The Bright Black Sea (38 page)

'Can you handle a sword at all?' he asked, with some
concern.

'Better than a pistol,' I said with a grim laugh.
'I've fenced as exercise under a master, so I know how, in theory.
This, of course is far different.'

'Not as much as you might think. You'll find your
skills will not desert you. The gleaming edge of blade focuses your
mind quite remarkably.'

'Personal experience?'

'Oh, no. I've attended only occasionally as a
physician in attendance when asked. But I've seen indifferent
swordsmen perform remarkable feats. Very few die, by the way. It
should end before anyone is fatally injured.'

'That'd not serve their purpose. This one may be
different.'

By we'd traversed the dark woods under large trees
and found ourselves in an open, flat grassy clearing with the walls
of the castle on one side and a small misty lake below a steeply
falling hill on the other. Beyond the little lake, in the far
distance, a sliver of golden sunlight began illuminating the crags
of the crater rim above the timber line as the new day arrived in
Prusza.

We stripped to trousers and boots. I noted the pale
red welts on my shoulders, arms and knee where Nadine had struck me
during my first interview. They hurt as I moved but I didn't think
they'd hinder me. Not with my life in the balance. I stretched and
warmed up as we waited for the weapons, jumping about, looking the
fool, to get a feel for how Lontria's gravity would affect my
footwork. I'd practiced in the ship's inertial gravity while
accelerating and in free fall with magnetic boots, but every move
would be subtly different in Lontria's .21 standard gravity and I
wanted to get the feel of it, before I was facing sharp steel.

A crowd was gathering in the shadows of the trees as
we waited for the weapons, along with the official doctor, and a
Civil Guard to keep the fight legal. Doc Hans was called over to go
over the rules with Max's second and the Honor Judge.

I felt that sudden eerie chill, and glancing around,
found the dark haired assassin had arrived, looking demur with her
hands clasped behind her back, joining the throng of onlookers on
the edge of the field of honor. She was dressed in the local style,
an ankle length grey dress, a white blouse with a high lace collar
under a short black jacket with its collar and cuffs colorfully
embroidered, with a grey felt hat set at a rakish angle, her dark
hair hastily tied back with a black ribbon.

Having caught my eye, she flashed me a brief smile
and drifted, spaceer fashion, towards me, watched, with evident
distain by the women from the hotel who'd come to see me get my
just reward. From her manner, I could sense her sarcastic delight
in their distain. As she neared, I could see that though she had
set her face in a study in somber seriousness, her icy grey eyes,
sparkled with mischief.

'What do you want?' I snapped, hoping to put her off.
I didn't need this now...

She looked at me in mock sadness, and shook her head
sadly while laughing with her eyes. 'Don't be cross with me, Wil. I
must decide how to play the final scene.'

'Hopefully not as melodramatic as the one in the
hotel,'

'Oh, that's how we do things here – that's how we do
everything,' she replied, with a little staged shutter and a
fleeting smile. 'I must decide if you're to be my brave hero,
killed attempting to free me from my brutal, arrogant lout of a
husband, or if you're a dashing rake of a spaceer who's led this
poor naïve Pruszian housewife so very far adrift.' She paused as if
to ponder the question – clearly enjoying herself she added, 'What
role do you prefer?'

'It doesn't matter, I intend to win. So go away.'

She shook her head. 'Don't make it hard, my dear. Max
assures me that he's every bit as adept with a blade, as he is with
a pistol. He doesn't lose duels. So you see, I must decide how I'm
to shed my tears for when you're dead. Should they be tears of joy
as I cling to my brave, triumphant husband, or bitter tears of
sorrow as I cradle your poor dead body in my lap?' she mused in
mock seriousness, all the while cooly taunting me with her laughing
eyes.

'Don't care. Go away.'

