Sweep of the Blade

Ilemina thrust again and smashed her shoulder into Maud’s.

There was no place to go. Maud barely had time to brace. The impact took her off her feet. She flew, spun her legs, and rolled to her feet in time to jump away from Ilemina’s sword.

Arland’s mother chased her.

Dodge, dodge, dodge.

Maud slid between the blows and sliced a diagonal gash across Ilemina’s chest. The tip of the sword caught Arland’s mother’s neck. A drop of blood swelled.

Oh no.

Ilemina charged.

The flurry of blows came too fast to dodge. The blade connected with Maud’s ribs. Pain cracked in her side, dull not sharp—the armor held. Ilemina struck again and again. All semblance of restraint was gone from her face. She tore at Maud with single-minded intensity.

Ilemina’s blade came in a wide horizontal arc. Maud leaned backward, so far she almost toppled to the ground. All of the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. If that sword hit her unprotected skull, she would be dead.

This is no longer a practice fight.

Ilemina’s slash caught her left arm. Pain hammered into Maud.

She had to survive. She couldn’t abandon Helen.

Hold on, baby. Mommy won’t die.

The same sharp heat that always drowned her when their lives were in danger swallowed Maud. She lunged forward. Ilemina’s sword whistled past her. Maud reversed her grip and thrust the heavy pommel into Ilemina’s throat.

Arland’s mother made a gargling noise and backhanded her. The punch spun Maud around. The sharp tang of her own blood wet Maud’s tongue. She whirled and sliced at Ilemina.

They clashed across the field, cutting, striking, snarling, turning into a whirlwind of blades. People scrambled out of their path. One of the refreshment tables loomed at Maud’s back. She jumped onto it and kicked a glass pitcher at Arland’s mother. It took Ilemina a second to bat it away with her sword. Maud used it to jump aside and dash, opening the distance.

Arland’s mother bore down on her, attacking, tireless, like a machine. Another hit. Another.

The world went slightly fuzzy. Maud shook it off and cut another red useless wound across Ilemina’s side. Ilemina shoved her back. Maud stumbled, dodging a thrust with nothing to spare.

I can’t take much more. I have to end it or she’ll end me.

Ilemina delivered a vertical cut, followed it with another. In a split second, Maud recognized the pattern. Arland’s mother reversed her blade again. Instead of dancing away, Maud dropped to the ground, planted her hands, and kicked at Ilemina’s left knee. The knee cap cracked.

Ilemina snarled and kicked at her with her injured leg. Sweet universe, did she even feel pain? Maud saw the boot coming, curled up, took it, and wrapped her legs around Ilemina, trying to take her to the ground.

Arland’s mother roared, bent down, and grabbed Maud’s arm, dragging her up. It was like being lifted by a bobcat. Maud dropped her sword.

Ilemina jerked her up and Maud smashed both hands against Ilemina’s ears. Ilemina screamed and flung her away, like she was a feral cat. Maud sprinted to the practice rack and grabbed a sword. It was too heavy, but there wasn’t time to be picky.

Arland’s mother stomped across the field, unstoppable, her eyes fixed on Maud. Maud bared her teeth.

Helen dashed between them, her back to Maud, holding her daggers, and snarled, right into Ilemina’s path.

“No!” Maud screamed.

Lady Ilemina stopped.

Maud almost collapsed with relief.

Rational thought returned to Ilemina’s eyes. “Oh my,” she said.

Helen raised her daggers. “Don’t hurt my mommy or I’ll kill you.”

“It’s okay, my flower,” Maud managed. “We were just practicing.”

Ilemina laughed. “That is beyond adorable. No need, little one. I surrender. Your mother and I are quite finished, and you’re very frightening.”

She glanced up and Maud read her eyes. Ilemina knew they had gone too far. The fight was over.

“This is Lady Ilemina,” Maud said. “Lord Arland’s mother. We must give her every courtesy.”

Helen lowered her daggers, put her legs together, and bent her knees in an ancient vampire bow.

Ilemina laughed. “My goodness.”

Helen straightened.

“Are those your daggers?” Ilemina asked.

“Yes.”

“Are they sharp?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think they are sharp enough to cut a cookie in a half?”

Helen paused. “Yes.”

“Come show me.”

Helen turned to Maud.

“Yes,” Maud said. “Be polite.”

