John didn't wait for Celia. He shrunk the vambrace and launched himself into the air. Like an arrow, he shot straight for the tree branches above. Thankfully, his training paid off and he was able to control his jump enough to land on one of the sturdier branches a good fifty paces up.
Listening for the footsteps again, he found them. From his vantage point, he saw most of the forest's floor. His eyes zoomed in on the area he'd heard the soft footsteps and felt the world spin when his eyes got away from him. Gripping his branch tightly--but not too tightly--he wrestled his vision back under control and shifted his focus to get the right depth. His eyes eventually settled on the source of the sound: a Kalian woman with bright blond hair in a dark green traveling cloak.
As the woman approached the clearing, Celia met her at the edge and said in surprise, "Honored Slayer Priscilla Tekal?! What are you doing way out here?"
Inwardly John kicked himself.
[Of course she's a Slayer. Who else would be out here?]
He should have known that. Which meant it was useless trying to hide from her. She'd have been able to hear his heartbeat and maybe even his earlier jump. Him hiding in a tree was suspicious, to say the least.
Thinking quickly, he dropped to the ground, making a heavy muffled thump.
"Twenty-three," he grumbled.
Celia glared at him, but she immediately caught on to what he was doing.
He made to jump again but paused when she called over to him.
"John, please stop with your jumps and come on over here. We have a guest."
"Yes, Slayer Celia Tecard," he said in a measured tone.
[Did she just say 'please'?]
"I could say the same to you," Priscilla said with an amused expression.
Of all things, Celia averted her eyes in embarrassment. "Sorry, I take it Kael told you?"
"The only thing he told me was that you had to go to Kalian for an errand," Priscilla said, her curiosity clearly visible. She shifted her gaze to John and he made sure his eyes were on her respectable chest.
Celia had used the word "Honored", which meant Priscilla Tekal was on the Council. Ergo, he was four notches below her. Since her last name was Tekal, it also meant that she wasn't born into Royalty prior to becoming a Slayer. All Slayers with humble beginnings took on the name Tekal as a way of showing their status to others.
Tekal had a Council of five people who helped the Headmistress--the leader of the Slayers--run the city and it's citizens. It was no secret that the mages had intentionally placed a woman at the head of Tekal and named her Headmistress. The ploy had been intentional, to send a message to all the Slayers. It was safe to say there was very little love between the mages and the Slayers. A deep seated resentment had formed between the two groups over the centuries.
The resentment was so deep that, to the mage's surprise, the Slayers followed the Headmistress like any other ruler, just to spite them. It didn't help the mages that they'd unknowing appointed a very strong willed woman that wouldn't take to being their puppet. It all confused the hell out of John, but he figured he shouldn't be surprised anymore by what went on in a Northerner's head. They were all crazy.
"A contact I'd made over in Kalian mentioned of an orphan in the Red Guard that had Awakened. He didn't… trust… the Slayers in our outpost in Kalian," Celia said apologetically, and let the words stand as if to imply more.
Priscilla's eyes alighted in both understanding and in surprise.
John supposed the latter was her discovery of John. Finding a new Slayer was rare. Like maybe once every ten years kind of rare. Slayer women were barren at birth, which left only the men to pass on the ability. But, even when the men did produce offspring, it was very common for the ability to skip several generations before it surfaced again. And since Slayers didn't age--yet another shocking discovery for John--most Slayer men avoided having a family. There was something horrific about attending the funeral of your great grandkids.
But for the Slayer men that did procreated--regardless if it was intentional or not--they had to report the pregnancy to the mages. It was law. The mages kept a close eye on all the bloodlines. It was because of this that finding an orphan was exceedingly rare.
That's not to say the threat of outliving all of their children stopped the men from wanting to tumble in the sheets. In a city near Tekal, called Boca Bay, there were "pleasure houses"--or what a Southerner would call whore houses--that cater to Slayers. Rumor had it that mage's paid top coin to any of the women that became pregnant and gave up their child to be cared for by them.
It was a sad life for the children born into that life.
"And..." Celia continued, looking even more embarrassed. "I thought it would be good to give him a jump-start on his training. Before the Alpha's had a chance to give him bad habits."
On the last part, she flashed Priscilla a rueful smile.
John was shocked by her sudden change in behavior. It was as if the hardened survivalist had been replaced by a genuine decent human being.
She was an amazing actress.
He schooled his features as Priscilla glanced at him again.
