7
Smoke filled my nostrils as the delicate pine needles finally caught. Another strike of rock on steel sprayed another shower of sparks over them, and then a small fire burst to life. The logs above them crackled as the heat enveloped them. “Vagach,”
Jaku called, and I straightened, dusting my hands off in three efficient swipes.
“Yes, Százados?”
I asked, turning to face him. We’d stopped earlier than normal, and the sun blinded me for a moment as it flitted through the sparse trees.
“Great work with the wagons. I think it’s time to give you soldiers to command. You’re a natural. Though I suppose that comes with being a Kormánzó,”
he shrugged, slicking a hand over his short-cropped hair.
“I was born to be a leader,”
I replied, glancing around the plains at the villagers and seasoned soldiers busying themselves with the various chores that came with a war camp.
“Zurronar’s charges were divided up among Dromak, Uzadaan, and Izgath, so it only makes sense to bring them back together under your command,”
Jaku mused, absently tracing the tip of the scar on his forehead.
Zurronar must have been Izgath’s brother.
A lump formed in my throat, burning all the way up to my eyes at the reminder of loved ones lost to the plague. I smothered the grief fighting to break free as Jaku continued. “We’ll begin formal training tonight since we made good time the last few days. I’ll have them separate out then so you can get to know them individually. You can choose a few of your villagers as well.”
I remained silent, struggling to decide what Vagach would have said.
“Have you ever wielded a sword?”
Jaku asked, jerking his head in the direction of the supply wagon, filled with bronze blades, whips, and various other weaponry that clinked when the wheels rolled over a rock in the road.
“Never,”
I admitted freely, trying not to stare at the scar that decorated his face. While it gave him a ruggedly handsome look, the fact that he possessed one told me how close he’d come to dying.
At least I don’t have to pretend that I know, because what’s one more thing to add to the list of shit I have no idea how to address?
“Mmm,”
he mused, shifting his weight. “Well, Dromak will have to assist you with drills for those under your command then. For now, follow along with whatever the other Vezet? do.”
Offering Jaku a salute, I said, “Yes, sir.”
He merely nodded and tucked his hands behind his back before striding away. Dromak looked up from the central fire when Jaku approached. Uzadaan rounded the flames and flicked his attention in my direction after our Százados spoke to both of them. I dipped my chin in acknowledgement before joining the two Vezet? in the middle of the camp.
Tents spiraled out from the center until they reached the supply wagons, with enough space left between them for others to roll out blankets and rest their packs at the head. Leaving the two to deal with me, Jaku strode into his stately accommodation, passing Izgath along the way. The Incubus’s focus immediately shifted to me. A tendril of something snaked its way down my spine and settled in my low belly at the way his garnet eyes regarded me, even from afar. I still had not been able to figure out if it was curiosity, suspicion, or desire that emanated from him when we were in close proximity. He studied me as if I were a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out, and despite my better judgment, I wanted him to succeed.
This draw to him was so strange.
Are all Incubi like him in this way?
Izgath rose and strode toward Uzadaan and Dromak, arriving at the same time as me. Dromak’s cherry eyes swept up and down Vagach’s form, assessing, yet in an entirely different way from Izgath. Out of the three, he was the broadest and most muscular. None of them had bellies engorged from too much food and fine wine. Self consciousness swept through me.
“You could stand to lose a few pounds between now and the front, Vagach,”
Dromak chuckled, slapping me so hard on the shoulder I nearly pitched forward. “But don’t worry, we’ll get you in fighting shape before we have to do any actual fighting.”
The corner of Uzadaan’s mouth twitched up. Out of the three, he spoke the least, offering one word answers more often than not. His hair was neatly styled despite days on the road without bathing, and his ruby eyes were warm and inviting despite his reserved nature.
Izgath rolled his eyes. “Don’t turn Vagach into another of your sycophants, packing on so much muscle you become too bulky to move.”
