Rebel Elements (Seals of the Duelists) (31 page)

Kiwani stepped a few strides away and pulled off her ball-topped hat, while Bayan tossed his hat behind him, hoping it survived the duel.

He dropped into an easy stance. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Then let the duel commence!”

Bayan summoned the elements, then invoked Flame, pivoting under Kiwani’s Shock fist and punching her abdomen with a double wedge thrust that launched her into the air. She grunted and absorbed the blow while invoking Water in midair. By the time she landed, the flames that had licked at her tunic were gone, leaving damp black smudges on the fabric.

A series of quick water jets threw Bayan off balance, then Kiwani’s Crystalgrip clutched at his arms and spread across his body, freezing the water from her jets.

Before Kiwani could strike again, Bayan summoned the Flamecast of Heavenstream by using his legs to form the wedge he needed. Inside the icy cylinders that locked his arms to the rock beneath his feet, flames flickered across his sleeves.

The ice around his arms cracked as Kiwani lunged in with a Wood punch to his chest. Bayan slung himself down to the rock, wrenched his arms free of the ice, drew a hasty Wood invocation, and grabbed Kiwani by the sleeves. His foot caught her in the stomach, and he hurled her over his head in a rush of green energy and slapping bamboo. Her spell interrupted, sharp cactus spines dissolved at the end of her knuckles, missing Bayan’s nose by a finger-length.

He released her in midair, and she landed in a burst of cushioning wind and skidded across the cold, wet rock. As he sprang to his feet, she rolled upright and spun to face him. From three strides away, she whipped her arms through the first moves of Cragroot.

Bayan glanced down at the rock between them, where the spell’s roots would pop out and grab him. The moongleam on the wet stone revealed a thin crevice. Inspired, Bayan invoked Earth. He slammed his forearms together, forming the cross, and whipped his foot along the stone’s seam. His Ridgestrike spell cracked the stone just as Kiwani’s roots shot upward. They rose, waving urgently from the new crevasse only a stride in front of him.

He quickly invoked Flame, followed by Firewhirl, and destroyed the roots in a small but focused tornado of fire that lit their dueling ground as brightly as noonday. He switched elements, and Firewhirl’s Windcast hurled dirt and leaves at Kiwani. She parried them aside with the Windcast of Stormwave. Bayan took advantage of her momentary distraction. Rushing toward her, he hoped to finish the duel quickly with the Windcast of Chinook, but just as he reached for her collar, avoiding the whipping palm fronds of her Wood block, she cried out and stumbled into him, the green mist of her spell instantly dissipating.

Bayan caught her against his chest in a reflexive grab, spinning her to the ground beneath him, in case she tried a quick switch and invoked another element. But she only managed a wet cough. Bayan rose to a kneeling position, brows knitting in confusion. Only then, when the moonlight fell on her tunic, did he see the red bloom spreading on her chest, a deadly shadow upon the pale hue of her uniform. Shocked, he glanced at his own chest and saw a smear of blood there as well.

Bhattara, no! Not again!
He ripped his heavy tunic off and pressed its wadded fabric against the wound on Kiwani’s chest, then put her hands on it and ordered her to hold it there. But her eyes slipped shut, and her hands fluttered away.

A small clatter of rocks came from behind him; whoever had attacked Kiwani was still nearby. Rage boiled in his chest, hot and seething.

Someone’s trying to get me expelled by hurting Kiwani!

A small metal bolt skipped off the rock next to his hand. He jerked away in shock.

Someone’s trying to kill us both?

He couldn’t leave her in her tenuous condition and run off after her attacker. She might die, which would accomplish at least one of the attacker’s goals. But he couldn’t sit in the open and let the attacker take free shots at him, either. He rose and invoked Water, then shot a Crystalgrip over her, hoping the cold would keep her alive until he could get her off the mountain.

Then he grabbed a fist-sized rock and lobbed it toward the shadow where he thought the assailant lurked. He grinned in satisfaction when he heard a crunch and a curse.

Bayan strode in the direction of the shadowy cleft. “You’d better run, whoever you are. What you’ve just done is so much worse than our little illegal duel. You’ll barely have time to be potioneered before they lock you away forever. An attack on one of the emperor’s duelists is an attack on the empire itself.”

