May relaxed a little again, leaned back more heavily against that softly shifting bulk behind her. "It would be just like my father," she said, "to make my own inclinations somehow about him."
"Oh, I do know the type," Edelweiss assured her. "So what happened?"
"My father had been writing my oldest brother about me. The two of us had been close," May added. "He doted on me quite a bit, and I assumed my father felt that Margain could get through to me when nobody else could. So: the war season came to an end, and Margain came home to visit for the colder months. He brought with him a young man from his company, who he introduced as a good friend, one who would like to pay court to me based on what he had heard of me from his brother."
"Not what you would want," Edelweiss said, duly horrified.
Opening her eyes, May met Edelweiss's gaze and grinned. "So I thought, but when my brother came to my room to introduce us, they dropped the pretense. He wasn't simply a friend of my brother's but his—it's no secret these days, though it was then—his lover. He had heard of me through my brother, and through our father's letters, but rather than wanting to romance me, he was offended on my behalf, much as my brother was. Both he and my brother hated that it sounded like my spirit had been broken. It sounded to me like Margain had talked up my skill and determination as a would-be warrior, actually. Brishen—my brother's lover—offered to pretend to court me, while my brother chaperoned us. But in reality, those romantic rides in the wood would be to go train."
"And you did, and you became strong, and you recovered?" Edelweiss murmured.
"Yes," May said. "Though it took a lot of time, especially recovery. It had got to the point where something was... really genuinely wrong with me that couldn't be fixed just by getting rid of the cause. Like my wound had begun to fester, with the fever and illness that accompanies it. That took a long time to heal. But having a goal helped. Having people on my side helped. Having them listening to me and talking to me helped. Brishen was very well spoken."
"Was he?"
"He'd tell me over and over: men and women aren't so different. Our loves can be the same, our hopes can, our dreams can, even our bodies. 'Oh, society will call you immoral. They say it about me too. So let's advance despite them, and ignore what they have to say. They won't ever give us the things we want or need, so let's take what we need, while still being people who will give back to others.' Things like that." May smiled a little. "If it had come to it, he really would have married me just to keep me from having to marry another, and continued to train me just the same. But... It didn't come to that. I improved, my wound inside healed, and I stole my dowry to get myself proper armor."
Edelweiss laughed at that, a great pulse through her body where it was pressed to May. "I should like to meet them someday!"
"Well, if you accompany the princess," May said, teasing, "perhaps you might."
"Perhaps," Edelweiss said, and there was something restrained in her voice again, abruptly. "So you got armor, and—?"
"Oh, the rest of the story is less emotional," May said. "King Edelmarr's court was famous for his knights and the glorious quests they went on. He had sixteen at the time, and he held a contest for the seventeenth position. The person who could best five of his best knights would take that place, and be knighted to fill it, if need be, for they would have proven themselves worthy to stand among his best."
Edelweiss chuckled again, lightly. "A simple story there. You won, they accepted and knighted you, and you now strive for glory on quests like this because that's what a knight does?"
"And because," May said wryly, "I continue to have to do three times as much for the same accolades. It's as Brishen said. They won't give us the things we want, but I am determined to take it anyway."
"I see," Edelweiss and shifted forward. Her great toothy maw came very close.
May gazed at her. From here, her eyes seemed more than just silver—they had glimmers of blue and violet through them as well. "Edelweiss?" she asked softly.
Edelweiss rubbed her cheek against May's. Her face was remarkably soft, scales or no. "Thank you for sharing," she said. "I appreciate it. Are you done with your breakfast?"
She'd finished her bread sometime mid-talk and her bowl of wine sat empty in her hands. For some reason, her heart was pounding—some natural reaction to having a great dragon within one impulsive bite of killing her, surely. "Uh, yes," she said, around a suddenly dry mouth. "I am."
"Then, if you're intending to take Rutterkin out," Edelweiss said, "I think I should like to accompany you. He seems used enough to me by now."