Alpha's were the strongest Slayers in Tekal. They were the ones that went out and did the actual killing of Hellhounds. They were also the ones that mentored the new blood that joined the Slayer ranks. This was because they were always on the lookout for new Alphas. Celia was a Tracker, and her responsibility was finding the Hellhounds in her territory for the Alpha's to kill. The amount of land the Slayers covered was vast and not all Slayers were born equal in strength so they had created the Alpha and Tracker system. Over the years, though, the Alpha's had become a group of elitist that believed they were better than everyone else, or so Celia claimed. She wasn't a fan of them.
"Some day you're going to have to tell me how you make these contacts," Priscilla said, her amused expression returning. "So another novice?"
This time she gave John her full attention, surprise coloring her face once again.
"Another?" Celia asked questioningly.
"He will make the seventh one in the last two months."
Celia's eyes snapped to the Slayer's nose. "Seventh?"
[Uh oh.]
They'd assumed he'd be the only one, maybe the second one. Him being the seventh would raise some red flags.
"You haven't been to Tekal in a while," Priscilla chided.
Celia bowed her head, chastised. "It's been a busy four months."
"Indeed, which is the reason why I came to find you," Priscilla said, her eyes going to the vambrace on John's arm, then to the scarred tree, and finally to the ground that had been disturbed from their earlier sparring. "The Headmistress wants everyone in Tekal. You both are to report to the Main Hall, tomorrow morning by the second bell."
Celia blinked in surprise, "Everyone? What is she announcing?"
"No idea. But if I were to guess, it would have something to do with the increase in Hellhound activity," she replied dryly. "And--if one were religious--the sudden influx of Slayer novices could be conceived as a sign from the gods."
Then she sighed. "I still have to get a few more stragglers in Kalian. I better leave now if I'm getting there by nightfall. Please come find me after the meeting, we really need to catch up. It's been far too long!"
Celia smiled warmly and promised.
As Priscilla turned to go, both Celia and John bowed their heads. John lower than Celia.
But the Councilwoman paused and her eyes returned to John. She looked him over from top to bottom one last time.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he unconsciously tensed.
"Tallen will be jealous," she finally said with a mischievous smile. Then she took off like a bat out of hell.
Celia blinked a few times before growing beat red.
[She's either an incredible actress or…]
"Who's Tallen?" he asked behind a hidden smile.
"None of your damn business, novice!" Celia snapped, her face instantly returning to it's cold demeanor.
Priscilla howled with laughter off in the distance.
She glared at him.
[Right, Slayer hearing.]
But instead of looking guilty for not thinking about Priscilla overhearing them, he flashed her a knowing smile.
In quick order, they had everything packed up. As John strapped on his new sheath, mimicking Celia, his taskmistress handed him a rice cake. She had stored up a lot of the dried food in her bag. He'd never had a rice cake before entering Kalian, but Celia had explained to him that they were specifically designed for Slayers. They helped replenish his cravings, which was the downside of being able to do all the things they did. He got hungry, damn near starving, quickly and frequently.
He scarfed his down, and then she handed him another one.
"You're going to burn a lot," she said curtly.
She was still angry at the Tallen comment.
John didn't complain and ate that one too… as well as the three other rice cakes she gave him after that.
Feeling stuffed, Celia threw her bag at him.
It knocked him back a step.
Throwing the heavy bag over his shoulder, he kept his eyes on her throat as she tied her long hair back into a tight ponytail.
Sniffing, she said, "Don't fall behind."
And then she was off.
As John tore after her, he realized they were going away from the road they'd been following the past two days.
Even though he'd sprinted after her before, as part of his training, they hadn't ever gone nearly this fast. This time he was sure she was going as fast as she could go, but he didn't dare test that theory least she slammed him into a tree for not letting her lead. Watching the massive trees rush by with a "whomp", his eyes widened in wonderment. They were going fast.
What was most amazing, though, was how his mind was unconsciously adjusting his feet around roots, and shifted his body's trajectory around branches. He was moving purely on instinct.
It was exhilarating and intoxicating at the same time.
[I feel like a God!]
He howled like a madman as he leapt over a ravine, thirty paces across, and landed right next to the black haired beauty.
His dopey smile immediately fell when he saw the look in her eyes.
She wasn't just angry. She was pissed.
Dirt flew up as she launched herself up and over a large rock formation.
Glaring at her retreating form, he silently followed.
[What the hell?] he thought, feeling more than a little annoyed.
For the hundredth time, he felt like he couldn't do anything right.
