Sword Fight

by Nathan Van Coops

  She froze.

  He wasn’t one of the homeless that sometimes picked through the trash. This man was wearing a suit. He met her gaze briefly, then looked away, gliding out of the doorway and moving off toward the far end of the block. Just before he turned the corner, he looked back and lifted a radio to his mouth.

  Was he there for her? If he was with the City Watch, why hadn’t he tried to apprehend her?

  She searched the alley, looking for any other surprises, but it was deserted. She continued on and pushed her way into the rear of the tavern. She nearly collided with Rico. He was in a shimmery dress, wearing a wig that reeked of hair spray.

  “Oh my God, no. You are not coming in here looking like that.” He held up a hand. “What happened to you?”

  “I’m so late,” Valerie said. “I was supposed to be here to help.”

  “That ship has sailed,” Rico said.

  “Did Ann’s sword pass the judging?”

  “It’s going down right now. And you need to get your butt out of here, pronto. Your crazy life has brought us enough trouble for one day.”

  “Why, what happened?”

  “Jasper Sterling happened is what happened. He was here. In the bar. Now go hide before someone sees you. You can go to my place if you want.” He pulled a key from his shirt and handed it to her. “Get cleaned up, and don’t show your face until this is over. God, I remember you smelled bad the first time you came in from that alley, but this is so much worse.”

  “Okay, but hold up. Jasper Sterling was here? Why?”

  “I have no idea, but you’ve got to go. We can talk about this later. I need to get back in there.” He shoved her through the door and shut it on her.

  Valerie stood on the steps in the alleyway clutching the key.

  Jasper Sterling was in the Twisted Tentacle? She hastily scanned the alley again. There was no sign of the lurking man or anyone else for that matter, but she suddenly felt as though the very walls might be watching her.

  She exited the alley, but when she reached the sidewalk, she had to cross north to get to Lexington. The illuminated front of the Twisted Tentacle was visible from where she crossed. Somewhere inside, Ann and Janet’s fates were being decided.

  She had just reached the far sidewalk and was about to head uphill when she heard the scream.

  She turned in time to see a car barreling down the street. It was racing downhill with no one at the wheel. A metal drum was strapped to the roof.

  “What the hell–”

  Valerie watched in horror as the car continued at full speed across the road, then hit the sidewalk outside the tavern. It went airborne and sailed straight through the front of the building.

  She stared in shock at the gaping hole in the tavern where the car had vanished.

  The night erupted with screams.

  Valerie dropped the briefcase in the street and sprinted toward the building. She was nearly there when the inside of the tavern lit up with a fiery, orange glow. The next moment, the remaining windows at the front of the tavern exploded, showering glass and flaming wood and sending Valerie flailing backward.

  She hit the ground hard.

  When she rolled over and lifted her head, the whole world was on fire.

  24

  Charred

  Flaming debris drifted slowly from the sky; receipts, paper napkins, all turning to ash even as they fell.

  Valerie’s ears rang.

  The flash from the explosion still lingered in her vision, temporarily seared into her eyes.

  Then she saw the shoe.

  It hadn’t been there a minute ago. It was sitting upright in the center of the street, a solitary sentry standing guard against the night.

  Valerie staggered to her feet.

  That’s when she finally registered the screams. They had been there all along, a backdrop to the ringing, but it now matched the scene in front of her.

  A chill went up her spine.

  The Twisted Tentacle was engulfed in smoke. People stumbled from the massive hole in the front of the building, coughing and covered in soot.

  A man tripped over a curb in the lot, fell, and didn’t get back up. More casualties spilled from windows and openings blown in the walls.

  No. It couldn’t be real.

  Janet. Rico. Ann.

  Flames licked up the facade of the building. Several of the windows in the upstairs apartment had blown out and were billowing smoke. Others were illuminated with flame.

  Valerie rushed toward the opening where the front door had been. The figure that came staggering out next was someone she recognized, but just barely.

