The False Knight of the Motorway

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The False Knight of the Motorway Page 7

by Arden Ellis


  "Not with all the grief you'd undoubtedly be giving me."

  "And I would be vindicated," Wright said. "Or must I constantly remind you of the oath you swore as a knight, to help those who cannot help themselves?

  "And should we help every single person?" Kai's voice rose, her eyes a blaze of intensity. Movement in the corner of Wright's eye made her turn, but it was only Silva stirring at the sound of their argument. "You cannot save everyone. If you try, you'll go mad."

  After so many days of traveling in Kai's company, her defeatism and sarcasm and blatant debauchery grating like a fractured bone, Wright's patience was at its end. She reached for the best weapon she knew. "I suppose that's what you told yourself, as you stood by and watched as Lord Warwick put your previous lord to the blade."

  There was no more clinking of armor—just silence, thick and dark. Suddenly, the dry rasp of drawn steel cut through the air. When Wright turned back to face Kai, she found the point of a sword resting beneath her chin, Kai on her feet looking down at her with cold fury in her eyes. "I am growing tired of your self-righteousness, ser," Kai said, her tone conversational even as the edge of her sword turned to kiss Wright's pulse. "If you insist on continuing to insult me, you'd best be prepared to back your words with more than arrogance."

  Wright met Kai's eyes unflinchingly. She rose, and Kai's sword followed. Her right palm itched to wrap around the pommel of her sword. The smart thing was to stop this now. To walk away and let frayed tempers settle.

  "Is it your honor I've insulted, ser? I wasn't aware you had any."

  Wright was not feeling particularly smart at the moment.

  "Do not act as if you are the only one qualified to make that judgement," Kai said through clenched teeth. "Your only understanding of honor is what your lord tells you to do."

  "At least I'm loyal," Wright said. "Between the two of us, I am the only one who has not knelt in a pool of my own lord's blood and kissed the sword that had slain him."

  "Don't be naive!" Kai hissed. She took a step closer, angling her sword so that the edge was pressed against Wright's jaw, forcing her head up lest she be parted from it. "You can prattle on about honor and loyalty, but in the end, those are just words, and they damn well don't make you any better than me."

  Wright knew this was her last chance to stop this; for once she didn't want to. "Once, I might have tolerated you, even with all your indulgences," she continued. "But when I saw how lightly you abandoned your oaths, I knew you were truly worthless."

  At once the pressure against Wright's neck was gone. She took a step backwards as Kai whirled away, stalking a few paces back before turning to face Wright once more. She raised her sword, a stark line of steel quivering in the air, its point aligned with Wright's heart. It was a pose Wright recognized well.

  "Draw your sword," Kai snapped, her voice ringing out among the trees.

  Heat burst in Wright's chest like flames meeting oil. Amidst the tangle of conflicting thoughts and emotions, the ceaseless tension of their journey—here, at last, was her clarity. Nearby Silva and Preston scrambled to their feet, awakened by the sound of Kai's challenge.

  "What is the meaning of this?" Preston cried. "Have you both lost your senses?"

  "Stand back, alchemist," Wright said. Her eyes did not leave Kai's. "This is between knights."

  Preston made to step forward—Silva held out an arm to stop him. Her meaning was clear: There's no stopping them now.

  "Well?" Kai demanded. "Do you accept, or are you a coward as well as a slanderer?"

  Wright took a couple steps to the side, keeping her eyes on Kai as she scoped out the ground. The clearing was large and flat. It would do. No need for torches; the moonlight made Kai's sword into a line of pale fire. Wright's heart sung in her chest, sweet and fast and dangerous.

  Wright drew her sword. The vibrations of its metal length moved up through her arm, a power that traveled through her as clean and pure as the beating of her heart. "I will meet your challenge. Though there is little honor in besting those with none."

  Kai laughed and began to circle. Wright followed in turn. The moonlight was bright enough to make every detail of Kai's face and stature stand out against the darkness, peering out from behind her shaggy hair like a wolf through a thicket, her teeth bared.

  "You know," Kai said, her voice deceptively conversational, "it actually makes me sick, seeing how you jump to that old man's every command like a trained dog."

