WarriorsApprentice Read online

  That and the need to work his body hard to bury the strange feelings the sleeping boy had aroused in him. He’d returned with the sunblock and found Huon lying there, the dappled sunlight playing over his silver-blond hair, still eye-catching in spite of being clumped into sweat-soaked hanks. The long, slender line of his back was relaxed in the curve of deep slumber, his shoulders glowed from the unfamiliar heat of the sun. Some primitive, atavistic part of Tybor had stirred, made him do something that here, in his Spartan room, deep in the underground fortress of the cavern city, he shuddered to think of.

  What if Huon had woken, had confronted him, hadyelled,“What the fuck”?Tybor winced—“fuck” was not a word he should be using when thinking of Huon. Whatever words he might have said, the boy would have had every right to be outraged, offended and to make a public, formal complaint.

  And yet, for one brief moment Tybor had thought the boy was awake, that he knew.

  He sat up and scrubbed his hands across his face.

  He could not let himself be distracted by emotions more suited to a human than a Dvalinn warrior. He had four weeks to train the boy, two of them already gone, then he would have to send him up against the most determined killer of all the Gatekeepers.

  The Dvalinn did not remain deep underground by choice. They craved the light and freshness and beauty of the upper world, but since Gatekeepers had declared them the enemy, these vast caves were their only place of safety.

  Once, the Dvalinn had been able to go to the surface, feel the warmth of the sun, bathe in the glory of natural light—richer, denser than the pale-blue artificial glow of the Underworld. Few humans had ever seen them, even fewer had recognized them as something different, and those who had, steeped in old beliefs of the fae, had accepted them as a part of the mystical diversity of the world.

  But time and new religions had changed that. Those who were not human had been deemed to be evil. Militant groups had arisen, the Gatekeepers among the most secretive and strongest, dedicated to searching out and destroying Tybor’s kind.

  The Dvalinn still went above—need drove them too sharply to do otherwise—but they went in brief snatches, senses alert, wary of all humans. Gatekeepers tracked them, knew the places on the surface where the Dvalinn gathered. Waited and attacked.

  Tybor knew the names of the currently active Gatekeepers and Huon’s orders pitted him against the worst of them—a killer so powerful and so ruthless that to defeat him Huon needed all Tybor’s talent and experience concentrated on his training. Huon’s unexpected strength and resilience gave him a tiny flicker of a chance of survival. Anything that interfered with it, anything that marred his concentration, took his mind off the task, would ensure Huon’s death.

  Tybor had sent hundreds of young warriors to fight the Gatekeepers—had known he sent many of them to their deaths. He couldn’t stand the thought of Huon becoming one of them.

  * * * * *

  Huon leaped into the air and hurled the fireball, another handful of explosive clutched in his fist before he dropped to the ground. His skin glistened under a layer of sweat. In three weeks his fitness, strength and accuracy had developed so much that Tybor doubted if he could match him, let alone beat him. The boy’s endurance, his doggedness, helped him to survive every test, every long, punishing hour of training, never calling for quarter. He could hit the target each time, every time, under torturous physical duress. Tybor had nothing else to teach him, nothing else to do but send him up into the surface world to succeed in his mission or be killed in the attempt.

  Huon came to the end of the training circuit, dropped his hands onto his hips and turned to face Tybor, his pale face glowing a warm gold in the light of the setting sun. “That’s the best run I’ve done. What was my time?”

  Tybor shrugged. “Too slow. And you missed too many targets.”

  Huon’s breath rushed in on a gasp that had nothing to do with shortness of breath. “I hit them all.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Color rose in Huon’s face, painting bright-red slashes across his cheekbones. “I hit them. You know I did.”

  “And I say you didn’t. Go ’round again,” Tybor said.

  Huon’s fists clenched at his sides and his eyes burned, but lips clamped tightly together, he refilled his supplies of explosives and began the circuit of the clearing. One after another he hit the targets Tybor had erected, adding another layer of charring to the already blackened surfaces.

  The sun still hovered above the horizon when he once more confronted Tybor. “Well?”

  “You missed three,” Tybor snapped.

