Chaos and Amber tdoa-2

by John Gregory Betancourt

  “Try not to stare,” Aber said in a quiet voice. He had come up behind me.

  “I can't help it!” I whispered back.

  A heavyset woman with three eyes, greenish-gray skin, and a pair of short horns jutting from her forehead floated down to us, surrounded by four young women who held up corners of her heavily layered and more heavily bejeweled dress. I literally fought back nausea. I had never seen such a repulsive creature before.

  “Countess Tsel,” Aber said to her, bowing formally. After a second's hesitation, I did the same. “May I present my brother, Oberon?”

  “Please do.” She offered me a cool hand, scaled like a snake's. I kissed it unhappily.

  “Enchanted,” I said.

  “This is my brother, Duke Urchok,” she said, indicating the squat man with a face full of tentacles, who had just come up to join her. “And my niece, Lady Portia, and her husband, Baron Yorlum.” She indicated a well-dressed couple to her left, both with horns and slightly too-elongated faces, but human enough looking overall.

  “I am honored, Duke, Baron.” I bowed to both men, then kissed Lady Portia's hand, my touch lingering for a moment. “And I am most delighted to meet you, my Lady.” Would that she were my bride, instead of Braxara!

  Portia blushed. The Baron, with a dark glance at me, took her elbow and escorted her away. They stepped onto one of the floating rocks and drifted toward the ceiling.

  “Oberon,” Duke Urchok said in a muffled voice filled with faint hisses and squeaks. He gave a nod. “Good to meet you. We have heard great things about you from your aunt.”

  “Your house is old with tradition,” Countess Tsel said, regarding me, “and you might find it profitable to meet my daughter Eleane.”

  I glanced at Aber, who gave a slight nod of encouragement. These two must be important. Somehow, I didn't think Aunt Lanara would approve of my dining with them.

  “I would be honored,” I murmured, forcing a polite smile.

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Alas, I have a prior engagement.”

  “Then we will do it the following day. For dinner.” He looked around the room. “Are any of your other brothers here? Locke, perhaps?”

  “No,” I said. “It's just Aber and me. Locke is dead.”

  “Dead! Oh dear. Poor boy, you're practically an orphan. Then you certainly must come to dinner. Bring Aber, but not your father. My dear Sikrad simply cannot have Dworkin in the house. They do not get along.”

  Then the countess spotted someone else she desperately needed to talk to and swept away, followed by her brother and entourage. I stared after her, not quite sure whether to be insulted, bewildered, or amused.

  “Who is Sikrad?” I asked Aber.

  “Her husband. No one has seen him in decades. Half the court thinks Countess Tsel killed and ate him.”

  “What!” I cried. “She's a“

  “Hush! A cannibal. She's probably eaten a dozen husbands over the years.”

  “And her daughter?”

  “Nothing but rumors about her… so far.” He grinned at my horrified expression. “I'm sure you're safe enough, at least until after the marriage, should you get that far. Now keep your voice down. It's not polite to shout about such things.”

  I swallowed hard. Monsters. Cannibals. Eligible daughters. What had I gotten myself into?

  “You could do worse than her daughter,” Aber said. “The countess owns many of the finest krel farms in the Beyond.”

  “In case you've forgotten,” I said, “my engagement is about to be announced here!”

  “Do you really think that would stop someone like Countess Tsel from trying to marry you off to one of her offspring? After all, if you're good enough for Aunt Lanara, you're certainly good enough for the Countess! They have been rivals for longer than I can remember.”

  “Why is it,” I said, “that half the people here seem to have matrimony on their minds?”

  “Why do you think Dad's been married so many times?” he said with a laugh. “Maybe now you're beginning to see the reason I like life in Shadows better. I fully think half the females in Chaos are in search of mates at any one time.”

  Then Aber's face hardened.

  “Be on your guard,” he said, gazing over my left shoulder. “Our enemies approach.”

  “Who?”

  “Oberon,” Aber said loudly. He swallowed hard. “May I present Lord Ulyanash?”

