Bermuda Triangle Blues: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (Scions of Magic Book 4)

by TR Cameron

  She pushed her head through the neck of the tight tunic, stepped into the black tactical pants and secured the belt, and pulled the reinforced boots on. A couple of test stamps ensured her feet were properly set in them. The metal vials containing her potions went into the thigh pockets, a healing and an energy one on each leg in case she was injured and couldn’t reach both sides. She gazed at the array of spy paraphernalia but none of it seemed particularly relevant to the fight to come. Briefly, she’d considered trying to leave one at the palace, but logic and reason had won that particular battle. Bringing the gear to New Atlantis had been a smart choice but the situation hadn’t turned out in a way that she could put it to use.

  Putting the uniform jacket on was like donning a suit of armor. As she zipped it and sealed the Velcro flap over the top of it, she noticed the shift from everyday Cali to the warrior Tanyith had described. She was still in there, but this person was harder, more focused, and more ruthless.

  I guess because I’ve had to be to survive so far. But this isn’t the real me. Someday, I won’t need to do this anymore.

  A quick rummage unearthed a set of hair ties and she bound her red curls into a thick strand pulled back from her face to hang down her spine. She wasn’t sure whether wearing the ring with the Leblanc seal on it was required but it felt right on her left middle finger. It complemented the silver rings she always wore on her thumbs and index fingers and would probably hurt if she punched with it, so it stayed.

  The woman in the mirror looked like she was ready. Only one thing was left to do. She patted the compass pendant hidden under her shirt, grasped the flap at her left shoulder, and ripped it off to reveal the symbol underneath. The flap on the opposite side surrendered a moment later and she finished by uncovering the one over her heart.

  She strode with purpose down the cobblestone road leading from the palace toward the outer ring street. The battle would take place at an establishment halfway down the gentry section, and she had decided she wanted to be noticed along the way. If she represented her House, she would do it with pride and confidence. Tanyith and Fyre walked with her, a couple of steps behind and a matching distance on either side. People in her path skittered away from her determined march. She heard the murmurs, the questions, and a few taunts but replied to none of them.

  This version of her didn’t care what they thought and had bigger concerns.

  When they arrived at the building, two men wearing uniforms with the establishment’s logo opened the doors for them. She was led through several hallways to a waiting area, informed that her opponent was on the premises, and told they would both be called at the appointed time. She checked her watch.

  Seven minutes to go.

  The room had no furniture, no luxuries, and no necessities. It was simply a holding area. She turned to her two companions. “In case something goes wrong here, I wanted to say thank you. You’ve been fantastic and I never would have survived this long without either of you.”

  Fyre snorted. “At least you realize it.”

  Tanyith laughed and added, “Don’t worry, you’ll have many more opportunities to improve your ‘going off to battle’ speech. It’s okay that you suck right now.”

  The grin returned slowly, but after a dozen seconds, she was laughing. “No, you suck.” The Draksa breathed a cloud of frost at her face, which made her laugh all the more. “Knock it off, short and scaly.”

  “Look who’s talking,” he retorted. “I’m the normal height for my species, at least. You, not so much.”

  She shook her head. “I love you guys.”

  Tanyith turned as the door opened. “Love you too. Now go and represent New Orleans and your family by kicking some Malniet ass.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The battlefield was an unadorned square room with an entrance on each wall, lit from above by utilitarian lamps dangling from a two-story-high ceiling. The floor was comprised of wood in two different shades. A darker portion in the center demarcated the combat area and the lighter periphery an alleged safe zone for spectators. She’d suggested to Tanyith that he make sure to have a shield up to deal with misfires, exactly like the Atlantean crowds had during her battles at home.

  Her opponent entered at the same time she did. He was tall and thin with short dark hair, light skin, and a slender mustache that accentuated the narrowness of his face. His attire looked like motorcycle leathers and boots, a racing jacket with a single wide yellow stripe the only color in the shiny black ensemble. Two men were visible behind him and stared daggers at her while they talked quietly to each other. The hilt of a sword protruded above the first man’s left shoulder, and she whispered to Tanyith, “At least it’s not a trident.”

  “Or a spear,” he muttered.

  Fyre sent her an unending stream of confidence. She wasn’t sure if it was his true feelings or a deliberate effort to support her but either way, she was grateful for it. A part of her felt like this battle would be easy, given all she’d faced, and she trampled those thoughts whenever they surfaced.

  Being overconfident is the first step toward losing. Ikehara had said those words and demonstrated the truth of them to her countless times.

  A woman in a uniform that matched those of the men who’d admitted them stepped forward from her right. She was mostly nondescript, except for the long black hair that reached in straight strands to her waist. Her voice was unexpectedly deep and resonant and echoed in the space. “House Leblanc has challenged House Malniet. Caliste Leblanc represents her house. Thyralt Malniet represents his. This is in accordance with the laws of New Atlantis.” She made the announcement, which she’d probably said a hundred times before in one variation or another, sound like the start of a glorious battle.

  She swiveled her head to face Cali. “Matriarch Leblanc, do you have anything you wish to say to your opponent?”

