Sword Fight

by Nathan Van Coops

  She was on the far side of the garage from the stairwell she had come up initially. Jasper Sterling was at the opposite stairwell, peering over the railing. He looked up at the sound of Valerie’s entrance, then quickly turned and shouted down the stairwell. “He’s back!”

  The shout was partly obscured by the low rumbling of an engine. Valerie studied the line of cars to her left and noted that Niko Okazaki’s car was still idling and the driver’s door was hanging open. She had evidently raced off in pursuit of Valerie so quickly that she hadn’t bothered to shut the war car off.

  That was lucky.

  The pounding of feet in the stairwell behind her caused the single cloud of doubt to evaporate from her mind. She rushed to the idling war car, slid across the hood, then tossed the briefcase inside before flinging herself into the driver’s seat.

  A shriek came from the stairwell as Niko bolted toward her.

  Valerie slammed the driver’s door and locked it. She shifted into gear just as Niko launched herself onto the hood of the car. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth stretched into a snarl. Valerie popped the clutch and accelerated.

  She was immediately thrown back in her seat from the torque of the rear wheels. She slammed on the brakes to avoid crashing into a support column ahead of her. The maneuver sent Niko flying from the hood, and the fighter rolled several times on landing, her black hair whirling around her face as she tumbled into the column. Valerie paused only long enough to see Niko look up before her foot was on the accelerator again. She cranked the wheel hard and launched away at an angle, sideswiping the taillights of one of the luxury sedans on her way out.

  It took a moment to straighten out of the turn as the sheer power of the Shogun’s rear end threatened to send her into a spin, but Valerie got control of the car in time to avoid crushing Blaise’s limo. Thinking better of it at the last second, she side-swiped the bumper anyway, shearing it off and slamming the limo into the concrete barrier.

  Jasper’s eyes widened as she next aimed the car toward him. He raced for the corner of the garage and disappeared into the stairwell.

  Valerie cursed and straightened out again and was about to round the curve toward the exit ramp when she spotted a boy’s head bobbing up from behind a Windsor 350. She braked hard, skidding to a stop before reaching across the seat to pop open the passenger door.

  “Hey! Get in!” she shouted.

  Eli took a quick look at the men and women now in pursuit, then dove into the car. Valerie was already moving by the time he got the door shut.

  “Buckle up,” she shouted. She slipped into her own five-point harness before steering the Shogun down the exit ramp. She took the curve at the bottom without braking, flying around the corner and onto the level surface of the ground floor. She finally slowed, coming out of the turn as she searched for the exit.

  Jasper Sterling emerged from the stairwell. He was shouting something but not at them.

  Eli got his harness locked in and gripped the door handle. Valerie spotted the gates at the far end of the garage, but as she aimed that direction, a pair of headlights flicked on in the far-left corner of the garage. She only caught quick glimpses of the car as she sped past the rows of columns, but it was enough to recognize the other vehicle as a charcoal-gray Easton Blackbird 900. When she looked again, she saw the driver’s black mask and the crimson streak down one side. The Red Reaper.

  “Oh no!” Eli shouted as the Blackbird blasted out of its parking space. It was tracking a course to intercept or possibly T-bone the Shogun. Valerie shifted gears and stomped the accelerator.

  Several men-at-arms were standing guard at the exit gate, but they took one look at the vehicles speeding toward them and scattered.

  Valerie aimed straight for the center of the right-hand gate, trying to judge the velocity of the intercepting Blackbird. It was going to be close.

  The gates were a mix of thin, horizontal, metal rails and chain link. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel as she accelerated straight for it. The Blackbird was closing in her peripheral vision.

  Thirty yards.

  Fifteen.

  Five.

  The Blackbird’s rear tires smoked as it braked, and the Shogun hit a speed bump, went airborne, and slammed through the exit gate, metal, chain, and sparks exploding from the front end of the car as they flew through.

