Skirts & Swords (Female-Led Epic Fantasy Box Set for Charity)

by L. P. Dover

  “It’s fine, really,” I said, though I didn’t understand, it was like a static charge. Meanwhile, I had decided the thickness was a drawl. “I don’t know your accent, where is it from?”

  “North Camber,” he replied. A snicker slipped from Steed and Anvil glanced at him before amending, “Well, that is where they cut out part of my tongue.” I recoiled suddenly at the idea and unintentionally wrenched my hand from his. The tingle remained. He didn’t seem offended; he simply took a few steps backward to start his demonstration. I brought my arm back to my side and it brushed Ruby, shocking her just enough to make both of us flinch. She didn’t appear to mind, smiling at me as she returned her attention to the start of the show.

  The other men drew back—some sitting, some standing, but all giving him their full attention and space—as he raised his hands and seemed to brace himself, taking one full, deep breath before leaning forward slightly. A thunderous crack and excruciating light flew from both of his outstretched hands, slammed into a tall pine, and snapped the top third of the tree off. Several limbs splintered and popped as it crashed its way down.

  I was dumbfounded. I looked again at the large man. Sweat glistened on his forehead in the moonlight and his breath was a little labored, but still, he stood. Understanding came slowly. He had shot lightning from his hands. The others nodded appreciatively. I was having second thoughts about my desired friendship with this man. Though not being his friend was probably more dangerous.

  I realized I was shaking my head in disbelief as he turned back to me and bowed slightly. I felt as if I should applaud. He stepped back and took a seat, still winded.

  The wiry man stepped inside the circle then, his movements erratic, jerky. He nodded to me. Grey. He was thoughtful for a moment, deciding the best way to display his skill before finally approaching to offer his hand in greeting. My own hand was in his for a split second, and then he was gone. Not just his hand from mine, but he, his entire body, had vanished. I half expected to feel his palm against mine, perhaps he’d merely camouflaged himself, but my hand was empty. Automatically, I looked around, baffled. The makeshift audience wore easy, amused smiles. They watched me, not the vacant space from which Grey had evidently disappeared. And then I noticed someone beside me who hadn't been there before … it was him.

  “How …” But he was gone again. I'd been staring right at him and had no idea where he went.

  I was just beginning to doubt whether I'd seen him at all when I spotted him standing across the circle, grinning fiendishly while he dangled an object from his hands. It was the feather Ruby had tied in my hair. I'd forgotten about it. I reached up to feel for it, to be certain it was the same one, and it was gone. I started to get irritated, but then the feather was in my other hand and he was back, or still, standing where he had been, his hands now empty. And, for no apparent reason other than amusement, he did a few somersaults and landed in the center of the circle, smiling. Ruby clapped a few times from beside me, clearly thrilled with his show. I thought I must have missed something.

  Grey bowed out of the circle and was replaced by the two tall, silvery elves. I found myself startled again; I had not seen them sitting with the group, or anywhere else. For some reason, it was much more eerie than the little wiry man who blinked in and out of vision. One of the men spoke, his voice smooth and melodic. “We will not demonstrate their full power at this time. We will not short our forces a man for mere display.” I thought there was humor in his voice. “As you can see, they can be frightening, however, without attack.”

  At that, the dogs walked into the circle. I had not seen them either, before they were approaching their masters. They came forward to snarl, one regarding Ruby and one Steed, and I could only be glad it wasn’t me as their muzzles pulled back and exposed a vicious set of teeth, complete with meat-tearing fangs. The hair rose on their backs and I was suddenly positive they were larger than Ruby. A horrific growl ripped from their chests in unison and I cringed. Then, at once, they settled back into relaxed, seated positions as if they had never been angry. “We also do not do tricks.” Yes, there was humor there. I was relieved to see the intimidating pair might not be as formal as I'd imagined. “We will return to watch.” They nodded toward me and walked out of the circle in unison, disappearing from view.

  I twisted the feather I was holding in my hand. Something about it, something about the dogs. How remarkable it must be to master a beast. I wouldn’t have to be battered during training then, I thought, and winced at the thought of Ruby cracking one of those wolf-dogs with her whip.

