Wrath of the Fury Blade

by Geoff Habiger

  At that moment a blow from the Fury Blade managed to slip past her parry, slicing across her forearm. It bit into the ezustacél and drew a long, thin gash that burned with a stinging pain. “Son of a succubus,” she swore.

  Malvaceä flashed her a wicked grin. With his two blades he was able to better defend himself, but just as he finished smiling, Locera managed to rake the blade across his left thigh, drawing a line of blood from a long cut. “Shit!” He grimaced at the pain and Reva returned her own wicked grin.

  Reva was distantly aware of the sounds of combat and spellcasting coming from the dining room, but she couldn’t break her focus from Locera. I hope we’re winning. She was still angered by Malvaceä’s betrayal. She shouldn’t have expected anything different from the Sucra, but it still galled her that he’d done it.

  Another fury of blows from Locera landed. He was driving them across the balcony to the stairs, heading to the second floor. Locera—or the Fury Blade—had stopped talking and Reva could see his eyes behind the mask. They were wide open, the pupils fully dilated, a bestial gleam showing in them. Reva missed blocking another strike and the blade sliced across her stomach with a sharp pain.

  Maybe the Basvu Mask is more than just symbolic? she thought. If it’s giving him any magical edge, it needs to go. Twisting her sword, she managed to momentarily catch Locera’s blade, locking the guards. With the Fury Blade momentarily pinned she reached out with her left hand and grabbed Locera’s chin. With an upward jerk of her hand she flipped off the mask, which landed in a puddle at their feet.

  Locera gave an almost primal roar. “You think that stupid trinket makes a difference?” He wrested the blade free and brought it around in a two-handed swing. Behind him, Reva saw Malvaceä taking advantage of Locera’s blinding fury to strike a blow at his exposed neck. If Locera dies, I will never know what really happened with my father.

  “I need him alive,” Reva yelled, raising her own sword and blocking Malvaceä’s attack. At that moment the Fury Blade sliced down into her left shoulder. It bit deep, and even with the ezustacél absorbing and deflecting some of the blow, she felt her clavicle snap and blood gush from the wound. Her left arm instantly went numb.

  “You fucking bitch!” yelled Malvaceä. His next attack was aimed at Reva, his sword slicing across her right arm. “I’ll kill you for that!” His attack—aimed at Reva’s head—was blocked (unintentionally, she was sure) by Locera, who’d been trying to take advantage of Malvaceä’s anger to strike his own blow against the Inquisitor.

  Reva took a step back, turning so her left side was away from the other combatants. She felt blood and rain mixing on her arm and trickling down her hand. At least her nerves were intact. Small blessings, she thought.

  Now a vicious three-way duel ensued between Locera, Malvaceä, and Reva; all were attacking each other. Reva fended off attacks from Locera and Malvaceä. She was fighting defensively, trying to keep herself and Locera alive.

  Locera either didn’t care or the Fury Blade blinded him to Reva’s help. It was attacking without any real style or form, a blind rage of swings and blows. Locera tried to head up the stairs but Malvaceä again cut him off. Locera screamed and swung the blade in a wide arc, dodging between Malvaceä’s weapons, to cut a deep gash in his chest. The blade continued through the arc and Reva saw it coming, her eyes widening in shock as she knew she couldn’t get her sword up in time. The blow hit her injured left arm and the pain and force were so strong that she fell hard to the deck, her sword bouncing from her grasp.

  Locera cackled as she fell, the noise abruptly cut short as Malvaceä’s sword erupted from Locera’s chest. Blood spurted from the wound and Locera went limp. His eyes rolled back into his head and the Fury Blade fell from his hand.

  Forty-one

  The rain fell in large drops, mixing with the drops of Locera’s blood that had fallen on Reva’s face. Locera’s empty eyes stared at Reva as the building fury and anger she felt toward Malvaceä exploded from deep in her chest.

  “You fucking bastard,” Reva yelled.

  Malvaceä pulled his sword from Locera’s back and glanced down at Reva. “Hmmm?”

  “I needed him alive!” Reva spat. Her rage grew as she realized that Locera was the last elf who’d be able to answer any questions about her father. Now he was dead and she’d never learn the truth.

