by TR Cameron
The Kilomea shrugged. “Likely not. But I know you, Usha, leader of the Atlanteans in my city.”
A laugh escaped her. “Your city? Says who?”
His reply was completely matter of fact. “I choose to dwell here. Thus, my city. The decision to allow others to break their paths and live as they will doesn’t change that.”
“So, this is letting me live as I will, is it?”
A condescending grin spread across his wide features. His eyes were dark and menacing under a prominent brow. Hell, even his face looks muscular. His skin, too, seemed somehow harder or thicker than it should be. She didn’t have much experience with or knowledge of Kilomea, something she now considered might have been a mistake.
“You’ve crossed boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed. Attacking a council member for one,” he replied.
She shook her head. “That wasn’t me. That was Rion Grisham and I’m the person who took care of him.”
“Your explanation doesn’t matter. It happened because the two of you chose to oppose each other and to take your fight away from the human cattle and involve the magical community. Involve my people. It was a stupid decision.”
“Yeah, well, dearly departed Rion wasn’t known for his brains.” And I hope you’re burning in hell, Grisham, you bastard. “Is there any way out of this that doesn’t end with us fighting?”
“The council would no doubt want me to offer you such a thing. But no. You die here tonight.”
“Three on one?” She looked over his shoulder. “That’s cowardly.”
The Kilomea shook his head. “They simply bear witness. I don’t require their assistance. If I judged you dangerous, I would have hunted and killed you before you even knew I was here.”
Usha nodded and twirled her sword. “All right, then. Let’s get to it.” One of the advantages she’d had in her quest to become Champion was a keen sense of the battlefield. Her assassin had made a relatively poor choice. Outside, in his element, he would have had an advantage. But there in her club? She knew every single thing about it and had overseen the selection of each bottle and the installation of every light and speaker. All of that would give her an opportunity, eventually. But first, she had to let him think he was doing well.
Stupid brute. No matter how good a hunter you are, you’ve never sought quarry like me.
She threaded a path between the tables in a deliberate advance and kicked chairs out of the way while her gaze remained fixed on her foe. The Kilomea’s lips stretched wide to reveal sharp teeth, and his hands blurred as he drew his weapons. As expected, his first flurry was throwing daggers, four of them pulled and hurled within seconds. She shook her head. You should have done your research, buddy. One of her rivals in the Champion ritual had been a master with knives of all kinds, and she’d spent hours upon hours having allies throw things at her to practice her blocking. Now, it was simply ingrained reflex to shift to the side to avoid the one on the left and bring her blade up in a gentle sweep to intercept and deflect the others. Her skill was such that it all appeared in slow motion to her highly trained mind.
Her experience told her his next move would be to reach for the sword with one hand and hope to use it as a distraction to hurl another knife. She’d probably guessed it before the idea registered in his tiny brain. She swatted that one aside as well, circled to her right, and entered the open area created by the flight of her bartender. Her subconscious automatically evaluated his slack form and judged that he was injured but would likely recover.
The Kilomea had his sword out, finally. He wove it in front of him, and the corners of her mouth turned up in a slight smile at the way the colored lights that still illuminated the room played on the blade.
She asked formally, “May I have the pleasure of your name? I always like to know who I’m killing.”
He growled. “Brukirot,” he said and charged at her. She braced herself and shifted into a back stance with her sword held in a high guard. After three steps, he stopped suddenly and threw a knife he’d palmed or produced from somewhere, or kept hidden in some way. She yanked her head to the side, but the blade sliced along her cheek, nonetheless.
And that’s an excellent reminder that maybe your skills aren’t quite what they were, Usha. Stop being an idiot.
It still wasn’t the proper moment to change tactics, though. She let her magic flow into her muscles to make her faster and stronger and dodged to her left as he arrived. The slash that would have cut her in half passed to her right. He jerked the blade up in time to catch the diagonal slice she tried in response, and the metal rang with a violent chime.
They traded a series of blows, parries, and ripostes as each tested the others’ reactions, moving through the empty space and widening it at need when forced against an obstruction. She had to acknowledge that he was good enough to have at least entered the contest she’d won but was confident he wouldn’t have lasted through very many rounds.
Usha respected the fact that he stayed calm and centered and matched her attacks with his own, seemingly unconcerned about how long it would take to defeat her. If she hadn’t supplemented her endurance and strength with magic, he would likely have easily outlasted her. As it was, he probably still would over a long enough timeline, but she didn’t intend to give him one.
She retreated to draw him to where she wanted him to be and reached up with her telekinesis before she yanked as hard as she could. The lighting truss above him plummeted to slam into the position he’d occupied before a lightning-fast forward roll took him out of danger. She admired his decision to come toward her rather than move away from her.
The latter would have been easier but either way, her next action was the same. She extended her left arm behind her and grasped several of the bottles of alcohol stacked on the bar shelf. With perfect precision, she hurled them at her foe and his blade became a barrier of steel as he shattered the incoming projectiles before they could reach him. But slicing him apart with shrapnel wasn’t her primary plan, either. The fireball she threw after it ignited the liquor and he turned into a pillar of flame.
