The Talented Page 3

  Rosch shook his head to clear it and was just sinking into his fighting stance when blasts from the warning horns filled the air. “Flaming Abyss,” Adrienne swore in disgust. “Follow me.” She ran for their things on the edge of the sparring ring.

  She picked up her own sword, tossed Rosch his, and they ran toward the western edge of the camp. Soldiers were lined up around the perimeter in various states of readiness. Most of the Yearlings, Rosch included, seemed to be in a mixed state of confusion and alarm, but all of the Kyrogeans were calm and ready for battle, even the man wearing only his smallclothes and holding a bared sword.

  “Well done,” Lieutenant Nissen announced to the soldiers standing ready near the outer wall of the camp. “Today was a drill, and we had the perimeter defended in less than ten minutes. Excellent job.” The self-satisfaction in his voice made Adrienne sick. He wasn’t proud of them and the fact that they would be able to defend Kyrog, he was proud that his section had been ready so fast.

  It would make him look good for the captain.

  “A drill?” Rosch asked, looking at Adrienne suspiciously.

  Adrienne looked away from the lieutenant and forced a smile, hiding her reaction to Nissen’s presence. She slapped the Yearling on the back in a show of reassurance. “We have drills periodically to test our preparedness. You did well.”

  “You knew what was going on?” Rosch demanded. “You knew it was a drill?”

  Adrienne shrugged and gave a slight shake of her head. “I suspected that it was a drill. The horns would sound the same, and I wasn’t warned ahead of time, but I doubt Kyrog will be attacked anytime soon. Even bandits are not so foolish as to attack a fully armed camp as large as ours.”

  “I didn’t know what the horns meant.”

  Adrienne had never thought to instruct him on camp procedures, and realized as his trainer that she should have done so. Mylig doubtless taught the new recruits camp procedure their first day of training—perhaps he even had them run drills like today’s in preparation.

  “There are always scouts and horn-blowers on watch around Kyrog, as well as on the walls. If there is ever an enemy force approaching the camp, three long blasts from a horn is the signal to guard the perimeter.”

  “Like today,” Rosch said.

  “Yes. I—and by extension you—am assigned to the middle-west edge of the camp. Wherever you are, whatever you are doing, when those horns blow you grab your weapon and get to the perimeter, whether you think it is a drill or not.”

  Rosch nodded, his eyes serious as he processed her instructions. There had been similar drills in Roua, but he could not remember one ever being carried out with the serious air that this one had. In Roua, drills were simply that. Drills. In Kyrog, drills were treated as seriously as an actual attack.

  “Now we need to get back to your training. If it’s not a drill next time, I don’t want you tripping over your own feet.”

  Rosch laughed until Adrienne gave him a look that said she hadn’t been joking about him tripping. Adrienne ran Rosch through kicking exercises, as well as various maneuvers to hone his jumping and dodging, until her own stomach protested putting off lunch for so long.

  “And we’re done. Take two hours,” Adrienne advised. “And sit with your legs up. They took a beating.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  With Jeral gone, Adrienne went in search of lunch and someone she could practice against. It was hard for her to find time to practice against other soldiers when she was devoting so much of her own time to Jeral.

  “Adrienne,” a too-familiar voice called out, interrupting her search for a likely opponent.

  Adrienne cringed, remembering the last close encounter she’d had with this man, but on the surface she was calm and unconcerned as she turned and stood at attention. “Yes, Lieutenant?” she asked, keeping her voice coolly professional.

  “I see you have gotten rid of your boy shadow,” Nissen said.

  Adrienne couldn’t stand his eyes on her, and crossed her arms over her leather-clad breasts in an unconscious gesture of defense. “I dismissed Jeral Rosch for lunch, Lieutenant.” And she wished now that she hadn’t. If she’d waited even a couple of minutes, she wouldn’t be alone with Nissen now.