“I can crush an Angel’s skull with one swing of my hammer,”
Dromak grinned, rubbing his hands together gleefully.
Uzadaan nearly startled me when he spoke. “Don’t forget about the time you were surrounded and I had to save you. Your strength didn’t help you then.”
Izgath tipped his head back and laughed. “Oh, yes, we can never let you live that down. You were so preoccupied with that Angel female that three males snuck up behind you, prepared to slice you into ribbons.”
Dromak’s mouth popped open like a fish. “She was an Illusionist!”
Izgath grinned from ear to ear. “Sure, whatever you say.”
“I swear, if she hadn’t shown me an illusion of that one fallen female from Osijek, I would have killed her and the males too,”
he protested again.
“Aye, sure you would,”
Izgath teased, amusement keeping that grin plastered on his face. Even Uzadaan smiled wider, flashing those sharpened teeth, as they both enjoyed the flustered, floundering Dromak.
“For what it’s worth, Dromak, if an Angel had shown me such an illusion, I would have been distracted too,”
I added because that’s exactly the type of disgusting thing Vagach would have said.
“Thank you!”
he exclaimed, throwing both hands overhead. “These two don’t understand what it’s like. Uzadaan’s mate is waiting for him back home, while Izgath is just sex on two legs.”
Izgath’s smile dropped and he rolled his eyes for a second time. “It’s okay to admit you want me, Dromak.”
“Wait, that’s not what I meant,”
Dromak protested again. Both Izgath and Uzadaan fell into laughter, clutching their sides as Dromak offered a barrage of defenses on his behalf. A chuckle escaped me too as they threaded me into their banter.
Once the two agitators had regained their breath, a red-faced Dromak grumbled, “Let’s get these new recruits whipped into shape before I pummel your faces.”
“I know something else Dromak wants pummeled,”
Izgath laughed, elbowing Uzadaan in the ribs and causing another bout of laughter.
“I hate you both,”
Dromak groused, stomping away from us.
Uzadaan wiped tears from his eyes, while Izgath exhaled the last of his amusement. “He brings it on himself. It’s too hard to pass up. Come on, let’s catch up with him so his feelings don’t stay hurt too long.”
“So what’s the training plan tonight, Dromak?”
I asked when we’d all reunited.
“The basics. Running, squatting, push ups. Thankfully, Stryi is a farming region, so many of the recruits are already strong. It’s more about taking what they’ve already got and channeling it into fighting an opponent. Outside of a few, we should be able to start with weapons pretty quickly,”
Dromak explained.
He didn’t have to say it for me to know I was in that group. I’d have to be mindful of changing Vagach’s form accordingly.
Uzadaan and Izgath split off from Dromak and me, whistling to garner attention and shouting instructions to head to the field outside the camp. Soon, we had a stream of followers, and after slipping through the gaps between the wooden wagons, they gathered in disjointed groups, waiting for their next instruction.
Jaku did not join us, and after craning my neck, I realized many of the more seasoned warriors had remained behind to carry out various camp tasks.
Dromak tore my attention back to the group when he cleared his throat and raised his voice to speak. “You are all a bunch of lazy donkeys. What kind of formation is this? Some of you know better.”
The ones with leather plastered to their torsos and legs straightened, lifting their chins and puffing their chests in an attempt to atone for their mistakes.
“You,”
Izgath pointed to one such male toward the front, “show your new brothers how it is done.”
Everyone’s attention turned to a crimson-eyed Demon I’d seen hanging around Uzadaan several times. He took several long strides forward, then faced the group. First, he raised the back of his fist to his forehead and saluted them. Then, he spread his legs hip-distance apart and folded his hands behind his lower back, lifting his chin and focusing his gaze straight ahead.
“Good, now the rest of you form neat lines and repeat what Morrt did,”
Dromak commanded. Morrt settled himself at the head of one of the lines, and I watched in fascination as over one thousand males managed to arrange themselves like rowers in a boat.
