Defying Destiny Page 13

  “I don’t like to do things like that,” Kestrel replied. “Doesn’t seem very fair.”

  Keldyn blinked. “You don’t think using strategy is fair?”

  “It’s not that, I just wanted to see how I’d do against you. We’ve sparred and stuff, but you’re the only one like me. I mean, aside from Lucas, and he’s too little. I just wanted to—”

  Keldyn’s swords launched forward before she could finish, faster than Lydia had seen them move before.

  Kestrel was in the middle of talking, which generally was a good time for a surprise attack, but she just paused with what she was saying, flicking her sword from side to side, and deflected the attacking blades without seeming like she’d been caught off guard at all.

  “—see what it would be like to fight someone else with his gifts, you know?” She finished what she’d been saying as if she’d never been interrupted, and without any sign that the swords had even been a distraction.

  Keldyn’s swords circled around her, adjusting their heights and angles. “I understand quite well.” He bowed his head. “Aendaryn be with you, then.”

  “You too.” She shifted her stance, then ducked as a single sword flew at her from behind. Lydia hadn’t seen any tells, and the sword had been outside of Kestrel’s field of vision.

  There was a blur as the other blades flashed inward, all at once.

  Kestrel simply stepped in between and around them, never once being cut.

  She paused to stare at one of them afterward, raising a free hand to reach out and try to touch it. The sword flew out of her reach before she had a chance.

  “Strange,” Kestrel said simply. “It works so differently for you.”

  Another series of attacks, these a bit faster. Kestrel was forced to block a trio of them with her sword, and they began to burn through the mundane blade. Another clipped her shoulder, finally damaging her barrier for the first time.

  She’s not impossible to hit, but her defensive abilities are almost as good as Asphodel’s. Does she have a similar form of precognition, or something else entirely?

  Lydia leaned forward, but whatever Kestrel’s abilities were, they weren’t visible to the naked eye.

  After the attacks abated, Kestrel stepped back a few steps, noticed the state of her blade, and then raised it toward the sky.

  Kestrel’s sword began to gleam brighter and brighter, until it was almost blinding.

  A sword hit her straight in the back a moment later, cracks forming in her barrier. She stumbled forward, losing her concentration.

  But her sword never lost its glow.

  As the next wave of swords approached, Kestrel swung her blade to meet them. The conjured blades didn’t deflect or break on impact as Lydia had expected.

  They glowed brighter for just a moment, then vanished.

  And her own sword grew brighter still.

  Keldyn glowered, waving a hand and repositioning his swords, pulling them out of her reach.

  Kestel’s sword was not only glowing now, but the aura around it had grown longer, extending her reach. She turned toward Keldyn and began to walk toward him.

  Keldyn conjured a pair of additional swords to replace the ones he’d lost, then drew the metal sword at his hip.

  When Kestrel was almost close enough to strike, Keldyn drew his left hand downward. The remaining swords in the distance flew at Kestrel from behind. Immediately thereafter, he stepped forward and swung with his real weapon, his two newly-conjured swords mirroring his strike.

  Kestrel slammed her greatsword into his smaller one, batting it aside, and absorbed one of the two conjured swords into her weapon in the process. Then she charged past him, putting him in the way of his own swords before they could hit her.

  Keldyn froze for an instant, then stopped his swords with what seemed like little more than force of will.

  That instant was all Kestrel needed. She pulled her sword back behind her shoulder, and then when Keldyn turned to meet her, she swung right through his one remaining conjured sword and into his chest.

  He fell backward, his barrier shattering apart in a single blow.

  “Winner, Paladin Kestrel Makar!”

  The next opponent entered — another Paladin of Aendaryn, but lacking his gifts. Kestrel beat him easily.

  The next opponent was a flame sorcerer. Kestrel had more difficulty with him, but managed to cut through most of his spells and land a victory, at a cost of some of her shield.

  She beat the next six opponents after that.