  Wright did not respond. Instead she let the anger sing in her blood until her sword vibrated with it. She searched her memories of Kai, her tactics, the strikes she favored, the areas her defenses were weakest. With no armor, Kai would be fast and agile, but Wright knew what to expect. It felt good—it felt right.

  Kai moved first, her sword striking as quickly as a pale serpent. With a deft parry Wright dodged, attempting to wind her blade against Kai's; but Kai expected that, and disengaged without hesitation, her movements quick and conservative. There were no showy flourishes to Kai's technique now. She fought with sole purpose: to win.

  Again Kai struck, a sideways cut this time, and when Wright met the tip of Kai's sword slid down to her handguard with a metallic screech. She used her leverage to try and knock Kai's sword aside, but Kai danced away again, the point dipping to brush the grass as she slipped into the Fool's guard, inviting Wright to attack. It was a tempting proposition.

  "Surely you can do better." Kai was not yet winded. They were testing each other still, remembering the steps of an old dance, like that—no, like that—

  They danced, a flurry of blows and parries and double-parries, falling apart and then flying together again—until there was nothing but the movement of their swords, arcs of steel and the position of Kai's body, the twist of a hip or the sudden placement of a foot showing Wright the path of her next strike. The air filled with clanging metal, husky shouts fogging in the air.

  "You look tired, Wright," Kai called out. She was panting with exertion, but her teeth were bared in a smile of cruel joy. "You can always surrender now and save yourself the humiliation of defeat."

  Wright wasted no breath on words. She struck again, and again, driving Kai backwards blow by blow until she stood her ground at the edge of the field, the trees looming dark behind her. Her eyes grew wider by the moment as Wright methodically tore apart her defense, Kai's strength and ferocity flagging under the storm of Wright's attacks. Silva shouted something behind them, her voice high and urgent, but Wright paid it no mind—she was close, so close to victory.

  Their swords came together in a blow that hummed in Wright's teeth, locking together as Kai tried to press past her guard with strength alone. The grind of metal vibrated the bones of her hand; a cold, triumphant smile settled onto Wright's lips. Her eyes bored into Kai's, hungry and demanding. She needed to see the defeat in Kai's eyes. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed.

  And then, unbelievably, Kai looked away. Her gaze darted over Wright's shoulder as if to deny her the satisfaction of victory. Wright pressed harder in response, pushing Kai towards the darkness of the wood at her back. "Look at me, Kai," Wright snarled.

  Kai's gaze snapped back to her. Locked between their bodies, her blade trembled. "Wright—"

  Something burst from the underbrush at the exact moment Kai threw her full strength and weight against Wright's sword, shoving both of them out of the way as they tumbled onto the grass. The shadow was huge, towering over them both, and through her shock Wright realized it was beckoning to something behind—a rider, she realized with a dull twist of horror. The enemy had tracked them after all.

  She and Kai struggled to their feet as three new shapes broke from the trees, foot soldiers with the glint of drawn steel in their hands. Hoofbeats pounded towards them as the rider wheeled around for a second charge. Wright caught a glimpse of the wicked scimitar curving towards her head before she dove to one side as Kai dove to the other, the blade whistling through the air between them. Her horse—Wrig
ht needed—

  The footmen charged, two of them rushing forward as the other hung back near the tree line. There was no time to worry about Kai or Silva or Preston. Wright raised her sword, her strength and endurance already worn down by the duel, and met them blow for blow. Behind she could hear the pound of more hoofbeats, and hoped that Silva had loaded her pistol, that Kai hadn't fallen beneath the enemy rider's hooves. Wright planted a kick into the leather-armored chest of the soldier in front of her, sending him stumbling backwards—a shout sounded from behind him, and when he stumbled backwards Wright raised her sword to finish him.

  The impact sent her flying back onto the ground and knocked the breath from her lungs. She stared up at the stars in bewilderment, deafened save for the ringing in her ears. Her chest ached as fiercely as if she had been kicked by a horse. She forced her head up as far as she could get it and saw, beyond the two foot soldiers, the third standing with a rifle still braced against his shoulder. Wright hadn't even heard the shot before it smashed into her breastplate.