Oh. May felt her face color. "I'd like that," she said, flustered but smiling.
*~*~*
Edelweiss spent nearly the entire day with May, asking questions and laughing along with her answers. It was clear that the 'challenge' part of the day was over with, but Edelweiss was curious about what else May had done as a knight, so May told her as they rode, explaining the full story of what had happened with stupid Duke Redmound and the hellhound. She told her more about the fairy maiden as she took care of Rutterkin after, about how beautiful she'd been, but how completely unbearable in personality.
That earned her another laugh, and Edelweiss parted from her then briefly to catch them dinner, which turned out to be fish. She dragged them back in a net made of river grass, and if it seemed impossible that Edelweiss could have somehow made that herself, May was starting to realize that there was a lot about Edelweiss that seemed impossible.
Still, May made them a fish stew without questioning it, and the two of them talked deep into the night. When she grew too tired to continue, she crawled into her tent, fully aware that Edelweiss was still there in the clearing, curled up enormous and content.
So it was a surprise to wake up the next morning to find her missing.
At first, beyond her initial curiosity, May didn't think too much of it. There were plenty of mornings that Edelweiss spent in the tower, sleeping in or serving the princess or doing whatever she did in there. May tended to her weapons again—the first actual battle would be tomorrow, after all—and fed Rutterkin and exercised.
And the day wore on.
When Edelweiss still didn't come down. May called up to her, "Edelweiss! You all right in there?" and got no answer to that, either.
She continued to call throughout the afternoon regardless.
At this rate, there was no counting on Edelweiss to catch food for either of them. In the late afternoon, May went hunting near the warren she'd found on the first day and caught a rabbit; this she skinned and gutted and roasted, then ate the roasted meat and some root vegetables she still had with her, and Edelweiss still didn't come down for her share.
May was beginning to think that Edelweiss was going to throw the competition—would refuse to deliver the last question before the battle, and perhaps avoid the battle entirely, renege on the challenge and stay in the tower, secure and with her princess, leaving May unable to fight.
But after darkness fell, and just before May climbed back into the tent to change for bed, Edelweiss slithered down the tower, almost invisible in the shadows but for the glitter of the fire off her silver underbelly and reflective eyes.
"There you are," May said, relieved. "Everything all right?"
Edelweiss didn't come off the tower, clinging to its surface and watching May with her head tilted backward. "Tomorrow we fight," Edelweiss said. "So this is my last question to you before then."
"All right?" May prompted.
"What would you do," Edelweiss murmured softly, "if I told you that I didn't want to be killed, nor do I wish to slay you myself?"
May blinked. The question seemed absurd. "Then we fight to victory each day. Not to death."
"An easy answer," Edelweiss said. "But if I go easy to not slay you, and you win, the princess will need to go with you, which runs counter to what I have sworn. So I may refuse to go easy. And regardless, the heat of battle is a dangerous thing to everyone inv
olved, and has its risks. So what then?"
"I don't see why it's necessary to think of it like that," May insisted. "That's stupid, Edelweiss. Let's just agree to fight to a win, not a kill."
"I won't agree," Edelweiss said. "But I have your answer. Thank you."
And with that, she crept back up the tower, scuttling silently, and vanished into the window.
May looked after her, feeling unnerved and faintly chilled. She thought for a moment of calling Edelweiss back, but wasn't sure that the dragon would come, and wasn't sure what to say to her if she did.
For once, May felt like she was out of answers to whatever Edelweiss might ask.
*~*~*
May got up early the next morning and stretched, then put on her armor and arranged her weaponry. It was while she was doing this last—buckling her sword on and testing its draw, placing her shield against a tree with the straps out so she might scoop it up when necessary, then taking up her spear to be her primary weapon—that Edelweiss came down the tower to watch her.
"Morning, kitten," Edelweiss said, sing-song and pleasant.
The nickname's revival hit May heavily. She knew what that meant, she understood, and her heart sank.
