Artesans of Albia: 02 - King's Champion (38 page)

“Ah! I understand. You need to offer him a reason to show himself. You want me as bait.”

She cringed at his frank choice of words. The fact that he obviously relished the prospect did nothing to lessen her guilt.

“You are not to feel constrained in any way to accept this, Ty,” she said. “I wanted to be the one to ask you, to give you the chance to refuse if you wished. This is a serious matter, my friend. We both know what Rykan is capable of, and should he manage to capture you, your life would be less than worthless. You have been through enough already, and you are very dear to me. I would not see you endanger yourself unnecessarily.”

Marik sat staring at her throughout this speech, his expression grave. When she was done, he put down his cup, kneeled on the floor beside her, and took one of her hands. Gazing into her eyes he said, “My dear, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You should know that by now. You have already repaid me ten times over for my help when you needed it, but friendship isn’t about giving and receiving favors. It’s about being there for someone whatever the circumstances. You knew very well I wouldn’t refuse to do this, but I appreciate your giving me the choice. Don’t forget, I have scores of my own to settle with Rykan, and this is just the chance I need. Come on, take me to the Hierarch. You can tell him I’ve been reluctantly persuaded to be his hero.”

“Oh, Ty!”

She laughed, rose, and embraced him once again. “It is good to have you back.”

T
he interview with Pharikian was short. Afterward, Marik left to brief his men and Sullyan took her leave of the Hierarch. She felt restless and troubled, and there was only one thing that gave her any ease when she felt that way. She went in search of Ky-shan, hoping to convince the brawny pirate to fence with her.

On her way through the Palace’s private section she caught a momentary glimpse of the Count, who had been waylaid on his return to his men. The Princess Idrimar was currently engaged in showing Marik how deep her feelings for him had become and was encouraging him to be careful. She seemed to be employing her lips and hands rather more than her voice, and Marik was proving a good listener.

Sullyan smiled as she moved on, feeling lighter for that privileged glimpse of someone else’s happiness.

Wrapping her heavy cloak around her, she emerged into the frosty air and headed for the barracks where the seamen were most likely to be found. When she located them, Ky-shan seemed suspiciously reluctant to accede to her request.

“I don’t know, Lady,” he said. “We don’t want to fuel any more speculation about dueling, do we?”

She stared in disbelief. “Oh, come now, Ky-shan. That is not the real reason, is it? Has someone said something to you about protecting me?”

His reluctance to answer told her the suspicion was correct. She spat a vicious barrack room obscenity, causing Ky-shan’s eyes to widen, Jay’el to blush, and the twins to grin. Then, a smooth, clipped voice behind her made her freeze.

“Well, Major, if these men won’t oblige you, I’m sure I can. No one’s said anything to me about protecting you.”

She turned slowly, seeing the tall form of Commander Vanyr. He stood loosely, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His stance suggested unconcern, but she read his eagerness in the lines of his body and the avid look in his eyes.

She clamped down on her irritation. She could not let him goad her. Vanyr was a man to take seriously. One didn’t become the commander of the Hierarch’s personal guard without being a consummate swordsman. Nonetheless, total concentration on an unknown but skilled opponent was just what Sullyan needed. This confrontation was inevitable, so why not conduct it before witnesses?

Vanyr was waiting. Slowly, she removed her cloak and jacket, handing them to Jay’el. His eyes on the commander, he said, “Be careful, Lady.”

She smiled. “There is no call for concern, Jay’el. We are only fencing for exercise.” Glancing at Vanyr’s faintly superior expression, she added, “We are not in competition here, and there is no intent of bloodshed. Is that not so, Commander?”

“Of course.” Moving economically, he stepped back into the larger space of the barracks training ground.

Sullyan observed how he moved and placed his feet, realizing immediately that he would be a difficult opponent. He was much taller than she was and had a greater reach. His lithe body might well cancel out any advantage her smaller size and agility usually gave her. Briefly, she entertained the notion of starting with a right-handed grip, but then remembered he had observed part of her fight with Ky-shan. A man like Vanyr wouldn’t forget such talent. She abandoned the idea and slipped her sword free of its scabbard using her stronger left hand. She would watch for an opening to change grip if one presented itself.

