by Pemry Janes
“That’s your mistake, little sister. You imagine victory. While I, I plan for success.” She advanced, flicked her segmented blade out, which Leraine easily deflected. But then she followed it up with a crude stab with Misthell and Leraine could barely sidestep it. Her counterthrust almost cost her her weapon as Resting Python chopped at the wooden haft just behind the steel head of the spear.
Another warrior fell out of the rafters, not dead, but not getting up either. Another stranger. Ropes now fell from the ceiling, more warriors rappelling down to meet Captain Slyvair. They were all familiar, all from Urumoy. But the sun-man could handle them. Were they fleeing from Rock? “Really? Funny,” Leraine said. “Success looks like defeat from where I’m standing.”
“Look again.” Resting Python pointed at the front door. Which was the moment another couple of warriors came in. These ones were more than familiar. But they couldn’t be! Irelith’s daughters had remained in Urumoy.
They drew their weapons and charged her.
Chapter 33
Shatter
The arrow arrived in the blink of an eye. Eurik grabbed it, but the shaft slid through his grasp and seared his fingers. The point came to a rest against his shirt and no farther. His relief was the thing of a moment, before that too was swept away with the currents.
He slid the arrow through his grasp a second time, held the end of it in a three-fingered grasp, and threw it over to another section of the rafters where another archer aimed for Slyvair. The projectile sank into the meat of her behind. He’d aimed for her back. But it messed with her aim enough, and her own arrow hit nothing but straw and wood.
Eurik didn’t forget the one who had tried to shoot him. Four steps between them. He needed only two to close the gap. He slapped her half-drawn short sword back into its scabbard and drove her back with a rapid barrage of punches that ended with her slamming her head against a wooden beam.
Then he jumped and spun, more arrows passing him by. They’d come from other beams, a large gap between the two he’d crossed with ease. Rather than landing directly on the beam he aimed below it, catching himself he spun under and over. Another arrow whizzed by, tearing through his shirt before thudding into a table.
He’d barely found his footing when he had to pedal back as one fighter had ditched her bow in favor of a pair of single-edged short swords. She was a whirlwind of slashing steel, and Eurik spotted three throwing ropes down so they could lower themselves back to the ground. Two aimed their bows at his friends down below, trusting their comrades to keep Eurik occupied.
***
Slyvair kicked up the fallen sword so he didn’t have to bend down so much to grab it. The mirror demon—the one who’d claimed to have visited his homeland—just watched everything like it was a play put up for its sole entertainment.
The first girl to have fallen from the sky pushed herself up, arms shaking. A solid kick sent teeth and blood flying. Maybe dead, definitely out of this fight. Good enough. “What are you smiling about?”
“I am gratified to be proven right. Again,” the disguised demon said.
“Tch.” But Slyvair hesitated. The creature was too relaxed. Too sure of itself when it had no weapon that he could see. When he took a step forward, though, the demon drew back. With a half-smile, Slyvair’s steps picked up speed.
But the demon only fell back until it stood beside the mirror. Then it picked up one half of it and pivoted the mirror so that it was aimed at Slyvair. The demon said something in its hideous tongue, light spilled past the wraps of the thing it carried, and the mirror’s surface flashed and wobbled.
Slyvair choked as something slipped past his lips and flew toward the mirror. Heat, perhaps, for a chill grew in the pit of his third stomach. He stumbled to a stop, not easy when the room tilted toward the mirror. Except nobody else was bothered by it in the least. He planted the tip of the sword into the floor and braced against the pull.
The demon sneered. “What’s the matter? Feeling . . . less? Don’t worry, that will soon be over.” It chuckled at its own joke.
In the mirror, his reflection stirred. Taking a deep breath, it straightened out even as Slyvair’s own legs threatened to collapse.
“It’s not a pretty death,” the demon said. “No blood, no guts, no pain. Those will have to come after, from the others. When I have some help I can count on to see the world as I do.”
***
Leraine fell back so she could keep all her opponents in her field of vision. That also allowed her to see Captain Slyvair on one knee not far from the demon. No injuries that she could see, but clearly not doing well.
Like I am doing any better?
Resting Python lashed out. Leraine caught the attack, but couldn’t even think of a counterattack before Irelith’s daughters joined Resting Python’s side.
“What are you two doing here?”
“Revenge,” White Gale said.
“For our mother,” Flashing Reed added.
Leraine shrank back. “But helping her? Do you even know what she’s done?”
White Gale snarled. “There you go, hiding behind others. No, Silver Fang. You will pay for what you did.”
Her instincts screamed something was wrong and she barely caught her sister lunging at her from the corner of her eye. Instinct took over and Misthell sliced a sliver off her buckler. Irelith’s daughters lunged forward but stopped when she turned to face them. And her own sister tried to sneak out of her field of vision again.
“I did not kill her. The blooddrinker did,” Leraine said, twisting to face her mentor’s daughters, then back to keep an eye on her own sister. “I avenged her.”
“She’d still be alive if not for you.”
“I—” She only lost track of Resting Python for a moment, but it was enough. She jumped at the opportunity and thrust with both blades. It was a crude thing, her attack, and that was the only reason Leraine didn’t end up on the floor bleeding out.