'I know I'm being foolish,' she continued, ignoring
my ill will. 'But I so want to make this affair a work of art. A
matter of professional pride, you see. '

I stared into her bright, icy eyes and shivered
again. Still, I'd not let her intimidate me, so I replied, 'Well,
if you really want my opinion, I'd say that even on my short
acquaintance, Max plays the brutal lout like he was born it – and
probably was. I, on the other hand, have neither the looks nor
arrogance to make a believable rake anymore than you can successful
pass yourself off as a naïve Pruszian housewife. I suspect yon
gallery has already pegged both Max and I as two of your many
fools, and bigger fools than most for fighting over a woman like
you. Shedding even a single tear would be out of character for
you.'

'Oh Wil, how can you be so bitter... after last
night?' she asked brightly, unfazed by my venom.

'Oh Nadine,' I replied sarcastically. 'I find it easy
enough, after last night. Besides, I rather doubt you're capable of
producing convincing tears of sorrow on demand...'

'Ha! You'd be surprised by all the skills I've been
trained in, including crying on demand. Too bad you'll never live
to see me do it. But you're right, I can't play the wayward little
woman, so I'll weep bitterly over your poor corpse...' she replied
somberly – though her dark grey eyes were watching me merrily.

'I'll make no promises,' I replied catching sight of
Doc Hans approaching, adding grimly, 'Now run along, I have your
“husband” Max to attend to.'

She glanced beyond me. No doubt at her
husband
, and stepping close, put her cool hands on my bare
shoulders, and pulling me close, kissed me, for a long second or
three, before she pushed me away.

Looking into my eyes, she said very softly, her eyes
almost serious, 'Die gallantly, my dear Wil,' and turned and walked
away to join the throng under the trees at the edge of dueling
grounds.

'Captain,' said Doc Hans, 'We need to select our
weapons and review the rules.'

'Right,' I turned to follow him.

'What was that about?' he asked as we walked towards
the gathered officials.

I shook my head. 'Who knows? Play acting. A cat
playing with a captive mouse. Or maybe she's just motivating Max...
All I know is that I intend to disappoint her and not die.'

We joined the small gathering about the Honor Judge.
Max glared at me, that kiss rather made him, the supposed husband,
look the fool. Motivation, I suppose. All parties authenticated the
formal dueling document and Max, being the challenger, paid the
Honor Judge his fees – actual money and prudently upfront – and we
chose our weapons, two identical dueling swords and two long
daggers with cross bar hilts. They differed only slightly in the
grip, weight and length from those I was used to. The Honor Judge
stated the rules simply, we were to fight until one of us could no
longer continue, as agreed on by the Honor Judge and at least one
of the seconds.

We took our places. Max, blades in hand, seemed to
have put aside his outraged husband act and was now the consummate
professional, testing his weapons and giving me dark wolfish
glares. I ignored him and glancing around, found Nadine on the edge
of the crowd, eager to see the color of my blood. I gave her a
sarcastic salute with my blade which she returned with a nod and a
bright, and equally ironic, smile as I took my guard position. My
heart was pounding and my legs seemed rather shaky, even in low
gravity. The Honor Judge dropped a handkerchief and as it reached
the ground, Max leaped forward and the duel began.

Max, with an arrogant smile, aggressively attacked,
banking on his greater strength and longer reach. The ringing
clang, clatter and grunts of his attack sounded loud in the hush of
the grove as I carefully parried and warily retreated, making sure
I kept in contact with the ground and circled away from his dagger
side. His attack was showy but simple, allowing me to settle down,
focus and seek the rhythm and flow of his attack. Though he had
strength and reach, he needed to kill me, which would eventually
force him to take risks once he decided I wasn't going to be simply
butchered. Still, I couldn't parry and retreat forever – free fall,
even with daily exercise, doesn't do much your stamina, so I
studied the movement of his sword arm which would be my target, to
nullify his longer reach. Hopefully I'd do enough damage on his arm
in a short enough time to weaken the strength and dull the speed of
his attack.

I'd no idea how long we'd sparred, likely less than a
minute, when I decided that there was no longer any point in
delaying the resolution, so I launched my counter attack – parry,
parry, feint, check and envelopments to engage and hold his blade
while I leaned in along his off (non-dagger) side to slash at his
arm with my dagger. Within seconds I'd drawn two gashes on his
forearm, neither deep nor too damaging, but drawing bright red
blood and giving him something to think about.

