Powers of the Six Page 9

  Unlike a normal duel where the crowd cheered their favorite to victory, this group fell uncommonly silent. As the trial continued, Alec shook his head at each pathetic attempt. He hadn’t realized how intense his training had been. Every mistake was obvious and every failed block absurd. And as each person lost, Alec got more excited for his turn.

  The captain scanned the group. Her eyes locked on Alec’s. She opened her mouth to speak, but the voice of the king spoke instead.

  “One moment, Captain.”

  Captain Rohonin turned from Alec, gave a tense bow of her head, and stepped aside.

  King Alcandor stepped forward and strolled through the inner circle of the competitors, occasionally stopping to examine someone, then continuing on. Then the king walked straight to Taryn and smiled.

  “What is your name, my dear?” he asked.

  “Taryn Trividar, Your Majesty.” Her voice shook a little.

  “My cousin, Lord Alcandor,” General Trividar said.

  “Your cousin? She is very beautiful, General.” The king smiled warmly. “So tell me, child, how have your trials fared so far?”

  “Um, as good as can be expected, Your Majesty.”

  “Very good, Miss Trividar. And I suspect you have avoided any unnecessary injury?”

  “W-why, yes, sir.”

  The king nodded. “Captain, this young lady will not need to take part in this challenge today.”

  A murmur spread.

  Alec stared, first at the king, then at Taryn. Not that he minded the king excluding Taryn, but he just couldn’t fathom why.

  King Alcandor placed his hands on Tayrn’s shoulders, traveled down her arms, and grasped her hands. He took a step, pulling Taryn along with him. Heat flared in Alec’s cheeks. Why was he touching her? His sword hand twitched; his attempt at self-control was fading quickly.

  He searched for Nolan. Nolan was level-headed. He’d have a proper perspective on this whole thing. He finally found him, hiding behind a grouping of Rol’dan archers who’d come out to watch. Nolan’s pale face gawked at Taryn with an expression of horror. Alec’s stomach dropped. What was King Alcandor going to do?

  Alec followed their progress across the practice field, pushing people aside to better see. The king stopped in front of the other Rol’dan and examined Taryn. The violet light of Empathy shone from his eyes.

  “Have I done something wrong, Your Majesty?” Taryn stammered.

  “Of course not, my dear. Nothing at all.”

  The king’s expression darkened. He reached behind her and yanked her close. She tried to object, but stopped, a strange haze clouding her eyes.

  Alec’s chest heaved. He pushed two people out of his way. When the king reached down and pulled a dagger from a holder at his thigh, Alec reacted without thinking. He lunged forward, not caring if he was the king or not. But a Strength Rol’dan grabbed Alec in his iron hold.

  “Leave her alone!” Alec yelled.

  “Everything will be fine, my child.” The king positioned the knife under her ribs.

  The cloud lifted from her eyes, and she moved her hand up to stop him, but the king grabbed her arm and pulled it behind her back.

  “No!” Her voice trembled. “P-p-please, Your Majesty…”

  In helpless shock, Alec watched King Alcandor push the blade in.

  Taryn screamed.

  “Shh … hush, hush now,” the king cooed in Taryn’s ear. He smiled and yanked the dagger free.

  Her body shook, and her breath came in deep, ragged gasps. King Alcandor held her close until her head lolled, her eyes fluttered opened, and a faint green light glowed from her eyes.

  Alec stopped struggling and gawked, his heart dropping to his knees. He took a step, realizing the soldier had released his hold. No. This couldn’t happen. Not her.

  As the light of Healing faded in Taryn’s eyes, the king gently pulled her away.

  “Captain Tiohan,” the king said.

  An old Healer bowed. “Yes, my king.”

  “Take our new Rol’dan to the lodge. She needs rest and has much to learn.”

  Tiohan took Taryn’s hand. She staggered as he led her away.

  Alec stared. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact she’d become a Rol’dan Healer. Numbness came over him so thick he didn’t even notice the king approach.

  “Who is this?” King Alcandor said.

