“Dude, that’s so not the right thing to—”
“Come on!” Snarling, Corian shot another streak of lightning at her head.
The halfling ducked, then whirled to watch the silver attack crash against the warded dome around the island. “You were trying to hit me in the face, weren’t you?”
“No, I was trying to motivate you.” The Nightstalker dropped into a squat and slapped both hands on the dirt. Dozens of snaking silver lines crackled across the ground toward the half-drow.
Cheyenne stepped back and shoved forward with both hands. The ground erupted in front of the closest bolt, spraying dirt and dry grass and sending dart after dart of hissing silver light shooting into the air. She glanced briefly up at the deflected magic and grinned. Okay…
When she shoved again, the earth buckled away from her, rolling in a wave almost impossible to see before bursting beneath Corian’s feet and flipping him through the air. A spray of dirt and clods of dry earth rained down around them. Once they settled, she found Corian squatting a few yards behind where she’d hit him, fingertips pressed to the ground while his splayed feet balanced his landing.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re kidding.”
“Cats land on their feet, right?” The Nightstalker cocked his head and stood, dusting off his hands. “That was good. Nothing like the first time in the meadow, but at least you hit your target.”
Yeah, I bet he’s got nine lives, too. “That happened because you pissed me off.”
“Then get pissed, Cheyenne. We’re not finished.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
With the wind knocked out of her, Cheyenne rolled onto her side and tried to ward her mentor off by raising a hand in surrender. “Okay, man. Okay. I think we’re finished.”
“I’m pretty sure the guy training you gets to decide that one.” Chuckling, Corian stepped toward her and nodded. “But it looks to me like you might be done for the night.”
“Yeah, good idea. Too bad I didn’t think of that.” When he leaned down and offered her his hand, the halfling snorted but took it. He pulled her to her feet, and she hissed in pain. “Ow. I honestly can’t tell what hurts more.”
“What are the options?”
“Everything.” She tried to smirk but ending up grimacing again as she slowly brushed dirt and pebbles and dry grass off her clothes.
“That’s a sign of improvement.”
“Huh. Doesn’t feel like it.”
“It will. When you can feel anything but pain again.” He laughed when she shot him a warning scowl. “That was good, kid. You worked hard. You focused. Still got a ways to go, but you’re getting there.”
“I have a feeling you’re gonna keep telling me that, no matter how many times I end up on the ground.”
“As many times as it takes.” Folding his arms, Corian turned around to take in their impromptu sparring ring. Almost all the grass had been uprooted by spears of rock jutting up from below the surface or snaking lines of upturned earth. A huge sheet of the steep earthen wall beyond the prison building separated from the rest and dropped with a thump to the lower level. “I think we’ve just about used this place up.”
Cheyenne snorted. “Ya think?”
The Nightstalker walked across the mess they’d made of Alcatraz Island and stooped to collect his potion ingredients and the intricate silver box off the ground. Pebbles and dust rained off the lid when he blew across it. “I’ll come back and do a little cleanup later. You should get home and try to sleep off those bruises.”
“Right. ‘Cause they’ll magically disappear if I get enough sleep.”
Sticking the box under one arm, Corian cast the spell to open a portal back to his basement in Richmond and nodded for the halfling to join him. “You know, I used to look forward to a good stiff drink after sparring and then heading to bed. Might help if you’re hurting too much to sleep.”
“You didn’t beat me up that much, cat man.” Rubbing the sore shoulder she’d landed on too many times to count, Cheyenne snatched up the copper legacy box and moved toward him until they both faced the open portal hovering above Alcatraz Island. “And unless you have a bottle of something buried in your shelves somewhere, I’m gonna have to pass. If I walk into a store looking like this, people will not sell me alcohol.”
Corian snorted and gestured for her to step through the portal. When she did, the salty, fishy tang of the ocean air was replaced by the smell of dust, cement, metal, and something a little like oranges. Then the Nightstalker joined her in his basement, and the portal shrank out of existence.
“I’m sure you’ll figure out what works.” He went to the metal shelves along the wall and carefully replaced the silver box before tossing everything else haphazardly onto different piles.
“Yeah, I’m getting pretty good at that.”
Chuckling, he turned back around and folded his arms. “You’re getting better. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see it. And you can take a hit.”
“Or ten.”
“We’ll see if that number’s any bigger next time.” Corian peered at the metal door of his basement apartment and flicked his fingers at it. The orange light of his wards flashed and receded. “You’re good to go. After you put the pendant back on.”
With a nod, the halfling pulled the pendant out of her pocket and lifted it around her neck before tying another knot. She didn’t have to think about slipping back into her human form; the Heart of Midnight did it for her. “I have one more question to ask before I head out.”
The Nightstalker’s nose twitched. “If it’s about anything I’ve already said I can’t answer, Cheyenne, I have to—”
“No, not any of that stuff. It’s more like a favor, actually.” She glanced at the metal door.
“A favor.” Corian folded his arms and raised his eyebrows, leaning against the overstuffed shelf. “Go ahead, then.”
What’s