  Chapter Eleven

  An Education

  The next morning, Ruby was in the main room waiting for me. She instructed me to bathe and change; we would be spending the day training. I followed her directives, but couldn’t decide whether to be grateful or worried when the clothes she’d laid out for me were plainly meant for a hard day. It was still early as we stole out the back, cloaks covering out heads, and made our way to the ridge.

  Steed, Chevelle, Grey, and Anvil were there. I imagined the others—Rhys, Rider, and their dogs—were there as well, though I couldn’t see them. Watch dogs, I thought, all four. It was comforting, but Ruby wasted no time in getting to training. She immediately trounced me. Repeatedly. I felt whipped, literally and figuratively, before we’d gone half an hour.

  After watching us for a while, Steed stepped in to save me. “Frey,” he'd converted to the nickname the others used in place of the sunnier ones, “why don’t you take a break for a while, let us spar so you can watch … we’ll give you a few pointers.”

  I didn’t know if I liked the idea of the group sparring, whether it gave me a break from the beatings or not, but Grey stepped forward and my opinion no longer mattered.

  “Just watch … and learn.”

  I backed away and sat cross legged on the ground. Ruby joined me; I could tell she was excited. It seemed everything excited Ruby. Everything that made me nervous, I amended in my head.

  Steed and Grey stood opposite each other in the center of the flat we circled. A cursory nod at one another signaled the onset of the bout and both tensed, crouching slightly into a ready stance. I found myself leaning forward in suspense. Chevelle moved to stand beside me; he, too, watching intently. Grey wagged his eyebrows at Steed, taunting him to make the first move.

  “Come on, Sunshine,” Steed teased back, “let’s see what you’ve got.”

  At that, Grey disappeared, and in a flash, was behind Steed, reaching up to smack him in the back of the head. But just before he struck, Steed ducked into a squat and spun, his extended arms taking Grey’s legs out from under him. Suddenly, I was jerking with their moves enthusiastically. Grey caught himself and was gone again, this time reappearing midair in a flip above Steed’s head, reaching down to tag him on the way by. It was a loud smack, and I was sure it had stung. Steed was standing again, focused on the spot where Grey had landed and now flickered in and out of view so fast I couldn’t keep up. I made an effort to consider possible responses in my head, but was coming up blank.

  The nerves were gone; I found myself wanting Steed to win and leaned with his strikes, tensing as if they were my own. Grey bounded through the air once more, showing off, confident in his evident lead, and then a small rock rose at chest height in front of Steed. I was wondering who had lifted it when I saw Grey flash back into view and hesitate, only a moment, as he considered the rock. At once, his face changed; he knew he’d been beaten. As he'd paused to study the floating rock, Steed had immobilized him, and just like that, the match was over.

  Ruby leaned toward me as she spoke softly, “Steed is stronger than Grey, he only needed to catch him.”

  Grey conceded, his walk slower, no longer jerky as he made his way out of the makeshift ring. Steed threw me a quick wink.

  Anvil approached next, stepping into the same starting position Grey had used, and Steed shifted several paces back before he readied himself and nodded toward his new opponen
t. I remembered the tree and was suddenly afraid for him. Would Anvil use the same method on a person?

  A thunderous crack answered my unspoken question. The lightning bolt was faster than my eyes at such a close distance, and by the time I looked at Steed, there was nothing but a wall of water. He had constructed a barrier of sorts, caught the strike, and redirected it around himself by melting the snow that spotted the mountain. Anvil was winded, though the strike wasn’t as severe as his previous show. Steed would unquestionably be the winner now, and as he took aim to retaliate, his opponent raised his hands in surrender.

  “Quick thinking, Mister Summit.” The large man grinned and I had no doubt they were old friends.

  Chevelle stepped forward then, eager. I had a feeling he’d been itching for this the way I’d been itching to burn Ruby. Steed smiled in acceptance, but not the same smile he'd given his last opponent. They stood across from each other and readied themselves. Both tensed, but neither took the low, wide stance previously used.