Part of Bayan’s mind was surprised that he’d remembered that detail, and even more shocked that he was currently embracing the concept of belonging to the emperor at all. The rest of him was pure, boiling rage.

Ahead of him, his quarry scrambled deeper into the niche, and Bayan leapt to follow him, invoking Wood and thrusting a Briarflame ahead of him.

The spell faltered, failing to create roots any longer than his arm. Bayan cursed, trying to calm himself down and grasp control of his rage.

He chased the figure ahead of him onto a broad, cracked strip of rock that ended in a sheer drop. Bayan knew there was nowhere else to go and had a fleeting, confused thought: didn’t the man know where he was running?

The assailant spun and ran at Bayan, a blade gleaming in each hand. Bayan lunged to the side in a messy roll, and though he scraped his shoulder against a sharp rock, he did not feel his opponent’s weapons pierce his skin.

Blades? Hand weapons are for villagers. This is no duelist student!

He spun around in time to grasp the man’s wrists, preventing his attacker from slashing at him. Locked in a stalemate and unable to summon magic while warding off the knives, Bayan threw himself to the side and sent his foot squarely into the man’s gut. His shoe slipped off a brass buckle on the man’s braided belt, but his toes caught beneath it. His opponent went flying, but he landed well and kipped into a low crouch. Without a word, he launched himself at Bayan once more. They collided in a flurry of slices and parries, elbows and knees.

Bayan managed to strike one of the man’s wrists, causing him to drop a knife. The attacker ducked and thrust his remaining knife at Bayan’s abdomen, but Bayan parried quick and low, saving his ribs from puncture. Before the assailant could recover his equilibrium, Bayan grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and dragged him off-balance. He kicked the remaining knife from the man’s grip, and the assailant staggered free of Bayan’s hold.

A sleight weight remained in Bayan’s hand; he glanced down and saw metallic gleams from fine metal chain links.

While Bayan was momentarily distracted, the man snapped a kick into Bayan’s knee, toppling him, and drew another blade from a secret sheath.

“I can do this all night, boy,” the man rasped, looming over him.

I can’t. Kiwani’s dying.

Lying on his back, Bayan took another chance with his magic. He invoked Water and flung a Crystalgrip at his attacker. Again, the spell failed to activate properly. Thick, bizarrely shaped hunks of ice hurtled in all directions, growing rapidly larger and even more misshapen. A chunk struck Bayan in the shoulder and knocked him to the bare rock. When he rolled to his feet and looked around, he saw an odd sight: the man he’d been pursuing was suspended out over the edge of the cliff, embedded in a massive shaft of ice that anchored him to the outcrop.

Bayan strode closer, finally recognizing his opponent by his long blond braids as a mere face in the stands during innumerable practice sessions.

“Who are you? Why did you attack us?”

“Put me down, you little freak.”

Bayan bared his teeth in a feral grin and paced to the edge of the cliff. “Think that through.”

The man looked down. The sheer cliff fell away beneath his feet. Bayan estimated the drop at forty strides. Eyeing the ice, he figured that, in the chill night air, it would hold at least long enough for someone to come up here and take the attacker into custody, as long as Bayan kept the spell active.

“Stay here, or wiggle around and fall. It’s up to you.” Bayan turned and hurried back through the narrow cleft in the rock.

Kiwani lay where he’d left her, under a layer of ice. Taking an extra few moments to make doubly sure his anger was under control, he cast Heavenstream and melted the ice. He checked on her wound, pulling her tunic open for the first time. A thin gash slashed through her skin below her right collarbone, and the blood flow had slowed to a mere ooze, though her undershirt was soaked with it.

Is that good, or bad? Doc Theo is closer than Azhni from here.

He carefully cradled Kiwani and started down the slick, dark, wet steps. Every time he moved his foot, he was afraid it would slip out from under him, toppling him and Kiwani to their deaths on the rocky slope below.

Why did we do this duel again? We’re both insane. It seemed so close to campus, but now I’m not sure I’ll make it back in time.

