Wind and Fire

by T. J. Michaels

  Rhia instructed from the middle of the large demonstration circle. Soldiers surrounded her, all ranked First Blade or higher. They all belonged to the Society of War under the jurisdiction of the High Counsel, her father. After the anarchy that followed the Breaking, this Society was the first organization to arise out of the madness. Men and women, like these, had freely shed their blood to defend Draema and her allies against encroachers for as long as anyone could remember. It was the oldest and most respected guild in the Province. And today, these seasoned fearless soldiers belonged to her.

  This is going to be fun.

  “Joan, send another,” Rhia shouted over her shoulder with an evil grin as she deftly tossed her three-foot razor sharp blade back and forth from hand to hand.

  Chapter Five

  RuArk watched Rhia from the back of the throng of soldiers. All of them were fully dressed in combat gear and bristled with various weapons.

  From kinderschool to their twelfth season, every Draeman boy and girl, no matter which colony they lived, learned a few of the old arts with a wealth of what RuArk considered the “new”. The old arts were sword fighting, horsemanship, bow and wrestling. But Draema’s specialties were target practice with laser pistols, energy staffs and hand cannons. In fact, huge pulse cannons were mounted atop the outer walls in strategic spots, facing away from Draema and out toward her neighboring lands. After all, this province still had enemies. Lucky for them, Gaia was not one of them.

  Taller than everyone here, RuArk hunched his shoulders and sank as deeply into his cloak as he could. His task was to observe anyone who seemed suspicious, as he’d done all over the High City every day that Rhia had been down in Harbor Station inspecting airships. As a result, he and his warriors had uncovered quite a bit of useful information, which would have been impossible to glean if the High Counsel hadn’t sent her on that little trip.

  The High Counsel had spread a rumor that RuArk had returned so soon after his last visit, in order to arrange another trade agreement for Gaian coffee and chocolate in exchange for prime horses bred in the far western part of Draema. It was a plausible cover, but he was still careful with his movements. The last thing he wanted was for the pawns in this little conspiracy to get wind of his real goals and spook the mastermind he hadn’t yet identified. Or worse, cause them all to panic and do something stupid, like attempt to kill Rhia off-schedule.

  The ring leader could be just about anyone with the ability to get close, like the pale haired female in the circle right now. No, scratch that. While her enthusiasm was unmistakable, her forms weren’t smooth enough, which spoke of inexperience.

  Women fighting wasn’t something RuArk saw often. Gaian women recognized the power of their femininity, and had no desire to be soldiers. Other than Sharyn, no women served under him. Yet, as he followed Rhia with his eyes, he realized there was something quite sexy about this battle-skilled woman—the way she moved, the way she owned her space.

  The flex of her body and strength of each delivered blow sent the blood rushing south until his stones tucked in tight to his body. Gods, his cock had terrible timing. And how was it, he already had a soft spot for the Blademaster he watched beat the hell out of her students?

  Speaking of students, that’s all he saw here. No one was skilled enough to be an assassination mastermind, so it was time to leave and explore other options.

  “You there. Into the circle.”

  RuArk raised a dark brow in response to the summons and groaned inwardly as he watched Rhia’s Second, a woman named Joan Rouillard, pin him with a glare. He’d watched the short, dark-skinned woman shuffle around the pavilion all morning with sleepies in her eyes. And now those sleepy eyes were firmly on him.

  He smiled like a rogue and said silkily, “I am only observing this morning.”

  “I don’t give a damn.”

  Really? That smile had always worked with women, yet this one snorted at him.

  “If you just wanted to watch you should have stayed up there,” Joan snapped, pointing over his head with her blade to the glass enclosed observatory on the upper floor. So much for charm. Guess it didn’t work on a woman who was tired, shivering with cold, and obviously not in a very giving mood.

  And now Rhia began to make her way over to no doubt investigate the delay.

  Not good.

