Fire

The Burning Question

After another attempt we called it quits, and I said goodbye to Juku and headed over to watch Asher practice. He was sparring with a man his height, a frost jotun by the look of his white-blonde hair. Both of them were shirtless and…well, really well built, I’ll admit it. I was really obvious about staring, but at least I could pretend I was looking because of the fighting. I was simply enjoying the…um, technique. Right.

It wasn’t like I knew anything about sword play, but Asher seemed to be really good at it. He danced back, blocking each blow his opponent tried to land. The match ended with the blond jotun on his back, the tip of Asher’s sword hovering at his throat. Asher offered him a hand up, and the two clapped one another on the back, nodding before going their separate ways.

“So, I don’t know anything about fighting, but it looks like you won,” I said.

Asher grinned, wiping sweat from his forehead, still breathing heavily, “I am the glorious champion of the training room, oh yes!”

“Oh come now, young prince. You haven’t challenged me yet.” Juku strolled past, shooting this last bit over his shoulder, “call me when you want to fight a real man.”

Asher just rolled his eyes and ignored the jab, leaning against the wall to rest, “how was your training? He’s a barrel of laughs, huh?” He watched my face carefully, and I wondered if he could possibly be jealous. The idea was kind of appealing, but there was no way I would be one of those girls that flirts with every breathing male around just to try to make a point, so I just shrugged, “he’s okay. A bit cocky.”

He didn’t say anything else about it, but I could tell he was happy with my assessment of the trainer. Asher hooked one arm over the other, stretching, arching his back. I looked at the floor, at the ceiling, over at the archery practice…anything to avoid staring at him and being totally obvious about checking him out. A flash of white from the other side of the room caught my eye. It was the woman I’d met yesterday, Charlotte. She was standing in front of a fabric target, gesturing with both hands, white sleeves flowing as she moved. There was a girl beside her, slender and fine boned, slightly taller than the witch herself. She was obviously being coached. The girl moved suddenly, raising her hands, flinging them out towards the target. Something glittered through the air, too fast to see, and there was a loud “chunk” as something long and shining embedded in the fabric. It took a few more seconds of watching to figure out what it was. She was throwing ice daggers. Now that was cool.

“Neat huh?” Asher had obviously noticed what I was looking at, “that’s Charlotte and her apprentice, Lettisha. She’s already a frostie, and then she can use her magic to guide them, sorta like missiles. They do target practice a couple times a week.”

“That’s…cool…” It was still hard to get my head around this. Right, there was magic. All that existed. That shouldn’t be too hard to believe, since I’d just been playing with fire a few minutes ago, but it was still…strange.

“So, you guys just use swords and magic and stuff?” I glanced down at Asher’s broadsword, “no guns?”

He grimaced, “it’s sort of an unwritten rule. We aren’t immune to guns any more than the next person, and bringing them into play would be really stupid. It would make the battles shorter, but considerably more bloody. We’ve just never done it. It’s…tradition I guess. Nobody wants it…as far as I know.”

Nobody, huh? I frowned, there was no way I could see Kari forgoing something that would put such an edge on her fight. I hesitated, “Asher, I think…I think Kari would.”

He looked uneasy for moment, “we’ve thought of that. We’re keeping an eye on them, and so far there’s no hint of it…but…” he darted a look around the room and his voice dropped lower, “I’m…afraid sometimes, that my parents don’t take her seriously enough. I think you’re right. I think she’d use anything she could get her hands on. She’d have to get them from the human world, smuggle them in without us seeing them…” he shrugged, “there’s no sign of it yet.”