  A short distance away, she saw Silva on her horse, locking blades with the other rider, too close to charge. The two footmen advanced on Wright again, this time with no hesitation. One of them kicked her sword from her loose fingers before she could close her grasp around it. She struggled up, gasping for her lost breath. There was not enough time. They'd aim for the weak points in her armor—the joints, the gorget, the seam at the gut. Their blades darted towards her, too quickly to stop.

  And then, just as quickly, they were gone.

  In a blur, Kai vaulted over Wright's body and tackled both enemies to the ground. She was on her feet in an instant, lightning fast—she still wasn't wearing armor, Wright realized with horror—and slashed at the man on her left. For a moment, Wright could only stare, enthralled, watching the way Kai struck and moved, brutal and graceful and terrible. She was calm, in utter control as she drove her sword against her enemy. Their duel looked clumsy in comparison; Kai hadn't been willing to kill her. One soldier was lying in a pool of his own blood before Wright could finish climbing to her feet, searching the darkness for her sword in vain.

  Kai pivoted toward the other, her focus as sharp as the point of the knife. She couldn't see the third soldier near the trees finish reloading his gun, raise it and take aim.

  His first shot had knocked Wright off her feet. If such a blast hit Kai, it would tear straight through her.

  Wright charged, her sword lost and abandoned somewhere in the grass behind her. The shooter had time to see her rushing him, his eyes widening and his gun swinging to meet her—Wright struck him at the same moment a deafening bang exploded between them.

  Pain surged over her like the shock of cold water, rushing through her shoulder as she pinned the man who had shot her. He'd caught the blast too, rebounded from Wright's armor; he coughed wetly, his limbs twitching beneath her. She rolled away from him with a gasp, the pain exploding behind her eyes. Movement beside her: distantly, it occurred to her that the man would have a dagger. All it would take was a final burst of strength for him to roll over and plunge it into her neck. Already she heard him cough, felt his struggling movements in the grass beside her. She could not even raise her right arm; she could not even crawl away.

  A shadow moved over the stars. Kai. Blood splattered her face and neck, dark flowers in the colorless moonlight. The strangest thing of all was the swell of pure relief which rose in Wright's chest at the sight of her. The pain prevented Wright from thinking on that too closely.

  She knelt at Wright's side, fingers grasping painfully at Wright's armor, touching the wetness seeping through her tunic. Wright grunted in pain. Kai's hands stilled at the sound; slowly, she turned to the man with the rifle, where he lay twitching at Wright's side.

  Wright could see nothing but a moon-tinted sliver of Kai's expression; that alone chilled her to the bone. For all the times they had fought with steel or words, the wrath in Kai's eyes was unlike any Wright had seen before. Calmly, Kai drew a knife from her belt and bent over the wounded enemy at Wright's side. There was a watery cry, a spasm on the grass, and then nothing.

  "Bring the bandages," Kai called over her shoulder as she stooped to begin undoing the fastenings of Wright's armor. "Lie still," she said sharply as Wright began to struggle, every movement of Kai's fingers like a fresh nail driven into her right shoulder.

  "I'm fine," Wright gritted out. "My armor caught the blast."

  "You were shot at point-blank range, you fool. You are not fine."

  A line of fresh arguments rose in Wright's throat, but she held herself still as Kai loosened the straps on her breastplate and pauldrons, biting back every cry that tried to escape her throat. Silva and Preston arrived quickly, Silva with her bandages and Preston with a jar of musky-scented ointment. A fresh cut marked his cheek and his eyes blinked far too rapidly, but otherwise he and Silva seemed unharmed. As Kai lifted Wright's armor free, Wright could not stop the yelp of pain that rose up to choke her.

  Silva clicked her tongue at the wound. "Not as bad as it could be. Some fragments ricocheted into the joint of the armor, but they aren't deep."

  "Can we move her?" Preston asked.

  "We have no choice. That party had already tracked us close enough to the sounds of your duel." Silva glanced between them with a hint of mild reproach. "Their absence will be quickly noted, and the rest will come looking."

