Page 14 of The Rowan
For the first time since I entered the room, he smiles. Hells bells, he has a lot of teeth. Don’t get me wrong, his smile is devastating, but the fact he’s now smiling instead of scowling is worrisome. What the hell is he planning?
I don’t have too long to wait. With awhoosh, he’s holding a flaming staff and his grin is wider than ever. When a simple water spell doesn’t work, I turn my staff to ice a millisecond before the two staffs meet, and a resounding hiss echoes in the room.
Calling up a glamour, I feint, making it look as if I’m lowering my staff to swipe at his feet, but instead, I shift to the side to catch the back of his knees. Before I’m even in position, he jumps and spins towards me. The tip of his staff catches my chest, and it’s as if he used Thor’s hammer to hit me. I fly backwards into the far wall, then slide down to the base, plaster raining down on me like snow.
“Fuck, Valerian! I asked you to train her, not kill her,” Lord Theron shouts from the far side of the room. His shouting betrays his concern like nothing else. It’s nice to see a crack in his lordship’s icy veneer.
The training floor shakes as Valerian runs over to me. As he bends over to check my pulse, I leap up and catch his chin with my staff. A power spell ensures the hit is hard enough to knock this dragon on his ass, and it works, laying him out for a couple of seconds. I use the precious time to leap up and get into a fighting stance.
Raising his head off the floor, he glares at me for a second before roaring with laughter. “Well played, lass,” he says, still chuckling. He extends his hand for me to help him up, but I shake my head. I stopped falling for that trick when I was three.
With a flip, he’s up and charging at me. You wouldn’t think a big guy like him could be so fast, but he’s like a damn jet plane.
Bringing my staff up, I turn his staff into flowers before it slams into mine. He changes the flowers into shards of ice. The deadly spears sing through the air as they head towards me. With wind, I redirect the ice towards the wall on my left, and they thud into the wall, one after another.
With his staff gone, he could easily conjure up another weapon but decides to use his bare hands. I scoff. A man might feel obligated to drop his weapons to give him a fair fight, but I don’t. I need every advantage I can get.
Damn, his arm’s reach is long. Countering an attack on one side, I quickly realize I need to be in two places at once. With a whisper, my staff splits into two, and I use them to parry his next punch, my staffs against his fists.
Faster and faster we fight, both of us in our zones. I hear the door opening in the far corner, but I don’t dare take my eyes off Valerian. Damn sneaky devil. A long claw extended from his hand a second ago and sheared off a tip of my staff. We dance around the room, neither of us giving an inch. It’s not an equal match, by any means. I’ve got a feeling he’s holding back, but at least I’m giving him a fight worthy of his time.
A blur appears in my peripheral, and without thinking, I turn and strike. Just as I hit, a claw reaches out and flays open my back. A short scream escapes me. I fall to my knees for a brief second, then leap up into a fighting stance a few feet away. The wound burns and drops trickle down my back. Confusion clouds my mind. What the hell?
“Daire, what the fuck?” Valerian roars. He puts out a hand towards me in a gesture of peace. “It’s okay. It’s only Daire. Let me see your back, lass. I think I got you pretty good.”
Daire stands there stunned for a second. “It’s as if you knew I was there, but it’s impossible. Did you feel the air move?”
With a shrug, I lower my weapons. “I saw a blur to the side, and in the heat of the battle, I failed to think and struck out. Dammit, Vargas would be so fucking disappointed I left my rear exposed,” I lament, groaning at my stupidity.
“Disappointed?” Daire studies my face. “You hit a vampire, and not any vampire, but me. I’d say it’s pretty incredible. Most humans can’t see us.”
“I-I’m…” I stutter, trying to figure out how to tell them.
“Lass!” Valerian shouts to get my attention. “Turn around so I can see your back!”
“Do you need to shout?” a cool voice intervenes. “We have guests.” Stepping back, Lord Theron reveals the witches. “Now, what have you done to her back?”
Shit. I step closer to Valerian in an attempt to disguise my power as his. I can’t fight Valerian without having access to my full power, but I don’t want the witches to know how powerful I am yet. “Nothing. He thought he scratched me, but as you can see, I’m fine,” I assert, turning around to show them my back. My shirt, entirely whole, drapes from my back with not a drop of blood anywhere. “If you give me a second to use the restroom and clean up, I’ll be right with you. I think you mentioned we were testing bloodline one today?” Seeing their nod, I grab Valerian’s hand and step out into the hallway.
“Where’s the restroom?” I ask, wiping the sweat from my face.
He tugs on my hand. “Lass, drop the glamour and let me see your back,” he demands.
Sighing, I drop the glamour. He steps closer, and I inhale, catching the smell of a bonfire on a crisp winter evening and sweat. Turning my back to him, I wince as he pulls pieces of my shirt away from the wound. Although it’s already healing, the initial cut was pretty deep and it’s still tender. I bite my lip, waiting for his questions.
Blunt-tipped fingers caress the area around the wound. “I’m so sorry, lass.” His voice gruff with relief. “But how can you already be healing? Do you have a healing spell woven into your shield? Or did you take a healing potion?”
“I never thought of weaving a healing spell into my shield, but it’s a great idea,” I muse, turning to peer up at him. Worry creases his brow, and it’s all I can do to stop myself from reaching out and smoothing it away.
Making sure nobody is around, I pull his head down and whisper in his ear, “It’s not a healing spell or potion. It’s natural. I’m immortal.” Releasing his neck, I stare up at him, waiting for my words to filter into his brain.
He’s stunned for a second before relief flashes in his eyes. He props an arm against the wall and leans down to whisper back, “We’re definitely going to have a chat about this later.” With a tilt of his head, he indicates now is not the time with the witches here.
Suddenly, a broad grin splits his face. “Well, lass, guess we can have us a real battle next time,” he declares, walking off with a whistle.
A real battle? I knew the damn dragon was holding back.
I’m more relieved than angry he took the news so well. I wonder if he’ll tell the others or if I should. Glancing back at the training room, I realize I’ll have to figure it out later. I don’t want the witches here any longer than necessary. Spooling in my power and cleaning myself up, I step back into the training room.