  Huon stretched himself up to his full height. “Bullshit. You know I didn’t miss any. What’s wrong with you? Are you blind?’

  Tybor leaned forward and poked Huon’s chest with his finger. “You missed three. And you were slow. Do it again.”

  The red of exertion faded, leaving Huon’s face livid. His skin stretched tightly across his bones, but he nodded shortly and turned and ran the circuit again. And hit every target with the same accuracy as before. His anger lent him extra speed.

  He faced Tybor again, his eyes narrow. “You gonna lie about it again, old man?”

  Tybor lifted one shoulder. “If I said you missed three, you missed three, boy.”

  Huon stamped forward, jaw jutting aggressively, his voice shaking with the force of his temper. “No one could run that circuit better than that. I’m ready to goto the surface now!” He took a pace away then spun back. “You know what? You’re jealous.”

  Tybor laughed and let his lips curl into the sneer he’d perfected to put raw recruits in their place. “Jealous? Of a little maggot like you? I’m just disgusted that I’ve managed to teach you nothing. Go round again.”

  “Why? You know I got a perfect round.” In Huon’s voice Tybor could hear the plea for justice.

  Tybor leaned forward. “You missed,” he insisted.

  “No!”

  Huon launched himself forward, springing into the air, colliding with Tybor and knocking him off his feet. Tybor hurtled backwards, landing with a thud on the pine-needle-strewn ground.

  Huon landed on top of him, knees astride his chest, mouth distorted into a rictus of rage. His hands clamped on Tybor’s shoulders, lifted and shook him.

  “Bastard.” Another shake. “I hit them all.” He pounded Tybor’s head against the hard surface beneath. “Admit it.”

  A jolt of pain shot up from the back of Tybor’s head and his vision blurred. He roared and surged upward, tossing Huon off him as if he were no more than a toy.

  “Who the hell do you think you are, boy? Back the fuck off.”

  Huon picked himself up, a film of dust and pine needles clinging to his damp skin. “Yeah right.” He faced Tybor, eyes grim and steady. “You’re my superior officer. Gonna put me up on charges? Gonna chuck me off the program?” His lip curled. “You’re too fucking proud to admit I’m better than you and too fucking scared to fight me.”

  Tybor’s eyes narrowed. “You think you can beat me in a fight, little boy? Come on then. No ranks, no consequences.”

  He made a taunting “come on” gesture with his hand and Huon flew at him. Tybor blocked him with an elbow to the stomach that would have winded almost anyone Tybor had ever gone up against. Huon staggered back, but only until he put out a foot, centered his weight and charged again. Tybor side-stepped, but Huon landed a solid punch on Tybor’s jaw.

  Tybor’s head snapped back, but before Huon could follow through with a second punch he twisted, grabbed Huon by the shoulder and threw him over his hip.

  Huon’s eyes glazed and he bellowed in his rage, scrambling to his feet, hands diving into the pocket where he kept the explosives.

  Tybor stepped forward, wrapped his hand around Huon’s wrist and squeezed. “This is personal, boy. Just you and me. Save your weapons for human enemies.”

  Uncurling his fists in his pockets, Huon gasped, “Man to man.” He drew a deep breath. “I can still beat yo
u.”

  When he closed in again, Tybor grabbed him, but oil and sweat made Huon’s skin slippery and Tybor’s hands slid down the muscled shoulders across the flat planes of his back. Huon wrapped his arms around Tybor’s torso and squeezed, trying to push him off his feet.

  Releasing his hold, Tybor brought his hands around to his sides and drove up with his forearms, breaking Huon’s arms apart and freeing himself.

  Both men stepped back, breathing heavily, circling sideways, trying to spot an opening that would allow a match-winning move.

  “Had enough?” Tybor taunted.

  Huon laughed breathlessly. “I’m younger than you, old man. I’ll outlast you.”

  Tybor snorted. “I could break you in—”

  Before he’d finished speaking, Huon leapt into the air, spinning into a roundhouse kick. Tybor ducked, caught Huon’s foot mid-flight and wrenched him down to the ground. As he fell, Huon lifted his other leg and hooked it around Tybor’s shin.

