Page 19 of Commanding Flame and Shield
Her ever-present shadow—the man called Alec—followed behind her. He had silent confidence to his stride—the broad hold of his shoulders, the subtle, always present smirk on his face. But there was a gentleness in his light brown eyes that somehow disarmed me. He didn’t feel like a threat. Which, of course, made me wonder if that was intentional. He was, after all,the shield.Alvara said he was the strongest shield in the hierarchy. While I didn’t know the numbers behind the claim, I knew it meant I should respect whatever skills he had, hiding in that inevitably misleading exterior.
He ran his calloused hand through his shaggy, light reddish-brown hair. He wore it longer than the rest of them, and it came down below his jaw line. Slowly, eyeing me, he grabbed a bow.
“You are a strong one,” he chuckled. “I thought Alvara was pulling my leg. But this. This should make things more…interesting. I’m Alec.”
I nodded, already aware.
“I remember. I’m August Porter.”
He leaned back, assessing my frame before his light eyes found their way back to my face, still analytical. “I’ve been assigned to begin your training, August. Alvara wanted you to rest, but Aren thought you’d be up to start. How you feeling?”
“Fine. Let’s roll.” It would do me no good to show any of them weakness. As it was, I was still full from breakfast, and had more energy reverberating in my body than I could contain. While my mind was weary with information, I wanted to prove I had control of these new abilities. I wanted to prove I could go home and tell Layla I was okay. Whether I was demonstrating that to them or to myself, I hadn’t decided.
* * *
Training with Alec was…invigorating.He didn’t hold back the way Alvara seemed to. Instead, he seemed to like pushing my limits—he was constantly evaluating the way I moved, the way I rebounded when I fell. It seemed he was administering an unspoken test of my abilities. He was just slightly smaller than my new ‘ascended’ frame, and our capabilities were often even. This new body was just as fast, just as agile as his.
Broad, amused grin on his face, he raised his hand for a high five as we finished our run. I obliged quickly. I liked Alec, despite myself—in spite of some intrinsic knowing that his threat was more than he let on. As our hands met, an image flashed in my mind of a man in armor on horseback, frame squared to our attackers.
His smile faltered, and his eyes looked distant for a moment before he turned his dubious gaze back to me.
“Carlyle?” His voice was serious, and not really a question.
The name sent me into a vicious whirlpool of color and sound—countless images of a life I immediately knew to be a long-lost memory. Countless memories of battle, of hunger, the smell of horses and steel. The cry of the dying. The figure of a woman—my woman—slipping into a steaming spring surrounded by trees, only her long hair concealing her bare back. A moor draped in fog. Countless ships. So much blood. And a young man, bow slung around his scarred shoulder, mischievous smile always on his face, even in the direst of circumstances. His name laid heavy in my mouth. As the visions faded, I found myself queasy, as though I had been on the tilt-a-whirl for one too many rounds.
“Robert?” I retorted.
Alec’s eyes widened frantically, like a man coming up from the depth of the sea for air.
“Brother!” He bellowed, throwing his arms around my shoulders. I held him tight, eyes burning as the reality set in.
“Jesus Christ, it’s been a hot minute.” He shook his head.
“Holy shit—Agincourt?” I asked—it was my last memory.
“Among many. Christ, I never thought I’d see you again. I knew there was something about you. Bloody hell.” He shook his head again, as though to clear it. “No wonder you were so damn hard to kill. The way they followed you despite your rank—you were their shield then, too. Damn. Did any of your scars come through this round?”
“Scars?”
Alec turned his head to the side, pulling the neck of his t-shirt down to reveal a long, thin birth mark along the line of his shoulder. I could see the end of it peeking out of the hem of his short sleeve, across his bicep. Exactly where his scar had been. A blade, meeting its mark, slicing through his muscle. I had covered him as he retreated to the medics.
“Holy Shit! I don’t know. Of course, I’ve never known to look.” As the words came from my mouth, I thought of all my birth marks. Alec reached for my arm, grabbing it at the elbow and turning it towards me, tapping on a line of freckles along the bone there.
“I remember that one.” He chuckled before tapping my chest. “Any birthmarks above your heart?”
I eyed him curiously, thinking of the dark pattern that had always been there.
“That’s how they killed you, mate. At least in that life.”
I shook my head and took a steadying breath. This was bound to be a wild ride.
More memories made their way into my mind as Alec and I sparred. The man called Robert was in most of them. Hunting trips. Nights full of ale and chasing women. Endless marches. Miserable, eternal nights standing guard through pouring rain and sleet. And countless—literally countless—fights, brawls and battles. Agincourt was my last memory because that’s as far as I made it. I’d been stabbed by a French soldier after the battle, exhausted, and guard down in victory. I managed to slice down the man behind the blade, and then the world went black as night. Despite much encouragement, and incessant coaxing and coaching from Alec, I couldn’t jump into the next life.
“Ahh—you’ll get it,” he growled as he kicked my legs out from under me. I landed hard and winced as the fall rippled through my body. I deflected his next move quickly, rolling to avoid his attack. As the memories came back, I recalled his advances, his fighting style, the way he moved his body. He was my dear friend in that life, and we had survived too many violent encounters to count, side by side. Adept archers, but powerful swordsmen. The memories spilled through my muscles—new body remembering lessons from lives long past, much to my amazement. The motions flew through my limbs as though I’d done them a million times. I supposed I probably had. Just not in this life.
Eventually he had me in a choke hold, and I tapped out, aware he was more practiced in this body than I was. He was quick to his feet, and turned, reaching out a hand to help me to my own.
“You’re remembering quickly. I don’t know who you’ve been in your ascended lives. But if Carlyle was any indication, a fearsome being is all I can foresee now.” Alec slammed his fist to his chest, bowing his head the slightest bit before allowing that trademark smile I knew so well to slip back onto his face. He handed me a water bottle, and I gulped it down obediently. “And we share a gift, beyond battle now,” he tapped his scarred fingers to his temple and gave me a wink.