I doubt he'd ever fenced with two blades as he did
nothing with his dagger, holding his left arm positioned for
balance only. So much the better. I stepped up the pace, feinting
with my dagger to distract and drive him back. I slipped in,
parrying his sword down and out with my dagger while raking the tip
of my blade along his forearm up to the crook of his arm, burying
the tip into his flesh. He made a hasty retreat and I followed,
beating his blade and attempting to envelop it and carry it off
with his weakened arm and grip. His arm was red now in fresh blood,
while I had only a few minor nicks on my ribs where my parries had
not quite cleared his blade. He was constantly falling back now,
smile gone, grimly watching me as intently as I watched him. He'd
have to change his approach soon, as I was pressing my advantage,
though warily.

With a series of lightning feints he launched a
flashing lunge, beating my blade away and forcing me to evade his
driving blade by falling nearly to the ground, steadying myself on
my dagger in the ground. In the low gravity, lunges can be launched
from afar, but once airborne, you've limited maneuverability and
agility and it carries you far beyond your target, allowing your
opponent time to recover and perhaps attack. I was back on my feet
and on guard before he'd landed and turned, but had no time to
follow up. Undaunted, he continued to press this new line of
attack, carefully gauging his lunge to be able to land and turn
just quick enough to defeat any counter attack.

On his fifth lunge, I reacted too aggressively to his
feint and failed to parry his lunge before he had his blade inside
my guard. I managed to fall away and catch his blade in the guard
of my sword to limit the blow to a glancing cut along my rib cage –
only the fact that he had held his feint a fraction of a second too
long allowed me to save my life. The clash and tangle of our blades
staggered his airborne lunge and I was able to twist and swing my
dagger up, deeply raking his sword arm and shoulder as his impetus
carried him wildly by.

He gasped and his sword went flying, but landed near
where his lunge took him. He flung his dagger in my direction and
snatched the fallen blade with his left hand.

I dodged the dagger and glanced down at the wound on
my side. The blood was just beginning to well up along the cut,
perhaps fifteen centimeters long, and deep enough to touch bone. I
didn't feel it yet – the blades were razor sharp, but I could still
move my arm, though with more effort. It could have been worse.
Still I'd need to end this soon.

I jumped to attack almost before he had the sword in
hand. He beat my attack off and retreated, his defense, in any
case, nearly as good as it had been right handed. Still, I pressed
my attack, focusing on penetrating his defense with my dagger to
now weaken his left arm. Our blades flashed and clanged and his arm
began to bleed with the slashes I scored. But I, too, felt the warm
blood as it began to run down my side and every movement of my arm
was now an effort. Desperate, he lunged with a flurry of feints and
attacks that I was only able to parry from my neck with my dagger.
The tangle of our blades again slowed his lunge and twisting, I
slashed down on the back of his far leg as his lunge carried him
by. He collapsed as he landed. There was new blood on my shoulder.
And my breaths were being grabbed by the lungful, but he was down,
twisting into a sitting position and attempting to push himself
upright against the light gravity. I leaped forward, feinting for
his head and followed it with a swipe for his other leg, landing a
glancing blow that nevertheless sent him tumbling across the grass
in the light gravity. I followed him and hooking his blade in my
guard, twisted it from his weakened hand and sent it flying, some
ten meters away.

Even as I stepped back to glance at the Honor Judge
and Max's second, I caught his swift movement in the corner of my
eye and just managed to raise my arm to shield my face against the
flash of his dagger which he'd found in the grass behind him. It
hit my arm at less than an ideal angle, and was thrown with his
weakened right arm, but it struck and tore a deep gash before I
shook it out. Had it hit my face or neck, I wouldn't be writing
this. As it was, I gasped, and no longer able to hold my sword,
dropped it.

He rolled to collect his sword, so I dropped my
dagger and grasping the sword left handed, lunged, slashing at his
reaching arm, hitting the hand reaching for his sword, all but
cutting it off. He gasped, saw the blood pumping from the stump and
sank down on his back, clutching it.