  Tybor toppled, following Huon to the ground and landing on top of him with a wet smack. Air rushed out of Huon’s lungs, hitting Tybor’s face in a hot blast.

  Huon’s chest, pressed up against his own, rose in a shuddering, shaky breath, the movement rubbing their sweat-slicked skin together. Tybor’s nerve endings flashed. The fires of rage burned away, leaving a blue, sizzling arc of raw desire.

  From chest to toe, their bodies connected, groins aligned, cock lying on cock.

  Tybor twisted sharply and rolled to his side, struggling to his feet. Fuck, if Huon had felt the iron-hard ridge of his cock, he’d think…

  Tybor closed his eyes. “Get on your feet, boy,” he said gruffly. “This is over.”

  Huon didn’t reply. Tybor couldn’t hear the sound of rustling pine needles as Huon got to his feet, or the harsh rasp of oxygen-starved lungs. Shit, maybe he’d killed the boy. He opened his eyes and looked straight into Huon’s dazed blue ones.

  Huon had pushed himself to his elbows and stared open-mouthed at the bulge that tented Tybor’s fatigues. Then he dropped his gaze to the evidence of his own arousal. “Sir? Tybor… I…”

  Tybor forced himself to shrug. “It’s a combat-related thing. Happens in the heat of battle all the time.” He twisted his face into a sneer. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

  He turned and began packing up the training equipment. “I’ll make my report as soon as we get back. Your training’s over. You’re ready.” He paused and spoke over his shoulder. “And this fight never happened.”

  * * * * *

  Huon marched silently in Tybor’s wake. Even if Tybor had been the chatty type, which he most emphatically was not, Huon couldn’t have thought of a thing to say. Getting a hard-on at a time like that! One minute wanting to pound Tybor’s face into the dirt and the next minute wanting to… He couldn’t say it, even to himself. The Dvalinn didn’t do that. Sex was a brief encounter between a man and a woman. It was physical or designed for procreation. It didn’t involve emotions. It didn’t explain the strange, breathless feeling he got around Tybor.

  The awkward silence continued. Huon had no idea what to say. Better to take the explanation Tybor had offered and ignore the heat making his skin feel tight and uncomfortable.

  The muscles of Tybor’s hips flexed with each determined stride. Pine needles and dust clung to his oiled back, the soft gray coating hiding the skin darkened to a deeper brown by his time on the surface. Huon huffed out a sigh. He had always hated his own white skin, paler than anyone’s he had ever seen, marking him out as different. Combined with his skinny frame it had made him a target for all the schoolyard bullies who’d picked on him while he was growing up.

  He supposed he ought to be grateful to them. Their taunts and blows had driven him to make himself the best he could be. He couldn’t change his color, couldn’t thicken his slender build, but he could push himself—lift weights, train to the point of injury, back off until he recovered, then train again. He still looked fragile but his appearance had deceived more than the stubborn man ahead of him.

  Tybor reached the portal point and waited for Huon to catch up. He stood, feet planted wide, arms folded across his chest. “That was our last training session. Tomorrow you’ll start your assignment.”

  Before Huon had a chance to react, Tybor shimmered away. Huon took a last look around the clearing and followed him.

  When Huon rematerialized, the captain of the guard stood side by side with Tybor, waiting for him, their grim-quotient ramped up to maximum.

  Because he was still confused and pissed off with Tybor, Huon refused to snap to attention in spite of the glare the captain directed at him.

  “The boy hasn’t got a good grasp of military discipline,” Tybor said. “So there’s no point waiting for it.”

  “You were supposed to train him,” the captain complained. “If you’ve failed…”

  “He hasn’t failed,” Huon responded. “You tell me who to fight and I’ll kill him. I’ll be fucked if I salute him first, though.”

  Tybor’s lips twisted into a smile. “Insubordinate as usual.” Then he sobered. “He’s right, though. He’s as good a fighter as you’ll see.”

  “Then he’s ready?” the captain asked.

  When Tybor didn’t reply, Huon turned pained eyes on him. Surely after all this he didn’t still have doubts?

