FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy

by Mercedes Lackey

  I was reading again when the door opened, “You could knock first,” I said as I saw Dorian striding in, he was breathing hard. I guess running up stairs will do that to a man.

  He ignored my comment, “Here,” he said, “Read this and be quick, Rose seems to think it’s urgent.” I could see he was in no mood for foolishness, so I took the letter from his hand. It was marked with my name, and I was fairly sure the lettering was Penny’s.

  Opening it I started scanning the contents, and then I reread them to be sure I hadn’t missed anything.

  Dear Mordecai,

  I write this now with great trepidation, not because of what I must do, but rather because it is impossible for anyone to put all their thoughts and feelings into something so limited as a simple letter. I need you to understand that you have always been my friend, and for that I am grateful. You should also know that the events resulting from my actions from this point forward are no fault of yours. I believe strongly that each person must take responsibility for their own actions, to do otherwise is to make oneself a victim in the hands of fate, and I will not be a victim.

  Marcus has explained your situation with Devon Tremont to me fully, and for that reason I want you to know that what I plan to do is not because of you. As you know, I have good cause for hating that singularly unfortunate individual. I would that he had never been born. The fact that his removal might aid you and the Lancaster family is a great comfort to me, but it is not the cause for my actions. Please do not blame yourself. I make my own choices.

  I will keep my reasons to myself, for they would only do you a greater hurt, one you do not deserve, for you have always been a gentle soul. I will say only that fate has conspired against me. I have done that which cannot be undone, and it has left me with few options. Rather than be held a prisoner by those options, I choose to act, hopefully preventing greater harm to others. I feel there is no redemption for Devon Tremont, just as there is none for me. At least my actions may lead to greater good, while his have done nothing but ill.

  Last, and this is the most difficult part, for I fear it will cause you pain, I want to explain my feelings to you. My love for you is no recent thing, no sudden fancy. In our games as children you were always my knight in shining armor, though I doubt you realized it. Your kind heart and silly wit won me over during the endless summer days of childhood. I love you, and I always will, for whatever time is left to me. No matter what they say of me after this day do not forget that. There are others that love you though, and it is important you remember that. When I am gone, do not let despair drive you to foolish choices, for you are important to a great many people, and I am least among them.

  Yours forever,

  Penny

  “Dammit!” I swore. “Dorian, where did you get this?”

  “Rose got it from one of the servers,” he answered.

  I was already dressing. The doublet and hose would take far too long so I put on my simple breeches and tunic, the clothes I had arrived in. After a moment’s thought, I put my mother’s surcoat over them and buckled on the sword my father had given me. Dorian’s eyes registered surprise at that. “You can’t wear a sword to the ball.”

  “I’ll be damned if I don’t, and you might want to collect your own, we may need it.” I slipped my boots on. My fever had gone, so I felt better, though I was lightheaded. I started for the door, then paused. A few quick words and I had shielded myself. I wasn’t certain what might happen, but I wanted to be ready.

  We went as quickly as I could manage, which was nearly a run despite the soreness in my back. My ribs no longer hurt, but I was still short-winded from the damage to my lung. Dorian left me when we reached the ground floor, going to fetch his own sword, I think, but I didn’t ask.

  Back at the ball Penny was dancing. Rose had been a frustrating distraction, sending a variety of dancing partners her way, making it difficult for her to single out the man she sought. Lord Devon had solved the problem for her though. She had been watching him steadily while she danced with various partners, and he had noticed her looks. After her dance with Gregory Pern, he walked over with a curious expression.

  Rose moved smoothly into his path, seeking to turn him aside, she could see he was focused on Penny, “Lord Devon, what a happy surprise to see you here tonight? I thought you might be busy tending your bruised pride.” Rose needled him, hoping to draw his anger.

  “Excuse me, Lady Rose, I believe the lady seeks a dance,” he answered with a sneer, brushing past her.

  “Very perceptive of you, Lord Devon,” Penny said with a sly smile. “I had little hope you would notice me.” She put her hands together and slid them up the sleeves till they were at her elbows.

  “Would you care to dance?” Devon gestured at the milling dance floor.

  “Certainly, if my poor grace will be enough to entertain you,” Penny answered. She drew her arms apart, and Rose was relieved to see her hands were empty. Devon took one of her hands and placed his free hand on her waist, slightly lower than was proper, but she did not complain. Penny had her other hand on his shoulder. She had planned and practiced for this, and the dagger’s pommel was in her palm with the blade running up her forearm while her fingers held it still. Holding it reversed forced her to keep her wrist straight, and her hand was stiff, but no one could see it, still hidden by her sleeve. Once she had her hand resting on his shoulder, he would be unable to see the strange posture of her hand.

  “I wonder at your motives,” Devon said, “to seek a dance with me.”

  “I have had time to think on our encounter a few nights ago,” she gave him a smouldering look.

  “A small burn would lead most to seek to avoid the fire, lest they burn themselves again,” he replied.

  “Some women find danger to be an aphrodisiac, once they have had time to get over their initial fear,” Penny leaned closer, placing her face against his neck.

