The Pacts - Soul Nights Part 3

Her mother threw a look of distaste at the sword when Mierna unbuckled the scabbard and laid in down on the small table that was, with her bed and chest of clothes, the only furniture in the room. She couldn't delay taking of her cloak any longer, and braced herself for the questions she knew would come when she did.

"Still," her mother said, concerned, "you shouldn't..."

Her sharp eyes noticed the clothes Mierna wore at once and her eyebrows rose up in surprise.

"I found these in that house in the woods," Mierna said before her mother could ask. "I was wet from the snow, and-"

"You will return them."

"No one lives there who needs these clothes, Mother. I promise."

Fists on her hips, her mother shook her head. "Regardless. It is bad enough that my daughter dresses in breeches and plays at being a Fighter. I will not have anyone wonder if you stole these."

Mierna tried very hard not to sigh. "Yes, Mother." Her mother nodded, not doubting for one second that Mierna might be anything less than truthful.

"Change into something more respectable and come help me in the kitchen. Carrel is bringing his friend Gorden for dinner. They will be here soon."

She closed the door when she left. Mierna knelt by her clothes chest and pulled out skirts and a tunic.

For a moment, she glared at the items of clothing, angry at what they represented. She was tired of lying, tired of pretending she was someone else. Only with Elden could she be who she wanted, say what she pleased. The hours would be long until the time came to go meet him in the barn.

Chapter 4.

"Again. Higher, this time. Most demons are taller than I am."

Mierna complied, and this time her sword struck higher, meeting Elden's with a loud clash. He pushed her back and she let him, the same way he had admonished her, time and again, not to do. But rather than retreating as she usually did, she slashed her sword toward him again. The blade missed him only by an inch, just as she Mierna had aimed to do. Elden had not moved at all, caught off guard for the first time. She held her breath, both thrilled by her success and afraid that she had come too close to hurting him. His face breaking into a rare, wide smile rea.s.sured her.

"Yes! Just like that! I knew you'd-"

He stopped mid-sentence for no reason she could see and turned his face toward the large door they had closed to keep the warmth of their small fire inside the barn. Seconds later, the door was thrown open and five men strode in. Mierna's eyes stopped on the one who walked in the front, a short spear in hand. She had seen that look on her brother's face before.

"Mierna!"

She turned her entire body toward Carrel as he approached. The idea that he might attack her would never have entered her mind, and yet she could feel herself tensing and getting ready for a fight.

"Have you lost all sense of decency?" he snapped at her. "What are you doing here, alone with a man?"

He came to stand just a foot in front of her, his companions remaining at a short distance behind him.

Mierna stood her ground, chin held high and eyes battling Carrel's. The time was long past since he had been able to loom over her and intimidate her.

"I am training," she replied, her words slow and deliberate. She broke eye contact to glance at the men standing behind him. She knew them, of course; they were Fighters, and all of them were her brother's age or a little older so that she had often seen them together as they were growing up. She had asked three of them to teach her how to use her sword after Elden had given it to her. "I am training," she repeated, "with the only person who agreed to teach me."

On Carrel's right, she noticed Gorden shifting and taking a half step forward as though he wanted to intrude on the conversation. She hadn't asked him to teach her. For a long time while growing up, she had had a little girl's crush on him, and she still felt like she was ten years old again when she had to talk to him. The fact that he was now courting her did not help matters in the slightest.

"It doesn't change the fact that you're alone with a stranger," Carrel insisted. He turned his attentiontoward Elden. "Our people do not tolerate strange men corrupting-"

Without warning, the point of Elden's sword came to stand at the hollow of Carrel's throat. None of the five Fighters had had a chance to move.

"I don't-" he started just as Mierna looked at him and raised a hand.

"Elden, this is my brother," she said hurriedly. "He did not mean to insult you."

Mierna had held Elden's sword before, she knew the weight of it and how difficult it could be to hold a weapon extended in this way. Yet the sword and his arm remained perfectly still.

"But he did insult me. And you as well. I think an apology wouldn't be too much to ask."

Behind Carrel, one of the Fighters, Cayce, blurted out, almost awed: "You called him Elden?"

"See?" Elden said smugly. "I'm not a stranger. Your friend knows-"

But before Elden could even finish, Cayce dropped the sword he was holding and ran out of the barn.

Elden must have felt as taken aback as Mierna did, because he lowered his sword and frowned.

"My friend knows what?" Carrel asked, finding his voice again now that he didn't have a blade at his throat anymore.

A loud sound came in from outside the barn, and all five humans froze when they heard it. It was the deep horn note that called Fighters to arms when demons were spotted near the village. It would repeat every few seconds to guide men to the place of the battle.

"What is Cayce doing?" Gorden grumbled as he looked around the barn. "There aren't demons here."

