Rift by Andrea Cremer
Ember struck out with her left arm, bringing the blade up and across the creature’s chest. It feinted and the blade whistled through the air, missing its mark.
“Again,” Barrow commanded.
She jumped forward, this time bringing both wheels up and crisscrossing them in swift horizontal strokes. The blades struck, catching the creature where a man’s collarbone would have been and again at its stomach. Having no mouth, the mud thing didn’t cry out, but the evidence of her blows remained in the chunks of earth missing from its body.
Lora raised her arms and the creature threw itself at Ember. She dodged, twisting around, and struck its back with a series of rapid blade strokes.
With each exchange the creature became more aggressive, its lumbering movements transformed into quick steps that matched Ember’s dance-like combat. The fight continued, and Ember was surprised she didn’t tire. The longer she battled the mud creature, the more connected to her body and the blades she became.
Finding herself crouched low after the thing had knocked her with a painful kick to her stomach, Ember drew on the coil of energy in her chest when it raised its arms to rain down a blow on her bowed head.
Ember sprang up, flying at the creature. She drew the blades in a blindingly swift motion that followed her own path, rising from the ground and tearing through the air. The wheels came up one after the other, connecting with the creature’s upper arm and continuing without pause. Ember sailed past the mud man, hit the ground, and pivoted around, ready for its next strike.
The creature wasn’t moving. It stood facing her but didn’t strike.
A moment later Ember saw the reason for its—or Lora’s—hesitation.
Its arm lay on the ground beside it. Though the mud thing had no eyes, it turned its head to gaze at its severed appendage.
“Uh . . .” Ember glanced at Lora, who calmly picked up the arm and went to the mud creature. It stood still while she held the severed limb to the stump below its shoulder. Earth flowed, drawing the piece back into the body, and the creature was whole again.
Barrow coughed and Ember could hear his laughter beneath the sound. “A point of instruction.”
“Yes?” She didn’t want to turn her back on the mud thing. Though she doubted it had emotions, she still worried it would seek retribution for her slicing its arm off.
“Your blade is sharp enough to take off any limb,” he said. “But under combat conditions your adversary will have muscle and bone to contend with, which puts up much more resistance than clay.”
Ember nodded, tightening her grip on the wheel’s handle.
“And as a general rule you’ll want to kill, not maim, your enemy,” he continued. “If you want to cut something off, go for the head.”
That made her turn, expecting that he was teasing her, but his expression was serious.
Seeing her surprise, he said, “Hesitation will get you killed.”
Barrow’s eyes moved off her. It was only the sound of the creature’s feet squelching on the damp ground that told Ember he’d given Lora some sort of silent signal.
Ember wheeled around to find the mud thing lunging at her. Drawing a sharp breath, she spun around, lifting her blades in a sweeping arc. The wheels hit their mark, slicing through the creature’s neck. Its head toppled to the ground and a moment later its body collapsed into a pile of slop.
She was still breathing hard when Barrow came to her side.
“You listen and you learn quickly,” he said. “Well done. I think you’re ready for more of a challenge. That will be all, Lora. Thank you.”
Lora bowed and, after covering her head with the robe’s hood once more, quit the field.
“Put your weapons aside,” Barrow told Ember as he unstrapped his own sword belt.
When she hesitated, he said, “You’re still acting on instinct, which is fine. But you’ll need to use your mind in battle as well as your will to survive. Until you do that, we’ll spar without weapons.”
She frowned at him, which made him laugh.
“It’s just that I don’t want to lose an arm, Ember,” he said. “We’ll test our blades against each other when you’ve learned control.”
The pride Ember had felt after decapitating the mud creature melted away. As she unbuckled her belt, her confidence wavered. Barrow was right. She might have overpowered that thing Lora had summoned, but she’d been nothing more than a wild thing—an animal fighting for its life.
She set her belt and weapons aside, exhaustion disheartening her as much as the weight of the lesson.
Barrow stood face-to-face with her, and Ember steeled herself for the next round of instruction.
Now that they were so close, she had to lift her chin to meet his eyes. He was a head and a half taller than she and built like a statue. Even if she’d had her blades, Ember doubted parting Barrow from any of his limbs would be an easy feat.
“The clerics can summon creatures of the earth to supply us with convenient practice partners,” he said. “But they are mindless things and only offer limited challenge.”
Ember nodded, rolling her shoulders back to free them of tension. She knew it was only a matter of time—probably minutes—before she’d be asked to fight again.
“In the field you’ll face creatures that embody cunning and deceit,” he told her. “They will constantly search for ways to exploit your weaknesses. To turn your skills against you. If you only lash out against these fiends, you will not prevail.”
Cold fingers crawled over Ember’s skin. “I understand.”
“Know your strengths and use them.” He looked her up and down. “Tell me how you can beat me.”
She stared at him, waiting for him to break into a grin at any moment. He’d just finished lecturing her about how she relied on instinct alone to fight. She had no chance of besting Barrow Hess. He had to be joking. The smile she expected didn’t come.
“Your strengths,” he said again.