Wordlessly he followed after her, chewing through many miles of rough terrain (as no one in the North used 'leagues' or 'paces' anymore). The more time passed, and the longer she kept her simmering glare, the angrier he got.
She finally halted at a river when the sun was at it's zenith
.
Even with Slayer powers, they had their limits. His body had started to protest over an hour ago but he didn't dare show any sign of weakness in front of Ms. Grumpy.
Snapping her fingers at him, John threw her bag at her a little harder than necessary.
He hid his smirk when she had to take a step back from the force of the bag.
They were both breathing hard when she ripped it open and tossed two rice cakes at him. Wordlessly he caught them and started scarfed them down. He was famished. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her hand blur and he looked up just in time to see a cup hurling at his head. Thankfully his reflexes kicked in and he plucked it out of the air before it could give him a black eye.
"Hells bells, what is wrong with you?" he snapped.
She ignored him and dramatically took a mean bite out of her rice cake.
He silently glared at her until she'd killed the whole rice cake and started working on a second one.
"Have it your way," he growled.
Taking his cup, he scooped out a cup of water from the river and gulped it down. He didn't worry about whether or not the water was clean, his new healing powers made it impossible for him to get sick. Even if the water had been poisoned, it wouldn't so much as make him cough.
An angry yell pulled his attention back to his mentor and he watched her slam a fist into one of the redwood trees, punching a hole, forearm deep. If her hand had been any wider, the whole thing might have tipped over.
"Damn Priscilla!" she hissed before punching into the tree again. This time the tree groaned as she drilled another hole into it.
Against his better judgement, John smiled at her tantrum. Taking another cup full of water, he sipped it and enjoyed the show.
"Un-fucking-believable," she screamed, throwing her balled fists out to each side of her.
He was immediately reminded of the story of the Princess that threw a similar hissy fit for not getting what she wanted. The children's picture book had depicted a little girl in the exact same pose.
Her hot eyes found his and her mood darkened further when she saw his shit eating grin. In a flash, her foot connected with the defenseless tree in a roundhouse kick and the whole thing snapped with a loud pop. With a dying cry, the redwood tree tipped over and hit the ground with a thunderous boom.
His grin faltered.
"You!" she growled darkly. "This is your fault."
She took a step towards him and out of reflex he took a step backwards.
"Easy now," he said slowly, as if afraid to spook her. "This is just a minor setback."
"Minor. Setback?" she said each word with clenched teeth.
John took another step backwards when he saw a new look on his mentor.
[Murderous glare, that's a new one.]
Consciously, he kept his hand away from his slider. It had been drilled into him since he was old enough to carry a weapon to never draw it unless he was willing to use it or his life was in danger.
Although the latter was becoming difficult to argue.
"I've spent decades infiltrating Tekal to get where I am. You've been here a fucking week and now you're going to screw everything up."
"Decades? How old are…." John cut himself off with an audible click of his teeth. His mouth did the thinking sometimes.
Her blade came free as she roared at him, and it was only because of his training that he was able to get his own free in time to block her attack.
[Bloody hell, she's serious!] he thought as she sent her blade at his neck in a killing blow. His hand vibrated painfully when the flat of his shortsword size slider connected with her sword. He was immediately grateful for the fact that the slider couldn't break--he'd never use his sword to block under normal circumstances. Briefly locked in combat, he saw rage in her eyes. Rage with just a pinch of deranged-madwoman-"I'll kill you" in it.
She took a step back and then attacked him again. While her strike was frenzied by her anger, her level of focus was nothing like before. She was intent on killing him.
That bit of knowledge put him in a different mindset as he parried two more strikes and blocked a third with his new shield.
She was a skilled swordswoman, and he was at a slight disadvantage with him still learning his body. Just in the first five exchanges he caught himself twice over reaching after misjudging the distance between them.
But the Vanguard in him laughed at the challenge.
Like a dance, they struck, blocked, dodged and parried in a fast and furious rhythm.
She roared in anger when it became apparent she couldn't kill him as easily as she'd hoped for. A large part of it was due to his vambrace, something she didn't have on by sheer luck.
It wasn't until he had sweat dripping down his brow before he saw the opening he'd been looking for. Sidestepping at the last possible second, he used his new enhanced reflexes and grabbed her guard with his off hand.
Pulling on it, he used her own momentum against her and tipped her off balance with his toe. Taking a gamble, he dropped his slider as he kept pulling her forward. Before she could recover, he brought his freed fist down as hard as he could across her exposed cheek. Her head whipped around dangerously as the sound of bone on bone crunched loudly.
