Sweep of the Blade Page 8

  Around them other people stopped sparring and moved aside, clearing the space. They had an audience now.

  “Konstana,” Karat growled under her breath. “She’s a human and a guest.”

  “As you wish.” Maud said.

  “Step aside, Karat,” Konstana ground out.

  A muscle jerked in Karat’s face. “Do not presume to order me.”

  “Alvina,” a female voice said.

  Karat froze.

  To the right of them, behind Karat, under a copse of trees four older vampire women stood. The one who spoke was tall, with broad shoulders, and a mane of blonde hair cascading all the way past her waist. Her plain practice armor hugged her figure. Her grey eyes were cold. Maud looked into them and saw ice.

  “Let our guest partake of the Communal,” Lady Ilemina said.

  Karat moved out of the way.

  Maud walked a few steps farther to right, giving herself room.

  “After I break your arms, you will apologize to me,” Konstana said. “For taking up my valuable time.”

  She was about two inches taller, probably thirty-five pounds or so heavier than Maud, and the way she held her sword indicated the South technique, which meant she would favor slash attacks. Right or left, that was the question. Strike from the left would be better. It was a more powerful attack.

  Maud tipped her sword up and checked the point. “Is it a habit of House Krahr to waste time with empty threats?”

  Konstana charged, slashing from left to right, aiming for a cut across the chest. It was a good slash, fast and deadly. Maud parried, letting the force of the attack slide off her blade, caught the woman’s wrist for a second, yanking the arm into the perfect position, let go, and thrust her own sword under Konstana’s forearm. Maud rolled her sword arm up and over Konstana’s, trapping the vampire’s sword in her armpit. It happened so fast, Konstana had no chance to react. The redirected momentum of her own strike twisted her, and she went down to one knee, Maud’s right hand on Konstana’s wrist, her left flat against the elbow, locking it.

  “You asked me how my daughter did it,” Maud said. “She did it just like this.”

  She hit the elbow. The elbow capsule popped with a loud crack as the sheath around the joint tore. Konstana cried out. The women around them winced and made sucking noises.

  “Just like I taught her.” Maud let go and stepped away.

  The vampire woman struggled to her feet, her arm hanging useless, and swiped the sword from the ground with her left hand.

  “Well fought, Lady Konstana,” Maud said.

  The vampire woman unhinged her jaws. “Well fought, Lady Maud.”

  “Well,” Lady Ilemina said. “That was quite stirring. I feel myself in need of some exercise. Lady Maud, perhaps you would indulge me?”

  Crap, crap, crap. Maud bowed. “I’m deeply honored.”

  “Of course you are.” Lady Ilemina walked forward.

  Six feet six at least. Close to two hundred pounds. Like watching a tank approach.

  Thought skittered through Maud, running too fast. There was no way to back down from the fight. Throwing the fight wasn’t an option either. They had too many eyes on them, and Ilemina would definitely view it as an insult. Winning the fight wasn’t an option, even if it was possible, which it wasn’t. She couldn’t humiliate Arland’s mother. She couldn’t let herself be humiliated. It would kill any chances she had for being accepted, and after last night she wanted Arland more than ever.

  What to do? How do I handle it?

  Arland’s mother was the Preceptor of House Krahr and she got there because she was the best leader. Vampires led from the front. That and the two-page list of titles behind her name meant she would be a superior fighter. Her strength would be overwhelming.

  Maud tested the sword one more time, warming up. She was well trained, but in a contest of pure strength, especially against a vampire knight with decades of experience, she would lose. She relied on surprise and dirty tactics, but thanks to Konstana, the cat was out of the bag and the open grassy lawn presented no opportunity for ambush, which meant she had only two things left in her corner: speed and endurance.

  I have to outlast her. That’s my only chance. Outlast her and exit the fight with some grace.

  Ilemina turned sideways, the blade of her sword held parallel to the grass, raised her hand, and motioned with her fingers.

  Oh great.

  Maud thrust, light on her feet. Ilemina parried and struck from above. Maud spun around, avoiding the blade by a hair, and slashed at Ilemina’s chest. The point of her blade grazed the armor, drawing a bright red line for everyone to see.