“I—” He wanted an answer and she had to find one. But what could he be thinking? She was armed only with the ceremonial dagger she’d been given the night she was called to the Guard. They were on a practice field so she could learn how to fight—but she had yet to gain any skills.
Barrow folded his arms across his chest. “Very well, then. Start with my weaknesses instead.”
“But you don’t have—” Ember bit her tongue, blushing as she realized she was about to proclaim his perfection.
The ghost of a smile passed over his face.
“I mean . . . how could you lose?” she asked while her pulse skittered anxiously.
“I rarely lose.” He let his full smile appear then. She looked away, feeling unsteady, and not just because she still didn’t know how to answer him.
“Let go of your expectations,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and forcing her to look directly at him. “Forget anything you know of me. Look at me as a body—the body of an attacker, an enemy. Your enemy.”
He stepped back to let her assess his frame.
“What do you see?” he asked.
“You’re tall,” she said. “Broad shoulders. I see strength.”
He nodded. “How you do defeat strength?”
She ground her teeth, wanting to prove herself capable, but all she felt was her lack of experience. She didn’t see a way to fight him and win.
“Let me tell you what I see.” Barrow tilted his head, walking around her in a slow circle. “A girl. Sinewy but lithe. And she has fire in her eyes.”
He was behind her when he suddenly lunged at her back. Without thinking she dove for the ground, tumbling until she came up in a crouch.
“What do you have that I don’t?” His question was tinged with laughter.
He stood over her as Ember watched him. She was still coiled up like a cat ready to pounce. When she didn’t answer, he lunged again, arms stretching toward her. She took advantage of her taut muscles and launched over him, pushing off his exposed back as he
He swore, climbing out of the muck. “Speed. Instinct. That’s what you have. You’re even faster than I thought—that’s why I ended up in the dirt.”
She was relieved when he smiled at her.
“Again,” he said, lunging before she could raise her guard. Her only choice was to flop onto her stomach, rolling over in the mud so Barrow’s charge took him past her.
“What was that?” she shouted, but she was laughing as she looked down at her mud-covered tabard.
“Payback.”
She laughed, but the sound became a shriek when Barrow rushed at her. Ember tried to scramble out of the way, but she didn’t move quickly enough. Barrow’s arms locked around her legs, dragging her on her stomach through the mud.
“Remember what I told you,” he said as she struggled. “Your opponents learn your skills and adjust their tactics.”
Ember squirmed loose and rolled onto her back, but in the next moment Barrow’s body lay across hers, pinning her to the ground.
“Your advantages are speed and agility.” His hands gripped her forearms, holding her down. “So I have to keep you still to win.”
Breathing hard, Ember looked up into his face. He wore that infuriating expression of being on the verge of laughter.
“You’re supposed to be teaching me,” she said. “Not enjoying yourself.”
“I believe I can do both.” He smiled.
She gritted her teeth and tried as hard as she could to shove him away, but she might as well have been trying to lift a boulder.
“This is hardly fair.” Ember glared at him.
“That’s part of the lesson,” he answered, still smiling. “Most fights aren’t fair.”
“Fine,” she said. “Lesson learned. Are you going to let me up or make me spend the night in the mud?”
When he laughed, Ember took advantage of the distraction. She jerked hard beneath him, making him lose his balance. Rather than freeing herself, Ember only managed to cause Barrow to collapse into her.
“Points for effort,” he grunted, beginning to right himself. “I think you may be part fox, Lady Morrow. You’ve got the coloring to support my suspicions.”
Propping himself on one elbow, he reached out to brush a strand of auburn hair from her face. For a moment his fingers rested against her cheekbone.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she murmured, trying to catch her breath. She’d made an honest attempt to free herself, but now she couldn’t focus on anything but the length of Barrow’s body pressed against her. His face was very close to hers. She could see dark stubble beginning to peek out on his chin and jaw.
“It was meant to be one,” he said quietly, and went very still. Without warning he pushed himself up and stepped away from her. “I think that’s enough for today.”
Ember sat up, surprised by his sudden change in mood. He offered his hand to help her up but released her fingers the moment she was on her feet.
“I’ve kept something from you and I can’t continue to do so,” he said.
“What is it?” Ember asked warily.
“I wanted you to fight so you knew your strength, your inherent skills,” he said. “You are a warrior, Ember, don’t doubt that.”
“But—” She braced herself as if waiting for a blow.
The soberness of his expression did nothing to quell her growing anxiety. “You’re going into the field tomorrow. Lukasz told me last night.”
She swallowed the sudden thickness in her throat. “Tomorrow?”
“That’s not all.” Barrow sighed. “We’re investigating what could be a serious threat in the Black Forest. It’s a high-risk expedition, so Lukasz will lead the mission himself. Five of the Guard will accompany him.”
For a moment she felt relieved, knowing the burden of her first foray into the world would be shared. But Barrow spoke again:
“Alistair will be there.”
The sound of Alistair’s name jolted through her.
Barrow put his hand on her shoulder. “You cannot let what has passed between you be a distraction. He made a terrible mistake by burdening you with his desire. But I will not let it endanger you.”