  She shrugged. “Give up now and save yourself considerable pain.” Jenkins had explained that a challenge round could be resolved in one of four ways. The first two were gentle—forfeit if the opposition didn’t show or voluntarily by surrender. The last two were decidedly not gentle—incapacitation or death. She imagined that in many cases, the combatants wouldn’t stop at unconsciousness.

  The woman turned the other way. “Master Malniet, do you have anything you wish to say to the challenger?”

  He grinned and revealed perfect teeth in a manner that made him seem like one of the scuzziest frat boys to ever stain Bourbon Street with his presence. “I’ll cut you apart, piece by piece. You’re a worthless descendent of a weak house, and it will be my absolute pleasure to end you and your line.”

  Tanyith muttered, “Nice mouth on that guy.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I’ll aim for that first, I think. Fighting him is one thing but having to listen to him talk might prove fatal.”

  The woman backed away. “Combatants, you may begin.”

  Her opponent stepped forward, and Cali matched his movement. She didn’t plan to escalate unless required to in order to avoid revealing her abilities to an enemy house she’d have to face again. Doubtless, the two behind the man would take mental notes to help the Malniets prepare better for the next bout. Because there would be another, and another, until she’d worked her way through their champions or arrived at the limit. After nine battles, the ritual ended and the challenging house was free to destroy the remaining members of the other by any means at their disposal.

  Malniet attacked suddenly and she stepped back into a defensive stance. He leapt when he reached her and aimed a snap kick at her face.

  Damn, he’s fast. Her block stopped the strike but wasn’t clean enough to permit her to follow up. She circled to the side and feinted at him, and he stood his ground with his hands held loosely in a guard position. He clearly didn’t consider her a threat.

  Contempt dripped from his words. “Pathetic. You are as your family has always been. Weak, afraid, and ineffective. I’ll enjoy this even more than I thought.”


  Cali ignored his provocation, but his annoying mouth did inform her next move. She slipped in and swung an uppercut with her off-hand. He blocked it easily, exactly like he was supposed to, and her jab with the other fist snuck in and crushed his lips into his teeth. His response was a flurry of blows that forced her to focus on defense, and although she deflected most of them, a couple landed on her ribs hard enough to be felt through the padding.

  Her foe paused for a moment and spat blood onto the boards at their feet. “That was a lucky shot, witch.”

  “There’s more where that came from, scumbag.”

  Malniet abandoned the quick actions he’d made for a deliberate stalk toward her. She fell back into her defensive posture again and kept her eyes defocused so she could see all of him. His lead foot rose to snap at her thigh, and she blocked it from the outside in and pushed it in a way that would force him to twist. He went with the move, spun, and launched a sidekick at her stomach that would have been painful had it connected. She’d already circled away from the attack, and when he put the leg down, she countered with a kick of her own at his groin.

  He raised a foot to block it, and she winced at the blow to her shin. She pretended to stumble, and he readied a fight-ending punch and drove it toward her head. Cali caught the wrist and threw herself to the ground, spun, and twisted the joint to force him to move where she wanted him. He thudded onto the boards beside her, and she swung her hips around to lock her legs over his.

  The backfist he delivered into her face stunned her, and she released him and scrambled away. He glared at her as he shook his wrist, and she hoped she’d at least weakened the arm somewhat. The twist she’d given it would have broken the elbow with a little luck that she apparently didn’t possess at the moment. She wiped the blood from under her nose and shook her head. “That was a lucky shot, scumbag.”

  Malniet grinned. “There’s more where that came from, witch. But let’s quit screwing around, shall we?”

  His sword slid from its scabbard with a quiet rasp, and he whipped it at her skull off the draw. She’d already summoned her sticks and interposed them both in a block as she turned toward the swing. In follow-up, she raised her front leg and thrust it out in a perfect sidekick that forced him to back away and disengage. He circled and whirled the sword through a series of impressive and impractical movements.

  Sensei Ikehara would be appalled. She smiled at the thought.

  The man’s attacks were full of flourishes and unnecessary moves. She wasn’t sure if he was showing off for his friends or had simply learned a very strange and indirect fighting style with his blade. She defended cautiously in case it was a trick and waited for her opening. When it came, it was unmistakable. He circled the weapon all the way around his head before he ended in a slash intended to slice her from her left shoulder to right foot. She stepped to her left and brought her right-hand stick under and up to intercept the blade and direct it away from her in the direction in which it was already going.

  The only smart defense would have been to abandon the strike and dive away or release the sword and use his right hand to ward her off. He did neither and so left himself open for her counter. She pivoted her hips and pounded his elbow with her left stick, putting every ounce of power she had into the blow. A smile crept in with the anticipation of the sound the joint would make as it cracked. Before it landed, though, she was thrown back by a wave of force that hurled her into a wall.

  Her own reflexive magical protection saved her from a skull fracture, but pain raced through the rest of her body. She landed cleanly and raised her sticks in defense against whatever assault he might have launched. None came. He stood in the center of the room, panting like he’d run a race.

