Turning back, both he and Barro looked at the dying youngster and his companion, who was on the ground next to him, screaming and covered in Blacktooth’s blood.
“That wasn’t very sporting of you,” Barro remarked. “Although perhaps I should offer some gratitude. I was desperately tired of them both.”
“I’ve simply made the fight a bit fairer,” Corbel remarked.
They both smiled. And began circling each other.
Evie watched in horrified disbelief. There was a sense of the unreal—as though she were participating in a piece of medieval theater. Except it was all sickeningly real. The screams were genuine, the blood was real, the knives and sword were not toys and this was not make believe. Corbel de Vis and the man known as Barro were engaged in what she sensed was going to be a fight to the death.
She stared at Corbel circling the man, a cold and calculating expression on his face that she had never seen before. She thought she had known Reg so well, but though the man who now accompanied her looked like Reg and talked like Reg that icy smile was chillingly unfamiliar. Reg meant to kill Barro, she was sure, because he had threatened her safety.
In fact, only now, as Barro began to laugh, did she realize she hadn’t taken a breath since the youth called Clem had fallen.
Clem! She looked again at the two figures on the ground. And finally her instincts kicked in and she moved into action.
“You fight like a soldier. I’m impressed.”
“Then engage me, or I’ll think you’re scared of me.”
“Engage?” Barro grinned, prodding at Corbel. “You speak like you’re from the old world.”
“Perhaps I am,” Corbel replied.
“Stop this!” Evie cried.
“Too late, madam. I think your husband is determined to fight for your honor . . . not that I had any intention of threatening it.”
“But your accomplices did,” Corbel snarled. “And you will share the punishment.”
Barro laughed again. “You have a single dagger, my friend. You’d better ask your wife to look away. I’ll tell you what,” Barro said, feinting with the sword and failing to lure Corbel into his trap. “I’ll marry your widow and treat her well when this is done. I can’t be more fair, can I?”
“I’ll tell you what,” Corbel replied. “As you have no wife to mourn you with flowers, I’ll bury you in this deserted landscape and piss on your grave so the weeds can at least grow over you.”
Barro appeared to enjoy his threat, laughing loudly. “I think I’ll regret killing you.”
“No more talking, Barro. Fight, or die as you stand.”
“As you won’t share your name, soldier, I’ll ask your wife for it later.”
Corbel was aware of Evie’s movement but his focus was now entirely on his opponent. He knew his dagger looked like a pointless weapon against the long sword but wielded with skill it could triumph. Barro’s sword was heavy—deadly, for sure, but cumbersome by comparison. Corbel would just need speed. And cunning.
Barro stabbed and though Corbel leaped backward the blade caught him high on the arm. He felt the telltale sting but had no time to even check how deep the wound was, for Barro continued advancing without pause.
He thought he heard Evie yell but then everything dulled to the roar of his blood pounding. Nothing mattered but the man before him. He could smell Barro’s sweat and noticed, for the first time, that Barro carried an injury. While the man was right-handed, he favored that right side. It must be his shoulder. And now that Corbel concentrated on it, still ducking and weaving and knowing he was entertaining Barro by permitting him to slash at him—taking the punishment but mercifully unable to register any pain for now—he saw that the man’s fighting arm was lowering. The sword was heavy, Barro’s fighting side was injured, and he had to keep adjusting and straightening his stance.
Corbel took a deep breath. He needed to unbalance Barro. His opponent’s natural inclination to re-align himself might do the rest and give Corbel the opening he needed. On the rim of his mind he could hear Evie still yelling, but he had to ignore it.
In that moment he felt a deep pain, one that made him want to retch and dragged him from the special place in his mind, back outside to where the smell of blood hung in the air.
“No, please, Barro, please . . .” he could hear Evie screaming.
Corbel had taken all the punishment that he knew his body could withstand. But wearing Barro out was working; the strength in the man’s arm had so dissipated that he looked lopsided now, as he struggled to rebalance himself. He lifted the sword one more time, and, oddly, Corbel heard his brother’s voice in his head: Now, Corb, now!