Ember drew a long breath before saying, “I won’t let it get in the way. I’m here for a purpose that has nothing to do with Alistair. He’s a member of the Guard, which makes him my brother and friend. As you said, we live and die for each other.”
“Very well,” he said, though with slight hesitation. “When we’re in the field, I want you to stay close to me. You’ve proven capable in combat, but that won’t compensate for the shock of facing off with a beast that wants to kill you.”
“The revenant wanted to kill me,” Ember countered.
Barrow regarded her calmly. “Yes. It did.”
He picked up his sword belt, wincing slightly as he did. “And I’ll bear the bruises that witness to your skill. It still would benefit you to watch and learn from the rest of the group. Don’t endanger yourself unnecessarily.”
“Why would I?” Ember regretted the sharpness in her voice, especially when Barrow gave her a thin, cold smile.
“Because you may be a natural warrior, but you’re human,” he said. “You’ll be tempted to make a point to Alistair. And perhaps try to impress Lukasz. Both choices would endanger you . . . and all of us.”
Ember bowed her head, kicking the dirt as shame washed over her. How was it that this tall knight could look at her and see into her heart? Every word he’d spoken was true. She wanted to show Alistair she belonged among the knights, that she was as much of a warrior as he. And she wanted Lukasz to see her as a valuable addition to the Guard. Most of all, she wanted Barrow to have no regrets about choosing to be her mentor.
Barrow’s light touch on her arm drew her eyes up.
“Come, Ember,” he said. “It’s time to restore the strength you spent today.”
SEVENTEEN
TWO THINGS HAD ROBBED Ember of sleep. The first was Alistair. All through the night any sound reminiscent of footsteps had made her tense, one hand clutching the dagger beneath her pillow. She couldn’t go on like this. As much as she’d spoken the words to Barrow that her commitment to the Guard was beyond any grudge she might bear toward Alistair, she worried that it might not prove true tomorrow.
Adrenaline building from nightfall to dawn’s first light was the second reason she hadn’t rested. And it was that still-churning source of energy that kept her from exhaustion despite her sleepless night.
Ember dressed and made her way to the barracks’ main hall. Barrow, Kael, and Alistair were at their table from the night before. Taking the coward’s path, Ember ducked her head and slid into a seat next to Sorcha.
Lukasz’s deep voice rumbled, “Good morning, Lady Morrow.”
“Good morning, sir,” Ember said.
A servant placed a bowl of cooked oats before her. She forced the spoon to her mouth, though her stomach didn’t want food.
Sorcha set down her spoon, fixing Ember with a puzzled frown. “Not that we object to your company, Lady Morrow. But it is customary that you are a constant companion to your mentor until your apprenticeship ends.”
“Never mind that, Sorcha,” Lukasz said. “If Barrow hasn’t instructed Lady Morrow to join him for meals, then she may sit where she wills.”
Sorcha shrugged and returned to her oats. Lukasz leaned back in his chair, regarding Ember.
“I’m told you fared quite well on the practice field.”
Ember lowered her gaze. “Lord Hess flatters me with his praise.”
The commander’s laugh resembled a bear’s growl. “Barrow is not known for his gracious manner! His fair assessment of your skill bodes well for us. You’ve been told of our mission today?”
“Only that I’m to join you,” she said, gaining some confidence after Lukasz’s pronouncement
“The others are used to encountering beasts of the dark,” he said, smiling at Sorcha, who shrugged. “Let me offer you some illumination.”
He turned his eyes back on Ember. “Our missions take us many places. Some near, some far. We respond to rumors of evil omens. Some of the missions lead us to baseless fears. Others pit us against those manifestations of evil we’ve sworn to defeat.”
“What’s happening in the Black Forest?” Ember imagined only a serious threat would compel the Guard to make the long journey from Scotland to the realm of the German princes.
“People are disappearing.”
Sorcha stopped eating to listen, watching the commander closely.
“It’s gone on for the past month,” Lukasz continued. “At first only a few villagers went missing. But when children vanished, the rumors began.”
“How many?” Sorcha asked.
“We’re not sure,” Lukasz said. “But enough to signal the presence of something unnatural in the forest and enough to create panic in the villages.”
Ember stirred her oats, though Lukasz’s story made the thought of another bite unappealing. “What could make people disappear?”
A sour expression crossed the commander’s face. “Creatures first identified in my homeland. We call them striga.”
“Night flyers?” Sorcha’s mouth twisted. “Disgusting.”
“Yes,” Lukasz said. “And very dangerous.”
“What are they?” Ember asked.
“Monsters,” Sorcha said. “Monsters who feed on human flesh . . . especially that of children.”
Lukasz nodded. “The stories of my homeland say that the striga were once barren women whose envy of other women’s children turned them into these flesh-eating creatures: witches and cannibals.”
“That’s horrible.” Ember’s skin felt cold.
“It is,” Lukasz told her. “In more ways than the obvious. The lore will eventually drive the forest people to search for a culprit.”
Sorcha was shaking her head. “That always ends poorly.”