Book 4: Chapter 43: Duel

Book 4: Chapter 43: Duel

Victor sat on the couch in the parlor where Blue’s staff had directed him, and he watched Tes quietly as she helped Valla prepare for the duel that was due to start in the next few minutes. Valla stood, back straight, eyes closed, Midnight held before her with its—her—point resting on the carpet. She wore one of her legion uniform shirts, the ones she usually wore under her half-coat uniform blazers. The shirt was white, perfectly form-fitting, with a high collar and not a single wrinkle to be seen. Her black pants were trim, close-fitting, and tucked into knee-high black boots polished to a mirror sheen.

As always, Valla’s hair was perfectly coiffed, held close to her scalp with silver barrettes. Victor thought she looked exceptionally pretty and vulnerable, and he began to worry in earnest for her safety. Objectively, he knew there was nothing new that should be making him worry more; he’d just seen her standing there, face serene, eyes closed, concentrating as she listened to Tes, and some instinct in him wanted to protect her. Still, he wished he were the one getting ready to fight; how hard it was to watch someone else do it for a change!

The announcement had gone out the day before that the duel would be one of weapon skill alone. Each combatant was allowed her chosen tool of battle but no armor. The rules were simple; the first to yield or be struck three blows that drew blood would lose. Should one of those blows prove fatal, that was the nature of combat—there was always some risk. Tes was confident in Valla, though, and she said she’d figure out what Blue was up to, why he was sure Reis would win. She hadn’t gone into details, but she’d insisted to Victor and Valla the night before that she was sure she could counter anything they might do to interfere.

Victor had complained that a year of servitude was worth far more than five measly tokens. Tes had agreed but pointed out that Blue was acting as though Reis was giving Valla a gift by changing the terms of combat; without using Energy-based spells, much of her higher-level advantage went away. Victor had seen the wisdom in going along with the change, even with the disparity in wagers, especially when Valla insisted she wanted to fight.

“Do you see it? Can you picture how you’re going to strike her? She’ll be fast, and that sword of hers is meant for dueling, but she doesn’t know you’re a Sword Dancer. She doesn’t know about Midnight and your epic-level skill. You’ll have a counter for all her strikes; just believe in yourself.” Tes had her hands on Valla’s shoulders, gently squeezing them and speaking softly into her ear, and Victor knew that if he hadn’t been included in her privacy spell, he wouldn’t be able to hear what she said.

“I’m ready, Tes,” Valla nodded.

“Good. I want you to take this now; I’m not sure how things will play out over the next few days, and I don’t want to forget.” Tes reached over to her left hand and began to twist a tiny, silvery ring off her pinky. Victor could have sworn her fingers hadn’t had any jewelry on them, but there it was. She handed Valla the ring and said, “The books, scrolls, and tomes I promised you. If you and Victor are successful in your conquest back home, these will help you build a truly remarkable society.”

“Tes, I . . .” Valla took the ring, slipped it onto her own pinky, and then turned to hug Tes, putting her chin on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, focus. You’re going to be . . .”

“It’s time,” a blue-liveried servant announced, poking his head through the door. “They want her out front; everyone’s gathered on the carriage lane.”

“We’ll be right behind you, Valla,” Tes said.

“Kick her ass,” Victor added, standing up. He walked over to Valla and, because he’d always appreciated simple gestures before a fight, he held out his fist and grinned as Valla bumped his knuckles with hers.

“This way,” the servant badgered.

“Right. See you soon,” Valla said, offering Victor a bright smile. As he nodded his encouragement, she hefted Midnight Hope, resting the dark star-speckled blade on her shoulder, and followed the servant out the door.The initial posting of this chapter occurred via N0v3l.B11n.

“I have something for you as well, Victor,” Tes said.

“Huh? You already gave me my armor; it’s enough. C’mon, this day is about Valla.”

“There’s likely to be a bit of an upheaval around here when Valla wins, Victor. Let me give you this; I’ve been holding it for a while.” Tes held out her hand, and a gallon-sized jar appeared in it. It was dark, and Victor thought the glass was tinted, but then he realized the contents were black, and the jar was full to the brim, the contents held in place by a rune-etched, silvery lid.

“What is it?” he asked, reaching out to receive the gift. As Tes set the jar in his hands, he felt it—deep, powerful Energy and a taste of something familiar, a lick of Energy that sang to his fear attunement.

“This is the night brute prince’s heart. Take it, Victor; hold onto it until you’ve gained more strength; eat your ancient wyrm heart before consuming this one.”

“Oh shit,” Victor said, hefting the jar, savoring the depth of its power. “I didn’t know you got this . . .”

“I wasn’t sure I’d give it to you back then. Now I am. Come, put that away, and let’s go watch our friend.” Tes turned and walked out the door, and Victor followed after her after tucking the heart away with his others. They’d only walked a few yards down the hallway when Tes paused, though, and Victor saw her sniffing the air. She said, “I don’t like the energy in the air, Victor. Something is afoot, perhaps more than I bargained for. Should we grow separated, do you know where to find Boaegh’s tower?”

“No, you never told us . . .”