  As their eyes fixed on one another, I felt myself, and Ruby beside me, lean forward in anticipation of action. Simultaneously, both men stiffened, their muscles taut, jaws clenched tight, stares focused, determined. I saw nothing happen, but knew there must be something, some unseen force causing them pain, draining them. I couldn’t look away, but stammered to Ruby, “What’s happening?”

  “They are trying to overpower one another.” I could hear the pleasure in her voice. “No silly games, just power,” and the way she said it made me wonder whether her statement about not having her mother’s ambition was true. But I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the struggle in front of me. No visible action, I tried to judge by appearance who might be winning. Chevelle’s face was stern and fierce. Steed flinched occasionally, though I had no idea if that was pain or something else. I had no doubt, however, that neither intended to lose. Their stance, right down to their eyes, was absolutely unwavering.

  There was a sound behind me and I realized it had been completely quiet as we all watched the unanimated brawl. Instantly, Steed and Chevelle broke their stare and turned to the noise—dogs, I thought—looking past me. I started to turn as well, and noticed Ruby was gone from beside me, though I’d not seen her move. I was whisked from my seat as I glimpsed Steed and Chevelle dart past me. But they hadn’t touched me.

  Less than a second ago, I'd been watching a contest and now I was standing behind Ruby, facing the other direction, her red curls blocking my view as she shielded me, her arms outstretched in ready. Steed and Chevelle were at opposite angles in front of us, both tensed, even more so than they had been in their bout, and I leaned my head around Ruby’s hair to see what they were seeing.

  In front of our triangle, directly ahead of Ruby, stood a councilman in the indicative long white robe and tassels. I sickened as I absorbed the idea that a council member—Was he a tracker?—was behind me—Directly behind me—as we were all engrossed in a trivial match. He was frozen, unmistakable agony distorted his features. I didn’t know which of the group were restraining him. Anvil and Grey flanked him, Rhys and Rider were posted a good distance behind him with their dogs, watching. Maybe all of them held him.

  He seemed to be attempting to speak, but couldn’t get the words out. I noticed his blond hair and became vaguely aware I had grown accustomed to the dark features of my new companions. Chevelle mumbled something, but my ears began to buzz; not the all-out siren that had crippled me before, more like interference, and I couldn't understand him. I could see his lips moving as he spoke to Anvil, but wasn't able to catch the words.

  And then Anvil approached the captive, dwarfing him with his mass. He exhibited remarkable menace when he addressed the motionless councilman, whose mouth appeared to be working again as he replied. Through ringing ears I couldn’t hear their words clearly, but I did hear the breaking bones. A grotesque crunch sounded as the councilman's thigh bone snapped, dropping him halfway to the ground. Anvil was leaning over him, somehow even more intimidating than my first, moonlit sight of him, while he spoke directly to the man as if they were the only two here, as if he hadn’t just suffered a traumatic injury. And, evidently, Anvil didn’t like the answers he received, because the councilman's other leg snapped, dropping him to stand on the stumps of his broken, mangled thighs.

  I couldn’t keep from wondering how it was possible he remained upright. Anvil bent down to keep his stare close, threatening. The broken man looked at me, his glare accusing, and suddenly his mouth was moving heatedly, but my ears only rang louder, engulfing all other sound. I cringed away from his gaze, but couldn’t stop myself from watching the scene play out, even as my head turned down, wanting to look away. Why was he fixed on me? What were they saying?

  Ruby remained protectively in front of me, her posture lowered, arms tensed tighter since he’d turned his eyes on me. His face twisted in agony as his right arm was torn from its socket, leaving the limb hanging limply at the shoulder, and part of me was glad I couldn’t hear that sound. He turned back to his questioner, his mouth a grimace as the words came out, unmistakably a curse, and his other arm was wrenched from its socket. He winced, apparently not yet numb from the damages, and his face went hard, lips pressed together, jaw clenched tight. He wasn’t going to scream? Or talk. His back twisted and he fell, a motionless heap on the ground. His body was bent out of recognition.

  It was over.

  My ears had stopped ringing the moment he'd hit the ground. Ruby relaxed and stepped away from me. I wanted to catch up with what had happened, but no one was talking, the mountain was silent. Rhys and Rider were gone from sight again.