Without thinking, Corbel launched himself forward, dagger extended. He glimpsed a look of bemused surprise on Barro’s face before he hit the man in the belly and then toppled with him. Regaining himself quickly, he straddled the soldier and, to a howl of protest from Evie, he plunged the dagger with great force into the man’s chest, just beneath the ribcage, feeling the satisfying give of flesh and the sudden sigh of breath.
It was over. Barro stared at Corbel with confusion and then looked down at his own chest. “You got me,” he murmured. “Damn you,” he said, with what sounded to Corbel like a hint of respect.
“Corbel . . .” Evie sounded ragged. “Corbel!” Then suddenly she was upon him, shoving him off Barro, whose head had lolled back.
“No!” she screamed.
“Evie,” Corbel murmured, a tremor claiming him now as his mind began to accept that the immediate danger was over and his body began to register his wounds.
“Shut up!” she yelled into his face. “Just shut up, you fucking murderer!”
Corbel rocked back into the dirt on the ground, lost for words. Murderer? No. The fight had been fair. Unbalanced perhaps, but fair. He watched, disbelieving, as Evie replaced him on top of Barro and lay her hands on him.
Exercising the enormous control she had trained herself to wield when performing surgery, Evie wrestled all her nervous energy back under her own control and focused her mind on Barro.
She was surprised by how quickly she found her calm but she was genuinely shocked at the new and strange sensation that felt like electricity running through her as she went to work on her patient. She had no time to ponder what it meant, though. All that mattered right now was seeing if she could save Barro. It didn’t matter that he had attacked them. She was a doctor. She had taken an oath to preserve life.
Corbel was breathing hard, watching Evie, hardly daring to believe that she was offering ministrations to their enemy. The man had done his utmost to kill him and yet here she was snarling at him, accusing him of murder, swearing at him. His offense deepened when he realized that she wasn’t even going to turn her attention away from Barro for a second to check on his injuries.
He angrily shifted his gaze to the other two bandits. Blacktooth looked to be dead, lying in a surprisingly large pool of blood. The old man was groaning, also prone; Corbel had probably dislocated or re-broken that hip. He didn’t care.
“Finish it!” Barro growled at him. “Soldier to soldier.”
“Don’t compare us,” Corbel replied. “Suffer on. I—”
“Quiet! Both of you, just shut up!” Evie yelled. “I need to concentrate.”
He heard Barro sigh but it didn’t sound like the sigh of someone accepting a rebuke so much as the sound of someone resigning. Corbel had heard it before. And he was sure Evie had. Barro sighed once again, accepting his death.
“No, please, no! Hang on. Stay alive, Barro. For me.”
“Evie. Let him die,” Corbel urged. “I hope you’re not thinking of—”
She turned on him, though her hands never left Barro’s major wound. “Don’t you dare!” she raged, her voice barely under control. He had seen her annoyed before, he’d even seen her angry but he had never seen this; this hot rage, and the temper directed at him! Corbel bit back on his next words and staggered slightly, shocked by the snarl on her
mouth, the contempt of her tone. He was sure he could see disgust in her gaze. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do, de Viz, or whatever the hell your bastard name is!”
It felt worse than a shock slap, worse even than a punch in the belly. Corbel felt his very world tilt. “It’s de Vis,” he corrected, unable to think of anything else to say. He heard his own voice sound soft and shocked.
But she didn’t care, it seemed. “Go to hell!” she spat at him before returning her attention to Barro.
“Evie,” he began.
“Don’t,” she warned. “Don’t say anything more.”
He didn’t. He left Evie to her ministrations. He carelessly hauled Blacktooth’s body away and left it behind some rocks. Then he busied himself, studiously ignoring the old man prone nearby, pushing soil around with his boots to disguise the pool of blood that had begun to dry into the ground. Satisfied that the worst of it was covered, he glared at the injured man.
“I won’t be helping you,” he snarled.
