Flickers of Flame Page 4
“So you take every opportunity to show people what a Messenger can do.”
She nodded. “Well, almost. I’m not trying out for the field mission.”
“Why not? There’s a really good chance you’d get picked.”
“That’s why not. I’m a reporter, remember? I’ll write about it afterward. Someone else can go have the experience.”
“That’s fair, I guess.” I leaned forward. “I assume you’ve reported on other tryouts, though, right? Can you give me any tips?”
She winced. “Wish I could. But nothing about them is consistent. At least not the one’s I’ve seen. In one, groups of three went through this kind of maze thing where they had to work together to overcome obstacles they ran into. In another, everyone was on their own, and they sent like thirty cadets in at a time to see who could collect the most wooden rings off the field. There was one time cadets faced off against professors with makeshift weapons. Expect the unexpected, I guess.”
I sucked my teeth. That wasn’t the news I wanted to hear. I needed to ramp up my training, and apparently I needed to focus on everything.
Chapter Five
Although no one had ever come out and told me what specific time cadets were expected to be in their dorms for the night, I had a feeling I was breaking a rule as I stole out of my bedroom at ten thirty that evening. The hallways in the dorm were silent as I slunk toward the stairwell. Even as I rehearsed my lie about having left a piece of homework in the gym, I hoped I wouldn’t run into anyone who might force me to use it.
I made it out of the dorm with more ease than I had dared hope for, and as I stepped out into the chill night air, I pulled the hood of my black sweatshirt over my head. Being in my own clothes made me feel safe in a way my uniform never could.
I slipped from shadow to shadow, skirting any pools of light spreading under lampposts. If anyone glanced out their window, I didn’t want them to see me. Although I was certain that if I was breaking some kind of school rule, I could plead ignorance well enough to avoid getting into too much trouble, I would only get to play that card once and I didn’t want to blow it on my very first night out.
The campus grounds were quiet, and no one bothered me as I made my way to the gym building. To my relief, the front doors were unlocked. I supposed when you ran an academy focused on training students to enforce the law, you didn’t concern yourself too much with cadets breaking the rules.
Inside, the building was dark, lit only at intervals by the emergency lights that remained on at all times. There was enough light to see by, but not so much that I felt exposed.
My palms began to sweat as I neared my target, but the handle turned just as easily in my hand as it had every other time I’d tried it. In a breath, I was inside the Keepers’ personal gym.
In my month at Blakethorne, I’d spent hours upon hours in this room. Because of my leg injury, I had passed many of them watching videos of fighting techniques or strengthening my arms with dumbbells and free weights. I’d done some training with a sword, but there were dozens of other weapons here that I’d never so much as touched.
I scurried toward the wall beyond the ring and selected a bo staff from among the various weapons lining the racks. I’d failed spectacularly with one during my sparring match with Shonda, so getting a feel for it now couldn’t hurt. Besides, Maisie had mentioned one trial involving makeshift weapons. Getting a feel for fighting with a long, slender stick would help me in a situation like that. Gripping my staff, I made my way to the ring.
Starting slowly, I aimed the weapon at an invisible assailant, stopping short when I realized I would end up smacking myself in the shin with the bottom of the stick. I repositioned my body and tried again, trying to lock in the motion when I found the correct placement.
Again and again, I practiced the same motions before moving on to twirling the weapon. Maybe it wouldn’t be the most effective move in a fight, but wielding it without hitting myself built confidence.
A sheen of sweat covered my skin when I paused for a break. What I really needed was something to hit. As I walked to the drinking fountain for a quick refreshment, I considered bringing the staff to the punching bags. There might be enough space between them to avoid hitting one behind me on the backswing of the weapon.
I scrutinized the bags as I walked back toward the ring, doing my best to measure the space between them.
“You’re looking more comfortable with the staff.”
I yelped, jumping and scanning my immediate vicinity for a weapon before my brain caught up with what was happening. Standing in the middle of the ring was a familiar form, a deep dimple carving a line in his cheek as he smiled.
“Nate? What are you… How long have you been here?”
He stepped out of the ring, closing the distance between us. “A while. You were pretty focused on what you were doing; I’m not surprised you didn’t notice me.”
Heat rose in my cheeks as I considered how many times he saw me unintentionally whack myself in the face. “What are you doing here?”
“Same thing you are, I imagine.” He motioned to the ring. “Getting in some extra training time.”
I snorted. “Yeah. Like you need it.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “I don’t like go to get complacent. Besides, believe it or not, there was a time when I was in the same place you are.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Smacking yourself with a bo staff in a dark gym?”
“Maybe not the exact same place,” he admitted, grinning. “Remember how I told you the Aura Blade chose me when I was seven?”
I nodded, recalling the chill of the evening air when we stood outside Kalmin Hall after my welcome banquet.
“Back then, I wasn’t the only Keeper. The other was a man named Antonio—Keeper of the Unda Blade. He was… amazing. And he started training me. But I was seven. I’d never held a weapon before. My arms were scrawny and my legs were skinny and zero skill when it came to fighting.”
