by TR Cameron
“That makes sense. I appreciate your clarity.”
He inclined his head, then swept his arms wide. A shimmer flowed over the space and when it cleared, weapons and shields hung from every surface. Many of them she recognized but some were utterly unfamiliar. She wandered slowly past them and examined her options. Fury did not pressure her. In fact, he seemed as if he would willingly wait for an eternity. She ran her fingers along the dull edge of a wicked-looking scimitar and asked, “So, I have to choose?”
His skirt swished as it brushed against the mats when he walked toward her. “That weapon would be an interesting choice, but no, you do not have to choose. You may select any of these weapons at any time. Of course, unless you wish to face me unarmed, you will have to make an initial selection.” The warmth and humor in his voice sounded inclusive rather than oppositional, and she found herself smiling. Holy hell. The sword is charming.
She faced him and clasped her hands behind her back, feeling far less formal than she’d like in her concert t-shirt. “And what weapon will you use?”
He smiled. “The rules limit me to only my body and the sword.” He gestured to the mammoth weapon at the front of the room.
“It seems like all these options would give me an advantage.”
“Appearances can be deceiving.”
A nugget of worry began to grow in her stomach as she considered the upcoming combat. “Is magic permitted?”
He raised an index finger and inclined it slightly in her direction. “Ah, excellent. It is always most pleasurable to face an opponent with both martial and magical skills. Yes, magic is permitted, but there is a caveat. Its use will drain you at a much faster rate than it would beyond these walls. Also, magic and physical strength are fused here as if it is a single large pool that you draw from rather than two energies, as I have previously heard it described.”
Dammit. She considered his words and nodded. “That is a good way to describe it. Just so I’m sure, you’re saying that using my magic will make me physically tired and drain the same resources I use to swing a sword.”
“It is so.”
“It hardly seems fair.”
“That is not a concern in this place. Only your will and the physical and mental strength to see that will realized.” Again, he smiled. “But I am also bound by the same strictures.”
“Do you have magical abilities?”
His smile stretched into a wide grin. “Not as such.”
She laughed. “You know, for someone who will try to kill me, you’re quite entertaining.”
“You also.” He straightened his already perfect posture into a formal stance. “Are you ready?”
Diana closed her eyes and turned inward, searching for any weakness in her will and in her desire for what was to come. When she opened them again, she knew she was ready and would hold nothing back in her pursuit of victory. “I am prepared.”
Fury nodded, turned, and walked without haste to the front of the room where he lifted the greatsword from its holder with both hands and touched his forehead to the blade. He strode to the middle of the dojo and stopped two paces back from the exact center which she now noticed was marked with a small emerald dot on one of the bamboo mats. Her opponent held the weapon horizontally across his body while he waited and again, seemed utterly unconcerned with the passage of time.
She circled the room once more to examine the instruments of death hung on the walls. After the damage she’d taken from the weapon in the previous battle, selecting a shield and going strength-to-strength was not even an option. Each block would risk another bone break if he was as strong as her last opponent, and she was quite convinced that his lithe form hid prodigious power. After all, he’s a champion among champions. Shit. This will be almost impossible. She pushed the thoughts away with an image of Daffy Duck ramming Bugs Bunny into his hole, yelling, “down down down, go go go, mine mine mine.” With a smile, she selected the three weapons she’d liked most in the first pass—a katana and matching tanto with crimson hilts and a dagger, just in case. She slipped the latter into the back of her belt and twirled the other two, the katana in her right hand and the shorter blade in her left. If she’d faced a lighter weapon, she would have preferred to use the sword two-handed, but she would have to rely on speed and agility in the battle to come rather than raw power.
Her choice made, she stepped into place opposite him and he nodded his approval of her selection. “For some bearers—the ones I like—there is a final opportunity to refuse the rite and leave in peace. I will not offer this to you, however, as I know already you will not accept.”
She nodded. “I believe we understand one another.”
“Then let us begin.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Fury flowed forward smoothly and Diana realized that not being able to see his legs beneath his skirt would be a hindrance. So that’s why they wore that. Huh. Her moment of revelation was truncated when the sword slashed downward at an angle from her left. She stepped toward it and circled the katana to shove the blade away in the direction in which it already moved, then stabbed inward. He made a slight adjustment where their weapons touched and her own attack was easily pushed aside before he disengaged and began to circle slowly.
The only sounds were their breathing, the swish of his skirt on the mats, and the muted crunch of her boots as she moved. The blades rang against one another again as she tried a sequenced attack. The katana swept in from the side to be blocked by the greatsword, and the tanto stabbed forward an instant later. He quick-stepped with his back foot, adjusted his posture, and the attack found only air. His counter-assault whistled at her thighs and she backed away in a rush to avoid it. He turned the swipe into a second attack by spinning in the same direction, this stroke aimed at her head. She batted it up at an angle with the katana and thrust at him with the smaller weapon again, but he skipped out of range, inviting her to over-commit and pursue.
