by TR Cameron
She stepped away from the first and blocked the second with an inside-out circle of her smaller blade. Defender whipped up at a diagonal, aimed at her foe’s hip, but Cara skipped out of the way before it got anywhere near her. Cali continued to move in the direction of the swing and twisted to face Diana, who had slipped in for her attempt. Fury snaked out in a quick thrust at her stomach, and she drove the hilt of her dagger onto it to direct it down as she dodged. The Drow’s arrival frustrated her counterattack. She ran forward to disengage from the cluster and spun to meet the next assault.
It came from Nylotte, whose sword slashed across her at waist level. Cali blocked it with a downward stab of Defender and countered with a slice at the Dark Elf’s face. As Diana rushed in from the right, her sword had already begun to move into place to block the other woman’s before she’d fully processed the danger. She’d sent her magic questing toward the weapon at the beginning of the battle but without much direction, simply seeking a way in. Apparently, it had discovered one. The movements around her seemed to slow and give her more time to react and respond. Her movement speed stayed the same, though, and she had the presence of mind to realize it was probably a function of the sword’s magic.
The Dark Elf’s call for the others to increase their pace negated the advantage after only a moment. Damn her. They crossed swords and daggers again and again, and Cali’s predictive ability increased as they progressed. She could almost sense where the attacks would come from before they started. Just when she felt good about her skills again, Nylotte hurled a blast of lightning at her face from close range.
Defender jumped into the gap and absorbed the incoming magic with ease. Cali was very sure she’d been the one driving the motion but at this point, she felt as much like an extension of the weapon as she did the blade’s wielder. In the back of her mind, barely below comprehension, it sounded as if someone was having a conversation. Maybe those are the people who transferred themselves into the sword? She didn’t have time to consider it as the agents joined the magical assault.
She faltered only once—a clumsy move as she tried to shift position—and Fury scored a line of fire along her leg. A quick riposte drove Diana back but the wound would spell her defeat before too long. She took a step back to evade and the voices in her head united to shout a warning. Reflexively, she whipped Defender around her in a circle in time to deflect the throwing knife Rath had hurled at her from behind.
Nylotte shouted, “Hold,” and everyone froze. Cali panted, dripped blood onto the floor, and eyed her opponents warily. All three wore approving smiles, and in only a moment, the troll was at her side and handed her a healing potion. She took it with a nod of thanks and drank enough to make the cut vanish. The Drow asked, “So, what took place between you and the sword?”
Cali shrugged. “Things slowed for me. I could almost see what would happen before it happened. Then I noticed voices talking but…like, too low for me to hear exactly what they said. Until they all yelled at me to block.”
Cara nodded. “That sounds familiar.”
“Yep,” Diana replied. “That’s how it works for me too. Although Fury’s not prone to talking to itself.”
The other agent rolled her eyes. “There are times my two won’t shut up. Usually at the most annoying moments.”
The girl laughed. “So good, I’m not going crazy. Nice to know. I was worried for a minute there. By the way…” She twisted to look at the troll. “That was a dirty trick, dude. I thought we were friends.”
Rath laughed, grinned, then did an excellent interpretation of Yoda from Star Wars. “One who helps you learn a true friend is.”
“Plus, he’ll take any opportunity he can get to show off his knife-throwing skills,” Diana added. “Don’t let him convince you to bet on a contest. He’s unbeatable.”
Nylotte sighed. “Can we get back to the rather important topic at hand, please?” No one looked particularly repentant but they all turned their attention to their teacher. “So, your sword has begun to work with you. That’s good. But there’s still a long way to go. We’ll train every morning and afternoon while you’re here. The rest of the time, you’ll get some sleep and discuss strategy and tactics with Diana and Cara.”
Cali nodded. She was incredibly lucky that they’d agreed to help her yet again, and she would do anything asked of her without question. Although next time, I’ll keep an eye on the troll.
“Kayleigh is working on some stuff for you as well,” Diana added. “We’ll see what she comes up with before you go too.” She had reached a level of acceptance with the agents that permitted her to know Diana was referring to the woman she’d previously only known as Glam.
“Awesome. I love gadgets and gizmos.”
Cara grinned. “Me too. It’s why I joined.”
Diana frowned. “You said it was because you thought I’d be a fantastic leader.”
The other woman shook her head. “I lied. It was for the toys.”
Cali laughed right up until the moment that Nylotte said, “Rest break’s over. Time for round two.”
Chapter Seventeen
Usha had donned her Champion’s gear for her visit to the palace. The grand structure in the center of the domed city gleamed extra brightly as if the universe knew it might be her last time inside and wanted to make it a special experience. When the Empress’s summons had come, it had been a relief. Even though she only had failure to report, she generally preferred to avoid delaying important events, whether good or bad. Still, her steps slowed involuntarily as she approached the entrance.
Four guards awaited her, with Gwyn at their head. The seneschal wore formal dress, a gown that reached to her feet in the palace’s particular shade of blue. The way she stood—with her hands clasped behind her back and precisely on the threshold of the building so the visitor would have to stop on the outside—conveyed a definite sense of ritual. It’s symbolic and not a particularly good sign.