  “First blood!” Karat announced.

  Crap.

  Lady Ilemina laughed. It was the sound of pure menace.

  Maud went cold.

  You’ve got this. You can do this. Arland’s been the warlord for the last six years, with Nexus being his first major command, which means it’s been six years since Ilemina really had to get her sword dirty.

  Arland’s mother charged. Her blade came crashing down, impossibly fast. Maud dodged. Before she had a chance to counter, Ilemina reversed. It was a beautiful move, but Maud had no time to admire it. She dodged again, dancing around Ilemina.

  Strike, dodge, strike, dodge.

  Thrust. Maud parried, angling her blade, directing most of the force downward. The kinetic punch reverberated through her arm all the way into her shoulder. Ow.

  A direct hit would break her bones. Maud was sure of it.

  Ilemina thrust again and smashed her shoulder into Maud’s.

  There was no place to go. Maud barely had time to brace. The impact took her off her feet. She flew, spun her legs, and rolled to her feet in time to jump away from Ilemina’s sword.

  Arland’s mother chased her.

  Dodge, dodge, dodge.

  Maud slid between the blows and sliced a diagonal gash across Ilemina’s chest. The tip of the sword caught Arland’s mother’s neck. A drop of blood swelled.

  Oh no.

  Ilemina charged.

  The flurry of blows came too fast to dodge. The blade connected with Maud’s ribs. Pain cracked in her side, dull not sharp – the armor held. Ilemina struck again and again. All semblance of restraint was gone from her face. She tore at Maud with single-minded intensity.

  Ilemina’s blade came in a wide horizontal arc. Maud leaned backward, so far, she almost toppled to the ground. All of the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. If that sword hit her unprotected skull, she would be dead.

  This is no longer a practice fight.

  Ilemina’s slash caught her left arm. Pain hammered into Maud.

  She had to survive. She couldn’t abandon Helen.

  Hold on, baby. Mommy won’t die.

  The same sharp heat that always drowned her when their lives were in danger swallowed Maud. She lunged forward. Ilemina’s sword whistled past her. Maud reversed her grip and thrust the heavy pommel into Ilemina’s throat.

  Arland’s mother made a gargling noise and back handed her. The punch spun Maud around. The sharp tang of her own blood wet Maud’s tongue. She whirled and sliced at Ilemina.

  They clashed across the field, cutting, striking, snarling, turning into a whirlwind of blades. People scrambled out of their path. One of the refreshment tables loomed at Maud’s back. She jumped onto it and kicked a glass pitcher at Arland’s mother. It took Ilemina a second to bat it away with her sword. Maud used it to jump aside and dash, opening the distance.

  Arland’s mother bore down on her, attacking, tireless, like a machine. Another hit. Another.

  The world went slightly fuzzy. Maud shook it off and cut another red useless wound across Ilemina’s side. Ilemina shoved her back. Maud stumbled, dodging a thrust with nothing to spare.

  I can’t take much more. I have to end it or she’ll end me.

  Ilemina delivered a vertical cut, followed it with another. In a split second, Maud recognized the pattern. Arland�
��s mother reversed her blade again. Instead of dancing away, Maud dropped to the ground, planted her hands, and kicked at Ilemina’s left knee. The knee cap cracked.

  Ilemina snarled and kicked at her with her injured leg. Sweet Universe, did she even feel pain? Maud saw the boot coming, curled up, took it, and wrapped her legs around Ilemina, trying to take her to the ground.

  Arland’s mother roared, bent down, and grabbed Maud’s arm, dragging her up. It was like being lifted by a bobcat. Maud dropped her sword.

  Ilemina jerked her up and Maud smashed both hands against Ilemina’s ears. Ilemina screamed and flung her away, like she were a feral cat. Maud sprinted to the practice rack and grabbed a sword. It was too heavy, but there wasn’t time to be picky.

  Arland’s mother stomped across the field, unstoppable, her eyes fixed on Maud. Maud bared her teeth.