Ilemina offered Helen her hand. Helen put her daggers away, took Arland’s mother’s hand, and walked away with her. “What kind of cookies…”

Maud slumped over. Suddenly Karat was there, holding her up. Maud retched, spat out blood, and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

People were staring at her.

“Everything hurts,” she murmured.

“No shit,” Karat said. “Look at yourself.”

Maud glanced down. Cuts and slashes crisscrossed her armor, so many of them, it was no longer black. It was blood red. Across the field, Ilemina handed Helen a cookie. Her armor was crimson as well.

Karat gently lowered Maud to the grass. “The medic is coming. Just sit here and rest a bit.”

Konstana thrust into her view with field med unit. “Here.”

“Are you going to poison me?”

“Shut up and take the pain killer.” Konstana held the unit up. Maud pressed it against her neck. A stab and then a cool rush flooded her body, lifting the pain.

“Drink this.” Karat stuck a glass pitcher under her nose. Mint cordial. Of course. Maud gulped.

“Where the hell did you learn to fight?” Konstana asked.

“At my parents’ inn.”

“Humans don’t fight like that.”

“I couldn’t let her kill me,” Maud said. “I couldn’t leave Helen.”

Karat stared at her.

“You’ll get it when you have your own,” Konstana told Karat.

Maud leaned back against the stone. She didn’t win. But she didn’t lose either. The day was looking up.

Every step hurt. Maud walked down the hallway, trying not to wince, aware of Karat hovering by her side.

The medic had arrived and quickly confirmed three cracked ribs. He offered a stretcher. Getting onto that stretcher and being carted off would undo everything she’d just fought for. She had sparred with Ilemina. She hadn’t lost. She had to be seen walking away from the fight without any help.

It took another agonizing quarter of an hour before Lady Ilemina retired, and the older sentinel had come to collect Helen, who still had some scrubbing to do. Maud made it through by sheer will, but walking hurt like hell, and her will was quickly growing thin.

Two middle-aged women strode past them, eyeing her red armor. An awful lot of people had found an excuse to either cross or walk through the hallway. Word of her match with Ilemina had gotten around. They probably filmed it, Maud reflected. When it came to violence, the vampires filmed everything.

The harbinger on her wrist chimed. She glanced at it, and the harbinger tracked her eye movement, projecting a holoscreen over her wrist. It flashed and focused into Arland’s face. The beginning of a spectacular shiner swelled around his left eye. A long, ragged cut crossed his right cheek. His eyes blazed. He bared his teeth. She’d seen that look before on his face and recognized it instantly. Battle rage.

“Are you alright?” he growled.

“Are you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Karat grabbed her wrist and raised Maud’s arm so she could look at the screen.

“Don’t you dare show up here,” she hissed. “She’s walking on her own power and we have an audience. What the hell happened to you?”

“Otubar,” Arland snarled.

What?

Karat swore.

Maud took her arm back. “You had a fight with your mother’s consort?”

“We had a spirited practice,” Arland said. “I’ll find you as soon as I’m done speaking with my mother.”

“Don’t say anything stupid,” Karat barked, but the screen went dark. Karat rolled her eyes. “What is happening in our House?”

They made another turn and walked into a room filled with medical equipment and curved cots surrounded by metal and plastic arms bearing an array of lasers, needles, and what surely had to be tools of torture. The door blissfully hissed shut behind them. The room tried to crawl sideways. Karat grabbed her arm and steadied her.

The medic, a lean male vampire with dark gray skin and long mane of dark hair pulled back from his face, pointed at her. “Out of the armor.”

Maud hesitated. The armor was protection. In enemy territory, it determined life and death. Taking it off would make her vulnerable and she was feeling vulnerable enough already.

“Do you want to walk out of here in two hours or do you want to be carried out?” the medic asked.

She couldn’t afford to be carried out.

Maud hit her crest. The armor split along the seams and peeled off her, leaving her in the under-armor jumpsuit. The sudden absence of the reinforced outer shell took her by surprise. The floor rushed at her, yawning, dangerously close. Strong hands caught her, and the medic carried her to a cot. A scalpel flashed and then her jump suit came apart on the right side. The cot’s arms buzzed and hovered over her, as if the bed was a high-tech spider suddenly come to life. The cushion supporting her rose, curving, sliding her into a half-seated position. A green light stabbed from one of the mechanical arms, dancing across her bruised ribs in a hot rush.