  Valerie’s eyes were closed on impact, but the instant the car hit the ground, they were back open, and she fought the wheel to regain control, all while attempting to see through a windshield obscured by twisted debris.

  They erupted into the street amid a screech of steel on concrete. Valerie braked hard, and the remains of the exit gate flew off the front of the car and gave her back her vision. They slammed into a parked car, crushing the entire driver’s side. Valerie and Eli both jolted against their harnesses.

  A quick glance in the rear-view mirror showed the carnage of the gate behind them. To her dismay, the headlights of the Reaper’s Blackbird were sweeping toward the hole. Valerie shifted into reverse and backed up just far enough to extricate herself from the smashed car ahead of her.

  The Blackbird growled as the Red Reaper drove it through the ruin of the exit gate.

  Valerie met the Reaper’s gaze through the windshield. The voids that took the place of eyes in the mask seemed intent on swallowing her.

  “Bastard,” Valerie hissed, shifting into gear again and accelerating away from the wreckage she had created.

  She checked her rear-view mirror and found the Blackbird accelerating out of the turn to follow. They were out of the garage, but this wasn’t over.

  “I need you to get that case open,” Valerie said, indicating the briefcase now on the floor near Eli’s feet. “Any way you can.” She handed him the hammer.

  Eli stretched for the briefcase but had to wriggle part way out of his safety harness to reach it. Valerie kept her eyes on the road and dodged carts, pedestrians, and a few other vehicles as she sped through uptown. She made the turn on Druid Avenue and headed east.

  “That was my bike,” Eli said, turning in his seat as the corner flew by.

  “We’ll have to come back for it.”

  The Blackbird raced onto the street behind her and was on her bumper in a flash. As soon as she cleared the last of the pedestrians, Valerie gunned the throttle, and the Shogun’s twin turbochargers spooled up, launching her forward and plastering Eli back in his seat.

  The road opened up ahead of her, and she used the space to gain some distance on the Red Reaper. He hadn’t tried to ram into her again, perhaps because of the pedestrians around, but it was clear she wouldn’t lose him easily.

  In a matter of seconds, her problem tripled. Two armored Monarch Furies bearing the paint scheme of the City Watch pulled into the road ahead, blocking her route. The Furies bristled with weapons, including turret-mounted ballistae.

  Valerie swore under her breath and turned the wheel hard, careening through an open plaza, dodging street performers and musicians and wide-eyed visitors. The only exit from the plaza was a narrow alley barely big enough for the Shogun. The broader Furies wouldn’t clear the walls on either side. If she could get through . . .

  One of the Furies bore down on her, flames shooting from its short-stack exhaust system. It was almost on her when it was suddenly knocked aside by the Blackbird. The Reaper forced the other car out of the way as he pursued her.

  As she plummeted into the alley, the armored Easton was back on her bumper.

  With a similar body width, there was no getting around the fact that wherever she could go, he could follow.

  The alley twisted and turned, and the roar of the two engines echoed off the sides of the houses. People leapt from the cobblestone street into doorways to avoid the vehicles.

  Valerie emerged into a second plaza south of the first and launched the Shogun down a series of broad steps toward an elaborate fountain.

  Eli had a white-knuckle grip on the door handle as they bounc
ed their way down the steps, and more tourists leapt out of their way.

  “Briefcase!” Valerie shouted. “Get it open.”

  Eli tore his eyes from the chaotic scene ahead long enough to focus on the silver briefcase. Once the Shogun was back on level ground, he made an attempt at the combination latches but with little effect.

  “It’s still locked.”

  Another Fury flew into sight to Valerie’s left. She pushed the hood of her sweatshirt away from her face, keeping her mask on but trying to maintain a better view of her pursuers. An armored troop carrier raced along the side street to her right as she flew past an intersection.

  “Oh great. Just what we need,” Valerie muttered.

  The pursuit was causing her to flee downhill. They were forcing her that way, and she soon realized why. She was headed for the harbor. They were closing a trap.

