Vespers, Twelveth Day Before Kalends of May

Eastern Sthruls, Estrul, Tarrin, Drum

Logan Floyd, the illegitimate son of Councillor Floyd, engaged in the same ritual every night. He bathed, shaved, then polished his sword, which took upwards of three hours. While he polished his sword he did not think about anything. He was not resting, either. He was polishing earnestly.

But his polishing was disturbed this particular night by a soft thump from above, seemingly from the rooftop. Logan stopped and listened. Another thump, this time softer. His Mind let go of its Connexion with his Body and grasped around the walls of his small house, then up to the roof. He could Sense nothing. Either it was an animal that had scurried away or the intruder was trained in Connexion and was resisting being Sensed.

He stood up and quietly moved towards the door. As he did so his Mind tightened his grip over his Body, feeling each muscle tense and feeling the pressure of his body against the floor, to prevent his Body from being Sensed by any others. He flattened himself against the wall next to his door and waited.

He was not afraid. He had never been afraid of combat.

It was this confidence that allowed him, when nothing happened for a while, to burst out of the door. As soon as he did so a cloaked figure descended over him. He narrowly ducked away. He Sensed two strikes coming from below and dodged the first and parried the other with his newly polished blade. Then he stepped aside, and from his forearm and hands arcs of lightning formed. These arcs then shot out towards the figure, who promptly dodged by soaring up into the air.

Seeing this, Logan hesitated. “Kate?” he called.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

But then came three blasts of wind, sharper than any blade in all of Drum, and struck his cheek, his left abdomen, and his right thigh. It was the first time he had been wounded in a very long time. Arcs of lightning formed in his hands again, which immediately shot up towards the figure, who dodged it again. Then more arcs came, and the figure narrowly dodged each one, before disappearing into the shadows.

Now, left alone in the silence and the darkness, pain racked Logan’s Body. Logan tried to Sense for Kate in the darkness, and Sensed five more blasts of wind coming his way. But the pain fuelled within him a terrible malice, a malice he had learnt from hundreds of battlefields. Instead of dodging the blasts he shot an arc of lightning towards the figure, who was struck, and fell to the ground.

And now Logan pushed forward, past his pain, and when the figure landed he was on top of it, the tip of his blade held to her throat, the blade crackling with arcs of lightning. Then Logan hesitated. He hesitated because he was unsure if it was Kate. The assailant had Connexion with Wind, that was certain. So it was either Kate or Kate had died and someone else had usurped that Connexion. And the assailant took advantage that moment of hesitation once again, swiftly tangling its legs with Logan’s, and now it was Logan who was pinned under the figure. But in this process the hood that had covered the figure’s head had come down, revealing bright blue eyes under locks of roughly cut blonde hair.

“Kate,” breathed Logan.

Then another silence. For Logan it was a silence of incredulity. Why would Kate wound him so? Pangs of pain spread through his body with each breath. For Kate it was a silence of victory. She smiled. She leaned close to him, so that her hair draped over Logan’s face and he could feel her warm breath against his cheek. Then, without warning, she licked the length of his wound on his cheek. Logan bristled. Then Kate raised her head again and her brilliant blue eyes were burning into Logan’s.

“Hello, Logan,” said Kate.

Her voice reminded him of his younger days, where Kate and Logan spent their days in training under Lieutenant Cole and engaging in mock battles. So that was it, thought Logan. This was all a game. And Logan closed his eyes, smiling despite himself.

He did not awake as Kate carried him back into his home. He did not awake as Kate tended to his wounds. He did not awake as Kate left, as swiftly and silently as she had come.