  Devon had met all manner of women, and he knew some were quite twisted, but he could not help but think this maid was playing a subtle joke of some sort. “What of your blacksmith?”

  She leaned back to look into his eyes, “He isn’t here tonight, and you, my Lord... are...” she brought her lips up to meet his. She only needed to distract him for a moment while her hand moved up, letting the sleeve fall free, clearing the blade for its fatal plunge. Devon’s eyes widened for a moment, but her distraction worked, for he failed to notice as her hand rose.

  Penny held the long blade up, point carefully aimed so that it would strike between his shoulder blades, just below his neck. She would only get one chance. Forgive me Mort, she thought, and then she tensed to drive the blade home. A scream went up from across the room, “Penny, don’t!!” It was Rose Hightower, and her warning spoiled Penny’s careful plan.

  Jerking her about, Devon saw the blade and caught her wrist in his hand, twisting her arm violently, causing the blade to fall free and sending pain shooting up to her shoulder, “You stupid girl!” he yelled, and then he threw her to the stone dance floor. She started to rise but his boot caught her in her midsection. The air exploded from her lungs with an audible ‘whoosh’, leaving her choking and gasping on the ground.

  “Damned whore! Did you think to slay me? Look at me you feeble minded trollop!” he screamed at her. Penny looked up and his second kick caught her in the face, sending her sprawling. She tried to rise, but her arms slid out from under her. Something was in her eyes and the agony of her nose blinded her with pain. People were screaming now, but she could not understand them.

  Devon Tremont was laughing, and he reached down to grab the back of Penelope’s head. He jerked her head up, delighted at the blood on her face. One eye was swelling and her nose looked as though it might be broken. “You’ll hang for this bitch!” he yelled at her, drawing his fist back to strike her again.

  I was almost to him when he pulled Penny’s head back, and the sight of her battered face drove all reason from my mind. I grabbed his fist and jerked hi
m around to face me as I hammered my right hand into his astonished face. The blow sent him reeling, stumbling back, and he fell. I advanced on him, determined to finish what I had started when one of the guards struck me from behind, staggering me.

  I turned and saw the man staring stupidly at his broken truncheon. The heavy wooden weapon had snapped when it struck my head. I was glad I had shielded myself when I saw that. “Do that again, and you’ll regret it,” I growled and looked back at Devon.

  The young lord was back on his feet now, and my eyes could see he had put a shield around himself as well. He circled me warily, “Someone give me a sword!” he shouted. The guard behind me tossed him his own.

  I glared at the guard, “I’m going to remember that.” I drew my father’s sword as I closed with Devon, and we began our deadly dance. I call it a dance, but honestly I am no swordsman. I beat at him like an enraged farmhand with a club. His sword was moving too quickly for me to follow, so I ignored it and hammered at him as if he were a side of beef to be cut up for market.

  The only thing that saved me was the shield I had cast about myself. I pressed Devon hard, keeping him off-balance with heavy blows, but still his sword kept slipping my guard to strike at me. I would have been bleeding from a dozen places if it could have cut me. Finally, we drew back to catch our breath.

  I was breathing hard, winded already. My recovery was far from complete, and it would not be long before my anger would no longer be enough to keep me fighting. Worse, Devon looked as though he was still fresh. He held his sword in front of him and ran his finger down the blade, “Thylen” he said, and I saw a glow appear along the edge.

  I hadn’t learned that trick yet, and it worried me. From the corner of my eye I could see Rose pulling Penny away. The guards had us encircled now and Sir Kelton was shouting at me to put down my sword. They probably would have rushed me, dragging me down if Dorian hadn’t intervened.

  “Get back!” His booming voice cut through the din as he broke into the circle. His sword was out and he glared at them from beneath dark brows. “The first man to interfere will find his insides on the floor!” he shouted. Then Devon came at me again.

  We traded quick blows, but he had me on the defensive now. I was backing as he pressed his advantage, and I felt his sword tip catch my cheek, slicing effortlessly through my shield. Shit! I was desperate now, he seemed able to cut me at will, and even if I could get past his guard, my sword wouldn’t pierce his shield.

  I had an idea. Stepping back quickly I spoke, “Shelu Nian Trethis” and I found myself in utter silence. I had stoppered my ears with a special type of shield, one to prevent sound from entering. My own brilliance amazes me sometimes. I could see Devon’s mouth moving, but I couldn’t hear his words. If I had to hazard a guess I would imagine it was something like, “You stupid fool.”

  He came at me, and I closed my eyes, “Lyet ni Bierek!” I said, and I put everything I had into it. The result was astonishing. Light flashed so brightly that everyone watching us was blinded, including I hoped, Lord Devon. The light was accompanied by a thunderous ‘boom’ so great that it shook the teeth in my jaw. Everyone within the ballroom drew back reeling, some fell to the floor crying out with shock. I would judge that my ‘flashbang’ was a success, although I still needed to work out a better name for it.