  Lydia made one important observation during that time; Kestrel wasn’t dodging anyone else’s attacks with the same degree of ease that she’d avoided Keldyn’s swords. After some consideration, she surmised the cause.

  Keldyn’s skill is almost entirely blade calling. He conjures weapons, then uses some degree of shaping to make them move. Kestrel is the reverse. She can’t seem to conjure remote weapons like he can, she just makes a blade-like aura around her sword. Then she shaped it to make it longer, or shaped Keldyn’s swords on contact to absorb them into her own weapon.

  Shapers have a degree of perception linked to their dominion. She must have some kind of enhanced perception of the energy that is used to conjure blades. That’s unusual, because there is no single dominion that these weapons are made from; they’re a combination of multiple types of energy.

  Her gifts are completely different from his. Less ranged power, but perhaps some useful applications we haven’t even considered yet.

  The crowd roared more and more with each victory, and Lydia found herself cheering right along with them.

  She was so excited that she didn’t even see the last challenger enter.

  “Entering from the blue side, Paladin Dyson Hastings!”

  Lydia’s heart hammered in her chest.

  She’d forgotten about him entirely.

  Her eyes turned to her little brother, not so little now. He was in his twenties, his brown hair taking after his own father, rather than their mother. He was mostly shaven, save for a goatee that Lydia might have interpreted as rakish, but that he probably would have insisted was simply a mark of style.

  His light blue and flowing garb marked his allegiance to Eratar, though she had never known him to display any of the gods’ gifts.

  He had a pair of curved swords and, and as far as Lydia could tell, no chance at all against Kestrel Makar.

  “Hey, Kestrel!” Dyson shouted, waving with one of his swords.

  “Oh, no! Why’d it have to be you?” She paused, looking flushed, though Lydia couldn’t tell if she was simply overexerted or if she’d embarrassed herself. “I mean, uh, hi, Dyson!”

  “You look tired, you need a few moments?” He walked over toward her, lowering his weapons.

  She lowered her sword as well. The weapon was still glowing, but only faintly now. Her lips contorted as she seemed to consider the offer. “No, I think I’m good. Might as well get this over with.”

  Dyson raised his right sword in a lazy salute. “Let’s do this.”

  Kestrel didn’t hesitate. She swung at him immediately, a clean diagonal cut aimed at his chest.

  Dyson wasn’t there.

  Kestrel barely managed to spin around and raise her sword in time to parry a hit, then took a cut to her leg from his other sword.

  Lydia blinked, then Dyson was in another position, this time on Kestrel’s right.

  Kestrel let out a growl, stepping back and raising her sword into a defensive stance. Dyson darted in, swinging both blades from opposite sides. Kestrel stepped out his reach, attempting a jab, but he hopped easily out of the way.

  Lydia caught a blur as Dyson repositioned, then hit Kestrel with a glancing blow to her right arm.

  “Ugh! I can never hit you!” Her sword swept out at chest level, and Dyson simply danced out of the way.

  Dyson moved backward a few more paces, stretching his arms. “It’s fine, you’re just tired. I think I’m the last one, by the way. If you want to giv
e up, we can—”

  Kestrel charged him, swinging wide. It seemed wild and uncontrolled at first, easy for Dyson to dodge, but she turned the attack into a spin and jammed her sword into the ground right where he was going.

  The stone floor of the arena cracked apart, sending bits of rock blasting upward along with beams of concussive light.

  Dyson jumped backward, but the stone beneath him continued to tremble.

  For just a moment, he lost his footing. Kestrel dragged her sword through the ground, streaming light as the stone cracked, and swept it upward.

  Dyson managed to raise a sword in a successful parry. Kestrel’s glowing blade snapped his sword in half.

  He was moving backward, then, in the sliver of a moment while his weapon slowed hers down.

  Her sword cut cloth.

  His second sword caught her across the chest.

  Her barrier, already weakened from nine other battles, finally broke apart.

  The crowd froze.

  “And the winner of our final round is...Paladin Dyson Hastings!”

  Lydia’s brother raised his swords, broken and unbroken, to tremendous applause.