She lashed out with the broken spear, catching the segmented blade and tangling it with Misthell. The follow-up was more instinct than a plan, pushing Resting Python’s weapons down with her buckler she stabbed forward.
Resting Python flinched, but it wasn’t necessary. The head of the spear flopped about as her sister’s sword had bit deep into the shaft. It threatened to fly off completely when Leraine brought it back.
Her sister let out a long breath and confidence returned to her limbs. “Guess the great Silver Fang’s not so dangerous without her magical sword.” And she raised Misthell higher. “You were always the spoiled one.”
***
Fast. Leraine Fast. Running out. He saw one starting to slide down the rope. Time too.
The world was a strange place when you had wind chiri running through your body. Everything moved slow, yet you were moving so much faster. You had time to consider, but your mind couldn’t stand still. For to move with the wind, you had to be like the wind, think like wind.
Not time for wind. This will hurt.
Everything happened all at once. His opponent seemed to speed up, the world got simpler. Wind fled as Eurik took his stand and dug deep within himself. Strength poured into his arms, his legs, his skin toughened. But not enough to prevent two blades from carving into him.
The pain was a muted thing, bouncing off the diamond planes of his mind as he pulled at the earth chiri in those blades and they came to a jarring halt. She didn’t hesitate, tried to pull them out. But that just gave him the time to seize her and throw her into the enemies balancing on the other beam. Occupied with sliding down their ropes, they barely saw their comrade before she slammed into them and all three plummeted to the straw-covered floor below.
There are still two here. He plucked one knife out of his arm and sent it toward the woman who had decided to shoot Slyvair instead of Eurik. It sank into her back. If that didn’t kill her, the way she landed headfirst with a sick crunch certainly would. He ignored the weakness, the pain, the n
ausea. Fervent’s left.
The beam under his feet groaned as he pushed off and leaped over to the other beam. Fervent turned with the jump and shot him in midair, the arrowhead sinking into his thigh. A grunt escaped past his lips as Eurik landed and a fresh lance of pain ran up and down his leg, chasing the first.
But the arrow gave him more than a wound, it replenished the earth chiri he’d just expended. Another arrow, it would have taken out his eye if his hand hadn’t been in the way. A third skidded off his neck. Half the knife still stuck in him snapped off, its very essence expended to keep Eurik alive long enough to get to grips with her.
Fervent recognized it too. Switching to her sword, she threw her bow at Eurik which he didn’t even bother to bat away. “Why are you working with a demon?”
“I’m not. I used Resting Python and that thing to get you here.”
“But I’m already ordered to pay you. Why break your own people’s laws?”
“Shut up.” Her sword flicked out but it veered out of Eurik’s reach when he tried to grab it. How much did she know about his abilities?
“You’re just like your mother. You run when things get hard.” She swiped at his leg, but it barely scratched his skin. Fervent grimaced as she saw how little that light touch of the blade had done.
Eurik took a step forward and Fervent slid back. “That’s why I needed to lure you in. It turned my liver, but for my mother I’ll do it. And after that, I’ll take care of that traitor down below and her pet demon. Then I’ll be the hero who saved Chappenuioc!”
Fervent placed her palm on the flat pommel of her sword and put all her power and weight into her lunge.
Eurik’s hand brushed against the sword and he seized control of it. Taking inspiration from the wind, he didn’t stop it. He deflected the blade down into the wooden beam, Fervent’s hold slipped, and she slammed into it belly first.
While she gasped for air, Eurik took a hold of her arm and threw her off the beam. Then—after drawing as much of the earth chiri as he could from the blade—he jumped after her.
***
Something isn’t right about this fight.
Beyond the fact that she faced family. Family who hated her enough that they wanted her dead more than to preserve the sanctity of Chappenuioc. No, the rhythm of this fight didn’t make sense. Irelith’s daughters and Resting Python kept alternating their attacks instead of attacking all at once to overwhelm her. And Flashing Reed and White Gale didn’t really attack, they’d only feinted.
Her eyes widened as her attention turned to Misthell. It makes sense. He can do it. But if I’m wrong . . . Then she noticed Captain Slyvair, on his knees, hand on his chest as something seemed to flow from him to the mirror. The demon raised the heart it had stolen into the air, the picture of triumph.
“You’re wrong, sister. It’s not the living sword that brought victory. It is my allies.” She snapped off the head of the spear, since Resting Python had done most of the work already. Then she threw it. But not at her sister. Her aim true, she knocked the demon heart right out of the mirror demon’s hands.
With a wordless snarl of anger, her sister and Irelith’s daughters attacked. Leraine focused on the one attack that mattered. She blocked Resting Python’s segmented blade and left herself fully open to those who had once been as close as sisters. Their blades did not even stir her clothing.
“And you are running out of those,” Leraine said.
***
His vision had narrowed to the point that he only saw the rippling surface of the mirror and the thing that looked like him on the other side. The first thing that penetrated that small, narrow world was a sound. Something hitting the floor, a curse in a language that scratched at his ears.