  Anger, maybe, or he’s bad at magic and tired himself out with one spell?

  Malniet’s blade lay on the floor several feet away, but he didn’t give it a glance as he shuffled to face her directly. He extended his hands and lightning crawled out of them, lengthened, and twisted around itself until he held two crackling whips, each probably six or seven feet long. He wove them in a blur, which revealed that his sword technique was weak because these were his true weapons.

  Tanyith yelled, “Hey, remember what Jenkins said.” She’d told him about it before they’d left. The reference made her smile.

  Right, don’t get hit. Let’s give that a try.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Cali’s gaze was captured by the weaving lights and the pulsing electricity, almost like a cobra being seduced by the flute and motions of a snake charmer. Only the arrogant twist of his lips that preceded his attack kept her from losing the fight right there. It shocked her out of her trance and she leapt back to avoid the whips, which met with a loud snap where her chest had been.

  Thyralt Malniet shook his head and stalked toward her as he cracked the lightning lines menacingly. “You’re out of your league, Leblanc. Surrender now and it might hurt a little less. Once I get one of these wound around you, I can make the torment last for as long as I like.”

  She didn’t rise to the bait and merely watched the swaying weapons while she tried to determine how to defeat them. They seemed to defy physics and moved far faster than their apparent weight would suggest was possible.

  Of course, they’re made of lightning, which probably doesn’t weigh much. The distance was a problem, as she couldn’t get close to attack him.

  Cali attempted it anyway, hoping to hold onto some of her secrets. She covered about six steps before one of the whips slashed at her ankles while the other swished through the air at head height. She launched herself in a dive to the side and barely avoided the lower rope of electricity.

  Okay, screw it. She darted to her feet and threw her sticks at her foe, one after the other. He blocked them with deft flicks of his magical weapons, but they served to delay him while she readied her next strategy. She summoned a large force shield with her left hand, as tall as she was and curved so she could bring it close to protect her sides. He lashed at her again and she backpedaled so they couldn’t sneak around and find her back. A loud crackle emerged from the point of impact.

  Entirely focused, she waited until his arms moved outward to ready the weapons and leaned out from her protective cocoon. She delivered a focused line of flame toward his stomach, bound together in much the same way as his lightning was. Malniet danced aside and displayed more grace than he had so far, then increased the speed of his attacks to force her behind the shield again. He matched every one of her steps back and soon, the long reach of his weapons would force her to abandon the current strategy.

  So, why wait?

  With a loud shout, she braced the shield with both hands and raced toward him under its protection. The whips snaked at her, wound around both the shield and her body, and sizzled where they touched her back. She continued forward while she waited for the pain. When it arrived, she was only a dozen steps away. Her back arched from the shock, but she forced herself to run faster and directly toward him. A sudden look of alarm signaled his realization that she didn’t intend to stop and again, he proved surprisingly agile as he whirled aside to avoid the impact of her shield.

  Her plan had been to ram him or at least to fire a force bolt into him as she went past. His mastery of the magic weapons ruined that as he somehow made one of them slide torturously down her body and wind around her ankles. She screamed and fell but twisted to land on her back. Although she managed to summon the shield again, she couldn’t get the line holding her to release. Cali jerked in pain as he channeled more power into it while he lashed the other whip at her face again and again to compel her to maintain her protection.

  Only a single viable option remained, and it would definitely hurt. She acted before she could think about how much agony would be involved, banished her shield, and stretched her left hand out while she fired another line of fire at his eyes with the other. He raised the whip and it absorbed her magic or neutralized it. He snapped it at her face with a
superior grin, thinking he’d won. She convulsed into a fetal position and her right arm raised to absorb the blow.

  The important action was happening elsewhere. She’d caught the line with her left hand, twisted it around her fist, and accepted the burning pain that accompanied it. As he swung and she pulled her limbs in tightly, she wrenched at the weapon and hoped his instinct would be to hold on, rather than let go. He obliged her and stumbled forward. She straightened her body with a yell and drove the reinforced heel of her boot into his knee, which had locked in an attempt to halt his fall. It snapped and he howled as he fell. His whips vanished as the pain from the injured joint overwhelmed his ability to think.

  She climbed slowly to her feet and looked at the judge. “Does this count as incapacitated?”

  The woman shook her head and she sighed. “So be it.” She extended her hands and recalled her sticks, then used them to intercept the weak lightning attack he threw at her. He dragged himself instinctively away from her as if he could escape.

  I wonder if he even realizes he’s doing it. His face was a mask of madness, all pain and aggression. She advanced to about three feet, distant enough to give her time to react to the attacks he intermittently sent her way.

  He looked unaware of where he was or what he was doing, but she had to try.

  “Thyralt Malniet do you surrender? You’ll walk out of here with no more damage if you do.” He gave no sign of recognition. “Fine, then.” She tossed one of her sticks high, and his gaze followed it up. At the apex, she threw a force hook in the air that pounded into the place where his nose met his forehead and thrust his skull into the floor. His eyes closed and his body went limp.

  Cali turned to the woman. “Are we done here?”