  And Lydia raised her pen, stared at the page, and hesitated to write a name.

  ***

  “Lydia!” Dyson’s eyes brightened as he sighted her on the way out of the coliseum. He ran over and threw his arms around her, pulling her tight against him. “You’re back home!”

  Lydia smiled, sinking into the hug. “I am indeed, though only briefly. You did very well in the arena.”

  “I know, right?” Dyson laughed, then jerked his head toward the blonde woman who had exited to his right side. “I owe Kestrel a drink for breaking her win streak. You want to come with us?”

  Kestrel had frozen upon seeing Lydia and raised her hand to her chest in a salute.

  Lydia blinked at Kestrel. “At ease, Kestrel. I’m not even in uniform.”

  Kestrel nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” After a moment of hesitation, she lowered her hand and moved to a slightly more relaxed posture.

  After a moment of evaluation, Lydia shook her head to Dyson, then finally slipped free from his embrace. “No, I think it’s a little too early in the day for me. You and Kestrel go on ahead, you’ve both earned a drink or two.”

  “Aww.” Dyson nudged her. “You never join in the fun. At least walk us there?”

  Lydia glanced to Kestrel. The young woman still was looking at Lydia with a mix of respect and almost childlike awe.

  It was discomforting.

  I haven’t done anything to earn that kind of reaction.

  Not yet, at least.

  Still, as awkward as that made her feel, a look back into her brother’s hopeful expression dictated her decision. “I suppose I can handle a walk.”

  “You’re the best!” Dyson looped one of his arms under Lydia’s. “C’mon, it’s this way.”

  Lydia allowed herself to be led, and, for the moment, swayed a bit by her brother’s enthusiasm. A smile managed to break its way across the surface of her face. “Lead on.”

  Kestrel silently fell into step on Dyson’s other side.

  “So,” Dyson turned his head toward Lydia, “How long are you in town?”

  ***

  “You set me up.” Lydia folded her arms, leaning back against Aladir’s couch.

  Aladir fluttered his eyelashes, holding a hand to his chest with a look of faux innocence. “Me? Whatever do you mean?”

  Lydia’s eyes shifted into a glare. “You knew that when I looked for Dyson, I’d end up watching him fight, and that he’d win. You’re trying to convince me to bring him.”

  “That’s quite a leap.” Aladir gave her a playful grin. “Did it work?”

  Lydia rolled her eyes. “I should have known better than to expect anything with a Ta’thyriel to be straightforward. Aside from Lana, perhaps. You’re always playing games.” She shook her head. “I’ll...think about it. He’s clearly more capable than I gave him credit for, and I’m proud of him. But I don’t feel right willingly putting my brother in such a dangerous situation.”

  “He’s a paladin, Lydia,” Aladir had a hint of warning in his otherwise friendly tone, “You can’t play favorites.”

  “I’m not pulling strings for an early promotion here, Aladir. I’m simply saying that I don’t want to put him directly in harm’s way.”

  “Did you see him in that arena? Most types of harm would never get close to him.”

  Lydia glowered at Aladir, but he wasn’t wrong. “Yes, I saw him. You were right — he has preternatural speed. A tremendous talent for motion sorcery, or breath sorcery like yours. But that isn’t invulnerability. Someone could catch him unawares, or use a wide area of effect spell he can’t avoid. Or even teleport next to him, now that Sterling has—”

  She hesitated, recalling the memory of how Sterling had stolen Garrick Torrent’s sorcery. And, of course, how he’d killed Torrent immediately thereafter. “—travel sorcery.”

  Aladir nodded, replying in a wistful tone. “Perhaps if this mission is so dangerous that you won’t even consider including your brother, you should be concerned that the assignment itself has flaws.”

  Lydia paused, unable to object. After a breath, she asked, “...What alternative do you propose?”

  “You could simply turn down the invitation. It would be a missed opportunity, but there will always be others.”

  Lydia shook her head. “Can’t pass on this. We need information.”