  “His name is Alec Deverell,” the general said. “He’s been difficult at the tournament this year.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me, considering his display a moment ago.” A purple light glowed from the king’s eyes, and he circled around Alec, examining him.

  “Did you say Deverell?” King Alcandor asked.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the general answered. “He’s the blade maker’s son.”

  The king gave a curt nod. “This young man shall be tested next. General, you will conduct his trial.”

  Alec’s head jerked toward the king, coming out of his stupor. He wished he hadn’t. When their eyes met, a strange sensation went through him, and he couldn’t pull away.

  “Would you like to fight the general, Alec?” the king asked, smiling.

  A surge of anger and hatred swelled. Yes, I would. There was nothing Alec wanted more.

  “I see this pleases you,” King Alcandor said. “I will enjoy watching you use your skills, young Deverell.”

  The general smirked, untied his cape, and flung it off to the side. Then he yanked a sword out of the ground and tossed it to Alec.

  Alec caught it easily and swung it back and forth in an arc to get a feel for the blade. It wasn’t one of his father’s swords. The weight was off, and it was too bulky. Still, it felt good to hold steel.

  The general unsheathed his sword and lunged in a single, fluid movement. Alec’s trained instincts met his blow. For several minutes, they circled each other, only swinging occasionally to test the reaction of the other. Alec’s nerves twitched at the meaningless duel.

  Finally, General Trividar stopped and grinned. “Shall we fight, Mr. Deverell?” And in a burst of jabs and slashes, the true battle began.

  Fighting him was amazing. Alec had never met someone with such natural talent. Father’s swordsman skills were of the highest repute, but this man goaded Alec like none before. Alec fought with every fiber of strength and will and determination he could muster.

  As the battle stretched on, it would seem neither gained on the other. That is, until the yellow fire in the cheater’s eyes began to glow. Slowly and steadily, the general’s Speed increased.

  Alec matched him as well as he was able. Sweat poured down his face, obstructing his view. Finally, the general struck Alec and his sword arm went limp. Alec cursed and grabbed the sword with his other hand to block another blow.

  “You are multi-talented, Mr. Deverell,” General Trividar said.

  “Only for you, General,” Alec said between clenched teeth.

  Alec barely heard the crowd cheering as the general’s Speed increased even more. Several more gashes appeared on Alec’s body, so fast he didn’t see them come: one on each leg, one across his chest, and finally, one that loosed his sword.

  He fell to his knees, trembling with pent up fury. Although Alec couldn’t defend himself, he glared at the general as battle pounded in his blood. General Trividar wiped his sword on the grass, crammed the blade into its sheath, and turned away.

  Several Healing Rol’dan ripped open Alec’s shirt, and the all-too-familiar pulse of healing coursed through him. After they finished, Alec fell on his hands, his chest heaving with exhaustion.

  “Splendid, young Deverell,” King Alcandor said. “I knew you would not disappoint me.” The king’s eyes glowed purple with Empathy, and that odd sensation shot through Alec again.

  “Once more, General,” the king said.

  Alec looked up. Another fight? This is too good to be true.

  “Your Majesty?” the general said.

  “Fight him a second time, Ge
neral.”

  “My pleasure, Lord Alcandor.”

  Before the general made a move, Alec pushed to his feet, grabbed his sword, and sprinted toward General Trividar, swinging with all his strength. The general’s sword seemed to appear from nowhere, blocking Alec’s blow with a resounding clang.

  “Now, now, Mr. Deverell,” the general said calmly.

  Alec couldn’t remember a time when he’d been angrier. His blood felt as if on fire. Alec couldn’t stop thinking of what they’d done to Taryn. Somehow, they’d taken her innocence and turned it into something putrid; she was too good to be transformed on her own.

  Alec fought for Taryn and for his dead mother and for the memory of others wronged by the Rol’dan. He would give them a voice, even if for a short time. He turned and jabbed and blocked and dodged and swung. At least until the general’s eyes glowed.