  I turned, forcing a half smiling. Finally I would meet one of our enemies face to face. I would not let any fear or apprehension show.

  Ulyanash looked much like Rhalla's description—long, straight black hair, red eyes, two white horns on top of his head—and he dressed all in black, from pants to shirt to boots. Silver buttons at his sleeves added a splash of color. Rather than large and muscular, as I had expected, he was smaller than me and thin almost to the point of skeletal. I found it hard to guess his age, but it couldn't have been much older than I was—no more than five or six years. To my surprise, he carried no weapons.

  As we came face to face, his red eyes narrowed. I could tell he was sizing me up, too.

  “I am delighted to finally meet you,” I said, smiling with all my teeth. “We have several acquaintances in common.”

  “Oh?” He set his hands on his hips and looked me over with contempt. “I find that difficult to believe.”

  “Oh, it's true. Why, just this morning a friend told me how much she once admired you.”

  “Just so.” He smirked and looked over his shoulders at his friends. “A woman I've cast off has made her way to you.”

  His friends chuckled.

  I folded my arms. “Her name was Rhalla.”

  “I don't remember her,” Ulyanash sneered as he walked in a circle around Aber and me. I pivoted on my right foot, keeping us face to face. “Shows how good she is in bed.”

  Once more his friends laughed.

  “Actually,” I said, “her complaints were all about your skills in bed. And… certain other areas, where you don't measure up.”

  He threw back his head and laughed.

  “So, Oberon thinks himself a quick wit. The one great hope for that pitiful House Barimen—”

  “Lord Dworkin,” I said. “I believe his titles are older and more respected than your own, few though they are.”

  Ulyanash's face hardened suddenly. Apparently he wasn't used to being insulted.

  “You are playing a dangerous game,” he said. “Want to raise the wager?”

  Aber dropped his voice to a whisper:

  “Ignore him. He's looking for a duel.”

  “Then,” I said, as I looked Ulyanash up and down with a dismissive glance, “he's welcome to have one!”

  Chapter 24

  Ulyanash's followers formed a circle around us. A hush fell over the party guests. They began hurrying toward our side. I spotted Aunt Lan, looking down and wringing her hands, atop a floating stone three stories above us. She motioned frantically for us to stop. I ignored her.

  “Time and place?” I asked. If I let him pick them, I would have choice of weapons… and the advantage, as I saw it.

  “Here,” Ulyanash said smugly. “Now.” With one hand he reached out to the side and plucked from the air some sort of three-clawed weapon, the like of which I had never seen before. “Your trisp and fandon?”

  Aber looked at me. “You've never used a trisp,” he said. I remembered our earlier conversation—people fought with them while standing on moving stones? “It's that blade he's holding. It extends magically outward, like rays of light—but sharp, and you control the length at the grip.”

  I didn't like the sound of it. “And a fandan?”

  “Like a shield, kind of. You use it to parry the trisp, but you can attack with its edges as well.”

  Since I had never trained using them—or even seen them used before—I knew I couldn't accept them as our weapons. If I did, I wouldn't last ten seconds.

  “No,” I said loudly to Ulyanash.


  “What do you mean—no?” Ulyanash demanded.

  “It's my choice of weapons. I'm unfamiliar with these, so I choose knives.”

  “Knives!” He sneered. “What are we, children?”

  “If you're afraid…” I shrugged and half turned away, playing to our audience. “A simple apology will do.” A titter came from the crowd around us.

  He hesitated, glancing uncertainly at the faces around us.

  “Very well,” he said, trying to sound more certain. “It does not matter. I am equally adept at all weapons. Your fate is assured, son of Dworkin, whether you fight me with toys or a man's weapon.”

  I took off the swordbelt Aber had given me and passed it to my brother.

  “Why not use swords?” Aber asked me softly. “This one is enchanted. It would help you…”

  “I remember,” I replied in a low voice. “And if I won with it, everyone will say it was the blade and not me. Forget magic. When I kill him, everyone will know it was the strength of my arm and the keenness of my eye.”