Victor jerked his gaze back to the fight in time to see Reis dart forward, quick and nimble, and then Valla gasped in pain as that bright, sparking rapier tore through the air and pierced the top of her thigh. Reis barked a savage, short laugh and backpedaled long before Valla could sluggishly cleave downward with Midnight.

“Two for Reis!” Blue announced, lifting his arms, signaling the crowd to cheer. Most of them did, but Victor wasn’t the only one who could see something was wrong. Some muttering sounded among the observers, and Blue frowned. Victor could see he was debating whether he should exhort them to silence after he’d just encouraged them to cheer.

Suddenly Tes released Victor’s wrist, and she strode into the circle. Her voice rang out, “A moment, dear War Captain Blue. I fear there’s been a mistake.” Valla stood to Tes’s left and leaned forward, resting her hands on her legs—the front of her white shirt was entirely red now, and Victor knew her leg was bleeding just as severely.

Reis danced from side to side on the other side of Tes and shrieked with blood lust, “What’s this? Forfeit!”

“What is this, indeed, Lady Tes? Do you seek to intervene for your young companion?” Blue asked, stepping into the circle. “Warlord, don’t you think this is grounds for forfeiture?”

“Perhaps so. What’s the matter, Lady Tes?” The warlord kept his position on the edge of the circle, a look of slight amusement in his eyes.

“Oh, I think when you see the issue, you might agree to allow Captain Valla to continue with the duel. Here, observe, Warlord and War Captain.” This time it was Tes’s turn to sneer as she spat the honorific. She held her hand out over the center of the grassy circle, and, with a slight rumble and the squelch of damp soil and grass, a long, rune-carved, circular rod of stone lifted from the ground.

“Isn’t this strange?” she asked, a savage grin on her face. She lifted the yard-long stone rod and held it over her head. “Can you feel it now?” She strode forward, closer to the warlord and war captain, holding the stone rod over her head as though it were a broomstick. “How odd to find a siphoning stone here, one meant to drain way air and earth attuned Energies. Why, what a strange coincidence—the very affinities within Captain Valla’s Core.”

“What’s this?” the Warlord asked, staring pointedly at Blue.

“I have no idea! A scandal! Lady Tes, did you place that there to discredit me?”

Tes snorted, and suddenly the rod winked out of existence, presumably sent into one of Tes’s storage devices. Valla immediately sighed with relief and began to breathe more regularly. “Oh no, War Captain. I wouldn’t do such a thing, and the Warlord knows it. It’s no matter, though. I’m sure Captain Valla will understand that this must be a mistake or an act of sabotage by some disgruntled lackey of yours. Give her a moment to catch her wind, and she’ll continue the duel.”

“Nonsense,” the warlord said, “Surely we should reschedule; the captain has two wounds already.”

“I’ll be fine,” Valla said, taking a slow, steady breath through her nose and out through her mouth and then spitting a wad of bloody saliva into the grass.

The crowd had gone quiet at first when Tes pulled the rod from the damp soil, but now people were muttering and cursing, and the loud buzz of conversations began to make it difficult to hear everyone speaking other than Tes. A tall, lanky woman with golden scales on her arms and forehead shouted, “She should get a healing draught!”

“What?” Reis howled. “I didn’t know about that rod! I scored my blows with fair skill!”

Tes held up her hand and turned in a slow circle, making eye contact with many people in the crowd. Slowly the buzz of outrage diminished, and when things were quiet again, she looked to Valla and said, “Well, Captain? Do you require healing?”

“No.” Valla stood and whipped Midnight in a complicated pattern, and her blade sang in the air. “Let’s finish this.”

“I’m of the opinion that Reis should have to forfeit,” the warlord said. He looked long and hard at Blue, and Victor saw something pass between them as though Blue were outraged. Had the warlord been in on this scam of a fight? Was he throwing Blue under the bus, so to speak? Perhaps even the warlord was worried about public perception. He turned away from Blue to Valla and said, “Are you certain you wish to continue? I will award you the prize right now if you wish.”

“I’m sure,” Valla growled, her eyes locked on Reis’s face. The crowd cheered, and Victor felt a hot lance of pride in his chest. In his mind, at that moment, Valla was truly amazing—beautiful and brave with an undauntable spirit.

Tes backed out of the circle and said, “You heard her. Restart the fight at your discretion, dear Blue.”

As Valla and Reis squared off again, Blue bellowed, “Begin!” The crowd fell silent again, and then Valla charged. Reis tried to meet her head-on, but Valla was back to her usual, graceful, brilliant self. She slapped Reis’s rapier aside, and in a combination that was difficult to track, Victor saw her work Midnight in a series of feints, slashes, and thrusts. Reis valiantly whipped her blade in response, trying to parry, dodge and duck Valla’s quick blows.

As Victor struggled to track the sword strokes, a scream cut through the clash of metal, and Valla backed away from Reis, a grim smile spreading her lips. The tall, black-clad woman fell to the grass, writhing in agony, one of her glittering, scaled wings twitching in the grass, severed from her body. “I yield!” Reis moaned, desperately scrabbling at the grass where she fumbled a healing draught she’d summoned from a storage container.