  She removed her guard mask and tucked it under her free arm. She was still a short distance away when her eyes widened. Strange how she could scrunch up her face and still raise one side of her mouth in such a vicious sneer. But the expression lasted mere moments, and just as quickly, her features smoothed into a serene mask. But those fiery eyes conveyed a wealth of meaning.

  Inner strength was evident in the set of her chin and proud natural stance. Intelligence and satisfaction reflected in her golden eyes. He took her all in at once. Skin so smooth it was perfection. Deep brown hair was thick and wavy with fiery red and auburn strands that gleamed against the darker strands and danced with color. Today it was pulled back from her face in a thick braid tied with a dainty little gray ribbon at the end.

  His fingers itched to pull the ribbon loose and play in that mane of beautiful hair to see if it was a soft as it appeared. If he buried his nose in it, would he catch the same scent that had teased him when he’d seen her while Seeking?

  Thoughts halted when the woman’s sword arm snapped out with a very nasty blade at the end of it. That blade whipped to a stop at his chest, directly above a male nipple.

  “Is there a problem here?” Rhia asked with wide-eyed innocence, owning the same words he’d used when he’d interrupted her fight with the black haired greaser in her apartments. The point of her blade sank into soft silk. Good thing he’d dressed as a Draeman this morning, leaving off his typical leather garb. At least the shirt could be stitched, though his nipple didn’t appreciate the nearness of the steel.

  Joan stood stock still, her head tilted to the side with a half-grin on her face that said “You’re going to get it now” before turning to Rhia to seal his fate.

  “I told him he was up next, and he refuses.”

  Thanks, Joan.

  “Is that right?” Rhia taunted, with a chilling grin that complimented the whip of the midwinter breeze outside. “No soldier is to refuse when called, practice or not. Hey, you look kind of familiar.” Brows rose in mock delight. “Ah, I know. You’re a noob! Are you sure you should be in this class?”

  She knew exactly who he was, but hadn’t revealed it. Why? It was a stupid question. This was her game, her domain where she could goad him while surrounded by people loyal to her. And by the look on their faces, they might just run him through and save Rhia the trouble.

  If she wants to play, then I am certainly up for it.

  Thank the Ancestors for the discipline that kept him from grinning right back. Bowing only slightly—moving more than a hair would cause a bigger hole in his shirt, he said, “I apologize, Blademaster.”

  Damned woman. He couldn’t believe how badly this was going. But this was, after all, Rhia Greysomne, and if she was anything like the hellion of her youth, it was about to get worse. Made him wonder what it would be like to hold all that fire in his arms. To be the one to bring that heat flowing out of her as she lay beneath him. Or on top of him. Or up against a wall. Or on the floor...

  “Care to say what’s on your mind, newbie?” she snarled quietly, her lips drawn tight around her teeth.

  Yes, this woman he definitely knew. One side of his mouth lifted. Wrong move. She’d been somewhat aggravated before, but his pleased expression obviously wasn’t appreciated. Temper pricked, she took a step closer.

  The nick in his skin stung and he thanked the Ancestors that Rhia had such incredible control of that blade. He was grateful he’d chosen dark clothing this morning. At least it wouldn’t show the blood.

  Whether she knew it or not, she’d already drawn first blood, severely limiting his options of how to get out of this mess with his honor intact. H
e didn’t like humiliating a commander in front of her men but...

  Nothing to be done for it, he sighed to himself. The Grandfather always said, “Once you’ve stepped in a pile of shit, you’re going to smell whether you keep the other foot clean or not.”

  May as well sink both feet.

  “I believed you were Blademaster here, yet you’ve blooded me for no reason. Perhaps I was mistaken of your station given your manners.” RuArk looked down at her, crossed him arms over his chest and awaited her response.

  Joan’s mouth dropped so wide open she could have caught several fish if she’d dunked her head through the melting ice on the river. Perhaps that would wake her up. The woman also backed up a couple of paces and must have known what was coming. RuArk had to admit he had a pretty good idea himself.

