INCURSION: Faeblade (Knight's Bane Trilogy Book 2)

by Bryan Donihue

  There was an audible murmur from the crowd around the trial grounds as two slim, medieval arming swords, also known as knightly swords, appeared in Dancer's hands, each of them showing a visible golden glow. The swords were dual-edged, with the blades about two feet long. The simple silver crossbar protected a short one-handed hilt, with a large pommel on the end. Those with keen eyesight noticed faintly glowing runes running up the center of each blade. The young agent dropped into a casual stance, holding the blades at different heights and angles facing her opponent.

  The Unseelie King growled in frustration. He had not noticed the blades wielded by the young human girl, and it was too late to take the fight over from his Knight. For his part, Oude Rode Ogen studied the human girl in front of him with new respect, and a little caution. It took a strong will to wield an enchanted weapon, and Old Red Eyes could not underestimate his opponent.

  The Queen once again stood. "Combatants, begin."

  The two warriors moved, circling with each other, neither one was eager to make the first move. After their second cautious circuit, Old Red Eyes grew impatient. The creature thought his opponent must be unsure of herself. She might have enchanted weapons, but he had decades of experience. It swiped in with a razor-sharp claw.

  Dancer dodged easily, twisting to avoid the claw, and bringing one of her blades up to bat away the creature's claws. Her blade left a cut across the back of her opponent's hand, and the thing snarled at her.

  "That was just a taste, fae. I'm going to take you apart one small piece at a time." Dancer smiled, trying to work the creature into a frenzy.

  The creature held its hand up so the back of it faced her. She watched as the cut mended itself. "Foolish human," the creature growled. "It is you that will suffer for your insolence."

  Dancer's smile faltered. If he could heal like a vampire or werewolf, she might be in trouble. She kept her guard up as she moved, never remaining in the same spot. The young woman waited for her opponent to come to her.

  The monstrous fae attacked, slashing claws a blur as they tried to eviscerate the young human in front of him. Each attack was blocked as the young agent used her swords to block the attacks in a rapid flurry of blows. As fast as she was, the creature was faster. Only her training allowed her to barely block each swipe or slash of claws.

  The creature kept pressing forward. Oude Rode Ogen's burning ember eyes bored into Dancer's and she kept retreating under his relentless assault. Old Red Eyes pressed his advantage, forcing the young warrior back toward the quarry pond.

  Dancer felt the ground shift under her feet. She was trained to be aware of her surroundings, and she noticed that the ground was getting wet under her feet. The dry, dusty packed earth turned to damp ground at the edge of the pond. She felt her boots threaten to lose their purchase, and she shifted her retreat, gradually edging parallel to the pond's edge.

  Another flurry of strikes and one made it through the young woman's defenses. Pain erupted along her stomach as one of the creature's claws ripped through her armor vest and undershirt, scoring a line across her abdomen. She stumbled backward, nearly falling.

  Old Red Eyes paused and raised one claw between them. Dancer could make out a small amount of her blood staining the razor point. "The warrior believes she is invincible." The fae creature licked its claw, his long tongue slowly, sensuously drawing her blood from the extended digit. "Your fear tastes wonderful. I can taste your mortality."

  Dancer was worried as the two warriors circled each other. She was struggling to keep up with the vicious attacks, and her opponent was not even breathing hard. She knew she could not defend herself forever. All it would take would be one slip of the foot, or a bit of mud to slow her down, and her life would be forfeit.

  If you cannot defend yourself, attack him. Vellath's voice rumbled through her head. Remember, I chose you for a reason. Now kill this bothersome fae.

  Dancer nodded minutely and readied herself for the fae's next attack.

  She did not wait long. The large black creature leaped for her, feet leaving the ground and claws outstretched before it. The young agent reacted as she had trained. She spun, pushing the creature past her while slapping aside the claws with her blade. As he went past, she quickly drew the blades across the creature's back, scoring two long lines.

  Old Red Eyes howled in pain and anger, the cuts already beginning to heal. She pressed her attack, drawing closer before the fae could recover. She began her own series of attacks. Her blades whirled and struck, slashes and strikes coming from almost every angle. Her martial arts training allowing her to draw and strike and slash, weaving a complex pattern that the human eye could not follow.