Dromak, Izgath, and Uzadaan stepped forward, each tucking their hands behind their backs. I mimicked, studying them while they studied the soldiers. If I was going to lead these males, I was going to do it the right way. Most females weren’t allowed leadership positions outside of being a priestess, and whatever skills I could pick up while I was with the squad would help me wherever I ended up next. Whether they were surviving on the road or merely asserting my thoughts and opinions with confidence, even something miniscule could make a difference in my freedom and survival.
“If you belonged to Zurronar, step out of line and gather over there. Kormánzó Vagach will be your new Vezet?.”
He swept his hand to the right, where a clear space among the grasses waited for us.
My eyes slid to Izgath, gauging his reaction to the mention of his brother. His expression was stoic, though one muscle twitched in his cheek. He was more composed than I would have been in the same situation. “I’ll take good care of them,”
I said under my breath. He simply dipped his chin.
About eighty males stepped out of line. Dromak continued to speak to the new recruits while I strolled away with Uzadaan and Izgath to greet my new soldiers. Nerves settled in my belly with each push of my boot into the soft earth.
Who am I to command these males?
What am I even doing here?
When we came to a stop in front of the males, I shoved the self-doubt away and straightened my spine. Acting like a frightened child would only lead to my true identity being discovered, and I would not let that happen. Uzadaan raised a brow at me, then looked at the group as if he were trying to tell me I should speak to them.
Shit, that’s exactly what I’m supposed to do. Get it together, Assyria!
Clearing my throat, I stepped forward. “Uh, I am Kormánzó Vagach, though most of you heard that from Vezet? Dromak’s announcement. While I have extensive experience managing the lands under my control, I have minimal knowledge of fighting and war. Outside of what I studied in texts of course,”
I added hastily, remembering that Vagach had a host of tutors for his education. I kicked myself internally for even admitting that, because it was something Vagach absolutely would not have done. Before I could spiral too far, I rushed out another string of words to distract from my mistake. “If you promise patience with me, I promise to listen to your counsel as well as those of the other Vezet? to ensure I am leading you on the right path. The Weaver’s thread holds strong for us, and we will be victorious in the end.”
A few glanced skeptically among themselves, but for the most part, all kept their chins high and shoulders squared in my direction. “Glory to the Demons,”
one at the front shouted, and the rest thumped their fists against their chests.
“Join your brothers in teaching my villagers how to fight,”
I commanded them. As they broke apart and rejoined the others, a heady wave washed over me, making my heart race and fingers tingle.
Is this what power is like?
“Nicely done,”
Izgath commented. “You can train with us. Our tutelage will get you in fighting shape faster than what Dromak has them doing.”
I followed his gaze to the soldiers split between lapping our camp, pushing themselves off the ground and shouting out the count, and dropping into a squatting position, only to pop into the air after. In my true form, I was a good runner and strong from years of working the field. In Vagach’s form? It was anyone’s guess.
“Plus, you need to cut this,”
Izgath added, giving the low ponytail a flick. I smothered the urge to flinch at his sudden touch. I’d never seen Vagach without it, and as vain as he was, I wasn’t sure he’d cut it, even for war.
“Why don’t you cut yours first?”
I challenged, hoping I sounded as annoyed as Vagach would have been. I stared pointedly at the knot of hair on the top of his head.
He ran his fingers along the shaved sides. “This is what keeps me cool, and this,”
he grabbed the bundle of hair, “remains hidden beneath my helmet. You can grow your hair longer and tie it up, or you can cut it. But nothing can stick out from your helmet and give your opponent more leverage over you.”
His logic was sound, and I wouldn’t have argued again if it were me speaking with him. “We have time before that happens.”
As if to prove Izgath’s point, Uzadaan yanked the end of my hair and tore me backward. Fear shattered through my veins as I stumbled into him, and a heartbeat later, one arm was wrapped around my throat, and the tip of something sharp dug into my side. I went utterly still save for my heart galloping against my ribs. “The Angels like surprise attacks. You never know when one might appear. The time is now.”