  “Aren’t you going to perform the death ceremony?” I worried as the other elves began walking away.

  Anvil spat on the mangled body. The corpse. “It’s done.”

  I stood staring at the crumpled mass as the others gathered, arguing.

  A council member.

  “It’s time to move,” I heard someone say.

  Came for me.

  “No, not yet.” Someone else.

  They killed him.

  And I was glad.

  “There could be more,” Grey insisted.

  That brought me back. “More?” Chevelle looked irritated again, and gave the bickering group an admonishing glare as he approached me. “There are more council members coming for me?” I could hear the alarm in my own voice.

  He tried to calm me. “Frey–”

  I cut him off. “I won’t let you all pay for my crimes.” Confusion passed over each face, except Chevelle.

  “We aren’t. You don’t understand …” Something flickered in his eyes. “Besides, they are pursuing me.” The group appeared even more puzzled. “For choking the tracker.” Grey shook his head.

  “Because of me,” I argued. “And now, well, now you’ve killed one.” But I didn’t know who; Anvil had stood before him, but any one of them could have snapped his spine.

  “Frey.” His tone was solemn. “You know what they did to your mother.” And I could hear what he didn’t say, and you know what they’ll do to you.

  I didn’t have a counter for that and he knew it. He took advantage of the silence, giving orders to Ruby. “Take her to the house.”

  She had me at once, towing me beside her as she covered us with cloaks.

  Chevelle was still instructing, “Steed, watch the front, stay inside. Grey, take the rear, out of sight. Anything, no matter how trivial, signal the wolves.”

  Wolves. They had been wolves, not dogs. I immediately had more respect for the tall, slender elves. Men who tamed wild wolves.

  We were back at the house in what seemed like a heartbeat. Steed watched the village from the front room. Ruby sat with me on her bed, the door closed.

  “This will calm you,” she said, and a sprinkle of glitter hit my face before I had the chance to protest. “Just a touch,” she assured me, “just a touch.”

  It was too late, I was already completely relaxed. I lay ba
ck on the bed and she did the same. We stared at her ceiling, unspeaking for an immeasurable amount of time. Probably immeasurable because of the fairy dust. I rolled on my side toward her, dimly irritated she’d poisoned me again, though it was much less severe this time. I was simply enveloped in tranquility.

  “Ruby ...” My question fell short as I was distracted by her ears. Her hair had fallen back as she lie beside me.

  “Hmm?” she answered.

  I reached up to feel my own ears as I considered hers. I had always hidden mine behind hair, never braiding it back or putting it up to expose them. Not that I could have pulled off the intricate braiding and designs of the other elves. But my ears were clearly more rounded than everyone else’s, almost blunt. Ruby’s were different, too. Hers were more angular, though, almost pointed at the tip. Neither of us matched the norm; hers were one extreme, mine the other.

  She turned to look at me. “Feeling okay?”

  I realized I had been asking her a question. “Mm hmm.” I got lost in the hum of my reply, and she smiled at my satisfied trance.

  I faded off to blackness then, though my dreams were vivid and wild.

  I was a hawk, flying high above the mountain. My wings stretched, I soared through the sky, endless and open. Through keen eyes I watched below, surveying a massive structure of dark stones. Then I was a wolf, running through those stones, hunting, searching, guarding. My shoulders were muscular, I could feel them tense and release with each stride. I was myself again, though strong and confident. Two statuesque elves, twinned in white, glided past me. Lightning struck around me, cracking the dark stones of the walls. Reed of Keithar Peak stood before me, and suddenly I was on a pedestal, looking down as he wagged his tongue at me offensively. I scorned him, burning a chunk of it off, and he smiled at me.

  I jolted awake, the smell of burning flesh still lingered in my nostrils, and was staring at Ruby’s ceiling. Damn her. I was alone in her bed, but could hear an exchange of low whispers from the open door as she and Steed conversed in the front room. I wasn’t about to announce I had woken. My head didn’t throb as before, no sour mouth. It was overall a much better experience, but who could stand the dreams? I rolled to my side.