Page 83
Story: A Bargain So Bloody
“I said no going easy. Take the staff.”
Amalthea’s sound of exasperation carried as she dropped the training sword and picked up a wooden staff. I hadn’t fought against one of those yet. She turned back, and for the first time I realized she was in a loose blouse and trousers instead of her usual ornately embroidered dresses. Fashionable for training clothes, but still… different. Had she known this was coming? I didn’t have time to process the implication, because Amalthea had grabbed my usual practice weapon and tossed it to me.
Actually, it wasn’t going to me, but was aimed squarely at Demos’s head. He snatched it from the air with vampire reflexes and extended it to me, hilt first.
“Oops. Guess my aim is a little off.”
“Enough playing,” Demos groused.
Her staff was a little taller than she was, her feet already in a fighting stance while she maneuvered the stave in quick circles. I stood reluctantly, no longer so confident in the skills I’d learned. Drills were one thing, but I hadn’t attempted any kind of sparring yet. “Demos, I don’t think I can win.”
“You may not,” he agreed.
Well, wasn’t that comforting?
“But if you already have doubts, you’ve lost before you’ve begun,” he continued. “Amalthea is good with a staff, but she’s rusty. She rarely practices, because with her foresight, she rightfully reasons she can avoid almost any deadly confrontation. But that will give you an edge. You’re smaller, faster. A staff gives her reach, so you’ll have to get in close. Just remember, the dagger isn’t your only weapon. Even if she does win, it’ll be good practice.”
He gave me a quick pat on the shoulder and shoved me forward. I stumbled, trying to find my balance. It was the first time he’d touched me outside of the slight corrections of my form.
“Ready?” she asked.
No. “Yes.”
“First to a killing blow wins. Begin,” Demos said.
Amalthea lunged for me. I barely managed to clumsily shift out of the way in time to right myself as her staff jabbed at me again. Amalthea might cheat at cards, butit became immediately apparent she wasn’t about to go easy on me. She was relentless, and all I could do was move back, trying to avoid getting knocked out by her staff.
“Fight back,” she said as she thrust in my direction.
I kept dancing around, looking for an opening. This wasn’t a simple puzzle where I had as much time as I needed for a solution—I had to try to think, fast, while Amalthea advanced.
I wouldn’t win. Not while I kept retreating.
The next time her staff came down, I lifted my wooden practice sword. The weapons collided, but I managed to shove her stave up.
“Good,” Demos called.
Good. Or very bad. Because Amalthea redoubled her efforts, her staff moving quickly. I managed to block several blows, getting close enough her staff couldn’t build the momentum it was meant to. But I wasn’t perfect. Her wooden pole knocked into my forearms once when I misjudged the angle, and pain reverberated up to my shoulder.
Feel it later. Fight now.
Vicious instinct drove me, unlike any that had awakened in me before. Sweat dripped down my neck, my chest pounding against the tight fighting leathers. Amalthea was also growing tired, her round face covered in a thin sheen. Had her movements slowed? She’d been chasing me for as long as I’d been running.
A heavy blow to my leg alerted me to the fact that, no, Amalthea was not utterly exhausted.
Shit. I lifted my dagger again, but it wasn’t made to fight against a staff. I went back on the defensive, dodging blocks, jumping backwards while I tried to formulate a plan. Amalthea followed me, as expected, but her blows fell into a pattern. Head, chest, leg, chest, head, chest, leg. She’d switch sides or angles, but as her body tired, so did her mind.
Now. When the next chest blow came, I was ready. Instead of dodging, I deflected. Not fighting her staff but shifting it enough to make her need to adjust her balance. Surprise at the broken pattern made her stumble to regain balance, just barely. I swung my right leg out, sweeping under her left.
She fell. I dropped my dagger and grabbed the staff, my hands opposite hers, and shoved back until she was pinned under me. I pressed down against her clavicle.
Hard.
Harder.
“Yield,” Amalthea sputtered. “I yield.”
I blinked. Sparring.We’re just sparring. I scrambled off Amalthea, offering her an arm to stand. She took it and grinned at me, her eye twinkling with pride. “Well played, Sam.”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83 (Reading here)
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 127