  It was Oude Rode Ogen's turn to defend as the blades created a whirlwind of sharp pain and death around Dancer. He struggled to block the enchanted blades, and several strikes got through his defenses, each one scoring long, deep slashes and drawing blood. Soon, the fae creature's chest and arms were a mass of criss-cross slices that were being opened faster than the creature could heal.

  Dancer watched the creature's desperate defense and noticed an opening, a vulnerability. She waited, keeping up the onslaught and pressure, making sure that the creature was too busy defending to care about attacking her.

  Now. A hole briefly appeared in the fae's defenses, and Dancer struck. She twisted her blade slightly, adjusted the angle, and struck. Her blade cleaved through two of the fingers on her opponents right hand, and the claws dropped to the ground, severed at the first knuckle.

  The creature howled and leaped away. Turning back to watch his opponent. The fae looked at his mangled hand, two of the fingers severed, and the black blood flowing freely. Even now, the wounds were healing, but he knew the process would be slow. He snarled at the young woman.

  Dancer stepped back, into a ready stance. She looked at the creature, and then at her swords. As she watched, the black blood that was dripping down the edges of her blades disappeared, absorbed into the cold, glowing metal.

  Vellath's bass rumble purred in her mind, It is good to drink of the essence of the fae again. This one has a peculiar flavor that I enjoy very much.

  Dancer looked at the wounded and angry fae in front of her. She smiled, "So, if I chop bits off of you, they don't grow back? That sounds like a lot of fun." Her tone, though winded, was almost jovial.

  Old Red Eyes snarled in response. Once again, he leaped at the young human warrior, trying to draw her into the same defense again. He knew he could counter that defense. This time, Dancer dropped to the ground, her swords flashing overhead as she blocked and thrust at the fae flying over her head. A quick roll and she was up and moving again.

  Oude Rode Ogen was surprised when the young warrior dropped below him, and her devilish blades opened several new cuts as he flew over her. He rolled on the landing, came up, spun around, and crouched in a stance, waiting for her attack.

  Dancer's lips curled in a smile, "You're getting slow. I thought you were supposed to be good."

  Old Red Eyes bellowed, rage contorting his face. The embers that were his eyes glowed with a deeper red. The fae rushed forward, arms flailing in a wild slashing attack. The young woman warrior defended herself, her blades once again a spinning vortex of metal death. Sparks flashed where the blades connected with claws, and she halted his forward push.

  Taking a glancing slash across her protected shoulder, she switched to actively attacking the creature. The federal agent began to accelerate her attacks, causing more minor wounds across the creature's torso and arms to appear. The large fae creature once again lost ground, Dancer's swordsmanship no match for his supernatural abilities. The young warrior could tell that her opponent was tiring, and that the myriad of wounds was affecting his defenses.

  One surge forward; Dancer's blades whirling in a pattern she didn't remember learning. Oude Rode Ogen was driven back further, and her last several blows carved whole chunks of flesh from the creature. Two more fingers and a wedge of flesh from the crea
ture's upper arm dropped into the dust. The creature fell back again, this time landing on his back.

  Dancer stopped and did not press the attack. Instead, she backed up a couple paces and grinned. She watched as more of the black blood of the creature was absorbed into her blades. "You seem to be losing pieces faster than they can fall off. Do you need to rest?" The young warrior's light voice grated on the fae creature's nerves, and there was real steel behind her sweet smile.

  Repeat aloud after me. Vellath's rumble filled her mind. He rattled through a short string of what sounded like a mix of Enochian and Gaelic. His young warrior dutifully spoke the words. Now we finish this. Vellath rumbled contentedly.

  A white glow began to envelop the blades of the swords she was holding, covering the warm golden glow she knew. She watched as the glow travelled down the blades, enveloping the hilts and covering her hands. She felt a warmth where the glow touched. It continued up her arms and to her torso.