  “Rico! Are you okay?”

  Rico’s dress was blackened, and he appeared to be in a daze. His wig was on fire. Valerie snatched it off his head and threw it aside, then ran her hand over his head to check for embers. She grabbed him by the shoulders and led him out of the wreckage, past the prone man near the curb.

  The street was chaos. Citizens from around the village were showing up, some gaping, some springing into action. Shouts filled the air, some calling for water, others searching for friends or family members.

  “Rico, where are Janet and Ann? Are they inside?”

  “I saw Janet,” Rico mumbled. “I saw—” His mouth opened, but he clamped his eyes shut as though blocking out the vision. He groaned, the groan turning into a wail. He staggered, and Valerie helped him to a sitting position.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” Valerie said. “I’m coming right back.” She gently released Rico’s arm and it fell into his lap. He slid onto his side on the ground, wracked with sobs.

  “I’m coming back,” Valerie repeated, then raced toward the hole in the tavern. She hesitated when she hit the wall of heat. The inside of the Twisted Tentacle glowed with angry, ravenous flames. They licked from the walls and ceiling in growing pockets of red and orange. She squinted and forced herself onward, focusing on the bodies littering the floor. Valerie recognized several of her regular customers, some with blank stares, others writhing in agony. Hands reached for her, and she clasped them, dragging one, then another out the hole in the front of the building.

  On her third trip inside, she pulled her still-damp shirt up, attempting to shield her face from the heat of the flames on the ceiling.

  The hulk of the car had landed at the center of the seating area for the stage. The blackened steel was twisted and smoking.

  The rear passenger door was missing. It was the same Lark sedan she had driven uptown.

  She was part of this.

  Valerie staggered around the car and nearly tripped on a man pinned beneath the front bumper. His hand lifted toward her. It was covered in signet rings. The nobleman grasped at her leg. “Help. Me.” His fine clothes were burned and blackened, and when he turned toward her, one side of his face was nearly melted.

  His hand was red and blistered. It pawed at her leg. Valerie clasped his palm, unable to think. He was pinned, crushed, and there was no way to help him. As she held his hand, the man’s arm went limp, his eyes fluttered, and his head fell back, thudding against the floor. When she looked down at her hand, bits of his skin were sticking to hers. She let go reflexively and wiped her hand on her leg. The smells from the fire were overwhelming, and she tried not to retch.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  But there was no escaping the carnage around the room. More disfigured people were crawling across the floor or staggering toward the entrance. A few citizens from outside moved in to help.

  Regaining her focus, she rose. “Janet!” She turned in place, searching the smoky room. “Ann!”

  “Valerie.” The voice was almost a whisper. “Valerie.”

  Valerie turned toward the voice and located the source. A number of tables had been overturned and now lay in a heap to her left. The voice was coming from beneath them. Valerie scrambled over to the pile and located Ann partially buried under the furniture. A heavy table lay atop her leg. Several stools covered th
e rest of her. Valerie quickly tossed aside the stools but struggled to budge the table.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of here.”

  Ann tried to pull herself free from the table, but she was pinned fast.

  Valerie turned and shouted toward the now dim opening. “Help! Someone come help me!”

  The shout was partly drowned out by a groan from the timbers overhead. Part of the ceiling gave way and tumbled into the bar. Valerie flinched and tried to shield Ann from the swirling embers.

  “Valerie, Janet is here somewhere,” Ann said, her voice straining.

  “We’ll find her. I promise.” She shouted toward the opening again. “Somebody help!”

  “Val?” A figure appeared in the smoke.

  A flood of relief filled her.

  “Oh God, Damon! Over here!”

  Damon climbed over the wreckage and moved toward her voice, but he froze momentarily at the sight of the car. His eyes roamed over the blackened frame.

  “Help me get her out!” Valerie shouted.

  Damon rushed to help as she struggled with the table. With his assistance, they were able to shove it aside.