  The captain turned to Huon. “You’ve heard of Brian Hopewood.”

  Tybor leaned against the wall, his dark-brown eyes staring over Huon’s head, arms crossed over his chest in a gesture of disengagement. Only the muscle flexing beneath the two-day stubble covering his jaw gave the lie to his detached posture.

  “The most dangerous Gatekeeper the humans have ever produced,” Tybor said.

  Huon’s teeth clamped together and he nodded, the name coming as no real surprise to him. The list of known Gatekeepers Tybor had drilled into him always began with Hopewood. The most rabid and fanatical of the Gatekeepers and the most determined to destroy the Dvalinn.

  The captain kept speaking and Huon’s brain raced, trying to fill in the gaps left by his distraction.

  “There have been three separate, devastating attacks in the last month. Three communities entirely wiped out.”

  “Entirely? All gone?” Nausea roiled in Huon’s stomach but he bit down on it. He would not betray Tybor’s training by showing weakness in front of the captain.

  “Why haven’t I heard about this?” Tybor’s air of detachment vanished and he snapped to attention, radiating power and rage.

  The captain looked up, lips pulled into a straight line. “We deliberately suppressed the news to avoid panic. Only those with a direct need to know were told. Now you need to know.” The captain’s narrowed lips whitened. “It was carnage. Babies, women, the old and sick…Hopewood spared no one.”

  Every torment, every jibe, every unreasonable request Tybor had made of Huon had prepared him for this moment. Huon’s fists clenched by his sides but he spoke with quiet control. “I’ll find him and I’ll kill him.”

  The captain shook his head. “It’s not that simple. Hopewood has gathered together a group of Gatekeepers under his control, in a central location.”

  “What the fuck?” Tybor’s expletive burst into the room. “Gatekeepers always work alone.” Tybor pulled himself away from the wall. “Why has that changed?”

  The captain shook his head. “We don’t know. Nor do we know how Hopewood assembled the members of his team or why they have agreed to work together. We don’t even recognize the weapon they used. It delivered a massive bolt of destructive energy and was something far different from the guns and explosives we associate with humans.”

  “Don’t tell me what you don’t know,” Tybor burst out. “You must have some information about these fucking massacres.”

  “We sent spies to the surface after the first attack. One reported back with some information. The other two were captured and used as conduits for the second and third attacks.”

 
“What information did your spy get?” The shakiness in Tybor’s voice echoed the horror Huon felt.

  “The weapon Hopewood used was developed by a post-graduate physics student Hopewood brought onto his team.” The captain swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing sharply. “With the help of this physicist, Hopewood is able to penetrate the wards the Dvalinn place around themselves when they go to the surface world. He must be stopped.”

  “Why not send someone who has had more experience, someone who has fought against Gatekeepers before…and survived? Send a whole contingent of fighters.” As soon as he spoke, Huon realized his words could be misinterpreted. “I’m not afraid. I just want to know, why me?”

  “Your particular characteristics… No one else…” The captain’s face turned a mottled red. He cleared his throat, opened his mouth, then shut it again.

  Tybor took a step forward. “What the captain is unable to say is… The Gatekeepers know what we Dvalinn look like. You don’t conform to that image.” Tybor poked a finger at him. “You are…”

  A familiar acid burn started in Huon’s stomach. He held up a hand. “Don’t say it. I’ve heard it all my life. Too pale, too skinny, too weird.”

  “But that’s the very reason we chose you for this mission,” the captain interjected. “While there are human beings who look just as we do, there are no other Dvalinn who look like you. You look so different to the rest of our kind.” The captain’s brow knitted as he tried to explain. “Human forms and features vary greatly. Generally speaking, ours don’t. You don’t fit the Gatekeeper’s experience of what the Dvalinn look like. You will be able to move among them without arousing their suspicions.”

  Tybor had once more distanced himself, remaining silent, his gaze fixed far beyond the rock walls of the cavern.

  “So my job is to find the Gatekeeper headquarters, wait until they’re all gathered there and blow it up,” Huon said with as much confident assurance as he could muster.