Chapter Six #2
She rolled her eyes. He could tell she was suppressing a laugh; the thought made him feel lighter than he had in weeks. But the feeling didn’t last long. Wilder knew she was waiting for him to say more, to critique the drills she’d been doing, but he remained silent and simply continued to watch.
‘When are you going to tell me of the Great Rite?’ she asked eventually, wiping the perspiration from her brow.
She had asked him about it before, when their relationship had been just as volatile, on the way to Harenth.
He’d been less than forthcoming then – in fact, if he recalled correctly, his exact words had been, ‘ I wouldn’t tell you if Enovius himself had a blade to my heart. ’
From her expression, Thea had resigned herself to a similar response now.
But Wilder was in the mood to surprise her, so he rubbed the back of his neck and considered her.
‘It is difficult to explain,’ he started, motioning for her to continue her current exercise.
She did. ‘The Great Rite is not contained to a single location. Nor does it adhere to the seasons, or even time itself…’
Thea didn’t stop moving, didn’t question him, but her footwork slowed slightly, and he could tell she was listening with bated breath.
‘There are several openings that I know about across the midrealms,’ he continued, fighting against the urge to shove the memories away.
‘But they are not readily accessible. A warrior has to wait until they welcome a challenger, until the warrior feels the call. There is no predicting when the Great Rite opens. There’s no pattern. It’s once in a blue moon…’
Thea paused then. ‘When was the last time it opened?’
Wilder met her gaze. ‘When I gained my Warsword totem.’
‘How long ago?’
‘Just over seven years.’
A soft cry escaped Thea’s lips, her knees buckling. ‘I don’t have seven years.’
‘I know.’ The two words were heavy between them.
‘When were you going to tell me this?’
‘When I could trust that you weren’t going to do something stupid.’
‘And can you trust me with that?’ she challenged.
He made a noise of disbelief, but continued. ‘You have to take your chance the moment it opens, the second you feel its call.’
‘What if it doesn’t open before…’
Twenty-seven. That was the age carved into that damn fate stone of hers. Just two and a half years from now.
‘It will,’ he said.
‘How can you be sure?’ she pressed, lightning sparking at the fingers that still gripped her sword.
Wilder eyed her warily, but didn’t flinch. ‘I just am.’
Thea’s shoulders sagged, her blade falling to her side. ‘What happened during your Rite?’
‘You’re yet to earn that tale.’
She huffed a sigh. ‘Fair enough.’
Wilder’s head jerked back in surprise. ‘What? No argument?’
‘Not now,’ Thea said.
The air grew too thick between them suddenly, the intensity too great, and Thea broke their eye contact, flicking her braid over her shoulder and returning to her drills.
Wilder cleared his throat and started back to the fortress. ‘You’re expected at the last group training session for the day. Don’t miss it.’
* * *
The last time Wilder had visited the northern arena, the majority of the Thezmarrians there had been shieldbearers.
Now, as he looked from his vantage point onto the training ground, he saw that much had changed.
Their numbers had dwindled, both due to the battle with the reapers at the ruins of Delmira and the forfeits and failures of the initiation test. But the group he surveyed now was stronger, more united.
And there was no denying the person at the centre of it all – Thea.
Gods, she was beautiful. A vision of fierce determination.
The warrior woman who’d claimed the heart of a reaper.
And a Warsword , Wilder thought bitterly.
Even from a distance, he could see how the cohort stared at her.
Her expression was steely; this was not the first time she had experienced this.
He’d seen their treatment of her firsthand.
But what Wilder realised as she slowly warmed up, her movements fluid and confident, Malik’s dagger at her hip, was that the quiet was not in rejection of her, not in outrage at her presence, but in reverence .
Somehow, in between her unconventional entry to the guild and slaying the reaper, she had been the one to bring them all together. Thea and her unlikely friends.
She wore a plain shirt and dark pants, her hair braided down the side in the warrior fashion from distant realms. Wilder watched her as he started down the incline towards the arena, pride welling in his chest as she took up two swords.
She was a born dual wielder, like him, like Talemir…
She was incredibly light on her feet and her reflexes were lightning fast, as though she’d been trained since she was an infant.
He wondered where those skills had come from.
Groups of warriors parted for him as he made a beeline for her without thinking.
But another Warsword was already there.