"Morning, lizard," she replied.
Edelweiss giggled softly, and the full length of her dropped from the tower with a plop, landing in a pile of curves and coils. She shifted slightly, feet finding the ground, back hunched, head up. "Are you ready?"
May let out a breath slowly and adjusted her grip on her spear. "Yes," she said.
"Then we begin," Edelweiss said sharply, and lunged.
Bracing herself, May lowered her spear, catching Edelweiss in the side as the dragon's heavy weight bore down upon her. She wasn't able to hold her position as she had in the past against even a boar—she was driven down to the ground, her spear snapping off in Edelweiss's side and her back hitting the dirt hard enough to wind her.
She didn't give herself time to recover, rolling fast and hard to the right so that Edelweiss's claws scraped the dirt beside her. May kept rolling, gathering her knees under her so she came up in a crouch, springing up next to where she'd left her shield.
She scooped that up at once, sliding her arm through the straps and drawing her sword as she wheeled to face Edelweiss.
The dragon was made somewhat ungainly by the length of spear sticking out of her, but didn't seem terribly damaged by it. She was hardly bleeding, and her unwavering gaze remained focused on May.
Edelweiss bared her teeth.
May circled Edelweiss, her shield guarding most of her body, her sword at the ready. She was partially moving to get a look at any openings in Edelweiss's guard, and partly assessing her own injuries while she recovered her breath. Nothing but bruises, she decided. The tightness in her chest didn't seem to be any rib damage, since it remained tightness and didn't flare into pain.
"First blood to you," Edelweiss said, voice rough as smoke curled over her lips.
"I'm guessing you don't want to call this bout at first blood," May said, smiling grimly.
"No," Edelweiss said, and spat an enormous ball of fire.
May ducked aside, raising her shield and striking out with her sword into the flame as it gouted out around—guessing correctly that Edelweiss would lunge in after it. May felt her mail heat up, but also felt the flat of her sword clang hard into those scales that had felt so soft to the touch.
She whirled out of the way, drew a gasp of cold air into lungs that felt scalded, blinked sweat out of her eyes, and dashed in to meet Edelweiss again.
The fight wore on and on and on, long past the point of reasonable exhaustion and to the point where May was fighting more on pure instinct and willpower than on thought. If most bouts took minutes, this took hours, a dance of avoidance and attack, damage and guard. She lost track of all conscious thought, of anything but moving, avoiding the bulk of the dragon's body, striking at whatever she could reach. Strategy fell aside.
But it was strategy that worked in her favor regardless, a scrap of realization as the dragon's most recent lunge just barely missed. That what was scraping along her side was the broken pole of her still-stuck spear.
With her shield arm—although she knew it left her wide open—she grabbed the pole of the spear and yanked. At the same time, she threw her entire body next to it, wrenching at the wound to lever it open, thrusting her other arm forward—pushing the point of her sword against the opened wound, a gap in the scales.
She started to drive it down, shoving the sword a few inches in, and then realized how still Edelweiss had gone in anticipation.
May froze.
For a long moment, neither of them moved, May straddling Edelweiss's body, one hand pressing the pole to the side, the other with her sword penetrating Edelweiss's body.
May managed, choked and voice shaking, "Do you yield?"
The body under her shuddered. Edelweiss could strike again now, May knew, and likely throw her off while she was unprepared. It would be a dangerous gamble on the dragon's part, but it was possible.
"I yield," Edelweiss said.
May drew her sword out, slid her leg off Edelweiss, and stepped back. Red blood spilled down the dragon's side.
"Kitten has claws," Edelweiss said, voice unnaturally steady. "You do deserve your name, Lioness."
"I know," May said, and heard her voice come out tired. "Can I get the spear out of you and treat your wound?"
"With your hands shaking like that?" Edelweiss asked scornfully. "I'll go inside and tend to it—the princess can take better care of it than you can. Don't you think about anything but tomorrow."