“Your point is made,”
I managed to get out around Uzadaan’s arm. He released me, and I braced my hands on my knees and gulped down air as memories of Vagach’s abuse surfaced. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to banish them before they overtook me.
Not here. Not now. Later, Assyria.
“At least he’s a fast learner,”
Izgath said over my head to Uzadaan.
“He’ll need it,”
Uzadaan replied.
Pushing myself upright I grumbled, “Still right here.”
“Not for long. We’re going running,”
Izgath grinned, and as he unfastened his leather armor, he revealed a stomach chiseled by the Fates themselves. My eyes went straight down to the V that dipped into his pants. Why couldn’t the Weaver have spun me a husband that looked like that?
Priestess Anara had taught us not to desire a particular male, for that was shameful in the eyes of the Weaver. Coupling, for me, had only led to pain. Yet I couldn’t help the way my body reacted to him, and the riot of emotions that swelled inside me left me feeling even more confused.
When I realized I was staring I tore my gaze up, only to be met with a similar view of Uzadaan.
Fates help me.
“Keep up,”
Uzadaan called out as he took off in the direction of a distant tree. My attention snagged on the perfect circle between his shoulder blades, the universal sign that he was, in fact, mated.
With a groan, I jogged after them, deciding to keep my shirt on. Wearing the form of another while running was no easy task, and I cursed my incoordination. Tripping over a rock hidden in the field, I nearly pitched to the ground but managed to flail my arms in such a way that I remained upright, if not even further behind Izgath and Uzadaan. The sound of the males counting drifted away until only my heaving breaths were audible over the blood pounding in my ears.
They reached the tree long before I did, pausing and resting their hands on its trunk while they caught their breath. Even from this distance, the sweat dripping down their torsos was visible, and the sheen that coated their skin glittered where the sun struck it. That view was enough motivation for me to put on a burst of speed. The priestesses would be ashamed of my desirous thoughts, but at that moment, I would have taken anything to help me through the painful process of running.
My footsteps lightened as I approached, slowing to a walk as my chest heaved. The linen tunic stuck to me in a way that was wildly uncomfortable, and I resisted the urge to straighten it or tear it from my body.
“Took you long enough.”
Izgath swiped the back of his hand across his forehead and made his bicep flex.
Focus, Assyria!
“I am…not accustomed…to running,”
I wheezed out. Sweat dampened the low ponytail, making it cling to the back of my neck, and if I adjusted it in any way, Izgath would say something about it. So I straightened my spine, sucked down some air, and tried to at least pretend that I was confident in my abilities.
“That much is obvious,”
Izgath grinned. The way his lips pulled back from his teeth reminded me of the wild dogs that roamed the plains south of Stryi when they cornered their prey. I was merely a toy for his amusement, and he took satisfaction from my suffering. Something about the dynamic overheated me further, and I felt like I might faint.
Uzadaan shot Izgath a look that said he needed to lessen his taunts. “You will be soon,”
he encouraged, and I was grateful at least one of them wasn’t enjoying this torture.
“What now?”
I asked through pants. My heart rate had slowed enough that I didn’t feel like vomiting all over my boots. By the look in Izgath’s garnet eyes, it wouldn’t stay that way for long.
“Now we do what the others were doing, but a little differently. Instead of sticking to one exercise or another, you’ll combine them into a series of movements,”
he explained.
You have got to be kidding me.
“It will help your agility,”
Uzadaan added, like that was supposed to convince me of its value.
Checking on the well of shadows in my chest, I made a mental calculation of what was possible with my increasing fatigue. “Fine, but if we have to run back, I can’t do much.”
“Oh, you definitely have to run back,”
Izgath commented, pushing off the tree. “For now, follow my lead.”