The pirates moved to one side so they could watch the bout. Ky-shan was clearly uneasy. A couple of off-duty Velletian Guardsmen also strolled over to see what their commander was up to. Ignoring them all, Sullyan concentrated on the lithe man before her.

Vanyr stood lightly balanced, his gaze assessing her. He was probably the most dangerous fighter she had yet to meet. The prospect of learning his fighting style and testing her skills against him suddenly made her smile. It was what she wanted, to feel the purpose of her life again, to pit her strength and cunning against a worthy opponent, to be able to block everything else from her mind. It was what made her come alive, and she loved it.

This change in her demeanor clearly puzzled Vanyr. She saw his momentary confusion and used it to make the first strike. He failed to anticipate the move and was forced to parry. It was a clumsy stroke and was also, she thought, what he had intended to force out of her. His eyes showed a flash of ire, yet he was too fine a swordsman to allow irritation to affect him for long. Soon, they were fencing in earnest.

* * * * *

R
obin was growing restless. During Sullyan’s interview with Marik and subsequent meeting with Pharikian, she had asked him to remain in their suite. He didn’t mind. He knew what she was doing and appreciated the chance to rest. After a couple of hours he began anticipating her return. When she didn’t appear, he started to worry that the meetings hadn’t gone well. Another uneasy half hour passed before he finally decided to go look for her. First, he made his way to the small office where she would have spoken with the Count. As expected, the room was vacant, all signs of occupation removed by the servants. Thinking she might be discussing the battle with Pharikian, he walked through the corridors toward the Hierarch’s more intimate audience chamber, the one he used for less formal interviews. Yet the Captain quickly realized the room wasn’t in use as there were no guards outside. Even within his own Palace, the Hierarch was constantly shadowed by the Velletian Guard.

Robin was puzzled and stood a moment in thought before shrugging and turning back. Sullyan would either have returned to their rooms by now or perhaps be up on the battlements with Anjer. However, just as he began the walk back he saw the Lord General emerge from a corridor ahead.

Anjer saw him and turned. “Captain!”

Robin waited for Anjer to approach and accorded the huge man his due salute. Anjer had no time for formalities. “I need to find Brynne, Captain. Where is she?”

“I don’t know, my Lord. I thought she was with the Hierarch ...?”

“Their meeting ended over an hour ago. Can you find her, Captain? There have been developments and I need to speak to her.”

Closing his eyes to aid his concentration, Robin searched for her familiar pattern. Finding it immediately, her total lack of response told him what was happening. He opened his eyes and grinned.

“I might have known.” Seeing Anjer’s puzzlement, he added, “She’s having her mind diverted. She always does this when she’s worried. I just pity the poor man she’s chosen to distract her. She’s out on the training ground, my Lord.”

Anjer scowled. “Who with?”

Now it was Robin’s turn to look puzzled. “I don’t know. She’s too committed to let me see, and I don’t want to risk disturbing her. It must be someone very skilled or it wouldn’t take up all her attention.”

Anjer’s face darkened, his whole body radiating anger. “Come with me.” Turning, he strode toward the Palace’s outer doors, moving so swiftly that Robin had to trot to keep up.

* * * * *

V
anyr and Sullyan circled each other warily, looking for weaknesses. To Sullyan’s delight and the Commander’s clearly displayed annoyance, they were evenly matched. Vanyr had tried several times to disarm her or slip through her guard, but instead of proving easy to vanquish, Sullyan had forced him to employ every defensive maneuver he knew in order to avoid her lightning-fast strikes. She was lighter and more agile than he thought, and as he had never fought a woman before, he hadn’t expected her strength. Sullyan had also developed other, subtler techniques to overcome her lack of height and mass, and she never allowed Vanyr into a position where he could use his greater weight against her. Instead, she kept him on the move, forcing him to spend his energy in lunge, parry, and dodge, while she danced lightly around him, looking for openings in his defenses.

Had he been less annoyed, she thought, less frustrated, less eager to humiliate her, he might have enjoyed the bout. Sullyan herself was enjoying it greatly. Her muscles felt strong and alive and her skin tingled with the energies flowing through it. She never felt as vibrant as when using her physical skills against a competent opponent and in the pure pleasure of the moment she completely forgot the animosity between them.