  Everyone moved back a few feet, forming a ring around us. Ulyanash untied his cloak, threw it to one of his friends, then unlaced his collar and pulled his shirt off. His chest was narrow and bony, covered with a fine silken white hair.

  I too stripped to the waist and stretched the kinks from my muscles. There would be no chance of our blades catching in clothing.

  On the surface, judging by our appearances, it looked like an uneven match—with me the likely winner.

  Aber, using the Logrus, produced a mahogany box with a glass lid. It contained a set of matched dueling knives. He opened the lid and gave first choice to my opponent. Ulyanash picked up both blades, hefting them, examining them, before finally selecting one. He put the other one back. Aber turned to me, and I accepted it.

  About seven inches long, its blade had been etched with intricate designs of dragons. Its handle, wrapped in strips of black leather, fit my hand perfectly. I noticed that Ulyanash had to adjust his own grip several times trying to get comfortable with it.

  Aber grinned, watching Ulyanash fumble with his weapon, and I realized he had chosen these knives specifically for our duel. They fit my larger hands, not my opponent's.

  “Begin!” Aber said, snapping the box shut and stepping back into the circle of watchers.

  We squared off against each other, and then Ulyanash's face and body rippled and began to change, muscles and bristled spikes popping out all over his skin. He seemed to grow several feet taller and several hundred pounds heavier, until the knife looked like a toy in his hand. He could have crushed me just by falling on me.

  I gulped. I hadn't planned on magical tricks. Somehow, this fight no longer seemed like such a good idea.

  I glanced at my brother desperately, hoping shape-shifting might be illegal, but he made no objections. Like everyone else in the crowd, his eyes were fixed on Ulyanash. Everyone seemed to be watching him, waiting for him to make his move against me. They thought he would win handily.

  Not without a struggle, though. Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward and made a tentative slash at his right shoulder, feeling him out.

  He ducked and thrust, and our blades locking together for an instant. Then, with a surge of powerful muscles, he threw me back. I skidded ten feet and almost fell. Breathing lightly, I regained my balance and moved forward once more.

  He had me on strength, that much was clear. What about speed, though?

  I circled, parrying a couple of his jabs, then tried darting forward. A dive and a quick roll took me under his guard. He looked startled as I came up under his left side. As he whirled—too late!—I rolled again, left, keeping low and fast.

  He tried to stomp on my arm, missed, and teetered for a second, off-balance. I saw my chance.

  With a lightning thrust, I stabbed upwards and nicked his forearm—unfortunately, not the one that held the knife. A narrow ribbon of blood spun out and upward, toward the ceiling. It spattered watchers on the floating stones above.

  I rolled again and came up on the balls of my feet, poised to strike.

  “First blood!” Aber called, stepping forward. “Are you satisfied, Oberon?”

  I gave a quick nod. “Yes.” The sooner this duel ended, the better as far as I was concerned.

  “What about you, Ulyanash?”

  “No,” he snarled.

  A startled murmur went up from the crowd. Clearly they had expected him to yield. Unfortunately, this was personal for him—not only had he made himself my enemy, I had humiliated him by drawing first blood. Pride wouldn't let him end the battle here.

  “Then—continue!” Aber backed away.

  Once more Ulyanash and I circled. He moved more slowly and cautiously this time. My taking first blood had done a little good—it had unnerved him. I would have to use that to my advantage.

  I tried to close, and this time he danced back, slashing hard. He just missed my face; I felt the wind of his blade scarcely a finger's width from my cheek.

  Careful, careful. Pressing forward, I worked to the left, making him turn. That seemed to be his weaker side; I noticed a slight hesitation every time I thrust toward his left cheek. Maybe he had a little trouble seeing with his left eye?

  Suddenly he pressed a savage attack. He slashed again and again, knife a blur, putting me on the defensive. I parried and evaded as best I could, dodging and retreating in a circle. Our blades whistled. He grunted, and I noticed sweat starting to bead on his chest. Surely he couldn't keep up that frantic pace long—he would exhaust himself.