  “You know who I am.” Definitely not a question. “How dare you speak to me like that.” Rhia’s words sounded much too calm and did not match the fire flashing in those amber cat eyes of hers. The sword point sank a little deeper into RuArk’s left pectoral. The little nick was a thing of the past. It was now a wide but controlled cut, oozing blood down the front of his tunic. Most men would be squirming by now from the pain or the sight of the blood. RuArk was hardly bothered at all, and it only seemed to annoy her more.

  Rather than answering her question, he simply arched a brow in challenge. The result—sudden silence. No movement. No sound. RuArk wondered if anyone still breathed.

  Rhia withdrew her blade from his chest with a snap then stepped so close he could feel the heat radiating from her body. She tried to stand toe to toe with him, but even at her unusual height, her head only reached his chin. Realizing she couldn’t stare him down, she rose up on her toes.

  Each breath he took was filled with her to the point he almost moaned at the natural scent of her body. He wondered what soap she’d used that morning. His gaze dropped to the path that a bead of sweat made as it snaked down her neck and disappeared between her breasts. That stubborn chin of hers was set just below a pair of lush lips made for kissing. And she was just close enough that if he dipped his head, he could seal her lips with his.

  Even pissed off she was a lovely sight. Gods, he was a goner. In danger of losing his balls, but a goner, just the same.

  But this staring contest wasn’t going anywhere.

  So he said, “Rhia, I do think your father was remiss in not spanking your ass when you were a child.”

  “Pffft! Step into my circle, sir,” she hissed through clenched teeth. She turned her back on him, walked away, then paused to bend over and stick out her backside. RuArk’s mask of indifference slipped—the woman wiggled her butt at him! An obvious gesture of how she felt about his thoughts on her lack of discipline. Stiff with anger, she stalked to the middle of the circle where she waited. Her belly button peeked out at him from under that cropped top. Blasted woman.

  RuArk stripped, drawing all eyes to the thickly muscled machine that was his body. Belt, scabbard and Draeman-styled trousers all came off, leaving only a leather breech to accompany his boots as he stood to his full height. If anyone wondered about his Gaian heritage, he was sure there were no doubts now.

  Rhia’s grumbling was just loud enough for RuArk to catch a few choice words as he moved closer to the center of the circle where she waited.

  “Spanking? Hah! ... kick your ass ... peel your hide ... bloody blasted man.” And on it went until they stood facing each other, poised and ready to move through the forms.

  Practically naked in the frigid morning air, he wanted nothing to hinder his movement, and went to meet Rhia with his blade and nothing else. This woman didn’t hold the rank of Blademaster for nothing. While he was a Gaian warrior and doubted Rhia could beat him, he had no intention of going to the Society of Physicians for stitching after this.

  Chapter Six

  Rhia watched him approach on silent feet, his movements relaxed and confident. Soft-soled boots made no sound in the sticky muck and gravel on the floor.

  He moves like a damn cat.

  His leather breech left very little to the imagination and her eyes zoomed in on his legs. She didn’t know another man in all of Draema with thighs like these. Blazes, they were huge, flexed with every step, and showed off the smooth taut skin stretched over each cut of muscle.

  Draeman men were muscular and fit, but they were nowhere near as tall, thickly built, and certainly not as darkly handsome. Putting it plainly, they were nothing like this man. Squashing a ridiculous zing of lust down into her boots, she abruptly turned away with a pretense of examining some minute piece of lint on her shirt, angry at the heat creeping up her neck. She was supposed to have some self-control, not stand there gawking at the man because of his incredible physique, though his handsome features were on display with all that beautiful hair pulled back and away.

  Rhia knew he was anything but new to a fight. The night he’d picked up and tossed a squealing Bryan while barely drawing a breath made it clear enough. Not to mention the fact that he was raised to be a fighter, just as she had. From the moment he was born, he’d been groomed to be Protector of the Realm. His stance screamed pride—pride in his warrior’s body, and even more pride in his heritage and ability to do his job.

  Damn. He’s going to kick my ass. But she just couldn’t seem to stop pushing. She’d walked in here feeling brazenly wicked, and it was just his luck to bring out the total witch in her. And if the witch wanted to come out, Rhia would let her play.