Instead, she retreated, content with what she’d learned of his abilities so far and nervous about what he might have gleaned of hers. They stalked in a circle and studied one another warily for a few moments before he lunged directly toward her. He anticipated her sidestep, moved with her, and brought the sword down at her head. Her only option was to get low, so she let herself collapse backward and drove a heel kick at his groin. It didn’t connect but it did force him to retreat a step. Diana spun on her back, flipped into a crouch, and extended a leg to sweep his feet from beneath him, but he simply hurdled the strike. She deflected the angled chop with which he retaliated, veered to the outside, and slashed with her own blades.
They circled again and his expression suggested that he was done with the pregame, as was she. She waded in rapidly and attempted to close the distance so he couldn’t use the length of the sword against her. He backpedaled but didn’t match her speed and she was able to move inside the weapon’s range. The trap was revealed when he lashed out with a front kick that interrupted her charge, hurled her back, and stole her breath. Fury advanced instantly and sliced the weapon downward. She thrust the first blow aside with her katana and managed to deflect the second with the shorter blade. He tried another kick and she spun away, gasping as her body remembered how breathing worked.
Her adversary didn’t slow his assault. The sword swiped horizontally and she parried it with a downward stroke with her katana and stabbed at his throat with the tanto. He released his blade with one hand and slapped her wrist away, then threw a backfist at her face. She blocked with the hilt of her sword and enjoyed the brief grimace of pain that flickered across his face at the impact. Her attempt at a follow-up kick to his knee failed when he stepped back to avoid it before he pistoned that leg out in an attack aimed at the nerve bundle in her thigh. She brought the pommel of her katana down on his knee, drove the kick away, and slashed with the blade. He smiled as he swung the greatsword at a strange angle. Her arm tingled alarmingly when her sword shattered in her hand. He instantly reversed the flow an
d hacked at her, but she stumbled away and snatched the closest weapon she could find.
It turned out to be the scimitar she’d admired earlier. The grip was snug in her fist and she yanked it off the wall in time to block the next blow, using the curved weapon to redirect it. For an instant, he lost his balance and the blade whipped out to score a strike on his upper arm. The grey tunic darkened immediately as his blood flowed.
Fury stepped back and raised his sword in a salute, his blade raised before his face. “You have been a worthy opponent, bearer. I hope that when you reach your species’ afterlife, you are received with all appropriate honor.” His moves became sinuous, flowing, and completely different than the direct style he’d used thus far. One of Rath’s favorite lines popped into her head. I know something you don’t know. I am not left-handed. Apparently, her foe had concealed his true nature. He whirled the sword in a figure-eight and switched it deftly from hand to hand as if the weight wasn’t a concern at all. It was as if she now battled an entirely new person and she was already tired from the first. That is so not fair.
He charged and swung the sword with his right hand. Diana blocked it with the scimitar, spun away to try to get inside his guard, and stabbed at his thigh with the tanto. Before she could complete the action, his other fist hammered against her temple and pitched her forward and away from him. She flung herself into the dive, lost her scimitar in the process, and managed to stay barely ahead of his mighty blade. She feinted to one side and ran to the other to gain a little space and turn in the right direction again. He strode slowly toward her and whirled the sword in the damned figure-eight, and she grasped her backup dagger with a sense of growing despair. He’s like the terminator or something. Bloody hell. He left her no time to get a new weapon, and she didn’t know what else she would choose if he did. Maybe a spear. I could simply throw stuff at him for all the good this has done me.
Diana angled away as he swiped at her and deflected the weapon away with precise sweeps of her shorter blades. She darted in and managed to cut him in the abdomen, but the sword caught her as she spun and carved a line of fire down her back. A scream of rage escaped at the sudden pain, but the clarity helped her to pierce the fog in her brain. Damn him. He played me. He made me think about the negatives of using magic so I’d fight him where he was strongest, afraid to weaken myself. Let’s see who has the bigger reservoir, then.
She wore a fierce grin as she turned to him and saw the uncertainty flicker in his eyes in response. A part of her thought it was unlikely he would have lied to her and there probably was a significant cost to using magic in this space. Okay, then, we’ll keep it small. Blood dripped warmly down her body and knew she didn’t have all that much time. At the same time, she also knew that to overextend would cause her to lose the battle and her life. She resorted to her first magic and what she was most comfortable with. When he advanced with another whirling attack, she sidestepped and flicked her fingers to unleash a force blast to nudge the weapon slightly off its trajectory. With her other hand, she grasped the heel of his leading leg with her telekinesis and hauled it forward enough to compromise his balance. She whipped the right-hand blade at his head and he ducked, but the tanto plunged into his thigh before he could recover and retreat.
He limped away but began to circle and swung the sword. “Tiring, like I promised, isn’t it?”
Diana nodded. In truth, it felt like she’d been on the verge of tearing something inside her simply to summon that much. But she wasn’t sure how much of that was real and how much of it was simply worry planted by his words. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I have to end this. She thought back to some of her earliest battles against magicals and saw her path forward. When he attacked again, she chose the moment of transfer from one hand to the other in his weaving pattern and yanked at the sword with her telekinesis, whipped it out of his weakened grasp, and hurled it to the side. A mixture of surprise and approval burned in his eyes as she lunged at him, leading with the blades. He fought hard to block her attacks and respond with punches and kicks but ultimately, the little incisions she’d managed to score added up. She plunged the tanto through his right triceps from below, disabling that arm, and spun backward in a crouch to backhand the other dagger into his opposite side ribs when he convulsed.