  Valerie swerved left and attempted to cut east across the water district, but the Furies formed up on that side to block her path. A car slammed into her with a squeal of metal on metal, knocking her sideview mirror forward. The gendarme in the passenger seat of the car was so close she could count the teeth in his snarl. She was forced south again, swerving around a produce cart and causing the farmer to dive beneath it to get out of the way.

  The troop carriers were multiplying behind her.

  She was running out of time.

  The glistening harbor was now in full view. Ships lined the docks, and noblemen and merchants crowded every corner. This high-end waterfront district was crowded with passengers alighting from ferries. All around the plaza, the Furies were pouring out of side streets. Lights and sirens flashed, and their ballista turrets all swiveled toward her.

  Valerie turned one way and then another, but they had her hemmed in, a noose that drew tighter with every move she made. She cursed and brought the Shogun to a skidding stop near the entrance to the ferry dock. She was out of room.

  “I got it!” Eli said, springing the lid of the briefcase with the claw end of the hammer. A broad grin spread across his face, but it vanished when he looked out the windows. They were surrounded by vehicles with artillery weapons pointed straight at them.

  The Red Reaper’s Easton Blackbird fronted the ring of Furies.

  Soldiers of the City Watch poured from the troop carriers and moved into positions with crossbows.

  “Tell me there is a dueling contract in there,” Valerie said, reaching for the stack of papers in the briefcase and rifling through them. “Something that proves Jasper Sterling is forging duels.” She tossed forms and envelopes aside, searching for the stack of dueling contracts she’d seen Blaise pull from. “There has to be something in here.”

  But her search came up empty.

  “Damn it!” Valerie shouted.

  Eli shrunk against the seat. His eyes darted to the soldiers outside.

  Valerie shuffled through the last few papers and located the form that Blaise had made the other fighters sign in the garage. She didn’t have time to read the details, but the signatures were all there. She stuffed all the papers back in the briefcase.

  “You there! You in the car! Shut off your engine immediately!”

  Valerie looked up and eyed the vehicles and soldiers encircling them. No one was taking any chances of being run down by the Shogun, but there was nowhere to go.

  Valerie glanced into the rear-view mirror at the fishing vessels crowding the harbor. Another ferry was working its way toward the dock.

  “Eli. Tell me you know how to swim.”

  “Swim?” Eli twisted in his seat and looked behind them. “Oh no. You’re not thinking about—”

  “Can you or can’t you?” Valerie asked.

  “Yeah, but—”

  Valerie didn’t wait for the rest. She stomped on the accelerator and popped the clutch, the rear tires gaining traction after a squeal of rubber on stone. She spun the car around and aimed it for the long pier of the ferry dock. A shout went up from the captain of the gendarmes.

  “Fire!”

  A hail of crossbow bolts ricocheted off the back of the car. A normal vehicle would have suffered from the barrage, but the Shogun’s armored body and reinforced windows repelled the attack with ease. The ballistae were a different matter. Valerie didn’t want to find out what they would do.

  Eli gave a shout as the Shogun shot across the last remaining yards of concrete and onto the wood planks of the pier. His fingers tightened on the door handle again, and Valerie didn’t blame him. Her own hands may as well have been welded to the steering wheel as she kept the Shogun aimed down the length of the pier. The wooden structure wasn’t designed to support a vehicle of this weight, but she could only hope the timbers would hold together long enough for her to make the channel. She glanced in the mirror.

  None of the Furies had dared to follow, and even the Red Reaper was simply staring. He had climbed out of the Blackbird and was watching her escape, those black eyes still fixated on the Shogun’s taillights.

  “Open the door,” Valerie shouted over the rumbling of their tires. “We’ll either hit the water or we can jump first.”

  “Jump?” Eli’s eyes were as wide as they could go, but he unlatched the gull-wing door and pushed it skyward.