It was Cayce's younger brother, Roan who answered. His face had lost all color and his freckles and hair seemed even redder than usual.

"No demon, no, but a vam ... a vampire."

"A vampire?" Carrel repeated, his eyebrows rising high on his forehead.

Mierna felt like rolling her eyes at him-at all of them. "You know I was sent to the lair-"

"None of us believed you'd actually go there!" Gorden interrupted.

"Where did you think I got this, then?" She raised the sword she held, and it gleamed as it reflected light from the fire.

The only answer to her question was yet another deep call from Cayce's horn.

"Did you believe I'd just give up on wanting to be a Fighter after I got the sword if no one helped me?

And why did you think I've been getting up so early for weeks to finish my ch.o.r.es?" She threw the question at Carrel, but he seemed too stunned to reply. "This was not a child's flight of fancy. I wanted to learn to fight, and I did." Gorden shook his head and gave her a gentle smile. "Mierna, you're smarter than that. You can't really believe you'll ever best one of us, and you won't be a Fighter unless you do."

"She'll best you, here and now."

Elden's calm declaration knocked the breath out of Mierna. "What?" she gasped, even as Gorden and Carrel let out their incredulity with twin protests. Elden ignored them, and instead focused a heavy gaze on her.

"You've probably trained harder in these past few weeks than he has in all his life. He doesn't even know how to hold his weapon properly. If you remember what I taught you, you can be a Fighter tonight."

Everything inside Mierna wanted to protest, to argue that she wasn't ready, that she needed more lessons yet. The strength of Elden's words, however, and the conviction etched on his features gave her a confidence that she would never have found on her own. Very slowly, she turned toward Gorden, and raised her sword in his direction. She saw his eyes widen as he shook his head, but she didn't stop.

"I challenge you," she said with the smallest shaking in her voice, and it was done. Neither of them could back out of the fight now.

Gorden looked shocked, but it was nothing next to Carrel's reaction. His mouth opened and his lips moved, yet no sound came out. His eyes bulging, he looked in turn at Elden, Mierna and Gorden as though he could stop anything from happening with the strength of his stare. Already, though, Gorden was stepping forward.

"I hear your challenge," he replied formally, and raised his sword in front of his face in a salute.

"No, no." Carrel finally found his voice back. "She did not mean that, Gorden, it's-"

Mierna did not have to say a word. Roan and the last of the Fighters, Shea, each took one of Carrel's arms and drew him back to give Mierna and Gorden some s.p.a.ce. Elden retreated as well, sliding his sword in the scabbard at his belt and crossing his arms. Mierna met his eyes and he nodded once. She breathed a little more easily at the confidence and encouragement she could see on his features. He believed in her. She nodded back. She could do this.

Feet placed just so. Hand tight on the hilt, but not clenched. Shoulders relaxed but ready. She struck first, and when her sword met Gorden's, the clash of metal was like a signal that the challenge had truly started. Back and forth, they attacked and parried. Gorden was taller, stronger than she was; his sword was a hand longer and heavier as well. But as Elden had pointed out, she had had a much better training, and so she held her own easily.

As they stepped around each other, attacking still but now with a few moments between each blow as they both tired, more Fighters began arriving. Mierna was aware of them, but at the same time she paid them no mind, the same way Elden had taught her to focus on her fight without allowing irrelevant information to distract her. They were forming a loose semi circle around Gorden and her, now, with only Elden on the other side. There were gasps and cheers whenever a blow looked like it would draw blood, but the rules of the challenge demanded that she disarm her adversary without harming him beyond a few scratches.

"Stop playing, Mierna," Elden demanded suddenly. "End it." The quiet command brought a flush to Mierna's cheeks. She wanted to win, but she didn't want to humiliate Gorden by beating him too easily. If Elden had noticed, however, someone else might realize what she was doing as well. Better to end it, as Elden had said.

The next time he attacked, she feinted as Elden had taught her, and used Gorden's momentum against him. She hooked her hilt behind his, pulled hard, and when his sword clattered behind her she very slowly rested her blade against the side of his neck. He gave a start; the blade nicked his skin.

"Enough. The challenge is won." Cayce and Roan's grandfather, the Eldest of the Fighters, raised a hand in Mierna's direction. "You are one of us, Mierna."

He sounded unhappy to have to make this p.r.o.nouncement, but Mierna didn't care. All that mattered was that she was a Fighter, now. She lowered her sword and cast a beaming smile toward Elden, who nodded his approval.

"You fought well," Gorden said.

When Mierna looked back at him, there was a new respect in his eyes. It felt strange-and good-to finally be accepted as a Fighter.

"Why were we called for a challenge?" the Eldest asked, looking around as though unsure who might give him an answer.