Fury fell and she collapsed beside him. Blood pooled under him as he smiled at her. All anger and sadness left his face, replaced by carefree happiness. “You are worthy, wielder. I look forward to speaking to you again.”
The dojo faded slowly around her and she returned to her body. She lay face-down in the center of the ward rings, and Cara and Nylotte pressed on her back—which she suddenly realized hurt an incredible amount. Her gasp alerted them that she had returned, and the Drow turned her over while her second in command poured a healing potion down her throat. She screamed as the flesh and skin knitted itself together and moaned in relief when the pain faded. Her teacher helped her to stand, and Cara whistled. “Wow, boss, nice scar you’ve got there.”
The Dark Elf leaned around her to study it. “A fitting memento of a battle with an artifact. Since you’re here, you must have won?”
Diana nodded and Cara said, “If you need further evidence, there it is.” She turned to find the other woman pointing at the weapon holder, where the greatsword had vanished and been replaced by a katana with a black blade and red runes. There was no question that it was still Fury, however. So my initial choice mattered more than I thought, I guess. She heard the weapon’s laughter in her mind as her hand closed over the hilt.
Nylotte said, “Congratulations, my students. You’ve accomplished what few before you ever have. But don’t forget, this is the start of the fight, not the end.”
She sighed, wishing she could argue but knowing she couldn’t. Strength flowed into her from the sword as if it, too, knew there were battles to come. “Then I guess we’d better get to it.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Deacon’s home computer rig was adequate for gaming but was nowhere near the level of technology required for his work tasks, which was why he was at ARES headquarters in the middle of the night. Cans of Coke, partially consumed and then forgotten, littered the table behind his workstation. His lab was dark except for the glow from his monitors—five across with the giant one in the center. The outermost displayed surveillance images from the watchers roaming the city, mainly because he found it relaxing to watch the urban landscape gliding by. The inner screens beside these held data he might need as he worked on his current task.
On the big monitor was a display that no one at ARES besides him would be able to see. His magic converted code to images when he so desired, and he’d pictured the firewall of the National Guard system as a giant bank vault, specifically the model from the star-studded remake of The Italian Job. The film was among his favorites, despite the fact that he wouldn’t be caught dead in a Mini Cooper. He spun a chopstick in his free hand, an expensive lacquered scarlet fidget toy that helped him center his mind. A while back, he’d given the other half of the pair to Kayleigh, but she hadn’t adopted his habit yet.
He returned it to the cylindrical black vase that served as its holder with a soft click and lowered his hands to the keyboard. His eyes defocused as he let the image fill his senses, and his magic controlled his fingers and voice to input the code that was the real-world translation of his virtual actions. He unpacked a large drill from the case that appeared at the side of his computer self and set the device up in an instant, a feat that would never be possible in reality. As he pushed the bit forward into the metal of the safe, he watched carefully and focused on the vibrations traveling up to his hands. He killed the power with a kick of the emergency disconnect foot switch when he felt the inner glass shield crack, exactly like in the movie. As expected, but it had to be tried.
The tech sighed and his virtual self pressed his ear to the door directly above the dial. Unlike the normal version in the film, there were a thousand hashes on this wh
eel representing the difficulty of cracking the secure military network. In the real world, his head turned to scan the data on his side monitors, where he had displayed likely passwords and hacking routines to extract more of them. In the virtual representation, a list of numbers appeared in grease pencil on the safe, waiting to be tested. None of them resulted in the click of a pin falling into place, which was frustrating but not unexpected. No one said it would be easy. It’s not the Worthington 1000, after all.
His fingers danced as he tried known exploits, represented on the screen as spins of the dial. He had proxy-protected access into the best hacking sites on the dark web, as well as a legitimate connection to governmental discussion boards on the topic. All told, he wasn’t worried about whether or not he’d be able to crack it given the resources he had at hand. With enough time, he had yet to find the system that could stand against him. But since he hadn’t been invited in the front door of the network, the possibility of triggering an alarm that would start a clock running on the operation was high despite his skill.
Fifteen minutes later, the first click rewarded his perseverance. Once he’d discovered one, the rest revealed themselves more quickly. Finally, the safe was unlocked and he yanked the handle down with a smile to access the goods inside. He heard the snap of the failsafe and cursed. That is a stupid amateur trap, and I fell for it. Deacon grasped the papers held within, which translated to dumping data into local storage in the real world. He finished quickly, rose, and turned to discover that the door he’d used to enter the room had vanished. From the Italian Job into The Matrix. Dammit. He cast about for a weak part in the wall that would represent a way to get whatever software was seeking him off his back and found the place he needed. A sharp kick broke the seal, and the hidden door flew open to reveal a circle of police officers with their guns aimed at him. He raised his hands, quipped, “Howdy, boys,” and dissolved from the virtual space.