  Helen dashed between them, her back to Maud, holding her daggers, and snarled, right into Ilemina’s path.

  “No!” Maud screamed.

  Lady Ilemina stopped.

  Maud almost collapsed with relief.

  Rational thought returned to Ilemina’s eyes. “Oh my,” she said.

  Helen raised her daggers. “Don’t hurt my mommy or I’ll kill you.”

  “It’s okay, my flower,” Maud managed. “We were just practicing.”

  Ilemina laughed. “That is beyond adorable. No need, little one. I surrender. Your mother and I are quite finished, and you’re very frightening.”

  She glanced up and Maud read her eyes. Ilemina knew they had gone too far. The fight was over.

  “This is Lady Ilemina,” Maud said. “Arland’s mother. We must give her every courtesy.”

  Helen lowered her daggers, put her legs together, and bent her knees in an ancient vampire bow.

  Ilemina laughed. “My goodness.”

  Helen straightened.

  “Are those your daggers?” Ilemina asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Are they sharp?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think they are sharp enough to cut a cookie in a half?”

  Helen paused. “Yes.”

  “Come show it to me.”

  Helen turned to Maud.

  “Yes,” Maud said. “Be polite.”

  Ilemina offered Helen her hand. Helen put her daggers away, took Arland’s mother’s hand, and walked away with her. “What kind of cookies…”

  Maud slumped over. Suddenly Karat was there, holding her up. Maud retched, spat out blood, and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

  People came over. Someone wiped her face with a wet napkin. Someone else grabbed her other arm.

  “Everything hurts,” she murmured.

  “No shit,” Karat said. “Look at yourself.”

  Maud glanced down. Cuts and slashes crisscrossed her armor, so many of them, it was no longer black. It was blood red. Across the field, Ilemina’s handed Helen a cookie. Her armor was crimson as well.

  Karat gently lowered Maud to the grass. “The medic is coming. Just sit here and rest a bit.”

  Konstana thrust into her view with field med unit. “Here.”

  “Are you going to poison me?”

  “Shut up and take the pain killer.” Konstana held the unit up. Maud pressed it against her neck. A stab and then a cool rush flooded her body, lifting the pain.

  “Drink this.” Karat stuck a glass pitcher under her nose. Mint cordial. Of course. Maud gulped.

  “Where the hell did you learn to fight?” Konstana asked.

  “At my parents’ inn.”

  “Humans don’t fight like that.”

  “I couldn’t let her kill me,” Maud said. “I couldn’t leave Helen.”

  Karat stared at her.

  “You’ll get it when you have your own,” Konstana said.

  Maud leaned back against the stone. She didn’t win. But she didn’t lose either. The day was looking up.

  Every step hurt. Maud walked down the hallway, trying not to wince, aware of Karat hovering by her side.

  The medic had arrived and quickly confirmed three cracked ribs. He offered a stretcher. Getting onto that stretcher and being carted off would undo everything she’d just fought for. She had sparred with Ilemina. She didn’t lose. She had to be seen walking away from the fight without any help.

  It took another agonizing quarter of an hour before Lady Ilemina retired, and the older sentinel had come to collect Helen, who still had some scrubbing to do. Maud made it through by sheer will, but walking hurt like hell, and her will was quickly growing thin.

  Two middle-aged women strode past them, eyeing her red armor. An awful a lot of people had found an excuse to either cross or walk through the hallway. Word of her match with Ilemina had gotten around. They probably filmed it, Maud reflected. When it came to violence, they filmed everything.

  The personal unit on her wrist chimed. She glanced at it. The personal unit reacted, projecting a holoscreen over her wrist. It flashed and focused into Arland’s face. A beginning of a spectacular shiner swelled around his left eye. A long, ragged cut crossed his right cheek. His eyes blazed. He bared his teeth. She’d seen that look before on his face and recognized it instantly. Battle rage.

  “Are you alright?” he growled.

  “Are you?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  Karat grabbed her wrist and raised Maud’s arm, so she could look at the screen.

  “Don’t you dare show up here,” she hissed. “She’s walking on her own power and we have an audience. What the hell happened to you?”