  Another piece of the ceiling crashed down a few feet from them, this time roaring with flames.

  “We’ve got to go!” Damon shouted. He pulled Ann up and threw one of her arms over his shoulder. Valerie lifted Ann’s other arm, and they hauled her out to the street.

  Rico was back on his feet and rushed to help.

  “Take her,” Valerie said. “Help her.” She passed Ann’s arm to Rico and turned toward the tavern.

  Damon caught her wrist. “No. It’s too dangerous. That roof is coming down any second.”

  “Janet’s still in there,” Valerie said. She broke her wrist free from Damon’s grip and sprinted back into the tavern. Sparks were flying around the inside of the bar, and the heat from the flames was intensifying.

  Valerie’s eyes watered from the smoke as she searched the area near the bar. Several prone figures lay on the floor, but none of them were Janet. As the beams creaked and moaned overhead, she squatted lower to avoid the heat and shouted, “Janet!”

  Several bottles crashed from the shelves behind the bar, one of them erupting into flames as it struck the burning cash register.

  Valerie scrambled around the far side of the bar and discovered two women unconscious on the ground. One was Janet and the other was Ruby, the bartender. Ruby was staring blankly into the shelves, a jagged piece of steel protruding from her neck.

  Valerie struggled to roll Janet over. She couldn’t tell if she was breathing.

  “Val!” Damon’s shout came from the front of the bar. “Get out of there!”

  Valerie lifted Janet, wrapping her arms under the tavern owner’s armpits and across her chest, then began to drag her. “I found her!”

  She made it around the end of the bar and worked her way toward the opening. A cascade of flaming timbers suddenly rained from the ceiling, and the inrush of air made the flames around her brighten. Valerie screamed.

  “It’s coming down!” It was Rico’s voice shouting this time. The two men were at the edge of the tavern where the door had once been, but there was no longer a way through.

  “I’m going out the back!" Valerie shouted. She coughed violently as she turned the way she had come, but when she reached the hallway that led to the alley, it was engulfed in flames. She could see the exit. The door was open, but the walls and ceiling roiled with fire.

  She could sprint it and possibly avoid being burned, but not hauling Janet’s limp form. She hoisted Janet higher, wrapping her arms under the tavern owner’s armpits. Janet’s head lolled against her chest. Was she even alive?

  The beam above her began to give way, groaning as it buckled. Valerie clasped her own wrist tightly as she hoisted Janet as high as she could, then she closed her eyes and ran.

  Flames licked at her back and her hair. She screamed as an ember landed on her bare neck. Smoke rose from her clothing, and the lingering moisture from her crawl through the storm drain steamed out of her. Every part of her felt like it was on fire. She opened her eyes just enough to gauge the spot of darkness that signaled the only escape through the walls of orange.

  Embers flew around her, and flames licked at her from every angle. Even the air seemed to be on fire.

  Valerie screamed.

  Then she was out.

  Her foot missed the doorstep and she stumbled, crashing to the cobblestones of the alley. Janet fell on top of her, crushing what little breath she had from her lungs. Valerie opened her mouth but there was no air. She choked on her own tongue and coughed.

  Finally, the breath came.

  Valerie gasped and gulped at the air, ignoring the pain that was registering from a hundred points on her body.

  This same infernal alley, altogether too familiar, now reeked of burnt hair and flesh.

  Footsteps pounded the cobblestones. Then there were hands on her. Patting out flames. A wet shirt, a towel. Damon and Rico, also strangers. They lifted Janet off of her and hauled her away from the burning building. Two strangers stepped in and hoisted Valerie into the air as well. She was thrown over one man’s shoulder and carried from the alley into the street.

  There was no fire brigade, just citizens. Some relaying buckets of seawater up from the docks, others lifting the injured into carts. Valerie was laid on the ground among other casualties.

  “I’m okay,” she argued, brushing away the hands that sought to aid her. “I’m okay. Where’s Janet?”