Usha still hadn’t reached her final move. She stutter-stepped forward and extended her magically powered arm in a perfect thrust, and her sword stabbed through the flailing Kilomea’s chest. He fell without a word or any further action, and she cast frost over him to keep him from burning her club down. She swung to face the enemy standing at the door, who she’d kept subconscious track of and who had remained still throughout the fight. “So, are we done here? Or will you break his commitment to a one-on-one?”
He raised his hands and backed out of the door, and she turned as the one who had come in from the rear departed the room the way he’d entered. She shook her head and pulled her phone out.
Danna picked up and sounded surprised when she said, “Did you miss me since we last saw each other a whole hour ago?”
She chuckled. The fading adrenaline had left her a little shaken as always happened when the danger had passed. “I was attacked in the club. Guard yourself and send an ambulance.”
Anger replaced surprise as her second in command responded. “On it. I’ll be there in ten.”
She nodded, put the phone away without replying, and moved to tend to her fallen employee. In passing, she kicked the Kilomea. “And here I thought it was Leblanc coming after me,” she said to his corpse. “That, at least, might have been a challenge.”
Chapter Six
Cali had spent the night at her apartment with only Fyre for company, a rare occurrence now that she was the matriarch of a noble house in New Atlantis. Awakening in an unfamiliar place had felt strange. She dressed, ready for the day, and knocked on Dasante’s door.
Her old friend greeted her with a grin. “What’s up, you? I haven’t seen you around. Not here and not at the square.” A bright white t-shirt set off his dark skin, and his hair had grown noticeably since the days—was it really only a couple of months ago? It seems like forever—when they were a fixt
ure among the buskers on Jackson Square. He, doubtless, still spent much of his time entertaining the tourists. She, not so much.
He knelt and ran his hands along Fyre’s back. “I haven’t seen you either, buddy. I hope you’re keeping her out of trouble.” The Draksa snorted and rolled over for more attention.
Cali shook her head at his antics and chuckled. “Yeah, we’ve been busy, no doubt about it. More down below than up here, although you might have heard about the episode in the garden district.”
He nodded and rose. “I did and assumed it was you. Word is that some idiots had their heads handed to them.”
She laughed at that. “Well, it wasn’t quite that easy but sure, that’s one way to describe it. If not for Fyre, though, the outcome would have been very different.” His ability to share his strength with her had turned the tables on their attackers.
“So, what are you doing here, fancy-person? Slumming with the rest of us to remember how it feels?” His grin stole any offense from his words.
“Yeah, no. Unfortunately, I have a very busy day today. After, things should settle here a little, one way or the other.”
He frowned. “Those don’t sound like equally desirable choices, based on your tone.” It was easy to mistake Dasante’s general positivity and phenomenal bantering skills for a lack of intelligence or sophistication, which worked to his benefit with many of the tourists. Those who underestimated his brains due to his gentle nature generally wound up losing the most to him in his sleight-of-hand games.
Cali shrugged. “I guess it’s a matter of opinion. If things go my way, the Atlantean gang in town will have to leave me alone and I’ll be able to pressure them to stop trying to impose their agenda on everyone else. If they win, at least the fighting is over. I’m not sure it’ll be the best time to be a non-magical in the Crescent City, though.”
“Well, then I guess you’d better win.”
Fyre snorted and she nodded in agreement. “That goes without saying. I’m off to train with Sensei Ikehara and see if he can give me last-minute pointers. You stay safe, D. Hopefully, once this nonsense and some other nonsense I have going on are resolved, the lizard and I will be able to hang out in the Square with you more often.”
He raised a fist to bump the one she offered. “I’ll consider that a promise. Go do your thing.”
She walked to the Dojo and enjoyed the midmorning sunshine. The strangely filtered light in New Atlantis didn’t give her the same feeling of warm comfort. Fyre flew above her, hidden by a veil. The emotions he sent were similar to her own. Neither of them felt the need to speak and the mental connection was sufficient to allow them to share this experience.
Maybe it’s the knowledge that this could be the last time. Fighting the best of the Atlantean gang has the potential to be way more dangerous than anything I’ve faced so far. Even the ambush by the Malniets. Cali shook her head to push away the thoughts. She couldn’t do anything other than what she was doing, so there was no point in worrying about it. Emalia would continue to work to free her brother if things went wrong, and contingencies were in place for all the other areas of importance in her life as well.
She chuckled inwardly and told Fyre, “You know, if I don’t survive the battle, Zeb will be the one who’s most hurt. He’ll be stuck with Janice—truly a fate worse than death.”
The Draksa refrained from pointing out that if she didn’t make it, her friends probably wouldn’t either. “Well then, you have another reason to win. You should do that.”
As she turned down the alley beside the Dojo, she remembered one of her earliest fights before she’d learned how widespread her particular assortment of opponents was. She shook her head in bemusement at it all as she unlocked the rear door and entered the building.
