Sword Fight

by Nathan Van Coops

  Jasper lowered his shoulder and charged her, not even bothering with a sword strike but tackling her into the dilapidated stone wall. Valerie struck the wall and dislodged a cascade of brick as she continued through it and landed in the water on the other side.

  Jasper hacked at her with his sword, slicing the water and catching an exposed section of her leg just above her knee.

  Valerie choked back a scream and scrambled back to her feet in a daze, retreating from Jasper’s wild stabbing. She splashed her way into the daylight.

  The room they had blundered into had long ago been eroded by the waves. The ceiling was gone, allowing in sun and salt air and putting them back in view of the spectators above.

  A cheer went up from the grandstands as tournament fans spotted them. The percussion section picked up its fervent drumbeats, and the strings got back into motion as well.

  Valerie scrambled up the ruined stone wall to higher ground, Jasper in pursuit.

  She was hurt.

  She had struck her head going through the wall, and it now throbbed at the back of her skull. When she pressed her fingers to the back of her hair, they came away bloody. Her armor was completely saturated, and the straps chafed and sagged as a result. She felt like she was carrying gallons of water in her gear.

  The wound to her leg stung in the saltwater, but she didn’t have time to check how deep the cut was.

  Jasper climbed the ruins after her, his sword drawn.

  Valerie stopped and picked up one of the stones at her feet, then hurled it at him. It struck Jasper in the shoulder and made him pause to maintain his balance on the shaky rocks but then he began climbing again.

  As soon as he gained level ground, she steeled her nerves and moved into an attack position.

  Flying Dagger.

  She dodged his defense and rained jabs and cuts around his chest.

  Whistling Grass. She stabbed at his hips and groin but to no effect. While the blows made him waver, it was like chopping at a tree with a spoon.

  Jasper used his armor advantage to force himself ever closer, hacking at her with Nocteflamme and forcing her to continually flee ahead of him.

  Valerie fought back the growing panic in her mind and scanned her surroundings. There had to be somewhere to gain an advantage.

  They were outside the inner walls, caught in the zone that once would have housed craftsmen and stables. The outer wall had collapsed into the sea and was mostly submerged. Only a few sections of it remained above the waves and one old watchtower that rose from the sea like a lighthouse.

  To the other side, the wall obstructed most of her escape routes except for a rotting gate that led back toward the heart of the arena.

  Valerie headed for the water.

  Jasper pursued her. His armor had to be heavy, but with the assistance of the joint actuators, he moved as though he wasn’t even winded.

  “There’s nowhere to run now, little girl,” Jasper said. “Nothing but a dead end out there.” He moved to block the path back to the castle gate. He shifted his sword from one hand to the other and twirled it with a flourish.

  Valerie splashed through the surf and leapt onto one of the hunks of wall that still protruded from the water. As Jasper waded into range, she struck at him, attempting to stab at the ultra-thin eye slits in his visor. Jasper swatted at her with Nocteflamme like he was waving away an insect. He climbed the rock and soon towered above her. She ducked as he took a powerful swipe that could have taken her head off.

  Valerie retreated again, leaping to another rock and taking them even farther from shore.

  “You can’t outrun the end,” Jasper said, leaping across the gap and landing with a thud. A few bits of rock broke away beneath his feet and crumbled into the sea.

  Valerie picked up another stone and hurled it at him. It glanced off his shoulder, and this time, he didn’t even waver. He strode forward again. Anger boiled inside her. This wasn’t how she imagined this moment.

  She leapt across another gap and made her way toward the ruined watchtower. Waves were breaking across it and sending fans of spray thirty feet into the air.

  There were only a half dozen sections of wall still above water out here, and the gaps between them were getting wider.

  Her pant leg was covered in blood now, and she was forced to limp as she made a staggering run at the next section of wall and leapt. She cleared the distance but crashed into the stones and nearly slid into the water. She scrabbled at the rocky ledge and crawled on her hands and knees to gain the top.

  Jasper took a slower route. He waded to an intermediary rock before leaping across to a lower section of the wall she was on.

  Overhead, spectators jostled for position along the one bridge that had a view of their activity. The orchestra was still playing, but the music was drowned out by the waves breaking against the nearby tower.

  Jasper was making slow but steady progress along the lower surface of the broken wall and would be at her position soon.

  There was only one more section of wall accessible, and it was linked by a battered and dilapidated, wooden footbridge to the spot where Valerie was standing. It looked as though it had been constructed hastily by someone eager to loot the old tower, or perhaps the subsequent homeless who had used the tower for a place to shelter from the wind. The handrail had long since fallen into the sea.

  Valerie crept out onto the shaky boards, testing each step. She reached a portion of the bridge where the wood slats were completely rotted away and had to balance herself along the sturdier sides. Placing one foot carefully in front of the other, she walked across the narrow support beam and reached the far side of the gap.

  Jasper had nearly reached the ledge and would be at her position in moments.

  If she could somehow get him off balance or get him to step on the rotting section of boards, she’d have a chance . . .