"I'm—"
But Edelweiss was already leaving, heading up the tower awkwardly, less agile than before. For a moment, May wasn't sure the remains of the spear's shaft would fit through the window, but Edelweiss managed, and was gone.
She didn't come down for dinner that night, but May didn't expect her to.
*~*~*
As Edelweiss came down the next day, May thought grimly to herself, Two more days and it's over.
Of course, she had to get through the next two days or it'd be over much sooner than that. And this time, she didn't have her spear.
"Aren't you going to mount?" Edelweiss asked her curiously. "You are a chevaleresse, after all."
"Bad conditions for that," May said, smiling tightly. "You're too long and winding. I'd expected you to look more like the bestiaries, to be honest. So, while the height advantage might be nice, it'd be lost pretty fast if I were pinned under poor Rutterkin after you tripped him up."
"So you have to enter close combat with a dragon with no spear to help you keep your distance at the start—nor stuck in my side to hinder me," Edelweiss mused aloud. "Well, I suppose there's more glory in that anyway."
May actually laughed aloud. She straightened, drawing her blade, and let her mind fall away from the aches and pains of yesterday. "Well said, lizard."
"I try, kitten."
And with that she began the attack.
This fight took less time, though it felt at least as long—both of them were fatigued from the day before, and both of them were fighting through it. Both were feeling the effects of the injuries they'd taken. Edelweiss had difficulty twisting quickly to the left as it pressed on her still-open injury, and each blow that May received, she took harder than the day before, Edelweiss hitting areas already bruised.
But May had fought through worse, and she was sure Edelweiss likely had as well—assuming May wasn't the first knight she'd fought off.
Edelweiss scored the first hit this time, her tail slicing along some exposed skin on May's face. May had dodged—just barely—and it was probably why she still had a face at all. Still, she could taste the copper blood dripping down her cheek and into her mouth, felt it trickle warmly down the inside of her gorget.
"First blood, lizard," May managed, grinning painfully.
"Ah, that'll scar," Edelweiss said regretfully. "Do you want
to call it at that?"
"Never," May said, and swung again.
Adrenaline was a bad thing—adrenaline made for poor decisions and shaky hands. But the boost of pain pushed her past her reluctance, her exhaustion, and she rained down a flurry of blows that Edelweiss fell back from, body hunching and feet skittering in sudden alarm.
Had she fought other knights before? May suddenly wondered. Had they even accepted her challenges, or got this far in them? Had she even bothered to come down from the tower before?
Edelweiss had to turn away from the attack finally, her body too hunched up for good maneuvering. Her strong jaws snapped at May to drive her back, spitting fire a moment thereafter.
May jumped back and to the right to force Edelweiss to the left instead, and Edelweiss began to wheel, a fast spin that whipped her long snakelike body around. In a moment, she'd be straightened out again and would snap her tail back toward May with enough momentum to throw her free from the clearing, and perhaps dent her armor into her body.
But May didn't give Edelweiss the chance. She charged in, plunging the sword toward the gap in Edelweiss's scales from the injury she'd taken the day before.
Edelweiss wailed as the sword hit, and for once the human tone of her voice was horrifying, because it wasn't a dragon's shriek, not a great wyrm's. It was a woman's, high and afraid and in pain.
May stopped her arm from descending further and, still holding the hilt of her sword, flung her body against Edelweiss's so that the dragon couldn't throw her off as she started to writhe. Which she did, tossing and bucking, almost rolling, moving to tilt the other way and crush May—
"Stop!" May shrieked in return. "You'll push the sword in!"
Edelweiss froze, and May's heart started beating again.
"You great stupid lizard," May muttered, almost shaking. The sword was a good eight inches into Edelweiss's body this time. May couldn't unclench her hand from around the hilt, couldn't loosen the muscles of her arm, keeping them locked in the effort of keeping the sword in but not pushing it any deeper. "Call it. Surrender. You have tomorrow to get your own back."
To the Victor Page 30