Ikehara awaited her inside, dressed in his standard uniform of dark pants and a white top secured by a black belt. He had gone from his former crewcut to a fully shaved skull, which made his stern, sharp features seem even more imposing.
She’d worn sweatpants and a t-shirt for the occasion as she didn’t intend to stay for the formal class after their individual session. Although she now paid to be his student instead of working to clean the dojo, he had made it clear that she was welcome to continue training one-on-one. Even Nylotte had admitted having multiple teachers could be beneficial, especially since the Drow’s fighting style differed markedly from her sensei’s.
They exchanged nods and he threw her a bamboo sword. They each twirled their weapons in a warmup, exactly as they always did. The normalcy of it all made her smile.
“I’ve heard through the grapevine that something big is happening tonight,” he said. “Is that you?”
She nodded. “I’m afraid so. The Atlanteans have reached the end of their patience, as have I. We’ll resolve our disagreement this evening.”
He lifted his sword into a salute position, and she returned the gesture. She matched him again as he stepped into a back stance and shifted the weapon into guard. When he attacked, her mind was filled only with the interplay of their swords, blocking his blows, and waiting for an opening. Her sensei was a master of the art, which made opportunities rare, but when they appeared, she struck fast and caught him on occasion. There’s a definite improvement since our first days of training with these weapons.
After a sweaty half-hour, during which he switched to double swords while she practiced shifting seamlessly from two-handed to one-handed attacks and defenses, he called a halt and motioned for her to sit beside him on the mat. She pushed her wet hair off her forehead and leaned back to shake the rest of it off the back of her neck. “Mental note. Confine my hair tonight.”
Ikehara laughed. “That is a wonderful plan. I humbly suggest my solution.” He gestured at his head.
She shook her head. “No way. I like my mane, thanks.”
He turned somber quickly, and she realized the moment she’d dreaded had arrived. His voice was low and quiet as he said, “I would fight by your side tonight if you are willing.”
Cali closed her eyes. The offer was amazing. Her teacher had volunteered to risk his life on her behalf and fight magicals with nothing more than his strength and skill. She couldn’t allow it, of course, but was deeply moved by the sincere offer. Regretful, she forced herself to sit straighter and met his gaze. “Sensei, I can’t tell you how honored I am that you would join my fight. But I’ve failed to find anything that would give you the edge you’d need against beings who use magic.”
He nodded. “I understand. I regret that reality.”
She laughed but it sounded a little bitter. “Not as much as I do. I would love to have you appear and kick Atlantean tail. But even if we covered you with magic deflectors, they would eventually be overwhelmed.”
“And I would then be a liability.”
Her expression serious, she shook her head. “If that’s all it was, the strength of our team could overcome it. But this is a fight to the death and you have so much life left to live.” She gestured toward the front of the room, where the trophies were displayed in a bookcase that also held a single picture of her teacher’s family. “And you have students and children who depend upon you.”
He sighed. His body language told her that he knew this would be the result but had nonetheless hoped for a different outcome. He rose and gestured with a hand. “Come with me for a moment.”
Cali frowned but followed obediently as he led her to the tiny space he used as an office. A box rested on the desk, something she’d not noticed the last time she was in the room. It looked like cherry wood, lacquered and polished with inlays of ebony in the shape of Japanese characters. He swiveled the container to face them and lifted the lid, making the hinges on the rear squeal softly. Inside lay a necklace made of gold links, each about the size of the end part of her pinky. A round pendant with a square hole through the center was attached to them. It was gold around the edges but it had a scarlet face. An image of a dragon in thin gold lines was emblazoned on the
red background.
He lifted the jewelry and offered it to her with both hands. “This is a family heirloom, passed down through generations. We’ve traced it back five hundred years, but the trail breaks there. I personally believe it’s older. It’s worn only when we are seeking good fortune. I have done so twice—when I asked my wife to marry me and on the day I started this dojo. My wife wore it only when giving birth. I would like you to wear it tonight for your battle.” He gestured with the object again and she took it from his hands.
Ikehara chuckled. “It’s certainly not magical but it has brought many positive outcomes to my ancestors. If negative results ever occurred, they’ve been lost to history. Hopefully, it will serve you well.”
Surprised and touched, she forced words past the emotions that clogged her throat. “This is an honor. Thank you. More than I can say, thank you.”
Her sensei nodded and managed a small grin. “Of course, I’ll want it back tomorrow after you’ve won. Don’t disappoint me.”
She dashed a tear from the corner of her eye and took a deep breath. “Never, Sensei,” she assured him as she lowered the necklace over her head and tucked the pendant into her t-shirt. “I’ll do my best to make you proud.”
Chapter Seven
Between the damage from the night before and the need to prepare for the upcoming battle, Usha had closed the Shark Nightclub for the weekend. If she was still alive the next day, she’d have the whole staff come in to clean and prepare the venue for the week ahead. If she didn’t survive until then, it wouldn’t matter to her anyway.