  “We never got a chance to talk,” he said, glancing around for observers. The street was not deserted as it had been last time, but no one was paying them any attention. “Maybe you should come with me now. I have a lot to say to you. Especially after last time, when we were…interrupted.”

  Adrienne could not believe that this was happening again. He was not touching her, but she could see in his eyes exactly what he was thinking, and what he would do to her if he got her alone. “I have to go,” she said, turning and walking away from him. She pretended that she did not hear him call her name, and kept walking until the lieutenant was far behind her.

  “I was looking for you.”

  Startled, Adrienne looked up in surprise at being caught off guard. It was Ricco, his voice full of the easy confidence that was so much a part of him, his posture relaxed and unconcerned. “I was wondering if you wanted to practice with me.”

  Adrienne shook her head, trying to rearrange her thoughts.

  “No?” Ricco asked, clearly surprised. He gave her a more careful study, wondering what was wrong with her. “You sick or something?”

  “What?” Adrienne asked as Ricco’s initial question finally registered. “Practice. Right. We should practice.”

  Ricco looked at her askance. “I would guess the kid got in a lucky punch, but no punch rattles you that much.”

  Adrienne gave a jerky shrug in response.

  “Hey.” Ricco scanned their surroundings suspiciously. His eyes narrowed when he saw a familiar figure in the crowd. “What’d he do this time?”

  “Nothing,” Adrienne answered, too quickly.

  “What did that bastard—”

  “I can’t do this now,” Adrienne nearly shouted, her eyes blazing. She regretted the harsh tone almost instantly, but she couldn’t talk about it, and she couldn’t tamp down the anger entirely. “I can’t.”

  Ricco took a deep breath, and contrary to his nature, he seemed to let it go. “Still want to practice?”

  Despite being suddenly tired, Adrienne smiled. Ricco knew her well.

  “Yes, please.”

  Adrienne had planned to practice using swords, but after the most recent incident with Nissen she didn’t want to be careful with sharp blades, nor did she want the steel-cored wooden practice swords that could still hit hard enough to break bone. She wanted the feel of flesh on flesh, of bruised skin and torn knuckles, of having her hands on an opponent.

  Ricco must have read her mood, because he stripped off his own sword when they got to one of the small training grounds and set it aside. “Any rules?” he asked.

  Adrienne shook her head. “No. Let’s fight.”

  Adrienne didn’t pull her punches, and neither did Ricco. By tacit agreement they didn’t hit each other in the face. The bruises and swollen skin where fists connected with flesh were left for less visible parts of the body.

  Her booted foot connected with Ricco’s solid thigh in a kick hard enough to send vibrations up her leg, and she felt some of her stress melt away. Ricco grabbed her and threw her to the ground, and her blood fired as she rolled back up to her feet, burning out the last remnants of stress and worry. All that existed was her and Ricco and the battle between them.

  ••••••

  A week later, Adrienne knew something was deeply wrong. Tension was not at all unusual in Kyrog, people were being trained for war—to kill or to die—and it was not a restful process, but Adrienne could not remember a time of such sustained tension, and all directed at one person, in her twelve years at the camp. Though no one was directly defying his orders, it was clear that a large percentage of the unranked soldiers at Kyrog had suddenly developed a problem with Lieutenant Nissen.

  “What did you do?” Adrienne demand
ed when she was finally able to corner Ricco after dinner one night. He had been successfully avoiding her for days, even going so far as to cancel their training sessions.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Adrienne swore, shoving ineffectually at his broad chest. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” She couldn’t remember ever being more furious at her friend, and she pushed him again, infuriated that she could barely budge him.

  “I had to do something,” Ricco said. “You wouldn’t tell the captain, and after the second time…”

  Adrienne briefly entertained the thought of strangling Ricco. “Then tell me what you did!” Adrienne had told Ricco what had happened because she had trusted him to keep it to himself. It had never occurred to her that he would betray her trust.

  “I might have told a couple of men that the lieutenant made some inappropriate comments to you,” Ricco admitted, looking over her shoulder rather than meeting her eyes.