Fighting against the massive blow, her blood lusted eyes lifted back up to meet his but he wasn't done. He stripped her slider, having gotten a good grip on her guard, just as he brought the back of his fist back over in a back-handed uppercut. He caught the side of her nose and immediately blood spewed forward as cartilage crumbled.
Just as he'd hoped for, shocked eyes flew skyward as she was thrown backwards. It didn't matter how strong she was, he weighed a lot more than she did which meant the amount of force to his blow overcame her ability to stay grounded. Once she was airborne, she was at the mercy of gravity, allowing him to press his advantage.
By the time her back hit the ground, he had her own slider at her throat.
Wide eyes took in the slider, before traveling up the sword to his hand, and then finally her eyes found his.
What she saw in them made her visibly gulp, nicking herself in the process.
The sliders were razor sharp.
"I'm a quick study, remember?" he said darkly, before pushing the blade closer to her skin and drew another drop of blood.
She froze.
"In the Vanguard, we have a saying. Never leave an enemy breathing, least he stabs you in the back later."
Her eyes widened a hair further as she took in the implications.
"Are you my enemy?" he asked.
There wasn't any malice behind his words, it was just a question. He was fully prepared to kill her right then and there--and not lose any sleep over it. It was completely up to her.
She took a steadying--albeit shallow--breath before whispering in defeat, "No."
He took in her bloodied features, measuring her sincerity, before finally nodding.
"Alright, but if you raise a sword at me again, I won't hesitate next time," he warned, pulling the weapon away from her neck.
"I'll keep that in mind," Celia said slowly, rubbing the blood away from her neck.
The last thing he honestly wanted to do was kill her. He was in a strange land with no way of getting back home. Which, to his annoyance, made her his lifeline. If their relationship was going to work, he had to get through her thick skull that they were on the same team and that she could trust him.
Which was why he handed her weapon back.
She eyed the blade in her hands and then at his slider that laid in the grass behind him, well out of reach.
He forcefully relaxed his stance.
[I trust her, he told himself firmly.]
Was he crazy? Probably. Everything he knew about the woman told him that she'd take this opportunity to run him through and leave him to the Hellhounds. Sure her superiors wouldn't be happy that he'd "ran away", but they'd get over it and the hovering threat of discovery would diminish back to normal levels.
But his gut told him that no one had ever given her the chance for trust, and he'd never had a reason to doubt his gut.
"Never trust a beautiful woman," Randy's voice warned him from another time.
He squashed the thought as Celia looked him in the eyes, hers searching his for something.
"You're a strange man," she finally muttered before sheathing her slider.
He slowly let out the breath he'd unknowingly held in.
John wasn't sure if it meant he wouldn't have to watch his back in Tekal but he thought it was progress.
[At least I don't have to worry about her poisoning me.]
"This doesn't change the fact that the scheduled moved up by a whole week," Celia said before she reached up with both of her hands and jerked her nose back into place with an audible pop. Closing her eyes, she exhaled as her healing kicked in.
"You're a soldier, not a spy," she continued. "You still have a long ways to go before you can pass off as a Kalian."
He couldn't argue that. He knew he still did things unconsciously that could give him away.
Walking over to her bag, he pulled out one of his shirts and dunked it into the river.
"In my experience," he said, wringing the shirt and handing it to her. "People will believe what they want to believe, and are blinded by the unlikely. No matter how much the unlikely is right in their face. Beside, you should give me some credit. I've made a lot of progress in a short amount of time. I'm a quick study. I know I can adapt."
Celia leveled a flat look at him but took his peace offering anyways.
The bruise that had begun surfacing under her eye slowly morphed in color to match her own pale skin and, by the time she'd cleaned away the blood from her nose and neck, it was as if nothing had ever happened.
Handing him back his shirt, she sighed.
And then her eyes alighted as another thought came to her.
"You sure you want to go through with this?" she asked hopefully. "You could still make a run for it."
"Is this the only way I can return to the Empire?" he asked, picking up his slider.
When she begrudgingly said yes, he motioned towards the general direction they'd been traveling since the morning. "Then after you, Slayer Celia."
She set her jaw, and then nodded. "Fine. But if you fuck this up, you won't see me coming next time."
"I think that's fair," he said with a cheerful smile. It earned him a roll of her eyes, but then--hand to the gods--she shot him a genuine dimple-showing-smile.
[Bloody hell she's got dimples...]
It wasn't the least bit alarming.
Not one bit.
[I'm not getting out of this one alive, am I?]