make the tests, but you know how Desmond can be.”

  “I didn't think he would be taking a new Tiro?” she questioned.

  “He probably won't,” Nathaniel answered. “There's a Jeffro stopover next Monday that's just become listed. It's only four hours, but I could take it if you like.”

  “Monday?” she asked, clicking a few keys. “When?”

  “At four p.m.,” he answered. She shook her head.

  “No good. Find something else.”

  “You know, it's not that easy, Eliza,” he growled as he clicked the box to bid for the quest anyway. “Unless you specifically request a witch to assist you, I can't just stop there.”

  “Well, I don't need help.” She shrugged, and he grinned.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “I don't need help with anything that a generic witch could offer,” she replied. “A specific one though…”

  That brought his attention back to the screen rapidly. “Oh really?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. “What is it you need help you?”

  She smiled, and he knew what was coming. Making sure that the door was locked, he dimmed his lights and turned down the sound on his monitor. She may be a universe away right now, but it didn't mean they couldn't give each other pleasure.

  Chapter 4

  “Five-six-seven-eight!” Desmond bent his knee just as Mariah leapt, watching her intently. She used the magic to judge her surroundings – to judge the walls and the floor, and to propel herself forward. She was still a strong warrior, still in good shape, and could still outfight most people. Still, her blindness put her just off balance, and he managed to steady her as she went by, quickly placing a hand on her taut stomach. She landed like a cat – soft and crouching.

  “How was that?”

  “It was fine,” he replied, not wanting to admit he was a bit out of breath. Mariah was focused, relentless, and they had been at this for hours.

  “It was sloppy,” she said, shaking her head as she stood up. “And you know it.”

  “Mariah,” he said, as he stood as well. “It was better than most could do, never mind a lack of sight and age.”

  “Age?” She quirked an eyebrow. “Do you think I've gotten old?”

  “I think that's a fact,” he answered. “But it does not make you any less–”

  “Hello!” a voice called out, cutting him off.

  Both of them turned, interrupted in their training. Sienna was standing at the door of the empty training room, looking on in curiosity. Desmond was aware that the off-planet visitors would stay another day or two, to take advantage of the headquarters' amenities. Whatever she was supposed to be doing, she appeared to have broken away from her group.

  “Hello, little one,” he said. “Mariah, it's Sienna. We were just training.”

  “You are Maestros,” she managed, and even Mariah had to smile at that.

  “Yes,” she said. “But even Maestros need training every once in a while.”

  Sienna cocked her head, registering that Mariah's eyes were sightless. She paused, unsure of how to proceed, and then turned back to Desmond. “You…qualify for me? To fight?”

  He took a moment to think through what she might have meant. “Modify?” he asked. “Modify training for you?”

  She nodded. “You have occurrence in it?”

  He realized she was referring to the modifications they were making for Mariah in a simple routine.

  “Aye,” he said. “But Nathaniel, my former Tiro, is the stronger warrior. If you are looking for a modified training program, he is the one to speak to.”

  “Nathaniel?” she asked, remembering him. “He is…distant.”

  “He is not usually,” Desmond answered with a smirk. “The day you met him, perhaps.”

  “I…” She took a step forward and then faltered.

  “Desmond!” Mariah sensed her magic first, feeling it flicker. Her sightless eyes flashed, and Desmond rushed forward, catching Sienna before she fell.

  Her body was burning with heat, her limbs trembling. She clearly wasn't well, although she was doing well to hide it.

  He eased her to the ground, and she reached out for his hand, grasping it tightly.

  “AH!” he suddenly cried as she squeezed his hand. It hadn't been intentional, but she had lashed out for magic and strength. And without even thinking about it, his magic had flowed to her, offering her healing and strength to make up for hers.

  She looked so surprised by it that she stopped moving all together, this feeling completely foreign to her.

  Desmond had felt it before, though, with each of his three Tiros. To take strength that easily without even thinking about it was part of the bond between Maestro and Tiro. Their bonds were so strong that they could predict it before it even happened, their thoughts becoming one.

  She looked up at him with wide eyes, saying nothing. He tried to smile, cradling her gently.

  “Is that better?” he asked.

  She nodded, sitting up cautiously. She pulled away from him slightly, her long hair falling into her face. Mariah sat down beside them and touched Desmond's shoulder. He reached out for her hand to tell her without speaking that all was well.

  “Yes,” Sienna replied.

  “You are not well,” he scolded her. “You should have told someone.”

  “No,” she said picking up on the meaning clearly. “No one cares.”

  “Sienna,” he gave her a look. “Of course, they do.”

 
; “Too…frequent,” she answered, and his heart ached.

  “It doesn't matter,” he replied. “If you are unwell, you should be looked after.”

  “Training,” she said, and he smiled.

  “Is that all you care about?”

  “Yes,” she answered curtly. That much was clear, and he chuckled.

  “Sienna, we should go to the med bay,” Mariah said tentatively. “You shall not train today.”

  “Please,” she begged, but Mariah pushed herself up from Desmond's shoulder.

  “No,” she said. “A good witch does not enter battle if they are at a disadvantage,” she said. “You must always be your best self in order to help others.”

  The sentence went over Sienna's head, so she simply rose, stronger than before.

  “Training after?”

  “Maybe,” Desmond replied. “If you are better later.”

  “Promise?” she asked, and he smiled.

  “If you are better, then I will walk you through a session. And I always keep my promises.”

  She seemed content with this and walked with both of them, only pausing once. It saddened Desmond to see how comfortable she was in the med bay, and he assumed she was quite used to it. She stuck out her arm for blood work like the needle was an extension of her own limb. As Tara drew the curtain closed, Desmond leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. Mariah leaned into him and enjoyed the moment of privacy.

  “Did it bother you so?” she asked, and he looked down at her.

  “I don't think that's the right word,” he said. “She must have had a fever of 103, and she took strength from me as if I was the right medication.”

  Mariah jerked at that thought. “Desmond,” she said. “You can't be thinking what I think you are.”

  “What am I supposed to think when a Tiro exhibits a bond that has occurred three times in my life before?” he asked, not meaning to snap.

  “First of all,” Mariah said, trying to keep her voice low, “she is not properly trained for her age; she's at least a few years behind. In addition, her life expectancy is not going to reach the tests. And even if she does, the level of care she needs would damn her to the lowest level quests.”