  “You what?” Adrienne shrieked. It was a surprisingly girly sound coming from her mouth, but the fear and the sliver of shame that ran through her was equally surprising and unwelcome. She glanced around to see who might have heard her, but for the moment they were alone.

  Ricco shrugged. “I didn’t tell them what happened in the alley…what he did or said,” Ricco defended. “I didn’t tell them about your reaction.” Adrienne took her first easy breath when she realized that the men did not know how shaken she had been, or how her hands had trembled after the encounter. “All they know is that Nissen disrespected you.”

  She closed her eyes and hoped to recover some of her calm before she gave in to the urge to strangle her friend. Ricco might not have told anyone exactly what had happened, but it wouldn’t have been that hard to guess. She comforted herself with the fact that Ricco was right, none of the soldiers would ever guess that Adrienne had been scared. She was known for her ability to stand calm and steady in the face of enemy swords. A woman who could do that would never be seen as the sort of woman to be scared by a man’s advances, unwelcome or not.

  “Did you tell the men to act like this?” she asked, wondering how that conversation might have gone and what further explanation he might have given.

  Ricco shook his head. “No. I didn’t expect half of this. But the men here respect you, Adrienne, and if they believe Nissen was out of line then they aren’t going to ignore it any more than I am.” He shrugged. “Besides, no one likes the bastard anyway. What he said to you is merely an excuse.”

  Adrienne still couldn’t believe that Ricco had told anyone, but it was somewhat heartening to know that so many in Kyrog were behind her without question, even if it meant walking the line of insubordination to treat the lieutenant the way they were. “You’re an idiot,” she said, “but thanks.”

  Ricco flashed one of his face-rending grins now that she seemed less likely to pull a knife on him.

  Adrienne rolled her shoulders to relieve the tension lingering there. “Any clue when things will go back to normal?” she asked. It was nice that the other soldiers supported her, but she didn’t like so much tension in the camp. What would happen if they were attacked? Would the divide between the enlisted and one of the officers put them in jeopardy?

  Ricco rolled his eyes. “I didn’t know any of this was going to happen,” he admitted. “Who knows when it will stop?”

  Since it seemed unlikely any action she took would help, Adrienne decided the best course of action was inaction. She would act as though there was nothing unusual about the current mood of the camp and wait for everything to go back to normal. “Want to train with me and Rosch tomorrow?” she asked.

  “The Yearling?” Ricco seemed surprised, and Adrienne realized it had been almost a month since she had begun training Rosch, and she had not invited Ricco to so much as observe their training sessions.

  “Why not? Besides…there might be some question about how the techniques I am teaching will work against soldiers larger than myself.”

  Ricco laughed until he realized she was serious. “He said that?” The look of disbelief was gratifying and justified the frustration Adrienne had been feeling at the Yearling’s constant doubting and questioning of her methods.

  “Words to that effect.” She recalled the recent conversation she’d had with the Yearling. “I believe it is my ‘short stature’ that worries him, like we have progressed far enough in his training that I’ve refined his moves based on a particular opponent’s size and skills.”

  Before Adrienne worked with Rosch on how to adapt his moves toward different opponents, he would have to internalize the basic moves to the point of instinct. He was still learning the basics, not the fine adjustments necessary to be most effective against people of different sizes and fighting styles. That training wouldn’t come until much later.

  “How is fighting me going to prove to him that your training is effective?” Ricco asked skeptically.

  Adrienne understood the skepticism. Rosch would have no more chance of beating Ricco than he did of beating Adrienne. It was something Adrienne had already considered when planning to pull Ricco into the training program.

  “The two of us will spar first,” Adrienne said. “Rosch can watch variations of the moves I’ve taught him, and if you’re already tired maybe he can last more than ten minutes.”

  “I thought you beat him in five,” Ricco said. Adrienne couldn’t tell if the offense in his voice was feigned or not.