  Fishermen and longshoremen dove off the pier left and right as the Shogun gained speed. There would be a lot of people in the water. She hoped enough.

  The end of the pier was approaching fast. There was only a low, wooden railing at the far end, then a long drop to the crowded blue channel.

  “Time to decide!” Valerie shouted. “All the way in or jump?” She shifted her gaze from the pier to the boy next to her.

  “Aaahhh, aaahhh, jump!” he shouted.

  She shrugged out of her five-point harness at the same time he unbuckled his. Valerie pushed her door open as high as it could go and let go of the steering wheel just as Eli got his footing against the door frame.

  She grabbed the briefcase.

  The railing of the pier exploded across the hood of the car.

  The next moment, the world got quiet as the Shogun’s wheels left the pier. Valerie looked down to find twenty-five feet of open air and the glistening waves of the harbor beneath her. She kicked hard from the doorframe and leapt.

  The rippled water rushed up to meet her.

  21

  Discovered

  “Give me a name,” Jasper said. He stood amid the wreckage of the parking garage’s exit gate and glared at the security captain.

  “We don’t know who the trespasser was,” the captain said. “But I’ve got my men scouring the area for anyone who knows something.”

  “Let me be clear when I say that your career depends on it,” Jasper said. “If you don’t find me answers, you’ll be taste-testing chum in the dock district for the rest of your useless existence.”

  The man bowed as he backed away, and Jasper turned his glare on Blaise. “And you may as well have just announced our plans to the entire city.”

  Blaise was still rubbing his forehead. “That little bastard kicked me in the face.”

  “You let them,” Jasper said.

  “Listen, you’re the one who wanted the contract in writing,” Blaise hissed. “To hold over the other fighters’ heads. I advised against it!”

  “We need to fix this,” Jasper said.

  In the aftermath of the incident, the other fighters had been so amped up to chase the thief that they hadn’t had time to point the blame at him. But it was only a matter of time before they wanted to know what had become of their signatures.

  They wouldn’t out him to the king. They had as much to lose as he did if it came out that they were planning to cheat the tournament, but they needed to solve this problem quickly.

  “Whoever it was will make contact,” Blaise said. “Hold the briefcase for ransom. Or they’re just after quick cash and will dump it once they see there’s no money in it.”

  “Don’t be dense,” Jasper said. “If they wanted money, the
y would have taken a car when no one was around or gone after the briefcase before we dispersed the payments. This is something personal.”

  Footsteps pounded pavement, and the security captain and one of his underlings ran back up to them breathlessly.

  “You’d better have something good,” Jasper said.

  “My men located a suspicious vehicle,” the captain panted. “No registration. Junker. Must be from outside the walls. Found these inside.” He handed over a pair of colorful flyers.

  Jasper unfolded the crumpled papers and read the announcement. “This is just some second-rate drag show.”

  “Yes, sir. A clue, sir. Appears to be a tavern down in Tidewater.”

  “Tidewater?” Jasper clenched his jaw. “That little welp.” He crushed the flyers.

  “What is it?” Blaise asked. “That mean something to you?”

  “Charlotte’s prodigal daughter telephoned from that pit-stain district. I’d hoped she would have turned up dead by now.”

  “If she’s survived this long on her own, she could be trouble.”

  “She’s a loose end,” Jasper said. “We need it cut.” He turned to the security captain. “Bring the car. We’re all going for a ride.”

  It had been a long time since Jasper Sterling had set foot in one of the city’s rim districts. When he opened the door to the stink of dead fish and rotting seaweed, he remembered why. He held a handkerchief to his nose and got out of the car.

  Despite being an offensive eyesore, the avenue he found himself on was surprisingly busy. Fishmongers shouted from corner stands, and noisy music blared from shop windows. The area was teeming with energy and an ever-present babble of excitement. It was clear that the King’s Tournament was eliciting the requisite enthusiasm even among those who stood no real chance of benefiting from it.