It was well worth the wait.
“You’re amazing.” I looked into those eyes like a forest fading into infinity.
“You’re not so bad yourself, initiate,” she said with a little laugh.
Our bodies pressed hot and heavy against each other, my skin tingling at her touch. She ran fingertips across my chest, my arms, my face. Then, she shifted my hips and spoke a few words. She guided me how to touch her, how to take her.
Her breath quickened. Mine came faster too.
Faryn flung her head back, pressed her hand against her mouth, and stifled an excited cry. A moment later, I did the same as our bodies shuddered together.
Faryn and I lied together amid the heaps of cushions, kissing, teasing, stroking each other’s bodies. She pulled sheets down off the shelves to keep us warm.
“That was amazing,” I said.
“I forget how young you are,” she said with a laugh. “It will get so much better with time.”
“Better?” I grinned. “So, we’ll be doing this again?”
She kissed my neck, my shoulder, down across my chest. “I hope so. If we can find the chance.”
Through the wall, I heard two people grunting—one voice male, the other female.
I laughed. “Sounds like we’re not the only ones sneaking away for some fun.”
Faryn tilted her head to one side, raised a pointed ear, and shook her head. “That’s not sex,” she giggled. “That’s fighting. Trust me, after a century, you learn to tell the difference between the two.”
Despite the undeniable pleasure of lying there with her, I was curious to see what was going on. I slid out from under the sheets and started pulling on my clothes.
Faryn sighed and did the same. “So young.” She put on a tone of mock exasperation. “So impatient.”
“Thank you.” I clasped her hands, kissed her fingers, and smiled. “That was beautiful. You are beautiful.”
“Enough chatter. I know you want to see what all the commotion is about. Don’t wait on account of me.”
Once dressed, Faryn unbolted the door, and we both stepped out into the cool, night air. The stars winked in the darkness above us, and a full moon shone down, but far more light came from the flaming brands that lit the arena.
We walked toward that light and weaved our way through the wooden scaffolding that held up rows of seats for spectators. There was a gap for the entrance to the arena, and we stopped there, still hidden by the shadows of the seats while we watched the combatants.
One was a petite woman of around 20, only five and a half feet tall, her long, brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She was dressed in loose, blue trousers and a form-fitting tunic of hardened leather, with brass vambraces protecting her forearms. She fought with swift, sharp movements, her attacks stopping and starting rather than flowing into each other as she shifted between stillness and action in the passing of a heartbeat. It took me a moment to recognize her as the student who had asked about clans in our history class.
Facing her was another initiate, one I hadn’t met but whom I couldn’t help but stare at. He stood over seven feet tall in his bare feet, which were clawed just like his hands. Fur wraps covered his legs and over them was a kilt made from strips of heavy leather, tied at the waist with a belt of red cloth and a gleaming steel buckle. He fought shirtless, exposing swathes of gray skin as well as the fur that sprouted from his shoulders. Pointed ears protruded through long, white hair, but he was too burly and hairy to be an elf.
The woman darted and weaved around the giant, using leaps and kicks to strike high and low. His movements were slower, but he still blocked most of her attacks and countered with his own from time to time.
“Is he some sort of orc?” I asked Faryn.
“A half-ogre,” she said. “His name is Kegohr. A lot of the other initiates look down on his race, so he has to prove that he belongs. That’s why he’s out here so often.”
“And her?”
“Vesma has a lot to prove too. She’s from one of the smaller clans. Some of the others objected to her joining, saying her people lack the status to send her here.”
“Let me guess; Clan Wysaro were among the objectors?”
“And I thought you hadn’t learnt anything!”
I watched the fight sway back and forth, the first time I’d seen any of my fellow initiates in action.
“I might join them,” I said. “See what the competition’s made of, maybe practice my Augmentation.”
Faryn chuckled. “I’ll leave you to it.” Her hand briefly brushed mine before she disappeared into the night.
I stepped out from beneath the seating and strode into the arena, straight toward the combatants. As I approached, they stopped and turned to look at me, Kegohr with his vast fists planted on his hips, Vesma with her arms folded in front of her.
“What do you want?” she snapped.
“I want to join in,” I said. “To get some practice.”
“This is private. Go find your own punching bag.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Kegohr said, his voice a low growl. A pair of fangs protruded from between his lips, but they did nothing to impair his speech. “Isn’t this the guy that sent Hamon into a fury? Effin something, yeah?”
“Ethan Murphy.” I held out my hand. “Uh . . .lo Pashat?”
I felt a little awkward introducing myself with my new clan name, but Kegohr shook my hand all the same, his mighty palm dwarfing mine.
“I like him,” Kegohr said to Vesma.
She remained unmoved. “Why?”
“He’s the elementalist. Everyone’s been talking about him. Wood and fire. Real talented. I figure he’s the kind of guy we want on our side.”
I smiled at him. “I have the