When Anjer’s battlefield voice suddenly reverberated around the training ground—“Commander!”—Vanyr’s reaction took her completely by surprise.

Sullyan broke off her attack instantly, but Vanyr did not. Intensely annoyed by his failure to master her, he neither retracted his lunge nor attempted to turn aside his blade. As Sullyan lowered her guard and stepped back, the tip of Vanyr’s sword laid her left forearm open almost to the bone. Gasping in pain, she clamped her right hand over the wound and sank to one knee.

Robin sprinted over to help her. Vanyr stood towering over them both, a nasty smile playing on his lips. Anjer strode furiously up to him, black eyes blazing.

“I saw that, Commander, it was a deliberate strike! You heard me call you, man. Why didn’t you put up your sword?”

Vanyr stood sullenly, unwilling to answer. Anjer turned to Sullyan, who had risen shakily with Robin’s help, her hand still clamped about the bleeding wound. Her face was white and her eyes dilated wide as she expended power to slow the bleeding and ease the shock.

“I’m sorry, Major.” Anjer’s voice was gruff with concern. “I’ll see he pays for that.”

Sullyan dampened her power and turned some of her attention on Anjer. Calming her breath, she allowed a small, humorless smile to quirk her lips. “Never mind, my Lord.” Her eyes turned hard as she regarded Vanyr. “You must not blame the Commander. He was overpressed and mistimed his stroke. Is that not so, Commander Vanyr?”

Vanyr’s eyes narrowed angrily. She had backed him into a corner. He had to either admit a mistake, which would gall him intensely, or reveal that his last action was deliberate, in which case he would suffer Anjer’s wrath. Either way he was shamed in front of both her men and his, and she knew he would never forgive her. The fact that his predicament was entirely of his own making wouldn’t sway him.

Anjer was waiting, clearly not believing Sullyan’s version. He stared Vanyr in the eye. “Well?”

The Commander shot Sullyan a malicious glance and gritted his teeth. “The Major is correct, my Lord. A mistimed stroke, that’s all.”

Anjer wasn’t satisfied. “And?”

Color flared on Vanyr’s pinched face and he sheathed his sword with an angry snap. “Major. Please accept my apologies.”

She glanced up from hooded eyes, her hand still clamped about her injured arm. “I hear your gracious apology, Commander. We will say no more about it.”

Anjer studied her before turning back to Vanyr. “Commander, I suggest you spend more time in practice if you are mistiming strokes.” Vanyr clenched his fist on the hilt of his sword, but Anjer didn’t notice. “Go about your duties, man.”

Vanyr turned on his heel and stalked away. The pirates stared angrily after him. Jay’el came forward and slung Sullyan’s cloak about her shoulders, keeping her heated body from chilling with the shock and freezing wind. Robin put his arm about her and led her away, Anjer falling into step beside them.

The Lord General accompanied them back to their suite and sat waiting while Robin and Sullyan saw to the cleaning and dressing of her wound. By expending power between them they had it half-healed already. The dressing was mainly for protection. Sullyan stripped off her shirt and breeches, which were damp from perspiration, and quickly washed. Dressed in a clean white shirt and plain black breeches, she joined Robin and Anjer by the fire. Robin handed her the fellan he knew she would need. Anjer frowned as he saw how shaky her grip was.

“I’ll have Vanyr’s miserable hide for this,” he growled.

Sullyan hadn’t spoken since the incident. She suddenly rounded on Anjer, startling both him and Robin. “My Lord, did you give orders to the men that I was to be protected?”

Anjer flushed and had the grace to look away. “We—that is, Pharikian and I—were concerned for you, Brynne. It was to prevent just such an occurrence that we did it. We didn’t want you exposed to unnecessary risks.”

Her heart pounded with anger. “As you can see, it worked very well!”

Robin shot Anjer a look. The Lord General wasn’t sure quite how to deal with this. Sullyan, however, wasn’t finished.

“For nearly twenty-four years I have relied on my own skills and strengths, my Lord. I am well used to protecting myself. I neither want nor need your interference. I am fully aware that you are more concerned for the wellbeing of the Hierarch’s Champion rather than Brynne Sullyan, but you will do me the courtesy of allowing me to worry about my preparations for the day.”