She’d discussed the situation with Danna after they’d recovered from the battle, and the other woman had concurred that it was highly unlikely the Empress would kill her outright. The odds were good that she would leave the palace alive, although no solid bets could be placed on her fate thereafter. The possibility existed that things would go better than that, but she liked to make sure she considered the least appealing outcome to any given challenge.
Danna and her boyfriend—who she hadn’t yet had the chance to meet—were somewhere in New Atlantis at the moment, ready to support her if she needed to run. The offer had been unexpected and her former second in command had insisted that she agree to it when she’d tried to demur. Her argument that she didn’t want to taint her friend with her failure had accomplished exactly nothing. That’s genuine friendship, not like what Shenni has offered me lately.
She halted in front of the seneschal and nodded respectfully. “Gwyn.”
The older woman returned the nod. “Usha.”
“Will I regret leaving my sword with you?” It was as close as she could get to asking if she’d be likely to survive the encounter.
A look of pain flickered across Gwyn’s face. “Every piece of information I have tells me that you won’t. But it’s irrelevant. Your Empress has summoned you. You will hand over your weapons. All of them.”
Without taking her gaze from the other woman’s, Usha removed her daggers, her sword, and the other dangerous items from her uniform. Again, she was forced to trade her boots for another pair. After completing her disarming, the guards surrounded her, and Gwyn led her through the building on the most direct path to the throne room. Along the way, she made plans for how she would escape if it suddenly became necessary. It was merely an exercise to occupy her mind, though. If the Empress decided to eliminate her, death would find her before she had any idea it was coming.
They stopped before the high doors that separated the throne room from the hallway. While she waited, she studied the carved wood of the panels in front of her, which told th
e story of the early days of New Atlantis in a series of pictures that connected to some of the formative stories of her childhood.
She wondered what she’d see when the doors opened. Whatever lay behind them—unless it was an executioner with a giant ax—she still wouldn’t know her future. The Empress would be within her rights to kill her in private or in public or to celebrate her in either of those ways. She snorted inwardly. But somehow, I don’t think she’s likely to celebrate.
Her best guess was that Gwyn was correct and she’d survive the encounter with her monarch. The older woman didn’t seem tense enough to carry the secret that she was about to die. Of course, she might not know. Usha could have endured mental debate for hours in the throes of that argument, but the opening of the passage into the throne room forestalled any further consideration.
The room turned out to be neither full nor empty. A representative of each of the noble houses appeared to be present judging by the colors and insignia on either side of the carpet she was escorted along. They weren’t the patriarchs and matriarchs, given the quality of their clothing. So, public, but not so important as to require the most powerful audience. That adds weight to the survival part of the scale.
The guards stepped aside as they reached the base of the dais to allow her to step to the edge of the staircase. She gazed at the Empress, who sat on her throne and stared at her in return. The dark tentacles that formed her hair moved slightly of their own volition. She’d always found them beautiful but now, the motion made her vaguely queasy. The frown on her monarch’s face was enhanced by her stark makeup and the crown and torc she wore. Damn. She went all out. That’s a weight on the less desirable side of the scale.
Conversations inspired by her arrival dwindled to silence. The Empress, always a master of dramatic timing, waited until it had become uncomfortable to break it. “Usha, Champion of New Atlantis, we welcome you. Please give your report.” Her voice held no emotion, only flat disregard.
Usha’s already straight spine stiffened. She bowed formally, the appropriate response to being recognized by the Empress. “I regret to share the news that Matriarch Leblanc managed to defeat the strongest fighters we had to offer. She has acquired powerful allies, and despite our best efforts, she survived. We have agreed, as is proper, to cease our endeavors in New Orleans.”
“Disappointing.” She shook her head and turned her gaze away as if to consider her champion’s fate. Dramatics. Equally disappointing, Shenni. Another plus for the survival side, though. Posturing was unnecessary if she was about to be removed. As monarch, the other woman didn’t need a reason. Finally, she looked at her again. “We trusted you to take care of a relatively simple task on the surface and somehow, you failed.” She shook her head again and shouted, “Clear the room.”
In moments, only Usha, Shenni, Gwyn, and two guards remained. The Empress fixed her with a hard look. “I was pleased to name you Champion years ago. Yours was a grand story—the rise from virtual nothingness to handily defeat every other contender. It seemed as if it shouldn’t be too much to ask for you to secure the city for me. But you failed. I cannot countenance failure. It’s bad for my image.” She smiled slightly and in it, Usha caught a hint of the woman she knew and had once loved. It vanished as quickly. “There’s only one way to make it right. One chance to stay in my good graces.”
This was probably the moment where Usha was expected to say, Anything, my noble, beautiful, brilliant, all-powerful Empress. Name it, and it will be yours. But she couldn’t force herself to do it. The perfect relationship they had once shared wasn’t only damaged, it was broken. And while there might have been a way for her monarch to repair it, she hadn’t chosen to. Instead, she’d doubled the distrust.
