Author's Note: Hey everyone!
Hope you're enjoying this story. Just to keep you up to date with my side, I've gotten a wonderful idea for a story that takes place in the days of the Arthurian legends. So I'm working on that, now, looking at different King Arthur stories and how they evolved through time, and also what kinds of themes and motifs the stories use. I'm hoping to do a blend of the historical and the fantastical, then throw in some vampires for good measure and a whole lot of action scenes.
Anyways, still on the research stage of that story, but I'm looking forward to writing it.
In the meantime, enjoy this one!
Arasine grabbed a sword off the wall, then followed Lord Mazenku, silent as she could, out into the street. Last thing she wanted was to get caught out by Tricheron, shipped off-world, bedded and then murdered.
Tricheron no longer mattered.
Lord Mazenku was all that mattered. And she would make certain that he paid for his crimes.
If she was careful, she could assassinate him while he slept…
Then leave Draconia behind, flee to a colony planet where she had no past. And pretend that she fit in with all the others.
Try to forget…
One of her steps slipped, and her sword clanged against a building.
Lord Mazenku swung around, drawing his own sword, instantly. "Who's there?" he demanded. "Do you dare to follow Lord Mazenku?"
Arasine froze.
"Show yourself, villain!" Mazenku shouted. "Are you so dishonorable that you won't even dare to show… yourself…"
He trailed off.
As something occurred to him.
"It's you, isn't it?" Mazenku said, in a softer voice. "I should have known. You must have realized something was wrong. You snuck into the house — to overhear us."
Arasine stepped out of the shadows. Sword in hand.
Staring down Lord Mazenku.
"The Lady Arasine," Mazenku said. Looking her over, interested. "A sword? I see. You've slain that idiot, Tricheron. And now you've come to kill me as a coward does — through the back, when I'm not looking."
"I don't care about Tricheron," Arasine replied. "He is nothing. His schemes are nothing." She raised up her sword, falling into a fighting stance. "You've plotted against the Honorable and Worthy Prince Creax. Dishonored and shamed him."
"He seeks counsel from a female," Lord Mazenku replied. "Shall Draconia be ruled by someone so weak as to listen to the inferior sex?" He scowled at her. "You, Lady Arasine, have shamed him. More than anyone else ever could."
"Then I challenge you, in the name of his honor," Arasine replied. Stepping forwards, to cross swords with him. "By the end of this night, my lord, one of us will be dead. If it is I… then I cannot be any further shame to him. If it is you… then I will have won his honor and preserved his life."
Lord Mazenku couldn't help but stare at her. "You would challenge me to a duel? Dare to cross swords with the superior sex?"
"You want me dead, anyways," Arasine replied. "Why wait?"
Lord Mazenku considered.
Then raised up his sword and — before she'd quite had time to process his actions — struck at her, twisting her sword out of her hands and throwing it to the ground. "As you wish, my Lady."
He struck at her.
But she dove out of the way, before he hit her. Lunged to pick up her sword — but he cut her off before she could claim it.
"For a clever Draconian, you can be very foolish," said Lord Mazenku. He slashed at her, but she sprung out of the way. "Do you believe your ridiculous sparring matches with the Prince would in any way prepare you for a fight to the death?"
He lunged for her, again, but she darted out of the way.
Threw herself to the ground, rolling and grabbing up her dropped sword.
Only just managing to block him, as he lunged for her, yet again.
Her eyes watched his every move. Never attacking, just watching and blocking, as he continued to fight her.
"Your sword won't help; you are as good as dead, Lady," said Lord Mazenku. "And so is the Prince." Another lunge, another block. "Your precious Prince has been ill these last seven nights. An illness from which — I guarantee — he won't recover."
Arasine stepped out of the way, just before he swung for her, again.
His movements seeming slower, more logical, now that she was starting to finally work them out, in her mind. Understand his strategy and his attack.
Arasine took it all in.
Then she lunged for his right side, viciously.
He blocked her, scooting back as she rounded on him. But caught his foot on a stray piece of foliage, and slipped.
"A duel, like the rest of the world, is simply a mathematical expression of movement," said Arasine. She sliced through a taut rope cord, on her left, and it snapped up. Making a fire-escape came clunking down — just missing Mazenku. But pinning down his sleeve. "Your movements, like mine, have limits. Speed, strength, agility. It's all a matter of understanding where those limits are, and then adjusting the equation to make them lower."
She struck out at him, but he tore through his sleeve and escaped her blow.
Managed to get back to his feet, but not before she'd sliced a wound in his side.
He grunted, in pain.
"I left the palace never to return," Arasine said, ignoring his pain. "I would have been happy never seeing the Prince, again! But now you've gone and gotten me involved."
Lord Mazenku lunged at her — but he was slower, now. His movements less confident. The equations were changing — the upper limit altering on an exponential factor, with every hit Arasine made against him.
She blocked him, easily.
"Whatever poison you've given Prince Creax, I'll find a cure," Arasine said. "I'll be true to the Emperor and the Prince, as any Draconian Lady should be. But then… I'm leaving. I'm never having anything to do with the Prince, again."
She feinted right, then struck left.
Sending him off-balance, and toppling to the ground.
He tried to get up, but Arasine raced over and stomped a foot down on his chest. Sword in her hand. Ready to strike the killing blow. "A Draconian has three hearts," she said. "One for honor, one for nobility, one for the Emperor." She positioned herself to strike the third. "And that is where I'll strike, first!"
"I don't think so," came a voice from behind.
Before she had time to react, Arasine found the sword whisked out of her hand, as a group of policemen shoved her back and restrained her.
And she came face-to-face with Lord Nyin.
Head of the police force and maintainer of security.
"Lady Arasine of the Seventh Court of the House of Cartishe," said Lord Nyin, "you have been found guilty of attempted murder and offensive behavior."
"Not me, my Lord," Arasine said, struggling. "It's Lord Mazenku who is the villain. I overheard him plotting treason against his highness, the Prince!"
Lord Nyin absorbed this, calmly.
Not remotely surprised.
A cold feeling settled through Arasine. "You're part of it, too," she said. "You want him to succeed."
"Make a public example of her," Lord Mazenku commanded Lord Nyin. The police helped him back to his feet, and he breathed, heavily. Clutching his side. "Charge her with whatever you need. I will come up with the evidence required. But it must be public, and the crowd must be crying for her blood."
"As you request, highness," said Nyin, with a deep bow. "My life at your command." Then he gestured at the police holding her. "Bring her."
Arasine struggled, but couldn't break free.
Couldn't see a way out.
"But if anyone chooses to speak to her, or if she shows any sign that she might be about to escape… kill her immediately," Lord Mazenku commanded. "She knows far too much."