Too many long, heart-pounding moments passed before Bayan reached the bottom of the carven staircase. He made sure he had a secure grip on Kiwani, then ran as fast as he could toward campus. Breath heaving, he sped around the base of the rock spear, passed the Wind Arena, and pounded across a wooden walkway through the tunnel leading to the staff houses. Nearly spent, Bayan trotted along the row of homes until he came to Doc Theo’s. Lungs on the verge of collapse, he staggered onto the raised porch and pounded on the door.

“Don’t die, Kiwani,” he wheezed. “We made it.”

He pounded on the door again, impatient and desperate. Finally a sleepy Theo in long thermal pajamas opened the door.

“Help.” Bayan’s voice was a thready gasp.

Theo pulled Kiwani from Bayan’s arms and lowered her to the floor. His fingers performed a quick check of Kiwani’s obvious injury. “Shut the door and light a lamp.” He dashed toward a back room.

Bayan closed the door and tried to focus on invoking Flame, despite the agonizing aches in his chest, back and legs. His anger had bled away, and a growing dread spread in its place. Would he blow up Doc Theo’s house, or simply spark the wick?

The lamp lit readily. Bayan slumped to the floor, relieved.

Doc Theo returned with his pouch of crystals. He knelt at Kiwani’s head and pulled out the Waarden crystal. “Tell me what happened.”

“We were dueling, sir,” Bayan said over Doc’s quiet chanting.

The healer’s dark gaze burned with recrimination.

“I know, I know,” Bayan said. “But it was a skill duel, and we had safety rules. It was her idea! Anyway, someone shot her in the middle of the duel. A crossbow bolt, I think. He shot at me, too. Chased him to a cliff, fought with him, then my Crystalgrip went crazy and pinned him in the middle of a massive ice shard.”

“That cain’t be right,” Doc Theo interrupted.

“It is, sir. That’s what happened.”

But Doc Theo ignored him, tugging Kiwani’s tunic from her belt and peeling it open, exposing her blood-soaked undershirt. He swiped a clean white cloth across the wounded area.

Bayan frowned at the blood that continued to ooze from her skin. Every time he’d seen a chanter healing someone in the arena, the wound vanished completely within moments, no matter its severity. “What’s going on?”

“Blazes if I know.” Doc Theo lifted his crystal to the lamp; the warm light played through the stone’s facets, refracting light around the room. Bayan could clearly see the “W” etched into one of its flat surfaces.

“Something weird is going on here, and if I don’t find out which crystal will heal this girl, she’s gonna up and die on my carpet,” Doc Theo muttered. He pawed through his bag for another crystal.

Bayan recalled how Doc Theo had tested him upon arrival to see which crystal healed him. “You didn’t test Kiwani when she got here?”

“Nope. She had Azhni as her own personal chanter, and I knew who her parents were.” He held up the Southern Common crystal. “If this don’t heal her…”

He chanted over Kiwani again. Bayan leaned forward, eyes locked onto the bloody wound in Kiwani’s chest. The skin knit back together and in moments left no trace of the injury other than the massive amounts of blood which soaked her clothing and his.

Bayan sighed in relief, fell forward onto his hands, and let his head hang. “Thank you, Doc.”

The man didn’t reply.

Bayan looked up. Doc stared at the crystal in his hand. “What is it?”

“I’ve just been privy to something I shouldn’ta, Bayan.”

“What are you talking about?”

The chanter took a few moments to check Kiwani’s pulse and breathing, as if assuring himself that she was, in fact, healed and whole.

“You recall the three blood types in the empire?”

“Yes, sir. Waarden, and Southern and Northern Common.”

“Waarden blood has proven itself to be a dominant trait, passed from parent to child. That got it the nickname ‘noble blood’, since the Waarden make up most of the nobility in the empire, and belike they always will.”

“Kiwani’s parents are high nobility. But… the Waarden crystal didn’t work.”

“Then you know what I know.”

The recent duel, the sudden fight, and Bayan’s struggle to bring Kiwani safely off the mountain all blinked into nothingness as he finally pieced together what Doc had deduced. “Azhni’s crystal is a Southern Common. Because Kiwani isn’t of noble blood. She’s not her parents’ daughter.”