The world shattered, a connection snapped, and Slyvair could breathe again after what felt like an eternity. Thought returned. The ice in his chest thawed slower, much slower. Accursed fool. Finally have two good arms again and you step right into it like you’re a hot-blooded kid. I thought I’d left that behind with my left arm.
The demon had left the mirror unattended, chasing the wrapped demon heart rolling along the floor. Slyvair clambered to his feet. It was slow going and interrupted by the sight of his reflection setting a foot inside the hall. Its fingers curled around the frame and it looked like it was pulling itself into reality.
Slyvair had kept a hold of the sword, he’d managed at least that much. His arm drew back and threw the blade as if it were a spear. It was a weak throw with a weapon not meant to be used like that. It still sent the mirror wobbling as a web of cracks ran through its surface. A howl erupted from the mirror that gave everybody in the hall pause.
All the life and warmth, little pieces of his soul, flooded right back into Slyvair. His gasp was loud in the sudden silence. With renewed strength, he stood proud.
“Fine,” the demon said, snapping the silence. “The fun way, then. Python, stop trying and finally kill someone.” The demon didn’t even give the demon heart a glance, leaving it abandoned as it strode over to Slyvair.
Slyvair looked around for a weapon but saw none within easy reach. The knife would have to do, then. It should be enough.
That confidence took a hit when the demon shifted form. One moment, a human woman with all the frailty and tininess that implied came at him. The next, a fully uniformed guard of the Amber Empress charged him.
It had been decades since he’d been south. Decades since he’d seen the lands from which his people had sprung. First time he’d seen a Ribbon Guard, he’d sneered at their garb. He hadn’t believed the stories. Good thing someone even stupider had challenged one before Slyvair himself had had the chance. He’d left impressed shortly afterward. Very shortly. The Ribbon Guard had not respected his opponent either.
All of that came flooding back now, even as he knew that the being coming at him was not truly a Ribbon Guard. He didn’t have a drop of mortal blood in his veins. That was hard to remember when he recognized the technique as he blocked and evaded. Classic Bladed Hand, as taught in the shadow of Red Fountain.
Before that flurry of jabs, strikes, and snapping ribbons, he had to give way.
***
“The fun way, then. Python, stop trying and finally kill someone.”
“Yes, Python. Do as it commands. If you can,” Leraine added.
Her sister’s glare transferred from the demon to Leraine. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to that. You are family. But you’re as stubborn as Mother.” She struck out and Leraine fell back. “Don’t know when to take a step back and let someone else take over.” Another blow that Leraine could only deflect.
“At least we’re not traitors to our people,” Leraine said.
With a wordless snarl her sister attacked. Possessed by fury, there was little room for proper technique. The segmented blade was easy to stop, but every hew of Misthell took a piece off her shield or another finger off the length of what had once been a spear.
Then the moment came. Leraine only recognized after her arm had already moved, after Misthell spun through the air as Resting Python cradled a bloodied hand to her chest, hissing as the splinters dug in with every twitch of her fingers.
“Yes, freedom! Your sister is a horrible person,” the living sword cried out. Then he hit the table. “Hey! Couldn’t you have aimed me at the soft straw! It’s everywhere.”
Leraine didn’t answer, though she couldn’t stop a sigh of relief. It was good to know Misthell was back to his old self. For a little while, anyway. Instead, she pressed the advantage.
A segmented blade’s strength lay in surprise, in the first few moments when the opponent didn’t realize they were facing armed opposition. Most fights didn’t last much longer than that. All Leraine had was a stick and a third of a shield, but it was more than enough.
It was her sister’s turn to retreat. Resting Python chanced a look back, looking for allies perhaps, but all she saw was Rock taking out the last o
f the traitorous warriors of their tribe. And behind him, the crumpled form of Fervent.
Why? No, that can wait. The thought skidded through her mind as she took advantage of her sister’s distraction to smack her other weapon out of her hand. “Surrender. I have no desire to kill you either.”
“Surrender?” Their fight had taken them halfway through the room, ending right next to the mirror. Rock’s heavy footfalls told them both that the net was closing around Resting Python. Her sister took another step back almost stepping on a shard of the mirror as long as a dagger. Resting Python glanced down and quickly picked it up, fresh blood welling up as she held it in a firm grip. “Never. I am a warrior of Snake. I have lived as one, I shall die as one. Kill me, sister, if you can.”
Leraine had no reply. For she’d barely heard those last words as she watched in horror as the piece of mirror flowed like water. First, it absorbed the blood. Then it slipped into her sister’s body through the wound.
Resting Python gave her suddenly empty hand a bewildered look, then the screaming started.
***
His surprise nearly cost him an eye. Slyvair twisted his head and felt the hand rip the flesh off of his cheek. But rather than take advantage, the demon hopped back and took a look at the source of the screams now filling the hall.
Silver Fang’s sister knelt before the broken mirror. At first, he’d thought the arm had been lopped off. But no, it now resembled the mirror behind the human. And the transformation was sliding up her arm.
Silver Fang approached her sister, only to be thrown back as Resting Python opened her mouth and spat green lightning.
