“Or we’re behind schedule,” Darius muttered.
“It’s more likely the latter,” Hugh told us. “I overheard some of the men in camp complaining about the progress we were making. They said everything slowed down to a miserable pace whenever the leaders arrived. They claimed they could have made the journey back toArchíalready if it were onlyGryfonand his select band of warriors who found us in the first place.”
“We would have slowed them down either way,” Kane argued. “I can’t keep up even this pace. I have no idea how they do it. Look at him. He doesn’t even seem winded.”
I glanced up, mouth full of dried meat, to seeGryfonspeaking with one of the warriors who'd last dragged along one of the carts. He was gesturing back toward the goods we'd been haulingalong with us and looked to be very focused on whatever he was saying to the man.
Kane was right. He didn’t even appear to be winded. But that wasn’t the only strange thing I noticed. He wasn’t sweating either. Not a drop of perspiration on him. I could tell, from the deep cut of his leather vest, the rolled up sleeves of his cotton shirt, and the slim fit of his pants, he was in good shape. Immaculate shape, truly. I could hardly resist staring at the bulging muscles when I caught sight of them. But this desert was far too harsh and the journey far too long for any man not to have broken out into a sweat by now. His warriors had. Even their leaders, who'd ridden upon their beasts all day, were drenched at their necklines and armpits.
“You’re staring again,” Zya whispered.
I jerked my gaze away but not beforeGryfonseemed to notice my staring as well. His piercing blue eyes raised above his warrior’s shoulder just enough to catch mine before I pulled my gaze away, turning back to my lunch asZyachuckled quietly beside me.
It wasn’t long before we were walking again. There were more groans of protest when we rose from the oasis this time. I imagined the leaders would be hard pressed to force this caravan on for too much longer before the necessity arose to call it quits for the evening.
I was wrong. We walked for another six hours before they finally found a place they deemed good enough to spend the night. It was in a valley of some sort. High, cliff-like ridges of the same orange stone we'd been passing since the very beginning rose around us and pinned us in so as to make any attack painfully obvious when it came to the direction it was coming from.
Zya, Hugh and I helped some of the men and women in cotton and silk distribute the evening rations while Kane wentto help erect the tents, Darius tagging along much to everyone’s surprise. Roxy went off to help the metalworkers unload and, assuming Darius had already spoken to her of our plan, to steal a couple of swords away as well.
We didn't speak much that evening as we all gathered in a small circle to eat our rations and drink what water had been gathered at the previous oasis for consumption later in the evening. Instead, we finished our meal, exchanged meaningful glances, and filed off to our individual tents to await nightfall.
Hours later, Hugh was the first to arrive. He helpedZyaand I push aside our cots and smooth out the sand in preparation for the others. Kane, Roxy, and Darius arrived together, Roxy pulling two full length swords from the cloak on her back and tossing them into the sand before us.
We began our training with little fanfare. I went through the basic formations, simple moves designed to put your opponent off balance, and the basics of feet placement and breathing techniques.Zyawent through a list of touch points, spots to apply pressure to the body which would, with minimal impact, leave an opponent gasping for air or laying helplessly on the ground without feeling in their legs.
We were as quiet as possible and careful as well. We didn't allow the swords to touch, knowing there would be no louder sound in an encampment on high alert than that of steel on steel. And yet, only minutes after midnight, Roxy came to a sudden stop in her movements, the sword dropping to the sand as she stared, wide-eyed, at the tent flap behind me. I turned to follow her gaze and foundGryfonstanding in the open threshold, moonlight streaming in around him as he took in the state of the tent. I took a protective step forward, my long ponytail swishing to the side as I positioned myself between the warrior and my friends.
His gaze flicked over each of us in turn before landing, finally, on the stolen swords in the sand a mere few feet away. He raised his chin and I clenched my fists, prepared to launch myself at him to keep him quiet if necessary.
“Those moves won’t save you against aGeist,” he drawled instead, nodding slowly at where Roxy still stood in the center of the tent. “They don’t use blades. But that doesn’t mean a blade cannot be used against them.”
He pushed into the tent, letting the flap slide closed behind him, and strode gracefully across the sand to the fallen swords. He knelt to pick one up, flipping it swiftly in his hand once before catching it easily and pointing it at Roxy.
“Pick up your blade,” he commanded, that slow and lazy drawl making his smooth, velvety voice drop even lower.
Roxy gaped at him for only a moment before beginning to stoop, her hands shaking. I stepped toward her, placing a hand on her arm and nodding. She took the hint and breathed out a sigh of relief before stepping away. I reached for the sword myself, holding it out toward him as I rose back to my feet, my gaze narrowing on his. His lips spread into a slow smirk as his gaze drifted lazily from my face, downward. Evaluating my stance, I told myself, even as those piercing blue eyes flicked back to mine.
Then he moved. So quickly I hardly had time to parry the blow, raising my blade in front of me only a second before his slashed at my right cheek. The force of his strike shook the very bones of my arms all the way up to my chattering teeth but I merely grit them harder and pushed back against him.
“TheGeistuse magic centered around light,”Gryfonexplained, glancing around at my friends as he allowed me to push him away. “Light can be reflected by metal. It can be bent by a sword, reversed in direction. When you fight the gods, you’ll be fighting the light, not steel.”
I lunged for him, teeth bared, but he met my blow with hardly a glance, flicking his blade up to block mine with barely any effort at all.
“So stop fighting with steel,” he growled, turning to face me. “And use the dark.”
I raised my sword to strike again but he met my blow before it even fell, knocking the blade so I spun away from him, lost my footing, and fell straight onto my ass in the sand.
The sword landed only inches from my fingers. I reached for it but he was there, kicking it away, sending the steel skittering across the sand to the other side of the tent. Kane stepped forward but Roxy stopped him with a hand on his chest.Gryfonbent down until those piercing blue eyes were only inches from my own.
“Use the dark,” he repeated, his tone low and throaty and doing something to my insides that I would rather not dwell on.
“No,” I told him, firmly.
His jaw clenched and he rose to his feet. With one fluid move, he slammed the sword into the sand in the center of the tent so that it stood, hilt up, right in the middle.
“Then die,” he growled, turning his back on us as he headed for the exit. “All of you.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