  She retreated a few more feet to where the wooden footbridge met the last section of wall. It was little more than a ten-foot-by-ten-foot square of stone. The rest of the wall had been completely washed away. Beyond it, there was only thirty yards of choppy breakers to the old stone tower. She was trapped.

  She turned to face Jasper.

  Her foe had gained the top of the wall and was standing on the far side of the dilapidated footbridge. He took a few tentative steps, testing the boards.

  “Come on, fall, you bastard,” Valerie muttered. But despite her entreaty, the boards continued to hold his weight.

  Jasper reached the portion of the bridge that had rotted away and stepped carefully onto the side supports. He maintained a front guard and looked up with each step to check Valerie’s position.

  “Why won’t you die already!” Valerie shouted. She rushed him and made a sweeping cut at his legs, aiming to knock him off balance.

  He was ready for her. Nocteflamme met her attack, then he countered with an upward slash that caught her across the chest. Her armor deflected most of it, but the tip of his sword nicked the corner of her jaw as it continued upward, slicing her almost to the bone.

  Valerie screamed and backpedaled. Her hand went to her face and came away bloody.

  Adrenaline was gushing through her veins in the form of pure hate. It mixed with the rising panic from her continued failure to cut Jasper.

  She made another attack, attempting to gouge beneath the facemask of his helmet, but the armored gorget around his neck deflected the point of her sword. Jasper swung at her with a vicious, downward cut that would have cleaved her head from her neck had she not raised her sword up in time. Even so, the force of the blow sent her stumbling backward, and she crashed to the pockmarked stone amid puddles of seawater. They were soon tinted red as her various wounds continued to bleed.

  A few tears leaked from her eyes as well, spattering the already wet stone. But she brushed the rest away and refused to let herself cry. She pulled herself together and set her jaw.

  Jasper approached slowly. His mask revealed no emotion.
/>
  “When I heard that useless magistrate had taken your name and sent you out with the beggars, I never imagined that you’d give me so much trouble. I thought for sure that you’d be found dead in a gutter somewhere. You’ve improved your ending considerably. But make no mistake, it’s still the end for you.”

  Valerie climbed slowly to her feet not bothering to lift her sword arm.

  “You may have won. You might have taken my land and my family, but you’ll never be worthy of our house. You’ll never be a bear.”

  Jasper took a step closer. He was in range of a strike now. “I have to say, I’m really going to enjoy killing you.”

  “No, you won’t,” Valerie said, “because I’m not giving you that satisfaction.” She took a step back, then turned and leapt, plummeting into the waves.

  37

  Justice

  Jasper stood at the edge of the rocky precipice and stared in bewilderment at the turbulent water. She’d just jumped.

  He opened his visor and took a better look. She was gone.

  Jumped.

  In armor.

  What an idiot.

  He looked up to the bridges where the commotion was clearly evident as spectators jostled one another for a position to see what had happened. A contingent of loyal Sterling fans waved their silver dragon banners and cheered. Jasper put up a hand and waved back.

  He’d done it.

  He was the last man standing. The champion.

  A smile parted his lips. Think of the acclaim. A seat at the Round Table. It was the greatest honor a member of House Sterling had ever achieved. His father would likely throw him a parade.

  He sheathed his sword and waved with both hands to the crowds. His smile only broadened when he heard the distant trumpets, their jubilant tone carrying across the water. He turned to face the sound. He had only to make his way back to the center of the arena. The king and queen would be waiting to greet him. And, no doubt, his father would be with them.

  A sense of elation rose from the soles of his feet, and it filled him with warmth. He hadn’t felt so good in years. It was as though the entire world was suddenly new and waiting to be discovered. It was his for the taking. He felt so good that he pulled off his helmet and blew kisses to the crowd.

  Kisses.

  He grinned and strode back across the rocky section of wall, then began crossing the wooden footbridge, making his way carefully to the section that was missing. Another blast of trumpets made him look toward the castle. They were celebrating in earnest now. The conductor was playing “Hail the Hero.”

  That was for him.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said, still smiling.

  He was about to step onto the support beam of the bridge when a stabbing pain lanced through his left foot.

  He looked down at his shaking leg as the scream rose in his throat.

  The armor covering his boot was pushed aside because the tip of a bloody sword had erupted through the top of his foot.

  Jasper shrieked.

  He stared in shock as the blade vanished again, back down through the crack in the boards. The next moment he registered the soggy hair and scowling face of the girl clinging to the bridge supports. The sword flashed again, this time lancing up between his legs and piercing the unprotected crevice behind his groin. He screamed again. This time doubling over.

  Valerie swung upward and grasped the top of his knee guard. “This is for Henry.” Then she pulled, buckling his knee and sending him crashing through the rotten boards of the bridge. His face struck one of the bridge supports, causing him to go numb, then he hit the water.

  He fought to stay afloat; the air trapped inside his armor gave him a moment of hope. He caught the edge of the bridge structure with his fingertips, but the barnacles beneath them gave way, and the weight of his armor pulled him under, still screaming until seawater rushed to fill his mouth.

  His silver cape waved in the current above him like a strange sea creature as he sank, obstructing his view of the light.