Hands on hips, I watched as Izgath planked on the ground, lowered and raised himself, then tucked his feet beneath him and leaped toward the sky. As soon as his boots touched the ground again, he dropped to one knee and used his other leg to slide forward, keeping one hand raised in front of him before popping into a crouch. From there, he rolled forward over his shoulder and straightened to his full height. Then he repeated the whole process.
“It’s easier than it looks,”
Uzadaan said from beside me. I slid my gaze to him, and he merely shrugged, then took off after Izgath, repeating the motions.
“Here goes nothing,”
I muttered to myself. Then I dropped to the ground, air whooshing from my lungs as my belly smacked against it. With a curse, I positioned myself so I could dip down, muscles straining as I pushed myself up, then tucked my feet beneath me and jumped.
I attempted the rest of the sequence but ended up on my side, staring at the endless, swaying grass. Pushing off of it, I stood and tried again, determined to get it right and not be a fool among these well-trained males.
Izgath and Uzadaan had already turned around and were in the process of repeating the exercise in my direction. “Two more and then you can quit, Vagach,”
Izgath teased as he passed me. How he still had the breath to speak was beyond my comprehension.
Gritting my teeth, I pushed down then jumped up, in a battle of wills with myself on completing what was required of me. Every movement was like wearing a sack of grain on my back or legs, my frame weighted down by Vagach’s form. Who knew the magic could have an effect on my physical performance? I should have learned the intricacies of it a long time ago.
No time like the present.
Completely devoid of breath, I finished the last roll, not even bothering to stand. I collapsed backward, chest heaving as I stared at the fluffy clouds drifting through the bright blue sky. A light breeze ruffled the long grass around me, and I nearly cried for the joy of the wind caressing my sweaty forehead. Suddenly, the light was blotted out, and Izgath’s smug face came into view.
“Bet you wish you’d left your shirt behind now. And had a haircut,”
he said, offering me a hand.
“Aye,”
I acquiesced, too tired to care that he’d more than proved his point. He hauled me upright with more strength than I thought him capable, and I was grateful that he did most of the work. My energy levels were nearly depleted. I gazed longingly at the tendrils of smoke in the distance, worrying if I’d make it back without my magic slipping.
Uzadaan clapped me on the shoulder and steered me toward it with him on one side and Izgath on the other, almost like they were dogs herding a lost sheep. “We’re going to sprint, but feel free to go at your own pace,”
Uzadaan said. Though his words were kind, I would be judged on how quickly I returned.
Needing every drop of air, I nodded. They took off, and I followed like the good sheep I was, legs protesting with every strike of my foot against the ground. My lungs burned, begging me to slow my pace and allow them to expand, but I fought against it as the two males pulled away.
You can do this, Assyria. You have to work twice as hard and they don’t even know it.
Rather than focusing on the pain, I honed in on dreams of what my life would be like when I was finally free of all of this. Images of overflowing gardens flashed through my mind, the scent of the exotic roses I loved so much filling my nostrils instead of Vagach’s stench. The sound of trickling liquid as I turned the tap to fill my watering can shut out the shouts increasing in volume as I closed in on the camp. I found my happy place among the flowers, with a husband by my side who would kneel in the dirt beside me and tend to them like he tended to our relationship. To me. Without the expectation of baring him a powerful child. The deepest, most heartfelt desire I never allowed myself to long for, for the reality of my existence had been too painful, and a fantasy such as that too far out of reach. I dove so deep into the life in my head that the distance flew by until I slowed to join the rest of the warriors.
Blessed by the Giver.
The other warriors were finishing up their laps and other exercises, most with tunics tucked into the waistband of their pants or discarded somewhere in the grass. Bodies glistened under the fading sunlight, and if I weren’t so focused on forcing air in and out of my lungs, I would have admired the sight of all the post-exercise males. Izgath and Uzadaan stood with Dromak off to one side, clearly talking about the recruits by the way they hooked a thumb toward the ones behind or pointed toward the ring of wagons around the camp. The muscles in my legs protested as I took one step forward, then another, fully aware that tomorrow would be even worse for the soreness that already bled into my muscles.