  Malvaceä shrugged. He didn’t owe Reva an explanation. He’d done part of his job. Now for the next. He glared down at Reva. I’ll pull this stubborn thorn as well.

  As Malvaceä stepped over Locera’s body, Reva reached out and grasped the hilt of a sword. With a slash she swung the blade, catching Malvaceä by surprise and nicking him in the shin.

  Renewed vigor and strength flowed up Reva’s arm, igniting the slow fury within her into a raging fire. Her heart beat faster and she could feel her movements quicken. She appeared to spring to her feet and the numbness and pain in her left arm receded.

  He doesn’t care that he took him from you.

  “You took him from me!” Reva was keenly aware of everything around her, the feel and sound of raindrops and the scent of blood and death. She sensed, rather than saw, Ansee enter the doorway behind her. In front of her she took in Malvaceä, his movements appearing to be sluggish, as if in a dream. She swung the blade with skill, in three quick slashes. Malvaceä managed to parry two of them, but the third slid across his left forearm with a crimson line.

  Reva’s vision narrowed and focused only on Malvaceä, his wounds seeming to pulse with life. Everything else around her grew silent. There was only the two of them. “You’ll pay for defying me!”

  Lunging at Malvaceä, she forced him back a step. She jabbed at his chest, which he parried, and she skillfully twisted her blade under his sword to slash at his leg. He grimaced in pain and she felt her left arm grow stronger.

  Anger and rage fueled her attacks, which grew stronger and deadlier. Malvaceä kept up a rapid set of blocks and parries, committing his whole effort to defending himself. He was only partially successful and each slash and cut that Malvaceä suffered filled Reva with vigor and washed away her fatigue.

  Yes! Let your anger make you stronger!

  Reva’s conscious thought seemed to fade away, replaced with a warm, pleasant euphoria. She felt amazing, on top of the world. She felt stronger than ever before, alert to everything around her. It was like Wake, but ten times better. She couldn’t let this feeling go. She needed to hold onto it for as long as possible. Somehow she knew that the only way to survive, to hold on to this wonderful feeling for as long as possible, was to keep pressing the attack.

  The blade flashed in her hand, dancing through the rain, weaving around Malvaceä’s sword to strike him. His defenses began to waiver as her attacks became stronger. She slashed down across his chest from right to left, his parry sloppy and too slow. Then, turning the blade slightly, she hit him with the flat of the blade in his calf, sweeping his feet out from under him. Malvaceä fell to the deck with a splash of rainwater, the air knocked from his lungs.

  Finish him!

  Reva raised the blade high, gripping it in her two good hands. With a swift flash of fury, she brought the blade down.

  Forty-two

  The Fury Blade stopped a few hands above Malvaceä, neatly caught by Ansee’s dagger. The black and red blade pulsed with energy, glowing like a smith’s forge. Steam rose from it with each drop of rain. Ansee strained under the force of the blow but managed to keep Reva from finishing the swing.

  “Go!” he yelled at Malvaceä.

  “The bitch has gone mad! She needs to be stopped.”

  Ansee gave Malvaceä a side-long glance. Cuts and gashes covered his body, blood trickling down from a dozen or more wounds. It was clear that the Fury Blade had been toying with the Inquisitor, as there had been plenty of chances for killing—or at least seriously maiming—blows in the quick melee. A part
of Ansee thought he should have let Reva finish the job. Malvaceä was a pain in the ass, and had branches blown differently, he wouldn’t have had any second thoughts about killing Reva, but Ansee knew that Reva would never accept killing an elf—even one as much of an ass as Malvaceä—for no reason.

  “Go,” Ansee said again, an edge of anger in his voice. “Or I’ll let her finish the job.”

  Malvaceä stared up past the Fury Blade at Reva. She stared at him with feral eyes, wide and fully dilated. The calm, rational part of his mind knew that she was in the thrall of the weapon and not fully responsible for her actions, but that was a small part and he easily ignored it. She’d humiliated him in front of his fellow Inquisitors and the Grand Inquisitor. Magic sword or not, she’d bested him in combat and now he’d failed to reclaim the Fury Blade.