  “He’s been training with me for weeks,” Adrienne pointed out. “And besides, everyone knows I’m a better fighter than you.”

  “Say that again when I beat you in front of the kid tomorrow.”

  ••••••

  Rosch stood off to the side, looking on with interest as Adrienne and Ricco faced each other in the training ring. The match was not taking place in the small ring located in the Yearling training grounds, but in one of the larger, nicer rings used by the more experienced soldiers. Adrienne had no problem training Rosch in the smaller ring, but Ricco had insisted on the change of venue. He did not often formally spar with Adrienne, and he wanted their fight to be visible to more than just the Yearlings.

  Neither of the two Kyrogeans held weapons. Swords would play no part in determining whether Adrienne or Ricco was the superior fighter. Though Rosch knew that the match had been set up in fun for his benefit, Adrienne was surprised to see the nerves on her trainee’s face as she squared up against her larger, more powerfully built friend. Ricco’s arms were as large as Adrienne’s thighs, and his broad chest would make two of her. His jaw looked hard enough to crush granite.

  Adrienne dropped into a low fighting stance, her brown eyes glowing with intensity, and with a wide grin that more resembled a predator’s bared teeth Ricco did the same. Adrienne clenched and unclenched her fists in anticipation of the coming match.

  Word had spread through Kyrog that Adrienne and Ricco had set up a sparring match, and other soldiers had gathered around to see the demonstration of superior skills. Quite a few of the Yearlings were there, doubtless to watch the female soldier they had all faced and been defeated by go up against Ricco, a soldier with more than six years of training in Kyrog and the scars to prove he’d seen action outside of the relative safety of the camp’s training grounds. The more experienced soldiers gathered to see what promised to be an interesting contest between the two superb contenders.

  Adrienne and Ricco trained together on a regular basis, but they rarely competed against each other in a formal way, and some men decided to take bets on the outcome.

  “Are you sure you want to risk embarrassing yourself this way?” Ricco asked, his voice taunting as they circled each other.

  “I’m ready to embarrass you,” Adrienne called back.

  Ricco’s right fist shot out in retaliation.

  Adrienne spun back to avoid the punch, and the game began.

  Ricco came at her like a bull, head down, relying on size and weight rather
than finesse to overwhelm her.

  Adrienne’s kick caught him in the solar plexus, using his own momentum against him, and had him doubling over long enough for another sweeping kick to take out his legs.

  He fell hard, raising a puff of dust, but Ricco was fast despite his bulky appearance. He leapt to his feet, dodged left, then right, to avoid another kick.

  He settled into a fighting stance similar to the one Adrienne had so painstakingly taught Rosch, but he didn’t stay still for long. A quick step forward brought him close enough to strike, and his fist very nearly connected with Adrienne’s cheek. She felt the wind from the near miss brush past her as she threw herself to the right.

  They dodged blow after blow, circling and attempting to strike, until Ricco managed to land a punch on Adrienne’s chin.

  Her head snapped back, and there were cheers and groans from the crowd as she staggered backward, barely managing to keep her feet.

  Money changed hands as the first blood was drawn.

  “You’ve a damned hard head,” Ricco said, shaking his hand out to alleviate some of the sting.

  Adrienne spat out a mouthful of blood from where she had bitten her tongue, circling Ricco warily. Her head was ringing, her vision just a little blurry. If this had been a normal training session, she might have decided to wait for her head to clear before continuing the fight.

  Since they were on display, she fought on through the dizziness.

  Ricco had her outmatched when it came to upper body strength, and if it came to a grappling match she stood no change, but her legs were strong. Jumps and kicks were something she had that Ricco didn’t, and she used them now.

  She kept Ricco on the move, twisting and dodging, and he cursed her as fists and feet flew by his head, missing by inches.

  He was tiring, and Adrienne took the chance of a flying leap, kicking out toward his head.

  She caught him right by the ear, and he went down. Hard.

  Adrienne walked over and put her foot on his chest. Ricco made only a feeble attempt to lift it off.