  It took every bit of his skill not to be completely overcome. Just when Alec thought it would be over, General Trividar slowed. If he meant to toy with him, Alec would gladly accept it and use it to his advantage.

  Alec’s stomach lurched. He ignored it and raised his sword for a perfect strike. His sword arm began to shake, so he gripped the sword tightly with both hands. Tremors traveled up his arm.

  The general sliced Alec’s side. He ignored the rush of pain and lunged, his sword finally connecting.

  The general roared and only paused for a second before striking again.

  Alec dodged the strike, and a wave of nausea nearly knocked him down. He pulled himself upright and gashed the general again.

  He was elated as he got not one, but two strikes in. But why had the general allowed it? He should’ve overpowered Alec by now.

  Alec pierced him a third time, and the realization struck him harder than any hammer blow. The general’s face no longer mocked. His expression showed concentration and hatred as the golden light of Speed flamed from his eyes.

  Alec’s muscles jerked as an unknown energy coursed through him. Another wave of nausea finally took over. He choked it back, but his sword slipped from his weakened fingers and fell helplessly to the ground.

  Alec paused, as if in a dream, as General Trividar lunged. His world stopped as if he’d plummeted off a cliff and hit bottom. Only then did Alec realize how fast he’d been moving. Faces had blurred, unrecognizable; trees had become a vague mass of green. He looked down—slower than he thought possible—to his father’s own creation impaled through his chest.

  It was oddly painless. Then a dull throb took hold.

  As another wave of convulsions wracked through Alec’s muscles, the edge of the blade cut new. This was not another cut given on the floor of the armory.

  He heard a gasp, then a scream. A rush of pain jerked through him as the general’s arm yanked, pulling the sword free. Pressing trembling fingers to his tunic, he brought them away warm with his own blood. His legs lost their strength, and slowly, he crumpled to the ground.

  Chapter Ten

  A RAINBOW OF COLORS spilled before Alec when he opened his eyes. Six banners, each representing one of the sects of the Shay Rol’dan, hung around the perimeter of a large common room. He stretched, finding himself resting in the most comfortable bed he’d ever slept in. Alec had been dreaming terrible things: Taryn coming into power, his fight with the general, the general stabbing him. Grasping his chest, his fingertips found a new, faint scar.

  He gasped. It hadn’t been a dream after all.

  Another memory surfaced: He’d come into a Shay power.

  “Alec?”

  Taryn sat on a chair next to him. He sat up quickly—much too quickly—as the foreign Shay power pulsed through him. Taryn squealed in surprise and jerked away. Alec collapsed, cursed, and hugged a plump pillow to his face.

  “This can’t be happening,” he muttered beneath the pillow.

  “I know,” Taryn said. “I can hardly believe it myself.”

  Slowly, he pulled the pillow away and met Taryn’s concerned eyes. She was dressed in the black robes of the Healing Rol’dan. A green sash crossed her chest. Even in black, she looked beautiful.

  “How long have I been here?” he asked.

  “Just a day,” she said. “At least we didn’t have to take part in the last trial. From what I heard, Empathy must play some sort of guessing game with boxes. And you know how fun their games are.” She forced a nervous laugh, and then her smile dimmed. “What happened to you, Alec? Did they do this to you?”

  She brushed her fingertip across an old scar on Alec’s arm. A jolt of healing energy pulsed into him.

  She gasped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, really. I can’t control this. Every time I touch someone …”

  Alec sat up, this time pushing back the infernal Speed Shay and doing so at normal speed. “Most of these scars I’ve had for years. You know, we spar at the shop and all.” He touched the newest addition. It was amazing. He should’ve been dead! Taryn shook her head as her eyes roved over him, making Alec’s face warm.

  “I’ve heard of your duels,” she said, “but I never imagined … I was frightened when they first brought you in. Your whole body was covered in blood. And when they took off your clothes …” She shut her mouth quickly. “I mean, they had a terrible time trying to clean you …” A pink glow tinted her cheeks.

  Alec lifted the edge of the blanket. He wore nothing. He scanned the lodge, noticing soldiers milling about. “I suppose they did it here in the open?”