  He’d be foolish to continue the fight in his current condition. He’d lost a lot of blood and his stamina was gone. Better to cut my losses and fight another day. He’d suffer the bruise to his pride and the punishment from Agera for failure. But I’ll repay Reva ten thousand times over in the future. She had only been an annoyance before—a bothersome Constable easily goaded at his whim—now she was the enemy. I’ll fight her at every opportunity.

  Malvaceä kept all this inside; outwardly he flashed Reva a wicked grin. “Another time, perhaps, Constable Inspector.” He then rolled over the edge of the balcony, swinging down to hang from its ledge, and dropped the couple of paces to the ground. He winced in pain from his wounds but managed to straighten and walk casually into the dark rain.

  Reva watched her target flee, anger smothering her as Malvaceä fled over the edge of the balcony.

  You are letting the coward flee!

  Ansee breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been afraid that the Inquisitor would press the fight. He turned his attention back to Reva. She still held the Fury Blade against his dagger, though the pressure was less now. The rain was quickly soaking his clothes and wet strands of hair were plastered to his face. He stared into Reva’s eyes, searching for any sign of her and not the damn blade. What he saw reminded him of the way she’d looked when she was on Wake.

  She focused on the interloper, the one who had brazenly kept her from taking her revenge. I know this elf, she told the blade

  He’s nothing to you! He’s just a pathetic barrier that stands between you and vengeance!

  “Reva, you must take control of the sword,” Ansee said, gritting his teeth and keeping pressure against the blade. “You have to command it.”

  Distantly, Reva heard a voice faintly calling her name and the words “control…command.” Reva pulled the blade back, her senses slowly returning. She could hear the rain pattering around her, feel it hit her face and outstretched arms.

  Quickly Ansee made up his mind, he took a step back and dropped the dagger, holding his hands up in a gesture of supplication. He was taking a great risk, as his protection spell had ended; there was nothing to prevent Reva from hacking him to pieces.

  Strike him down! the Fury Blade screamed in her mind. At the same time, her high began to crash. It felt like a gnawing loss in the pit of her mind, worse than any letdown she’d felt coming off Wake. She needed the feeling—she wanted it. It was the only thing that could sustain her. And she knew that a single strike would bring all the power and greatness from before back. She’d have it all again.

  Yes! I will make you powerful! Destroy this interloper!

  Ansee saw Reva raise the Fury Blade over her head, ready to cut him down. “Reva,” he pleaded. “If you let it take control it will kill you, just like Wake killed my sister.”

  He’s attacked you! The image of Ansee reaching toward her, lightning dancing between the fingers of his outstretched hand, was thrust at her. He’s taken your possessions! She saw Ansee toss the box that had held her Wake to her and a new wave of loss and anger roiled up from the pit of her stomach. It was the same feeling she’d felt then knowing that he’d taken the Wake from her, but stronger. Amplified. Exact your revenge!

  “You fought the Wake, Reva,” Ansee urged. “You can fight the Fury Blade.”

  Do it! He wants to replace Cas! More images and feelings flooded Reva’s mind. Sadness, anger, and loss as Cas told Reva she was leaving the Constabulary. Irritation and annoyance as Ansee made a mess of her table at New Port. Understanding and pride as Reva’s mother besmirched Ansee before even meeting him.

  “Reva, you need to choose,” Ansee said, tears mixing with the rain on his face. “You need to choose between me or the Fury Blade!”

  He did it to protect me. Reva blinked back the rain, seeing Ansee standing and pleading before her. She recalled the hurt and loss on his face as he explained what had happened to his sister. The look of relief on his face after she’d been healed after their fight with the Dark Elves. She realized that Ansee had never wanted to replace Cas. Everything that he’d done had been to help her, to make sure that they stopped Roya. Even taking away my Wake had been for my own good.

  He’s holding you back! He wants all the credit! Kill him and I will make you great!

  But…he’s not trying to replacing Cas, Reva realized. He already has. He’s succeeding her. He’s my partner.