Torj’s large frame engulfed Thea as he stood close behind her, nudging her feet apart with his own, his front pressed to her back as he widened her stance. The Bear Slayer’s arms closed over Thea’s as he adjusted her grip on her blades —
‘That’s not how it’s done,’ Wilder growled before he even realised he was standing beside them.
Torj glanced up, surprised and then amused, instantly stepping back from Thea.
Thea’s expression betrayed nothing.
‘Didn’t realise you were here, Hawthorne,’ Torj said, his eyes bright. ‘You’re clearly the best man for the job. I’ll take my leave, then.’
Wilder didn’t speak as Torj gave him a nod and returned to his own apprentice.
‘What was that about?’ Thea asked, her brow raised.
‘Who would you rather train you: a man who throws around a hammer? Or the Warsword trained by Talemir Starling, dual wielding champion?’
Furies save him, it was the second time that jealousy had reared its ugly head. He needed to get himself under control. He was the Hand of Death, for fuck’s sake.
Her mouth quirked. ‘Alright, then. Teach me your ways, Warsword.’
Wilder’s heart stuttered at the gleam in her gaze, and he took up his position behind her, the echoes of steel from the training around them fading away.
‘Feet apart. Left foot forward.’ His voice was husky and he didn’t miss the soft intake of breath from Thea as she did as he bid.
‘Arms up. Guard position.’ His whole body encircled hers, his rough hands brushing against the bare skin of her forearms, warm in the afternoon sun.
‘If you wish to dual wield effectively, your blades should be of equal weight. How do these feel?’
‘Good,’ she murmured. ‘They feel good.’
It was all Wilder could do to stop himself inhaling the scent of her. Gods, he’d craved her, her closeness, for what felt like eternity. ‘Distribute your body weight evenly so it’s easier to pivot at the last second,’ he instructed, fighting to keep his words even.
She shifted her feet.
He made a noise of approval. ‘Remember, you should use an unexpected combination of the blade’s edge and its point.
’ He moved the swords in her hands so that they glinted in the sun, the light reflecting off the edges and then the tips.
‘Start with a reversed downward cut. Bring this sword over your head to better charge the blow. Then, launch the cut forward and bring your left sword up to cover the exposed side.’
Wilder could feel how tense her body was beneath his, how determined she was. She allowed him to steer her arms through the drill, allowed him to meld his body to hers and lead her through the rotation.
He could feel the eyes of their fellow warriors on them, watching where they were joined, how they moved together. He could sense the undercurrent of their fascination, their recognition.
Let them see , Wilder thought irrationally. Let them see that she belongs with me .
‘Remember to change your lead leg. Remember to maintain that lightness on your feet,’ he told her softly.
‘The advantage you have is that the rules have not been etched into you over the decades. Your movements will be unpredictable, fresh, unconventional… You learn the fundamentals, and then you can leverage them to surprise your rival.’
Thea flexed her fingers beneath his around the grips, and he continued to guide her through each movement, each slice, each slash, ready to end any enemy.
He recalled the words Talemir had once said to him.
‘You need to hone a tunnel of focus around you when you swing any blade, but especially when you wield two. It’s just you and these swords, an extension of yourself, of your strength and power.
And any man, any monster who breaches that tunnel… Death awaits them.’
The rest of the arena fell away and it was just the two of them, moving as one, sharing the same breath, blades carving through the air.
Heart pounding, he broke away from her. ‘Show me.’
Thea looked equally shaken, but she squared her shoulders and planted her feet apart again, exactly as he’d demonstrated.
Then, she unleashed herself upon her imaginary opponent.
She was good. Really good. Her blades lashed at the air, through the neck of an enemy he couldn’t see, delivering slices to their ribs, their vulnerable tendons.
‘You need to learn to read a man,’ he offered.
‘Or a woman,’ she countered through her teeth.
‘Or a woman,’ he agreed, pushing the thoughts of the Daughter of Darkness away. ‘You can read an opponent’s intentions in their eyes, in their hesitations and their footwork.’
‘I’ve seen it,’ she said, not stilling for a moment. ‘People are easy to read. But what of a monster’s intentions?’
‘You’ve seen a monster’s intentions up close already, which is more than some Guardians can ever say.’ He followed her across the space as she moved. ‘Mind your footwork. Two steps forward is more than enough there.’