Gretsky stayed high, trying to bear me down to the ground, but Tilly skidded around him, her new tractorgrip generator proving its worth. Gretsky was a capable rider on a performance steed, and had I not installed the upgrade before the tournament, one of his savage sword blows would have already sent me sprawling.
I could tell my evasive tactics were frustrating my opponent. His attacks grew more savage. He snarled as he rushed at me, trying to bash me off Tilly’s back. I changed my tactics and shot straight up, avoiding his cut, but he brought his greatsword in an arcing vertical slash which bashed against Tilly’s cowling.
We spun dizzyingly. I reacted on instinct, pulling Tilly still higher as she tried to stabilize, coming out of the spin sideways and confused. That blow had not been directed at me. There was no way Gretsky could have unseated me with that vertical cut, and he knew it. Even if he had hit me, all he would have done was given me a sore leg. That blow was not a tournament attack. It was a battlefield maneuver. He’d forgotten he was using a tournament weapon and not a zeroblade and was trying to cut my mount out from under me.
That fucker had tried to kill Tilly.
I knew it was a sham. I knew Tilly was all right. A tournament sword couldn’t possibly harm Tilly through her shields, but that wasn’t the point.
Nobody fucked with my steed.
Gretsky circled below me, taking a moment to regain his breath before renewing the assault. I tucked the overlong sword handle under my arm like a swordstaff, pointed Tilly’s nose at Gretsky’s chest, and charged. Gretsky gave a crooked grin of triumph and spurred his steed into an answering charge, rising to meet me. He brought his sword up over his head, preparing to bring me down beneath its weight.Discreetly, I pulled my left hand from the controls and placed it on the pommel of my blade. Tilly knew what to do.
Gretsky swung, and Tilly rolled. Inverted, I swept my sword into his cut, arms and back braced for the blow. His blade met mine with a deafening clang and bounced away, harmlessly deflected, but his blow knocked the tip of my sword directly into his solar plexus. Tilly’s engines revved, and the combined force of my blow and Tilly’s speed lifted Gretsky out of his saddle and into the air.
My training took over.When you get them out of the saddle, don’t stop until you bring them to the ground, my instructor had said, and I listened. I completed my roll and dive, pulling up barely in time to avoid plowing into the ground. Gretsky was not so lucky. I pinned him to the dirt with my sword, dragging him painfully along for several yards. I only pulled Tilly up and let the demon lord go when the arena’s wall approached. In a burst of vicious pride, I grinned. He’d been duly punished for trying to hurt my steed.
A horn blew, and the match was over. I looked to the scoreboard to see Gretsky had scored three touches on me during the bout, light grazes which meant nothing with tournament weapons, but could have been debilitating or deadly with real swords. I’d scored one touch during our melee, but my unseating him wiped his points away. Bringing him to the ground gave me the match.
The applause this time was enthusiastic. I raised my blade and rode around the stadium, drinking in the adulation. Princess Marie clapped so rapidly her limbs blurred. Archduke Darius gave me a salute and a grin. I spied Bridgette d’Lyre, who blew me a kiss, and even Prince Aureli looked impressed. Turning to face the Emperor, I saluted, bringing my sword vertical, then down as I bowed. The Emperor gave me a small, one-sided smile of pleasure,inclined her head in acknowledgment, and clapped three times, slow and deliberate.
It was only as the applause died that I felt a flicker of shame for what I’d done. This was a tournament, not a battlefield. I could have unmounted Gretsky and still won. I had not needed to humiliate him.
I descended to the ground and hopped out of the saddle. Gretsky lay against the wall where I’d left him, propped up on his elbows, glowering at me. I approached and offered my hand. “You fought well,” I said.
Gretsky did not respond with words, but grabbed the zeroblade dirk from his waist in reply.
I stumbled back, shocked by his assault. I raised my greatsword, but his zeroblade cut through my dull tourney weapon like it was butter. I threw the hilt of my mock sword into his face, distracting Gretsky long enough for me to draw my own dirk and parry his next blow. He attacked again and again, driving me back. I could dance around him on my steed, but on foot, he outmatched me. I blocked a few blows, dodged more, but his assault was relentless. He left no opening through which I could lunge, and even had he done so, I didn’t know if I should. His death might upset the negotiations.
He was bigger than me, with a much longer reach, and I was tiring. I’d not kept in perfect practice with my knife fighting. It was only a matter of time before one of his thrusts got through my guard, and against his zeroblade, my shield might as well be empty air.
I blocked a high spike-grip stab, but the demon lord’s knee slammed into my gut, knocking me onto my back. It didn’t hurt – the shield stopped the blow from really connecting – but I was still flung back and disoriented, scrabbling ineffectually in the dust as Gretsky descended, his blade shimmering in the sunlight.
Suddenly, there was a flash, a high metallic crash, and a molten white beam lanced through Gretsky’s ear, piercing his shield with a spray of blue sparks and emerging from the other side of his head as a thin spur of cooling metal. Gretsky’s eyes popped and his brains boiled out of his nose and mouth, bubbling like hot gruel. The stench of burning cranial matter invaded my nose and turned my stomach, but I managed not to retch.
In shock, I lowered my blade, then followed the line of dull grey metal to its source. Standing immediately below the Emperor’s box was a line of Imperial guards, their black lancer carbines leveled with deadly precision. The rightmost guard popped the breech of his weapon, ejecting the spent magma shell before professionally slotting a new shell in its place. The sound of his breech closing echoed through the silent stadium.
The Emperor stood, her face red, her lips trembling with rage. She leaned forwards and placed her hands on the railing. When she spoke, her voice echoed across the stadium as though projected from a megaphone.
“Prince Aureli, I am sorry you had to witness the count’s unforgivable behavior. I invited you here with the assurance that no harm would befall you, or your retinue. The actions of Count Gretsky shame me and dishonor his family. I hope his death will repay our debt to you, but let me assure you his lands and titles shall be confiscated and his family exiled.” Her voice was level, but hard as iron, heated by the anger she held within.
In the silence of the crowd, Prince Aureli stood and bowed graciously. He had no voice-amplifying cybernetics, but had clearly learned to project his voice across crowded venues. “Thank you, Your Majesty, but that won’t be necessary. My man is safe, and the malefactor is no more. Let us call things as they are.”
The Emperor narrowed her eyes. “Do not tell me what to do with my own people, Prince. I am not punishing them for your sake.”
“Then for whose? Captain Boylan? Perhaps he should have a say in what happens to this, this demon’s family,” Prince Aureli replied. He looked at me, his face blank. The Emperor turned to me as well, her face furious, but also awaiting my reply. The assembled spectators muttered as they wondered what I would say.
I rose from the dirt to take a respectful knee. “I must apologize, Your Majesties…”
“Speak up, we can’t hear you,” a voice called in High Imperial.
I raised my head and resorted to shouting. “I apologize, Your Majesties, but it is not the place of a captain to decide the fates of foreign nobles. This is an Imperial affair. I wanted no part in it. The Emperor must do as she sees fit.”
The Emperor smiled, her lips curling back over her sharp, glittering teeth. “Well spoken, Captain.” She turned to Prince Aureli. “This offense to my person and my guests cannot be born. I thank you for bringing his treachery to light. I shall not allow his fellow conspirators to threaten me, nor anyone under my protection.”
With that, she turned and walked into the shadows of her box, disappearing into a hidden tunnel. Imperial servants began to herd the assembled notables out of the coliseum, and a group of hordlings emerged to clean up the body of the dead demon lord.
The tournament, for the day at least, was over.