  Reva stared at Ansee standing defenseless before her. Rain had plastered wild strands of his straw-brown hair to his forehead. She caught little details, like the flecks of gold that were in his green eyes and the uneven line of his nose from being broken at some point in the past. A small taste of the euphoria tickled her mind. Kill him!

  Reva blinked, focusing on Ansee’s face. His eyes were wide, staring directly into her own. She thought she could see tears running down his cheeks. He smiled at her, a soft, gentle turn of the mouth. He’s saved me.

  And you have failed me!

  Reva felt the Fury Blade command her arms, willing them into action. They started moving forward and she saw the look in Ansee’s eyes go from relief to terror.

  “No!” Reva yelled, her voice powerful and full of command.

  Ansee flinched at the sudden movement, closing his eyes, afraid that he’d failed Reva. The swing shuddered to a stop, the blade swinging forward with momentum, almost touching Ansee’s forehead, then jerking back. When the blow didn’t land, Ansee cautiously opened one eye to see the weapon a hair’s breadth away from him.

  I am Reva Lunaria, she told the Fury Blade. No one commands me.

  Ansee watched as Reva held the blade in front of her, as if speaking to it, and then lowered the weapon to her side. He let out his breath in a long sigh.

  A smile spread across Reva’s face and she took a step forward, throwing her left arm around Ansee’s neck in a fierce hug. “Áeorias,” she whispered the thank you in his ear.

  Ansee returned the hug. “Doséth.”

  A loud cough from the doorway caused Reva to break the embrace. She turned to Senior Constable Ghrellstone. “And what are you staring at, Constable?”

  “Nothin’, ma’am,” Willem replied with a smile. “Thought you’d want a report on what happened, is all.”

  Reva nodded and stepped back into the dining room.

  Forty-three

  Reva’s boots squelched on the floor and rainwater dripped in curtains from her clothes and hair. She didn’t think that there was any part of her body that was still dry. Ansee followed, having picked up her sword from where it had fallen.

  The room was a mess. Food and wine had spilled everywhere and then been mixed with blood. Chairs had been knocked over, and broken crockery and stoneware were scattered across the floor. Several bodies lay about the room. In front of Reva lay LCI Betulla, her husband kneeling next to her. He held a blood-soaked napkin to her chest trying to stop the bleeding. Constable Gania—Reva was relieved to see—was carrying more makeshift bandages to Eoin. Gania had a napkin tied around his head wound; blood had soaked through and run down the side of his head. He no
dded to Reva as he knelt and began replacing the LCI’s dressing.

  To the right the bodies of the Baron and Baroness were entwined, neither of them moving. A large pool of blood surrounded them and Reva noticed that a large portion of the Baroness’s skull had been cut away, exposing her brain. Next to them lay the body of a Green Cloak, also unmoving. The sight of the bodies caused Reva to become angry, a small knot of fury in her stomach. The Fury Blade twitched in her hand but she kept it under control.

  Reva stepped around the table, fearing what she’d find. She was relieved to see Constable Olwynn sitting against a cupboard along the wall. He held a towel against his stomach and his jaw was bruised and bloody. He smiled at Reva and then winced in pain.

  At that moment the thud of boots sounded on the stairs and they all turned to see several Constables and an elf from the Red Watch—the King’s royal guard—enter the room, weapons drawn. There was a great commotion and Senior Constable Ghrellstone stepped up to take command of the situation. He began barking orders that even the guards-elf obeyed. Weapons were sheathed, runners were sent for the closest healer, and aid was tendered to the wounded.

  Reva was content to let Willem take the lead. She wasn’t quite ready to deal with this now. She knew that FC Aescel and others would arrive soon and she wasn’t sure how she’d explain this catastrophe. Several guests were dead, as was her suspect, and the LCI lay severely wounded. There is no way this will end well for me.

  She stepped to a corner of the room, Ansee still at her side. He’d kept quiet while she took in the room. “What happened to the other Green Cloaks?” she asked.

  “As you’d expect,” he answered. “They fled along with the Grand Inquisitor.”

  Reva frowned, trying to recall if they’d passed her on the balcony. “Outside?”