Angelfire | The Whispering Wall #3

Fifteen: Contingencies

Nova collapsed against the wall, panting hard.

Whatever her previous expectations of her deterioration in skill and fitness had been, they were shattered now.

She was so much worse than she'd thought.

Yddris seemed untouched by the exertion, leaning casually on his own sparring stick in the centre aisle. He was nothing more than a cloaked silhouette in the gloom, illuminated only by the lanterns he had lit himself. It didn't do much to make the tomb feel less intimidating. Unfortunately, it was the only place they could practice where there was almost a guarantee of being undisturbed.

"I can hear you pitying yourself from over here," Yddris said. "It sounds like a tiny violin."

She was also finding out why Thorne always seemed so disgruntled when he was summoned after training.

She grunted and got back up. Her knees threatened to give way underneath her.

"It's not self-pity," she muttered, trying to massage some strength back into them without much luck. "It's pessimism."

"Pessimism on session one," Yddris mused. "Off to a flying start."

"Are you always this annoying?"

"Annoying is a subjective judgement." The Unspoken leaned his stick against one of the tombs and pulled his pipe from an inside pocket. "But in short...yes. It's why I get on so well with my apprentices."

She snorted. "You seem to get on fine with Thorne."

"Thorne isn't confident enough to call me out on my demonshit yet," Yddris replied. "That's not the same thing."

"And Nika is."

"You've met him, then." Yddris snorted, but it wasn't a humorous sound.

She was just starting to catch her breath. Her muscles threatened a miserably stiff day tomorrow, but in that moment they just felt like they'd liquified. She'd tried; no one would be able to say she hadn't made an effort. Effort just didn't make up for ten years of abuse.

"I don't agree," she said. "Grace is constantly grumbling that Thorne sounds more like you every time she sees him."

Yddris laughed. "He can be a grouchy bastard too, I'll give you that."

But his aura was at odds with the humour in his voice. She didn't press it; in the gloom and privacy of the tomb, Yddris seemed more relaxed than she'd ever seen him. She didn't want to ruin the fragile peace that had developed in the time they'd been down here; while he had always been kind to her in his own rough way, and they had always been on friendly speaking terms, they were never close. She knew very little about him, when she took the time to think about it. It had just never been that kind of relationship.

"You did well." The compliment sounded strange and stilted, and she suspected he didn't often give them. She rolled her eyes, but he continued. "Your main problem is fitness, not skill. Once you've regained some strength you'll progress quickly."

"He'll notice," she said dully. "If I start looking too hale, he'll cotton on."

"Cross that bridge when we come to it." He cleared his throat. "I need to get back and meet Thorne."

At the reminder of Harkenn, it no longer seemed so comfortable. They spoke little as Yddris stashed their equipment behind the statue of a Firebull in the corner and they climbed the stairs. At the top, the courtyard seemed empty at first, but as Yddris set off one way and Nova began to meander at a much slower pace towards the kitchens, Jeorge stood up from the bench alcove he had been sitting in. She froze in place on the path, unable to help scowling. She had a hard enough time avoiding him when he didn't actively seek her out.