  “What about sending a completely different group of paladins in your stead? You know that you, Landen, and Velas are the most likely to be Sterling’s targets. Perhaps if you sent a completely unrelated group, he would have no motivation to attack.”

  “You’re missing the point. I want Sterling to attack. Or, at least, to play his hand openly in a way that we can discover his location.” Lydia shook her head. “...But you’re right, there are many things that could go wrong. Perhaps I’m too emotionally invested in this. I haven’t been able to look at the situation objectively. What do you think we should do?”

  “I think,” Aladir gave her a devious grin, “we’ve been letting the Thornguard and the vae’kes dictate the terms of engagement for too long. We need to set a trap of our own for a change.”

  Chapter VI – Taelien II – Relics of the Past

  It was late in the evening when Taelien and Asphodel arrived back at The Perfect Stranger tavern. War was no longer accompanying them, having stayed behind to have a “private talk” with Aayara.

  I don’t like it that in the slightest, but War was right. I have no authority over him, and he’s free to make his own decisions.

  Taelien paused before they headed in, turning to Asphodel. “You sure going back here is wise?”

  “It is the most efficient course. You will need the prime lady’s help before this is done, and she will need yours.” As usual, Asphodel was infuriatingly vague, but her future knowledge was still too useful to ignore.

  Taelien raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean you can see my future now?”

  “No. But I can see hints about her, and if you’re near her, I know you’ll help each other.” She smiled softly.

  “But...couldn’t you just tell me about what I’m going to need to do? Or, if there’s something happening where we’re going to need help, couldn’t you, maybe, prevent that?”

  Asphodel shook her head. “I will not needlessly oppose the forces of fate. We’ve discussed this before.”

  If I had her skills...but I don’t, I suppose. And I know she had something bad happen to her when she tried to mess with fate in the past, even if she won’t tell me what it was. I suppose I shouldn’t push too much. As infuriating as this is for me, it must be worse for her.

  Taelien resigned himself to the present course and opened the door.

  “Back so soon?” Wrynn set an empty mug down on the counter of the bar and headed over to the doorway. She didn’t actually sound surprised. “Boots off, c
loak on the rack.”

  Taelien nodded, following her instructions. Asphodel did the same.

  “We’ll be staying the night, if you have room.” Taelien glanced around the tavern, noting that it was practically empty now. It was late enough that everyone could have just gone to sleep, though.

  Wrynn looked like she’d been working on cleaning the tavern before they arrived. She had her sleeves rolled up, exposing those strange tattoos on her forearms. Her forehead was matted with sweat, and strands of dark hair were stuck to it, drawing Taelien’s vision toward her pitch-black eyes.

  If she noticed his gaze, she didn’t mention it. She just grinned and lifted an arm to wipe her forehead. “Think I can manage that. Two silver regals per room for the evening. And one more per person if you want me to heat up some leftovers.”

  Taelien glanced at Asphodel. “Hungry?”

  She nodded in silence.

  Taelien reached into his coin pouch and offered Wrynn four coins. “One room is fine for the two of us, but we could use some food.”

  “Have a seat, I’ll be back in a bit.”

  Taelien and Asphodel took a seat at an empty table, as far from the few remaining patrons as possible.

  Taelien glanced to Wrynn, then back to Asphodel. “Your oracular insights telling you anything useful?”

  “The Prime Lady of Shadow will be of great use to us. You will need to talk to her privately, however. She will not trust me.”

  Taelien groaned. Any sort of subterfuge and bargaining wasn’t his area of expertise. That was probably part of the reason Aayara had set him upon this path in the first place.

  Going to Wrynn was a part of how he planned to get ahead of that, but her fees were so high that allowing the Lady of Thieves to rob him might have left him with more.

  And that was with the discount of being one of Wrynn’s “favorite customers”.

  Wrynn smiled brightly as she came by, setting down two plates of food. The dish was kavatkas, a form of pastry with meat baked with garlic and onions inside. “What can I get you to drink?”