  “Otubar,” Arland snarled.

  What?

  Karat swore.

  Maud took her arm back. “You had a fight with your mother’s consort?”

  “We had a spirited practice,” Arland said. “I’ll find you as soon as I’m done speaking with my mother.”

  “Don’t say anything stupid,” Karat barked, but the screen went dark. Karat rolled her eyes. “What is happening in our House?”

  They made another turn and walked into a room filled with medical equipment and curved cots, surrounded by metal and plastic arms bearing an array of lasers, needles, and what surely had to be tools of torture. The door blissfully hissed shut behind them. The room tried to crawl sideways. Karat grabbed her arm and steadied her.

  The medic, a lean male vampire with dark grey skin and long mane of dark hair pulled back from his face, pointed at her. “Out of the armor.”

  Maud hesitated. The armor was protection. In enemy territory, it determined life and death. Taking it off would make her vulnerable and she was feeling vulnerable enough already.

  “Do you want to walk out of here in two hours or do you want to be carried out?” the medic asked.

  She couldn’t afford to be carried out.

  Maud hit her crest. The armor split along the seams and peeled off from her, leaving her in the under-armor jump suit. The sudden absence of the reinforced outer shell took her by surprise. The floor rushed at her, yawning, dangerously close. Strong hands caught her, and the medic carried her to the cot. A scalpel flashed and then her jump suit came apart on the right side. The cot’s arms buzzed and hovered over her, as if the bed was a high-tech spider suddenly came to life. The cushion supporting her rose, curving, sliding her into a half-seated position. A green light stabbed from one of the arms, dancing across her bruised ribs in a hot rush.

  “How bad is it?” Karat asked.

  The medic met Maud’s eyes. “You will be fine. If you get to me in time, I can heal almost everything, except stupid. You’re on your own with that one.”

  “What are you implying?” Karat demanded.

  “Going toe to toe with Ilemina was stupid,” the medic said.

  Karat fixed him with her stare. The medic touched the unit on his wrist. A huge holographic screen flared in front of them. On it, Ilemina kicked Maud across the lawn. The memory of the foot connecting to her ribs cracked through Maud. She winced.

  “Stupid,”
the medic said.

  Maud sagged against the bed. The cushion cradled her, holding her battered body gently. The upper left arm pricked her forearm with a small needle. A soothing coolness flooded her.

  The door chimed.

  Now what?

  The medic glanced at the screen to his left. “The Scribe is outside the door,” the medic said. “Do you want to receive him?”

  Scribes kept vampire histories. Every genealogical quirk, every victory and defeat, every scheme gone wrong or right, they recorded it all. But she wasn’t a part of House Krahr. There was no reason why he would want to see her.

  Delaying wouldn’t accomplish anything and refusing the meeting would be unwise. The Scribe held enough power to force a meeting if he wanted and she had precious few allies as it was. No reason to alienate him.

  “Yes,” Maud said.

  The door hissed open, and the Scribe walked in. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a mane of chestnut brown hair, he was older than Arland, but not by much. He had a long intelligent face and his eyes, pale green under the sweep of thick eyebrows, were sharp.

  “Lady Maud,” he said. “My name is Lord Erast.”

  “To what do we owe the honor?” Karat asked.

  “It seems Lady Maud and I have gotten off on the wrong foot,” The Scribe said.

  “That’s impossible, my lord,” Maud said. “We haven’t met.”

  “Precisely. I labored under the assumption that as a human, you would be exempt from our traditions.” Erast nodded at the recording playing on the screen. “I was in error. We know exactly nothing about you, which makes it awkward at formal functions.”

  He flicked his fingers at his crest. “This session is now being recorded. What is your lifetime kill count?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Erast’s eyes bulged. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “I haven’t kept track.”

  “You were the wife of a marshal’s son. Was the importance of keeping a personal record not impressed upon you?”

  Maud sighed. “In the three years I was with House Ervan, they had no major conflicts. I had several personal bouts, but none of them were to the death. Afterward, on Karhari, it didn’t seem important.”