I shook my head. “That’s hard to imagine.”
“Oh, trust me. I was awful. I knocked out two of my baby teeth with a bo staff. When I watched Antonio, it all looked so effortless for him. And I remember wanting to be just like him.” He glanced down, frowning, before shaking himself. “I spent more hours than I can count in the gym, trying desperately to get better. Earlier when we were talking about the field experience, you got this determined look in your eyes. Reminded me of me when I was new at all this.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “So you came here to give me a pep talk?”
He shook his head. “No. I came here to offer my assistance. I’m not sure if it occurred to you, but it’s easier to practice sparring if you have a partner.”
The thought had occurred to me, but I wasn’t sure what I thought about Nate being that partner. I had a hard time thinking straight when he was nearby.
Then again, maybe some concentrated time with him was exactly what I needed to build up an immunity to his charms.
“Okay, I accept.” I held out my hand.
With a broad grin, Nate completed the pact, his warm palm setting off fireworks against my skin.
Yeah, what could go wrong?
Within minutes, Nate had grabbed his own staff and the two of us stood facing each other in the ring. “Think of the staff as an extension of your body. And your body is an extension of your eyes.”
I wrinkled my nose. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Doesn’t it?” Without warning, he began swinging his staff. At first I feared he’d begun the sparring match without warning me, but he kept far enough away that I was in no danger of being hit. He swung the staff, spinning to follow its graceful arc in the air before twirling it like a baton behind him. In every moment, he was in control of both the weapon and his body, and the display was breathtaking.
“Don’t think of the staff—or your sword or any other weapon you hold—as something separate,” Nate said when he finally came to a stop
. “It’s part of you. You never have to think about not punching yourself in the face, right?”
I laughed. “I guess not.”
He smiled. “Once you get comfortable treating your weapon as a part of you, everything gets easier.”
I studied his face. I’d seen dozens of emotions light him up in the time I’d known him, from fierce protectiveness to mirth to the feigned politeness of a person forced to sit through a speech he’d heard a thousand times. But never had I seen this blazing passion in his eyes. And I finally saw it. Nate was a Blade Keeper not because some magical sword had chosen him, but because he had chosen the role. This was his purpose, and that driving force shined out of him.
“Okay, Mr. Guru,” I said, repositioning my grip on the staff I held, “teach me everything you know.”
Chapter Six
The next few days blurred together, but every night ended the same—with Nate and me in the training gym well beyond curfew. Last night I didn’t get back to my room until two in the morning because neither of us wanted to leave until I’d perfected a shoulder throw. The way Nate beamed up at me from the training ring’s mat more than made up for the late hour.
Tension thickened in the air around campus with each passing minute, and so many rumors about the upcoming field experience flew around that some even made it to the Blade Keepers. Theories ranged from the mundane, like cadets would guard a birthday party for a general’s daughter—to the ridiculous, like cadets would go on a quest to find a lost relic of untold power. It was impossible to determine which extreme was nearer to the truth.
Concentrating on the ebb and flow of conversation that night at the student center was almost impossible. The dorm floor directors had scheduled a movie night in the auditorium upstairs, and there were few students who could resist such a rare treat. With the lower level mostly void of people, the other Keepers had decided to spend the evening playing pool. Well, Nate, Bridger, and Clio played pool while Thor ignored everyone and threw darts.
Although I’d tried to get out of hanging out in favor of taking a nap before heading out to train, Clio had been too persistent to resist. Still, as the others laughed and taunted each other as they took their turns, my thoughts were back in the gym as I mentally rehearsed the steps Nate had been teaching me.
A cheer rose in the room, snapping my attention to reality. Bridger raised his arms over his head, whooping triumphantly. “And I remain the undefeated champion! Please, please—no autographs. Really. I’m too humble for all of that.”
“Ugh,” Clio sighed. “Can’t you let someone else win just once? We’d probably agree to play with you more often if you did.”
Bridger scoffed. “Let you win? How would that help you learn? I’m doing you a great service by being so awesome at pool. You should thank me.” He opened his arms wide. “Who’s up for another round?”
Clio groaned while Nate chuckled. Thor smirked as he threw another dart, which joined four others clustered around the target’s bullseye.
“I’m not playing you again,” Clio announced. “I’ve had my butt kicked enough for one night. I think I might head upstairs to see if the movie’s any good.”
Nate grinned. “You just want to see if there’s any popcorn left.”
She tapped the tip of her nose. “Anyone want to come?” Her attention flicked to me.
“Um, no thanks,” I said, surprised by the direct address. Although I’d been down here the whole time, once the game got going, I settled on one of the well-worn couches and pretended to pay attention to what was going on while everyone else played the game without acknowledging me.
Thor lifted a shoulder when Clio’s gaze landed on him. “I could go for popcorn.”
Bridger sucked his teeth. “You can’t all go! Who am I going to play pool with?”
“Yourself?” Clio offered a sweet smile.
“I’ll stay and play another round.” Nate picked up a second pool cue and held it out toward me. “Eden, you up for it?”