  Then it was only escaping bubbles, darting fish, terror, and darkness.

  Valerie Terravecchia crawled to the top of the wall and collapsed to her back. She stared up at the clear, blue sky, but in her mind, she was back home, lying on the dock next to the river. She saw Henry’s face, finally smiling.

  “You can rest now,” she murmured. She wasn’t sure if the permission was for Henry or for herself.

  The memory faded.

  She rolled over and sat up, then began shedding armor onto the rocks around her, piece after piece, relishing how light her body felt without it. When she had unbuckled the items from her legs and feet, she stood and stripped out of the rest, pulling the whole assembly over her head and dumping it onto the rocks. She was left in her undershirt, trousers and boots. It felt as though the entire weight of her anger went with it. Weeks of training. Long nights dreaming of vengeance. She’d done it.

  She was free.

  She reclaimed her sword belt from the pile of armor and strapped it back on.

  After examining the wounds to her leg and side, she probed her face and limped over to the edge of the wall. She stared down at the waves where Jasper had disappeared.

  She couldn’t help but recall the feeling she had the first time Damon had sent her into the depths in her armor. There was no need to imagine the terror Jasper would be enduring at this moment. Was he still alive down there right now? He certainly wouldn’t be for much longer.

  Her eyes lifted to the distant grandstands. The king. The queen. Lord Sterling. They would all be waiting for her.

  When she looked back to the water again, she noted the last few bubbles burbling up from the seafloor. She still couldn’t walk away.

  Damn it.

  She took one step back from the edge, then ran forward and dove, slicing into the frigid water with her hands over her head.

  She opened her eyes as she righted herself and looked around. She saw him a second later, a silver mass bobbing strangely in the undercurrent. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open. The current had shoved him closer to shore. Valerie grasped the front of his armor and pulled.

  When Valerie emerged from the surf, she felt like a drowned rat, though the man next to her deserved the title. She had managed to dislodge a few pieces of Jasper’s armor underwater, but the rest still clung to him and impeded her ability to maneuver him ashore. The fact that he was unconscious or dead wasn’t helping.

  Jasper’s long, blonde locks floated about in the surf. She dragged him the rest of the way ashore and left him at the point where his head was high enough out of the water to not be submerged with every wave. Jasper’s secondary weapon was a gaudy, jewel-encrusted dagger. Valerie plucked it from his belt and tossed it into the waves.

  She then looked down at his limp body and tried to assess how she felt. He certainly deserved to be dead. But despite how much she had wanted him dead for the last few weeks, the sight of him lying there didn’t bring the relief she had expected. She reached down and found the catches for his chest plate and removed it, pulling off the backplate as well. With that gone, he was finally light enough that she felt she could drag him out of the water properly. She seized his limp wrists and pulled, dragging him up the shell-covered slope of beach until only his feet were getting routinely submerged by the incoming waves.

  “That’s the best you get,” Valerie said, staring down at his prone form. “And a hell of a lot more than you deserve.”

  She located his white flag amid the cast-off armor and dropped it on him. She then stepped on his chest as she walked over him, making her way up the beach. She had made it almost to the rotten gate in the old inner wall when she heard the retching coming from the beach behind her. Turning around, she noted that Jasper had rolled over, but was once again motionless.

  She watched him for a few, long seconds, then made her way through the gate.

  The quickest route to the center of the arena was via a long walking path ove
rgrown with dandelions. She cut left instead and made her way back to the opening where she had crawled out of the old dungeon.

  “Damon?” she called down the hole. The only response was the subtle lapping of waves as they sloshed into the detainment cells. She crouched low and peered into the darkness. There was no sign of him. It was possible the safety team had retrieved him and hauled him up to the medical tent. She considered descending into the cells to check, but her leg wound had begun to throb, and she was lightheaded. She straightened her stiff back and limped on, climbing the hillside toward the ruin of the great hall.

  The orchestra began playing “Avalon the Beautiful,” and she caught sight of the king’s entourage descending from the heights of the grandstand. She picked up her pace.

  By the time she limped into the center of the roofless great hall, the king was already in position. They had erected two thrones on a dais at the end of the hall, and a number of other nobles stood at attention around it. The royal guards observed from a respectful distance as Valerie limped up the center aisle that had been cleared of rubble.

  King Logan was smiling. He rose from the throne and Queen Kimiko stood as well. They began to applaud. Even Lord Sterling put his hands together politely, though his expression was stone.

  “In all my years, I have never seen a tournament to equal this one,” King Logan said. “You have outdone my greatest expectations.”

  “Your Majesty,” Valerie said, dropping to a knee.

  “You have proven yourself a worthy contender.”

  “Excuse me, Your Majesty,” Lord Sterling said. “I believe the rules of the tournament dictate that she must remain standing in the Great Hall for a period of time before she can claim victory.”

  King Logan clasped his hands together in front of himself and nodded. “You are correct, Lord Sterling.” He gestured to one of his servants. “Tell the conductor to sound the ending chorus. If any fighters remain unaccounted for, they will know to present themselves.”