  Oude Rode Ogen watched as his opponent muttered a few magical words of an incantation and a white glow seemed to envelop her body. When it was done, the young warrior was glowing with a soft white light that was visible in the daytime. Her hair seemed to be statically charged, and it started waving around as if blown by an unfelt wind. When she looked up at him, he recoiled. Her eyes had turned white and were glowing. Her gaze seemed to pierce his very soul.

  Dancer felt a warmth throughout her body. All of her pains and aches from the fight had faded. She felt rested, full of energy, and full of power. The young warrior spoke up, addressing her opponent, "Oude Rode Ogen." Dancer raised one sword blade and pointed the tip at the fae. "You have caused untold pain and suffering for humans for thousands of years. You have murdered my friend. You directly caused the death of another of my friends, and you were responsible for my mentor's pain. Today, I judge you guilty. Your sentence is death."

  The fae was frozen with fear as the young warrior woman stalked toward him. He had never felt fear. When his opponent was within five feet of him, he was finally able to break through his paralysis. He roared again, attacking with every last bit of strength and power he had in a dangerous last gambit to prevent his death.

  Dancer was expecting the fae's attack and pivoted away from the first swipe of razor claws. Again her blades appeared to fly into a metal maelstrom of destruction. After the first couple seconds, Oude Rode Ogen was once again thrown into defending his life with all of his energy. Dancer smiled at the fae's desperation and switched tactics.

  The first strike that got through his defenses took three of his remaining fingers. The next thrust cleaved between his defenses and ran straight through to his side. When the young warrior pulled back to strike again, the blade ripped a large chunk of the creature out of his abdomen, leaving a gaping wound. The next unblocked swing cleaved through the creature's left arm, severing the forearm about halfway up to the elbow. As the large fae howled in agony, Dancer's next strike severed the creature's right arm between the elbow and the shoulder.

  Oude Rode Ogen dropped to his knees both arms bloody with stumps at the ends. Howling with rage and fear, the creature looked wildly about. Dancer stood before it and placed the tips of her blades at his throat. She calmly lifted his chin, so they were staring at each other's eyes.

  "You understand now. Your life was forfeit when you struck down my friend. Who can save you from your fate?"

  From the Unseelie Court, the King stood to his feet and shouted, voice magically amplified, "Hold!" The cry from the King startled her. She paused and turned slightly, her eyes going to the Unseelie monarch. He visibly flinched at her terrible eyes.

  "Why should I hold?"

  "My Knight is defeated. He must yield." The King pointed to his champion, bleeding on the ground in front of the young woman. "You can claim Victory. I will not object."

  Dancer looked at Ghost and the Seelie Queen. The Queen stood, looking thoughtful. "If your opponent yields, it is your choice to accept the Victory while they yet live."

  The young warrior looked at the broken and bleeding creature in front of her. Black blood was still trickling down from the stumps that used to be his arms. Blade tips still wedged firmly under the fae's chin, she asked in a low menacing voice, "Do you yield?"

  The creature growled and glared at her. Seconds passed, then the creature nodded slightly, ever aware of the sharp blade at its throat. "I yield." The deep bass voice was low. "I yield Victory to you."

  Dancer looked back up at the Queen, and then at her boss, Ghost. In the background, several Protectors were yelling "Finish him. For the Praetorian."

  Ghost looked at his youngest agent. He did not know what to tell her. If she let the monster live, the team leader had no doubt it would come after them later. And yet, if she killed the creature after it yielded, what message would that convey about humanity? In the end, Dancer was the Praetorian's Second, and it was ultimately her decision. He made a hand signal for her to decide.

  "King Arkanai t'Nakaót, Darkness of the Unseelie Court. Do you yield this Gliaireacht and claim responsibility for the attack on the Seanachaidh and the Seelie club?" Dancer looked at the King expectantly.

  The Unseelie King paused. There was no good solution. If he yielded, he might appear momentarily weak, but his Knight would be returned to him, and he could exact his revenge on this young girl. He nodded, "I yield this Gliaireacht, and claim responsibility for those attacks. I will make reparations."

  Dancer looked down at the creature in front of her. She knew this creature would pursue her for the humiliation it had suffered. She could be the hero here, be good and not kill a helpless opponent, or she could be cruel, but show strength, and maybe get the fae to leave humanity alone for a while. Her moment of indecision past, she knew what she had to do.