  I waited patiently, backing in a wide circle, letting him press the attack, doing my best to stay clear.

  Deliberately letting my foot slip a bit, I leaned to the left. He thought he saw an opening and lunged with a lightning blow. It came faster and lower than I expected, and I had to spin to the side, barely avoid having my belly punctured.

  As I'd hoped, he had overextended his reach. I grabbed his right wrist in my left hand and squeezed as hard as I could.

  I had crushed men's bones in combat before. Any normal human would have cried out and dropped the knife, hopelessly cripped. But Ulyanash's bones felt like iron. Instead of dropping the knife, he half turned, jerked his arm up—and sent me flying twenty feet high into the air.

  The fall probably would have ended the fight—not from any injury I might have sustained, but because he would have been waiting for me on the floor below. A quick knife thrust, and I would have been dead.

  Luckily one of the floating stones saved me. I came within a foot of it, grabbed it with my left hand, swung there a second, then pulled myself on board. The dozen men and women standing there pressed back, giving me room.

  I turned, knife ready. But Ulyanash didn't follow me.

  “Coward!” Ulyanash cried, pointing at me with his knife. “Look how he runs from the fight!”

  “You threw him up there,” Aber said. “Give him a chance to get back down.”

  “Or,” I said, “you can come up.”

  People began stepping off the stone on which I stood. Panting, I waited and thought about the fight so far. Clearly I needed a new strategy. He was stronger and faster than me.

  My stone began to drift toward the floor. Ulyanash moved back, giving it room. He smirked. Clearly he thought he had me.

  When the stone was two feet off the floor, I hopped down and faced him. He approached me carefully, circling, knife out and ready.

  Then, with a triple feint and a blindingly fast thrust, he caught me off balance and cut my chest. It was a shallow wound, little more than a scratch really, but it stung and bled openly. Blood flowed up into my eyes, and I blinked through a red curtain suddenly.

  “Wait!” Aber called. “Second blood!”

  Wincing, I drew back. Good—I needed a moment's rest. Grinning, Ulyanash moved back a few paces.

  “Are you satisfied?” my brother asked Ulyanash.

  “No.”

  “Are you satisfied?” he asked
me.

  “No,” I said calmly. I began a slight shapeshift, closing my wound and stopping the blood flow. I noticed Ulyanash staring at my chest. He frowned. Clearly he wasn't used to opponents healing so quickly and effortlessly.

  That gave me an idea. Shapeshifting might be a weapon he wasn't used to—if the rules permitted it. Or even if they didn't.

  “So be it,” said Aber. “Continue!”

  I circled to the left, keeping my guard up, while Ulyanash sprang forward like a wolf scenting blood. I retreated before him, concentrating not on the fight, but on my body, on the change I wanted. Timing, timing, wait—wait—

  I saw my opening. He lunged, and I let him catch my right arm with the tip of his knife. It pierced me so fast, I barely felt it, and his body continued on and over me. His left hand caught my right fore-arm so I couldn't counter. I could have driven the blade into his belly or chest otherwise.

  I pulled him close, chest to chest.

  “Big mistake,” I whispered in his ear.

  I saw startled confusion in his eyes.

  “What—” he began.

  Then the shapeshift I'd already begun took place. My forearm lengthened, extending a foot, driving the blade of my knife up under his chin, into his skull.

  His eyes widened. His mouth opened, and I saw steel inside, piercing his tongue as it reached straight through his palate and into his brain. He screamed soundlessly.

  Like a tree toppling, he began to fall on top of me. I tried to pull back, but his weight bore me down. I moaned as the knife drove more deeply into my arm.

  His shape-shift began to unravel. As he became lighter and smaller, what seemed like a hundred different hands pulled him off me, began helping me up. I let my own forearm return to normal.

  A dozen voices were commenting at once:

  “Incredible fight—”

  “I can't believe you beat Ulyanash—”

  “—never seen the like—”

  “How did he—”

  “Well done,” Aber said, crouching beside me.