“There he is,”
Dromak grinned as I hobbled forward. “Izgath and Uzadaan worked you hard?”
“Too hard,”
I wheezed, bracing my hands on my thighs.
“Better shape up or your soldiers won’t respect you.”
Dromak slapped my back, causing me to choke on air, then walked past me and joined the males slipping between the wagons and returning to the scent of food. Izgath followed him, shirt thrown casually over his shoulder.
“If you need to wash, we’ll all go to the streams after we eat. That’s why Jaku wanted to follow this path. Everything stinks if we’re too far from a water source to bathe, and he can be a bit particular about that,”
Uzadaan commented, waiting for me while the other two walked away.
“Thanks, I’ll need it,”
I replied, spine protesting as I forced myself upright again. We walked together in silence, though the laughter and taunts ringing out from the recruits filled the air, pulling a few twitches from Uzadaan’s mouth.
I was too concerned with my waning shadows to pay much attention to the content of the conversations. We drew nearer to the center of the circle, and the sight of my waiting tent nearly brought me to my knees. “Thanks for the encouragement,”
I said to Uzadaan, angling myself toward the tied-back flap.
“Anytime,”
he replied with a smile that should have been disarming, but his sharpened teeth made it look far more menacing. He glanced past me, and I followed his gaze and found Izgath watching us from where he stood beside the fire, accepting a plate from the cook. Ducking my head, I strode toward my tent and dipped inside, allowing the flap to close behind me with a whoosh.
The moment I had it secured, I released my magic, shrinking back into my Assyria form and collapsing to my hands and knees. Too disgusting to lay on the bedroll, I flopped onto the tarp that covered the ground.
At least the grass iss soft.
Staring at the pitched ceiling, I worked over the buttons of my tunic slowly until I could peel it from my frame. The camp was still alive around me, the scent of burning wood and roasting meat drifting through the canvas, yet I felt as if I could die from overexertion. My stomach rumbled, and I closed my eyes for a moment, wondering if I had enough left in me to pull together Vagach’s form again so I could have dinner. Fingers digging into the tarp, I forced myself to breathe through the pricking in my eyes, not wanting to succumb to my frustration. I was so fucking tired, so drained both magically and mentally from pretending to be someone I was not, and all I wanted to do was have a long bath, good food, and as much sleep as I desired.
But that was not the path the Weaver had offered me.
I’d do whatever I had to do to survive.
Despite the tight grip I had over my emotions, one tear slipped through, then another, until that hold fell away entirely. I surrendered to the complicated web of feelings that surrounded me, hoping that by letting the water leak from my eyes that they’d carve a path through them for me.
Footsteps shuffled in the grass, drawing closer until they seemed to stop abruptly at the edge of my tent. What sunlight had been peeking through was sliced by someone’s shadow. I bit down on my lip to muffle the sounds I had been making, listening intently for any other movement. If someone tried to enter the tent right now, I was fucked.
“Hey, Vagach, I know we worked you hard today, so I brought you some food. You don’t have to eat out here with the rest of us.”
Izgath’s voice was muffled through the fabric, and my eyes burned once again from his kindness. But I couldn’t voice my gratitude, not in this form and not while I was trying to quietly break down.
“I’ll leave it here for you since you’re probably too sore to move,”
he chuckled, and the shadow crouched, then rose again. “Join us later if you’re up for it.”
Without waiting for a response, he disappeared, back into the excitement of the camp. I waited until I was certain he was gone before crawling forward and lifting the barest hint of the canvas. True to his word, a steaming plate of food waited for me. I snatched it into my tent like a beast dragging food into its lair, and wasted no time devouring every morsel.
By the time I finished, my heart was lighter and my limbs were less heavy. Though my mind was still weighed down by thoughts of Izgath. What did he want from me? What did he suspect? And why was there this draw between us, one that kept him teasing and caring for me?