“Just something for the pain—arack perhaps?”
Corbel shook his head.
Evie silently moved in front of Corbel and knelt down beside the wheezing old man, laying her hands on him. Corbel was desperate to speak but bit back on his words, this time looking away in despair. Her defiance might get them both killed.
He looked back over at Barro and saw what he most dreaded. The man was sitting up, holding his head. “What just happened?” Barro asked, touching his chest, his belly, looking down at his body with incredulity.
Corbel walked over to him but said nothing.
“You killed me. I died. I’m sure of it. I felt the life leave me.”
“Seems you imagined it,” Corbel muttered.
Barro’s crazed eyes searched his own. “You killed me, damn it!”
Corbel put his hands up defensively. “All right. Hush.” His mind was racing. How could he keep this situation under control?
Barro’s confusion deepened, his brow almost hooding his eyes. “All right? All right?” he demanded. “You mean you agree?”
Corbel sighed. “I clearly didn’t kill you,” he said, his exasperation spilling.
“It’s done,” Evie said, sounding suddenly drained. “I’ve put him to sleep. We need to talk,” she said, her voice hard, eyeing them both.
Barro shook his head. “I don’t understand any of this.”
Evie glared at Corbel. “Are you going to explain?”
He shook his head slightly. “You’re the one taking control. Why don’t you throw us straight into deeper danger? Your father—” he began but was cut off by Evie.
“My father, whoever he was, was a cowardly dog. If I’m to believe what you’ve been telling me then what on earth was in his head to think he was doing me a favor sending me off with you in the manner he did, all the secrecy, and the risk of such dislocation?”
“He kept you alive,” Corbel said.
“For what? Ask yourself. What do you think we can achieve in terms of the grand fight you seem to believe we are up against?”
Before Corbel could think of how to answer her, Barro began to get to his feet and Evie snapped her head around to glare at him. “And I’d suggest you remain still for a while longer.”
“Who are you both?” the bandit asked, sounding deeply bewildered. “I thought I heard the name de Vis being bandied around. But perhaps that’s just part of my present madness because I am sure I am dead.”
Corbel felt momentarily sorry for the man. He walked over and helped Barro to his feet. “Slowly,” he said. “Listen to her regarding your health. She knows what she’s talking about.”
Barro’s fist bunched Corbel’s shirt. “Answer me, damn you. I should be dead, right? Gar knows I felt the keen pain of your sword entering my flesh.”
“Listen to me, Barro,” Evie said, her tone plain. Gone was her polite bedside manner. “You’re going to have to accept something that seems impossible. You are walking proof that magic happens. Get past it!”
Corbel threw her a glance of gratitude. He’d feared for a moment that she was going to launch into a discussion about medicine and physiology. But she ignored his gaze, continuing to stare hard at Barro. “Do you believe in magic, Barro?”
The man looked between them both but Corbel refused to look at him. This was too difficult. Besides, it wasn’t right. It was opening them up to a raft of new problems.
“I believe only in what I see,” Barro answered carefully.
Corbel watched Evie’s eyes flare. “Excellent,” she said, all brisk efficiency. “Then you believe yourself healed?”
“I have no choice, do I? But I want to understand how it comes that I am whole.”
“I’ll explain again. I used magic on you,” she said matter of factly. “I healed you.”
“But that’s impossible,” he began, again flicking his glance between the two of them. “Prove it. Heal the boy,” he said to Evie.
“I don’t have to prove it to you. I have already shown you by the fact that you are not bleeding out into the soil. I’m sorry to say that it’s too late for him. He is already dead.”
Barro laughed. “And you can’t bring back the dead?” he said, his voice ringing with sarcasm.
“No,” she replied gravely. “That’s something I can’t do. I have to be with the dying person, lay my hands on him before he gives up his last breath.”
Barro swung his attention fully onto Corbel. “What is this madness?”
Corbel shrugged. There was no point in denying it. “She speaks the truth.”
The two men held each other’s gaze for a few moments as they sized each other up. Finally, Barro raked a hand through his hair. “I will need time to ponder this situation.”