  She didn’t have to look far. A small group was gathered around the figure of the tavern owner. Rico, Damon, and Ann.

  “Is she alive?” Valerie asked, speaking to their backs.

  Damon got down on his knees and breathed into Janet’s mouth.

  A produce truck blared its horn as it rattled to a stop nearby. The driver stepped down from the cab. “Seriously injured! Bring them here! We’re taking them up the hill. Gotta get the worst hurt up to the hospital straight away.”

  “Over here!” someone shouted.

  “Help me!” responded another.

  Rico stood and grabbed the arm of the driver. “Please. Take her.” He pointed to Janet.

  “Get her in the back,” the man said. “Quickly.”

  Damon and Rico and one other man lifted Janet as gently as they could and carried her to the back of the truck.

  “I’m going with her,” Ann said, limping her way toward the truck.

  “No room for extras,” the driver said.

  “I’m going,” Ann replied, hauling herself up the tailgate of the truck, using her arms and one good leg. Rico did his best to assist her.

  Valerie got to her feet, but there was nothing else to be done.

  The driver of the truck restarted the engine and moved farther along the road, gathering up other victims. The bucket brigade had given up attempting to dampen the flames consuming the Twisted Tentacle. They concentrated all of their efforts on the buildings around it.

  Valerie felt someone’s fingertips on her shoulders and turned to find Damon beside her. “We need to get you taken care of,” he said.

  “I’m okay,” Valerie replied, but even she realized it wasn’t true. Her skin was hot and red, and there were holes burned through her clothes. Other parts of her clothing were stuck to her.

  “You’re still in shock. Come on. I’ll help you.”

  Valerie turned to take another look at the Twisted Tentacle. Most of the upstairs apartment had collapsed into the interior of the tavern. Through the carnage she could still make out the twisted steel frame of the car.

  “This was my fault,” she whispered.

  Somehow, some way, she had brought this on them.

  Damon scooped her into his arms and carried her away from the scene.

  “No. I’ve got to try to help,” Valerie said. She squirmed, but the pain made her stop. She hissed through her teeth, the burns on her neck and arms finally registering.


  When she laid back in Damon’s arms, she noticed the light emanating from the bridges.

  Headlights.

  Cars were stopped on the highway, and the distant faces of nobles crowded the guardrails. They were staring—watching the turmoil—but no one was coming to help.

  Valerie closed her eyes and tried to unsee the nightmare, this next level of hell she had fallen into. But the more she tried to unsee it, the more the visions persisted. The car streaking across the road and launching into the tavern. The fireball. Ruby’s face as she stared lifelessly from behind the bar.

  When she opened her eyes again, Damon was shoving his way through the door of his warehouse loft. He kicked the door closed and carried her past the training gear to the bathroom where she had tended to his wounded shoulder.

  “We need to cool you down,” Damon said. He set her on her feet, then started the shower.

  “None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me,” Valerie said. “It’s all my fault.”

  “You weren’t the one who drove that car into the building.”

  “No, but . . .”

  “It isn’t your fault.”

  “But if I had just stayed here. I went after him. Jasper.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you did,” Damon said. “Tonight isn’t on you.”

  “He’s rigging the tournament,” Valerie said. “Bribing other fighters. There’s no chance of anyone else winning. He has everyone in his pocket.”

  Damon ignored her outburst, put a hand into the shower, and felt the water temperature, then gestured for her to step inside. “Time enough for that later.”

  She peeled off her boots, one at a time, then staggered forward into the shower while still dressed.

  “We’ll need to be gentle getting you out of those clothes,” Damon said.

  Cool water.

  Valerie leaned against the wall with her forehead and let the water course over her.

  She stayed like that until she felt Damon’s fingers in her hair. She lifted her head from the wall and noted that he had climbed into the shower with her. He had stripped to his shorts and was now working the soot and sludge from her body.