  31

  FAEBLADE

  GLIAIREACHT, 68TH ST SE, CALEDONIA, MICHIGAN

  Dancer pulled the tips of her swords away from Old Red Eyes' neck. In one smooth motion, the young warrior brought both blades together in a cross, with Oude Rode Ogen's neck in between the blades. With rage contorting her face, and white light blazing in her eyes, she snarled at the fae, "You will never harm another creature again."

  The large creature's face was a mask of shock and horror as the blades came together and sheared through the fae's neck. Black blood fountained as the head bounced down and away from Dancer. The crowd of witnesses sat in stunned silence that was only broken by the sound of the head bouncing away and the thud of the corpse hitting the dirt.

  Dancer stood over the corpse, swords clenched in her hands, still glowing with white magical power. As she brought her swords up in a guard position, the entire crowd could see the blood on the blades disappear as it was absorbed by the metal.

  The Unseelie King shouted. Dancer turned toward the elf and waited. Their stalemate was broken as the Seelie Queen spoke. "As Witness to this Gliaireacht, I declare Victory to Special Agent Hannah Sedano, Champion of the Praetorian. I witness the official yield of His Majesty, King Arkanai t'Nakaót, Darkness of the Unseelie Court, and the official claim of responsibility. The Oracle will determine and declare reparations at a later date. Is there any challenge to this Witness?"

  The Unseelie monarch looked like he wanted to contest the results. Dancer just stood and watched the elf, waiting to see if he or his minions wanted to challenge her victory. The King looked away from the young woman and toward the Queen.

  "No, Queen Merunaré. I do not challenge the victory of this Fury, or your witness thereof."

  The King turned, surrounded himself with his Court, and spoke in a strange language. With the accompanying hand gestures, Ghost figured out that the monarch was casting a spell. Soon, a small black portal rose out of the ground. It was a doorway-shaped hole filled with the same roiling, inky blackness that the team had encountered twice.

  The King led the way through the portal and vanished into the darkness. The rest of his Court quickly followed, vanishing one-by-one into the darkness
. Dancer did not let her guard down until the entire Court had passed through the gateway and it had closed.

  Slowly, the glow faded from Dancer. Starting with the glow around her head, the light seemed to flow back down her body and back into the swords. When the light faded, she put the two blades together, and they seamlessly blended into one blade again, before vanishing from the sight of those around her.

  As she placed the now-invisible sword back into her scabbard, she opened her mind to the dragon in the sword, Vellath? Thank you for lending me your knowledge and power.

  The dragon's sleepy rumble answered her, You are welcome, little one. I enjoyed that fight, and I was able to feed a little, as well.

  We must talk about your dietary needs some time, thought Dancer.

  Ah, but that is a tale for another time, little one. The well-sated dragon trailed off to nothing.

  The young federal agent thought to herself that she needed to have that discussion pretty soon with the dragon in her sword.

  Dancer walked toward her teammates as they rushed to congratulate the young woman. Boomer was the first to reach her, and she swept the young agent up in a big bear hug. Suddenly, she pulled the young agent back to arms length. "Hannah, what happened to your hair?"

  The young warrior glanced down and captured a handful of her hair. Gone were the raven-black locks of hair. Her beautiful hair was pure white. It was not the gray of old age, nor was it the blue-white of an even older vintage. It was a ghostly white, thicker than before, and contained occasional highlights of blue and green flashing through it.

  "I... I don't know. Must have been Vellath."

  Boomer looked at her, "It looks great on you. Seriously."

  The rest of the team gathered around to talk to Dancer, praising the young agent with hugs and pats on the shoulders. The victorious warrior soon forgot about her strange hair.

  The Oracle approached, followed by a limping Praetorian, who was being supported by two Protectors. The Oracle bowed and paid his respects to the young agent. Dancer bowed back and then moved to the Praetorian and inquired about her injuries. The Praetorian told Dancer of the healing magic being used on her, and then the dwarf celebrated the young agent's victory with her.