“I know the feeling,” Evie said, moving back to the old man to check on him.
“And you?” Barro continued, pointing at Corbel. “I heard the name de Vis. Is this another jest?”
“No jest,” Corbel said, no longer attempting to keep up the pretense. “Why is it important to you?”
“I’ve only ever seen one other man fight like you do. He carried the name of Regor de Vis,” Barro said. “A man I loved and respected.”
Hearing his father’s name tore at Corbel’s heartstrings. “Then why do you shame him by your monstrous actions? Regor de Vis was a man of honor, not a thief and cutthroat.”
“How are you related to Regor de Vis?” Barro demanded.
“Who said I was?”
“The fire in your eyes, the tremble in your voice. You speak of him and I hear the awe. Besides, didn’t you just admit to her to the name?”
There was a silence, which Corbel refused to fill and Barro seemed equally determined to hold.
“This is his son, Corbel de Vis,” Evie said suddenly, wearily.
Barro seemed to be even more shocked by this revelation than his coming back from the dead. He visibly paled before Corbel.
“Well, say something,” Evie urged, sounding exasperated as she looked between them both.
“You can’t be,” Barro exclaimed.
Corbel scowled. “Get used to the idea.”
“Why can’t he?” Evie asked.
Barro frowned. “I . . . well . . .” He shook his head as though clearing it of a fog. “My general was slaughtered ten anni ago. His fine sons had not yet completed their second decade. You look too old.”
“How do you know either of the sons of Regor de Vis?” Corbel demanded.
Barro was still looking stunned. “I never met either of his sons but like all the soldiers of the Penraven army we saw them from a distance, watched them grow up from that distance. Prove you are who you claim!” he suddenly demanded.
“Not to you, I won’t,” Corbel said disdainfully, “not to anyone but a royal.”
The man actually laughed. He turned to Evie. “Your friend is deluded. Now I know he is not who he claims to be. There are no royals left. I’m sure the emperor will be as amused as I am to meet him.�
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“As he will you when you try and explain that I killed you. You’ll be thrown into the madhouse,” Corbel snarled. “Are you coming, Evie?”
“The emperor and I share no friendship. I remain loyal to the Valisar Crown, even though the Valisars are long gone. Why do you think I find myself roaming Penraven like a soul lost?”
Corbel swung back to face the man. “Loyal? By being a cutthroat? King Brennus would turn in his tomb. As for my father—”
“If you are who you say then you should know that I loved your father. I would have gladly followed the Legate into death and never questioned the order.” Barro looked down. “I’m not proud of where I find myself. After the death of the royals, your father, those of us who were loyal to Valisar lost our way. I’ll hand it to Loethar; he didn’t slaughter us as I’d anticipated. Sometimes I wish he had. I didn’t cope well under the new regime, not after watching how the Legate was treated, how the royal family was destroyed. We heard the king was butchered, the queen murdered by her own aide . . .” His voice trailed off. He shook his head, seemingly trying to rein in an old emotion. “There was nothing else for people like me. I had no place in the new empire. I was a soldier. I knew nothing else but I refused to take orders from Stracker.”
“So you decided to steal from honest Penravens,” Corbel finished, winning a glare from Evie.
“I had no trade. I couldn’t offer my services as a mercenary. I did odd jobs. I slowly slid from proud Valisar lieutenant to a pathetic cutpurse. You should have let me die. You would have done me a favor in ending my miserable life.” Suddenly, unexpectedly, he rounded on Evie. “You should have let me die, you witch!”
Corbel leaped at Barro, pummeling him. “You bastard!”
Evie flung herself at both of them and wrenched Corbel away with a string of colorful insults. They all stood, breathing hard. Finally, Evie spoke. “I saved your ungrateful arse because I could and I didn’t think you deserved to die. Corbel’s got a strange fire in his belly that you haplessly stoked. That’s why I saved you.”
“For a lady, you have a foul mouth,” Barro muttered.
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