Cayce had returned inside, and he was the one who replied. "Eldest, I called a gathering for the vampire, not the challenge."

At once, all eyes in the barn turned toward Elden. He appeared untouched by this new scrutiny, but Mierna could see the minute changes in his body. Whatever happened, however the Fighters reacted to his presence, he was ready. Slowly, so as not to be too conspicuous, Mierna moved toward him, slipping her sword back into its scabbard.

"You did not ask to enter our village," the Eldest said. He was using his most formal voice, the one with which he made important announcements or p.r.o.nounced young couples married. "By the age-old Pacts, you are required to do so."

"He's only here because I asked him to teach me," Mierna interjected.

At the same time, Elden said: "The Pacts are long gone. I am not bound by them anymore."

"Then neither are we," Carrel said.

They were his first words since the challenge, and he had surmounted his shock. Now, he was angry again. He strode to Mierna, and before she could react, he had grabbed her left hand, pulled up her sleeve and raised her bare wrist for all to see. Gasps rose all around them at the sight of the bite marks.

Too late, Mierna pulled free and tugged her sleeve back down.

"Mother noticed it weeks ago," he said, his eyes sharp and accusing as they found Mierna's. "She pretended she was bitten by bugs."

Mierna didn't flinch or look away. "It was my choice." "That is not a choice you can make!" The Eldest seemed scandalized, his voice shaking in outrage. He looked at the Fighters around him as though holding them witness. "The gift of blood and Pacts are the decision of a village, not the whim of one child."

There were murmurs of approval from the Fighters. Mierna wanted to explain-she had only gone to Elden because none of them would help her. She didn't have time for it, though.

"I did not make a Pact with this child. We had a bargain, her blood against my teaching. Now that she is a Fighter the bargain is over."

Trying desperately to find the words that would stop him, Mierna watched him as he went to untie his horse at the back of the barn. When he started for the door, leading the animal by the bridle, the Eldest signaled for the Fighters to open a path for Elden. Only when he stepped beyond the doors did she run after him, shaking off Carrel's hand when he tried to stop her.

"Wait!" she called out.

Elden already had one foot on the stirrup. He looked at her, but hoisted himself onto the horse anyway.

"So that's it?" she asked, pushing the words past her tight throat. "The 'bargain' is over and you leave without a goodbye?"

She was dimly aware that her words might be conveying too much. She had come to accept her feelings for Elden, but she was in no way ready to let him know about them. Still, she couldn't manage to stop herself, or to look at him with anything other than pleading.

"I gave you what you wanted," Elden said, looking down at his gloves as he tugged on them listlessly.

"You're a fighter. And you actually have a chance to survive if you meet a demon."

"A chance?" she repeated, surprised and disbelieving. "I want more than a chance!"

The horse stomped its foot. Without thinking, Mierna grabbed the bridle. She wouldn't let Elden leave without receiving an answer first. She kept her eyes on his face, and after a few seconds, he returned her look. The strength of his stare startled her. In his eyes, she saw the same hunger that she had gotten used to seeing when he took her blood. But she could also guess a yearning stronger than she could comprehend, and it scared her despite herself.

"Two hundred years ago," he said, his quiet voice shaking from being so intense, "I would have been proud to call you my Childe. You're too stubborn for your own good, and determined, and in time you'll be a great fighter. But you weren't born two hundred years ago, and I have taught you all that I can. All I can hope is that the G.o.ds will protect you."

His hand closed on hers on the bridle, and pried it off. Holding it tight, he pulled it up even as he bent down to press his lips to her knuckles. She could feel the touch long after he had gone. The slow realization that he had meant the gesture as a goodbye drew cold and ice to her better than the wind roaring around her.

Chapter 5.

Mierna had to knock for almost two minutes before the door finally opened in front of her. Sheswallowed back the annoyed comment that had risen to her lips and stared, shocked, at Elden's face.

"What happened?" she asked, unable to stop herself from reaching out. Her fingers ghosted over the black and purple bruises that marred his face. She didn't dare touch his skin, but even so he reared back and out of her reach.

"Demons," was all he said.

"Demons?" An edge of hysteria was creeping up in Mierna's voice and she tried to control herself before she continued. "You've always told me I ought to run rather than let demons-"

"Get close enough to lay a hand on you," he finished for her. "It doesn't mean it always works that way."

He stopped and took a few seconds to look at her before asking, his voice gentler: "Why have you come?"

She would have expected him to invite her in by now; it was the middle of the afternoon and the sun was bright, but the air was cold enough that her breath fogged in front of her. Still, he remained where he was, leaning against the door and blocking the way. The laces of his tunic were undone, and she could see that the bruises on his skin extended to his chest. She fisted her hand so she wouldn't be tempted to reach for him again.