  She smiled slightly, but couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “And you were here too?”

  Her blush deepened.

  Crows! He didn’t even want to think about how much she had seen. By the way she was acting, he guessed quite a bit. He cleared his throat, pushing down the warmth spreading up his face. “I suppose that’s one way to keep me from running away.”

  She finally met his eyes. “Keep you from running away?”

  “By taking my clothes. Running through the woods wouldn’t feel so good, especially with all the pointy branches and such.”

  She snickered. “Yes, I suppose so.”

  The lodge doors burst open, and King Alcandor entered, followed by a group of Shay Rol’dan with General Trividar in the lead. All the soldiers in the lodge rose to their feet and bowed. The king ignored them and made his way directly to Alec and Taryn.

  “I see we are feeling better,” King Alcandor said.

  The king’s blue eyes glowed purple with Empathy, and a warming sensation came over Alec. Alec grabbed the blanket and pulled it up, suddenly self-conscious.

  King Alcandor made a motion, and a soldier placed a folded garment on Alec’s bed: black breeches, a gold tunic and cape, and a leather jerkin. It was the uniform of the Speed Rol’dan.

  Alec’s stomach turned.

  “I am sorry this displeases you, young Deverell,” King Alcandor said. “Despite your disgust, your new uniform suits you well.” He picked up the garments and held them expectantly.

  “Remember your Shay,” the king whispered. “You will move so quickly, no one will see you. Well, except those who share your skill of Speed.” He grinned. “But I am certain they won’t watch.”

  The other Rol’dan chuckled. Alec couldn’t believe it. The king wanted him to get dressed in the open, in front of everyone … including Taryn. A familiar energy awakened deep within, and Alec knew, unfortunately, the king was right. He’d move faster than they could see.

  Grabbing hold of what he guessed to be his Shay, Alec threw aside the covers and put on the uniform. Not that he wanted it, but he’d feel better with some clothes on. Alec knew, somehow, he’d done it in a sightless moment.

  Taryn gawked, open-mouthed.

  “Well done,” King Alcandor said. The man’s eyes traveled down Alec’s body in a way that made his skin crawl. “I will see you at dinner tonight. I am looking forward to getting to know you better.”

  King Alcandor turned toward Taryn
, and she inhaled. He took her hand. “And you, Miss Trividar.” His lips lingered on her open palm while she flushed a deep scarlet. “I will enjoy getting to know you much, much better, as well.”

  The king turned away, his cloak billowing in a sea of golden silk behind him. He strode through a pair of massive wooden doors. Among the Rol’dan, only General Trividar followed.

  “Dinner?” Alec asked.

  Taryn smiled nervously. “It’s for us. Typically, new initiates dine with the king when they return to Faylinn, but since he’s here …”

  Alec’s muscles felt strangely foreign; tremors of energy vibrated through them. He dropped his gaze to his new clothes, starting at his too-bright golden tunic and traveling down fine leather breeches to bare feet. Knee-length boots, adorned with brass buttons, sat next to a neatly folded golden cape waiting to complete the ensemble. His stomach ached, not from hunger or nervousness, but disgust. How could he face Father now that he’d become one of them—just like the one who had murdered his mother?

  ***

  It was difficult getting to the dining hall. Not because it was hard to find, but because his legs had a mind of their own. He’d be walking normally, then Speed off, running into more walls and doorways than he wanted to remember. Taryn caught up to him each time, trying to cover the laughter splattered across her face. At least one of them found his nightforsaken power amusing.

  When they finally reached the dining room, Rylan—the skinny fellow who had been slinging with Nolan—pulled his chair and accidentally threw it across the room. It shattered into splinters with the force of his newly acquired Shay of Strength. At least Alec wasn’t the only one struggling with their new power.

  “This is horrible,” a redheaded girl said. She wrinkled her freckled nose as she lifted a goblet.

  A boy next to her tapped her arm in a brotherly way. “You’ll get used to it, Sussan.”

  “Get used to it!” she screeched. “It tastes like metal!”