  "This way my fault," Kai muttered, sitting back on her heels to watch Silva lay out the supplies of their medical kit. "I never should have challenged you."

  Wright forced a tight smile. "I was the one who accepted."

  "But I knew you'd accept, you predictable ass."

  Silva began quickly binding the wound. Wright's head swam as she did, but the pain seemed to be growing duller—or perhaps she was losing consciousness. That was not an option. Gasping for breath, she groped blindly with her good arm, searching for something to hold onto—her fingers found a hand, and tightened around it with all her strength. After a moment the grip was returned, and Kai's face swam into focus above her. Her eyes were riveted to Wright's, looking almost frightened. Wright drank it in, committing it to memory though she didn't know why.

  "Get her on a horse," Silva said. "We reach the coast tonight."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  That ride seemed to last forever. The roads were no longer safe—they had to pick their way through the darkness of the trees, their horses' tension palpable beneath them. Wright bobbed in the saddle, exhaustion and pain braiding together until she could not distinguish between them. She imagined it as a rope, tethering her to herself, something she could follow back from the gray haze closing in around her. Until then, she let herself drift, marshaling her strength, knowing that soon she would need it.

  At times, she would hear her name hissed from the darkness, and she would look up to see Kai riding beside her with fierce concern in her eyes. She drifted in and out of Wright's awareness like a ghost. Only when Wright rallied and met her gaze did Kai stop calling out to her.

  Wright was awakened, after what felt like an eternity, by her horse coming to a stop. She had grown so accustomed to the rhythm of riding that she nearly slipped from the saddle. Something hissed and crashed in her ears, a deep, feathery sound. Drawing in a breath through her teeth, Wright forced her eyes open.

  They had reached the edge of the forest, an open expanse lit by the blue wash of pre-dawn light. The ground ran down to a stony beach, and the white surf of the ocean broke upon it. Beyond the shore were the rotting remains of an old pier, standing like bare trees in the water. Rising from the water between the pilings was a long white wall, streaked with rust.

  "What is that?" Wright said hoarsely, her tongue thick and dry.

  "A godmade ship," Silva replied. "Quite a strange place for a research base."

  "They probably thought it was safer, away from land," Preston said. His voice was as soft as if they stood on holy ground. "With enough food and fresh water, it could
have been quite the haven."

  "It's falling apart," Kai said dubiously. It was true—the ship was listing to one side, run aground decades ago in the shallow water. "How do we get out to it?"

  Preston scanned the shoreline, his eyes narrowed. "I see no other boats. We'll have to wade."

  "Wade?" Kai repeated blankly. "There's little more dangerous than ocean-water."

  Preston shook his head. "We have to risk it. There's no time to find another way." His voice was quiet, but his words were firm. The morning light made the red cut on his cheek stand out against his skin. He turned to Wright, his eyes creased against the dim morning light. "We've come this far."

  A muscle in Wright's jaw twitched as she stared out over the dark water. In still water the curse could be visible even as a dark oily slick, its characteristic haze rising over the waves; but with the motion of the waves it sank beneath the surface, tendrils of poison unseen until it was too late. From the looks of the sand, it was low tide; the ship did not look so very far away. "I say we make the attempt," Wright said, her voice sounding more confident than she felt. Kai let out a huff of air, but she did not argue at all.

  "We'll have to hide the horses." Silva dismounted, and began scouting the tree line for a place to hobble them. Wright braced herself to swing her leg over Farstride's saddle and slide to the ground, but was surprised to find Kai's hands on her thighs, helping her down. She landed hard nonetheless, a grunt of pain escaping her lips as the impact jarred her shoulder. Kai's hands gripped her uninjured shoulder, holding her steady. She had yet to don her armor since removing it the night before; her palms were bare, and gentle.

  "You aren't looking so good, ser knight," Kai said quietly.

  Wright started to shrug, then thought the better of it. "I'm fine."

  Kai hesitated before she spoke. "I think you should stay here."

  Wright stared at her blankly. "Don't be ridiculous."

  "Do you really think you're in a state to go clambering over an ancient godsruin? What if the tide rises while we're on board? Do you plan on swimming back?"

 

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