  ‘Cheeky bastard,’ she fumed. ‘And he’s not beautiful, either, damn it!’

  Sure, whatever.

  For several moments they just stood and eyeballed each other.

  “Well?” Rhia taunted, and with that, it began. She came with a fast move called Strike of the Mantis, her blade angled down like the claw of that long extinct insect, bringing it around swiftly. Not many practiced this style anymore, and not many could counter it either. When he did so perfectly, she switched to Sweeping Dragon. He countered with Blocking Sway and Clipping Wings.

  Neither gave any ground.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  The woman had considerable skill with a blade, but RuArk wasn’t actually trying to beat her. He simply wanted to take measure of how she moved and what style she liked to fight. Her strength and speed was admirable. He knew a lot of men who would have been hard pressed to keep up with her, but none of them were hardened Gaian warriors. Rhia was good, but he knew he was faster and stronger with the advantage of reach and height. He’d let her have her fun, but enough was enough.

  He stepped forward and attacked, putting all his strength behind each drive. He was overpowering her and knew the blows sent painful vibrations up her arm. Soon her wrist would go numb and she would be unable to grasp her blade. All he needed to do was wait her out.

  But Rhia kept herself under control and fought on with everything she had. Just when he was sure she would give in, she swung a well-aimed foot and kicked him in the knee. He couldn’t believe it. It seemed that when the woman couldn’t win, she would cheat.

  He shouldn’t be surprised. His own father, King of Gaia, had taught her to fight dirty against bullies back in kinderschool.

  And he’d been caught off guard at her underhanded tactic just long enough to allow his sword to be sent spinning across the floor. In an act of honor, or perhaps foolishness, she threw her sword aside to face him in hand-to-hand combat. He took two steps toward her when she grabbed him by his long braid, and fell backward bringing him with her. At the last instant she added an unexpected kick that sent him flying over her head to land sprawled on his back on the muddy floor. Where had she learned that? It was a dumb question.

  “My father, you know, the one who didn’t spank my ass enough? Well, he always taught me that the only fair fight is a won fight,” she said. On her feet, she moved back out of reach, ignoring the roaring cheer of her students.

  He was up quickly and didn’t bother to hide the admiration in his expression. RuArk knew he
wasn’t an easy man to face in a fight, and an even harder man to throw. Whether it was blades, on foot, on horseback or hand-to-hand, he was a formidable opponent. And this woman managed to hurl him across the floor.

  Then she was on him, all fists and feet. With quick hands and moves that were second nature, he blocked her attempts.

  This time he anticipated what she was doing when her foot flashed out. The kick landed, but not in the intended spot. And though she’d put all her weight into the blow, she bounced right off to land with a splat in the mud.

  Suddenly, Joan shouted, “Stand down, all of you!”

  It took RuArk a split second to look around. Every last soldier in the pavilion now had a blade drawn. One word from Rhia and they’d have been more than happy to take her place in the circle and promptly slice him to ribbons. None of them seemed to care that this was supposed to be a practice session.

  He could handle several grown men, but there would be some broken bones and lots of bleeding. When Joan moved forward, RuArk grew concerned. He didn’t know if he could handle these two women without hurting them. And if he hurt Rhia he could forget the soldiers obeying any order to stand down.

  In a sneaky move of his own, he grabbed Rhia, spun her around and pinned her arms to her sides with her back plastered against his chest. Joan grabbed Rhia around the middle, struggling to pull her out of RuArk’s arms. He let go. He didn’t let his guard down even if both women were now sprawled in the mud. Instead, he stepped back, crouched down in a stance prepared for the next attack.

  As he blocked a jab to the ribs, Rhia used his raised arm to slip underneath and then attach from behind. She reached under one of his arms, wrapped him in an unbreakable hold and pulled him off balance down to his knees. She applied pressure to the artery that allowed blood to flow to his brain. With this hold, it didn’t matter how much larger or faster he was.