“And what is that, my Empress?” She did manage to keep her voice mostly neutral and spoke rather than snarled the words, even though it was difficult.
Shenni shrugged as if the Champion’s feelings didn’t matter to her in the least. “Kill the Leblanc girl before she fights the Malniets. Fix your mistake by serving the needs of a true noble house. Once you have accomplished that, I can send others to New Orleans and find another useful task that demands your skills.”
Usha took offense in several distinct ways that competed for the title of greatest outrage. First, the other woman treated her like an amoral hired killer. She had never been that and would never be that. Second, she suggested the Malniets were somehow nobler than the Leblancs simply because they were allied with the Empress at the moment. I wonder how long that’ll last once she’s taken what she wants from them. Days, not weeks, I would guess. Finally, any tasks Shenni might give her after she’d debased herself wouldn’t be ones appropriate for the Champion of New Atlantis. Hell, I wouldn’t have done that when I was poor and fighting only for survival.
She cleared her throat and replied, “With all regret, Empress, I cannot do that.” She added silently, It’s against everything I believe in and everything I thought you believed in.
The monarch nodded. This result couldn’t have been unexpected and her words sounded carefully rehearsed. “Very well. You remain Champion of New Atlantis with all the rights and responsibilities associated with that position. But henceforth, we will not recognize you. Begone, Usha.”
As she spun on her heel and marched toward the doors, the guards rushed ahead to open them. She sensed Gwyn behind her, ready to interpose herself should she lose her mind and attack the Empress. As if I would be so stupid. As if there aren’t traps on the stairs, or archers in the walls, or some other way to kill me before I took three steps.
Her escort didn’t speak to her as they retraced their path to the entrance. Usha collected her weapons and traded her borrowed boots before she straightened to face the seneschal.
“I don’t know what she’s up to, but I don’t think it’ll work out well for her. If she changes—” She stopped with a small frown. Changes what? Her mind? Her personality? Her beliefs? What would it take? She shook her head and continued. “If she becomes the person she was—the person I can believe in—please find me.”
The woman’s face was hard as if she held emotion back. Usha wanted to think regret at her dismissal caused the expression, but it could as easily be outrage at her disobedience. She nodded. “I doubt such an event is likely to occur, Champion. Be well and for your own safety, keep your distance from the palace.”
Usha laughed. “Don’t worry, Gwyn. I have no intention to return. This has become a house of lies and deceit, and we already had too many of those.” She turned and as she strode away, she noted with surprise that something that had been clenched inside her for so long that she’d forgotten it existed had begun to soften.
Chapter Eighteen
Danna waited impatiently and drummed her fingers on the table at the dim restaurant in the outer circle of New Atlantis. Ozahl had made the successful argument that he should be the one to keep an eye on the palace in case Usha raced out of it with the Empress’ guards on her heels. He’d be able to act with the element of surprise, while she would easily be connected to her former boss.
Former. It’s so weird. Losing the battle wasn’t an issue for her. She and Ozahl still possessed all their options for the final actions in their game. They might yet manage to eliminate both Leblanc and Malniet but would almost certainly be able to at least capture one or the other. Her boyfriend had already taken the right steps to co-opt Leblanc’s people into their cause because it truly was their cause as well. That’s what made it all so perfect.
Still, the waiting sucked. She’d requested only a single drink upon her arrival an hour before but had handed over extra cash to ensure the server wouldn’t object to her occupying the back table and not ordering. The meal would be a celebration of one kind or another. A farewell to a wonderful partnership if Usha chose not to join them, or the start of something fantastic if she did. Either way, she didn’t want to diminish her appetite ahead of time.
She brightened at the sight of the figur
e who stepped through the door. The delay had clearly involved stopping to change clothes as she couldn’t imagine Usha had met the Empress in the casual blouse and black jeans she now wore. She waved and was rewarded with a thin smile. The other woman moved like a warrior as she traversed the distance between them, weaving gracefully through the mostly empty tables to her place in the back.
Danna gestured at the seat next to her. “So, the look on your face tells me things didn’t go so well. On the other hand, you’re not covered in blood so clearly, cutting your way out of the palace wasn’t required.”
Usha snorted. “I might have showered.”
She shook her head. “This is where I politely avoid making a joke about how you’d smell better if you had.”
“Fair point.”
After a moment, she let the smile she’d been holding back escape. “I’m glad our noble monarch decided not to free up the title of Champion.” Which would have involved the death of the current holder of that position. “Did you make a deal of some kind?”
The server arrived, and the woman ordered dark rum before she leaned forward and spoke softly when they were again alone. “Shenni wanted me to kill the girl—outside the rules. To benefit a certain house with which she is allied.”
It was easy to understand the references. “And you told her no?”
Her companion nodded. “I did. We lost, fair and square, and we can’t work against the girl now.”
Danna leaned back and crossed her arms. “That’s a fairly generous interpretation of the situation. We’re not permitted to harass her in New Orleans, certainly. But what makes her off-limits here?”