I pushed back into the couch cushions. It wasn’t the first time one of them had invited me to play, but I’d always declined on account of the injuries I sustained during Shonda’s challenge. Now that I was healed up, I couldn’t fall back on my usual excuse. “I… I don’t know.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Oh, come on. Think of it as more training.”
I glanced at Clio for help, but she and Thor were already making their way out of the room. They were close enough that I could still join them, but heading upstairs to where most of the cadets were hanging out was even less appealing than getting trounced at a game of pool. Exhaling noisily, I stood, taking the tapered stick from Nate’s hand. “Let me guess: The cue is an extension of my body, and my body is an extension of my eyes?”
I was rewarded by a full smile. “Something like that.”
Bridger racked the balls and offered Nate the opportunity to break. “To be fair,” Bridger insisted, “since even with the two of you versus me, I’ll still win.” Nate took him up on it and sank one ball with his first shot, but when he took aim at his second, it bounced off the pocket without going in.
“Them’s the breaks,” Bridger said merrily as he circled the table.
Nate moved to my side as Bridger lined up a potential shot. “This game is all physics,” he murmured, nodding toward the table.
“Great,” I muttered sarcastically. “And here I was thinking this was the weekend and I didn’t have to worry about classwork.”
Bridger took a shot and cheered quietly as he sank two balls.
“Physics is probably my favorite class because you can see it everywhere,” Nate continued. “You’ve been applying it every time we step in the ring to spar. Angles and velocities are all abstract concepts on paper, but you can see how it all works together in the real world.”
Bridger sank another ball and lined up a third shot.
“If you watch closely, you can almost see his thought process when he’s picking up what to hit next,” Nate said.
I gave a mock shudder. “Ugh. Who would want to read Bridger’s mind?”
“I heard that,” Bridger muttered as he made his next move. The ball went wide of its target and he groaned dramatically.
Nate pressed his hand against the small of my back, urging me toward the table. “Your turn.”
Although I was becoming more immune to Nate’s charm due to all the one-on-one time we’d been spending together training, the unexpected touch set off fireworks along my spine. I took a stumbling step forward, trying to focus my full attention on the table in front of me. It took a moment to remember that our team was solids, not stripes, and it took a few seconds longer to identify a likely target to strike. Adjusting my hold on the cue, I attempted to mimic the way the guys had taken their shots. Jamming the tapered stick forward, I struck the white ball—which then knocked pitifully into the one in front of it, causing little change to the table’s configuration.
“Well, that sucked,” I grumbled.
Bridger shrugged his agreement while Nate shot him a hard look. “You’ll do better next time,” Nate said reassuringly. “Look—watch how I do it.”
As Nate took aim at a ball on the other side of the table from what I was trying to hit, I attempted to follow his direction. But with my heart still thudding from his unexpected touch, it was difficult to land on a safe place to look. His hands were a gateway to his strong, corded arms. His face was still devastatingly handsome, even when scrunched in concentration. And then he hit the ball, and I had to focus on the result from his action.
I really should have gone with Clio.
“It’s not just about the initial hit—it’s about everything that results from that,” Nate said after one of our balls rolled into a corner pocket. “Once you can see the outcomes before you hit the ball, everything changes.” He took another shot, but the ball went wide.
“And yet it hasn’t changed enough,” Bridger said cheerfully as he moved toward the table.
“I always do,” I said matter-of-factly.
“I heard that,” Bridger grumbled.
“This game isn’t about winning,” Nate continued. “It’s about actions and reactions. Everything you learn here you can apply to battle. All it takes is seeing past the surface differences to the similarities underneath.”
With that in mind, I watched as Bridger lined up shot after shot. For the first time, I noticed that the ball he aimed for wasn’t necessarily the one he planned to sink. And seldom did he aim for a pocket in a straight line. Instead, he bounced balls off the bumpers to reach holes on the other side of the table.
It wasn’t until he failed to sink a solid black ball that Bridger backed away from the table to give me my turn. I attempted to view everything through new eyes, but even as I lined up a shot I was positive even I could make, I hesitated. “I’m still not sure how to, you know, use the cue right.”
As if he had been waiting for me to ask, Nate sprang to my side. “First thing is you’re gripping it too tightly. You’re not trying to choke the thing.” He took hold of the end of the stick and shook it a little against my palm. I relaxed my fingers until he stopped wiggling it. “Then there’s the matter of your left hand.” Leaning on the table at an angle where I could see him, he positioned the fingers of his left hand as a guide for the pointy end of the cue. I adjusted the shape of my own hand to mimic his.
“Better,” he said, propping his cue against the table and moving behind me. “Now you have to work on how you hit the cue ball. May I?”
My skin prickled. I wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking permission for, but his tips had been helpful so far. “Um. I guess.”
An electrical storm kicked up in my body as Nate leaned over me, covering my right hand with his. Sparks danced along my skin every place that his body brushed mine—along my back, the length of my arm, the backs of my legs. This was nothing like the brief moments of contact I’d grown accustomed to while we were sparring, and I wasn’t sure how long I could handle him in such close proximity.