  I opened my eyes and saw Devon sitting on the ground. He was blinking and seemed completely disoriented. His sword lay beside him, but his hand couldn’t find it. I had created my spell right in front of him, so he should have gotten the worst of it. The flashbang was a creation of pure light and sound, with no force behind it to break or destroy. His shield had not protected him at all, not being designed to do so. In fact his shield still appeared to be around him. How annoying, I thought.

  I swung at him with my sword, but it failed to do more than knock him sideways. I needed something bigger, heavier. I cast about, looking for a better weapon. My eyes landed on the eastern fireplace. Striding over I looked for the fireplace tools, but someone had taken the iron poker. I started searching the kindling piled next to the hearth instead. The great hall had two fireplaces, and they were so large that the logs were cut almost three feet in length. I selected a sturdy piece fully four inches in diameter. I held it up in a double handed grip, it seemed to have promise.

  I headed back towards Devon. He was standing now and still seemed blind, but he didn’t need eyes to see me. Using his mage-sight he pointed at me and said something I couldn’t hear. White hot flames erupted around me, but my shield kept out the worst. The heat was so great my clothes began to crisp and char about me. I ignored the flames and marched at him, “Lyet Bierek” I said again, and a great cracking ‘boom’ sent him to the floor.

  The flash had partly blinded me, but I didn’t need my eyes any more than he did. The log swung in a great arc as I slammed it into his face. He flew several feet, crashing into a chair near the edge of the room. I hit him again, pleased he was still conscious. I began steadily raining blows on him with my firewood club. He tried to raise his sword, but I knocked his arm aside. I thought it might have broken, which brought a smile to my face. I smacked him about like one of the dummies the guards practice with, beating him senseless.

  Finally he collapsed, unconscious on the floor. As he passed out, his shield winked out of existence, and I grinned, raising my makeshift club over my head. Someone touched my arm, and I almost swung at them before I realized it was Marc. He was shouting something but I couldn’t hear him. I removed the sound block from my ears. “...if you kill him, they’ll have you for murder!” he yelled.

  I looked at him stupidly, “Yeah? So what?!”

  “You’ll be hanged!” he shouted back.

  I thought for a second, “If I don’t kill him, he’ll press his case and have Penny hanged!”

  Marc looked at me for a moment, “You’re right. Kill him.” Then Dorian appeared, still blinking his eyes from my earlier spell.

  “Let me do it,” he said, pointing at Devon with his sword.

  We started arguing, trying to decide which of us should finish him off when James Lancaster found us. “Put the firewood down, Mordecai. Dorian, sheathe your sword!” his tone brooked no delay. I looked down at the piece of wood I held, it was still burning from the fire Devon had used on me, so I walked over to the fireplace and threw it in.

  Around the room people were still recovering. Several men were beating out a fire that had started near where Devon tried to roast me. A large tapestry was in flames, but it looked like they would be able to keep it from spreading. I walked back to the Duke. His son was arguing with him, but he shouted Marc down, “I’m not hanging anyone; not you, not Penelope, not even this piss poor excuse of a lord here! Now shut up and let me think!” I was pretty sure that by ‘piss poor excuse of a lord’ he meant Devon, but there was a possibility he meant me instead.

  I decided to ignore them and started looking for Penny. I found her with Rose, sitting at one of the small tables to the side. They were surrounded by a crowd of people; some of them watched me as I walked over. I showed my teeth and growled at them, “Move!” They cleared out quickly, and a few even ran.

  I looked at Penny, she was sitting up, but her face looked terrible. One eye was swelling shut, and her nose looked like someone had formed it from a badly shaped piece of bread dough. “Oh, Mort! Your cheek!” she exclaimed. Her voice had a comical nasal twang, as if she were holding her nose pinched shut.

  “Shut up stupid,” I said gently. I sat down next to her and touched her face with my mind. Sure enough the bone in her nose had snapped and been driven sideways.My experiments on my own bones had taught me a few things, so I spoke a quiet word first, damping all sensation in her face. Then I moved the bones back into place and reconnected them. My attempt at pain blocking wasn’t entirely successful, because she still let out a choked cry as the bones realigned. I couldn’t do anything about the swelling, but at least she wouldn’t look funny when it healed.
>
  I tried to kiss her, but that didn’t work. Her nose was far too tender, plus she kept going on about my face. Eventually, Rose dragged me over to a mirror along one of the walls. I was a horror. My right cheek was drooping, exposing my upper teeth. Blood coated that side of my face and ran down my neck. Odd, I hardly felt it at all. I pushed the skin back together and sealed it with my finger and a thought, leaving a red line. I would later regret the rush job, since I still have an ugly scar there to this day.

  That was when the screaming and yelling started up again. The doorway to the great hall only had a couple of guards still standing at it. Most of the others were scattered through the crowd trying to calm everyone down. The two by the doors were watching the events inside, so they never saw the men in black leathers who crept up on them from behind. They died quickly, but one of them screamed before his windpipe was cut through. Pandemonium erupted as people scrambled to get back from the doors.

  The men spilling into the room were all dressed similarly, in black leather with masks tied over their features, hiding everything but their eyes. They carried sharp knives and long curved swords. I was pretty sure they hadn’t come to dance; they had the wrong shoes for it. They spread out and began methodically cutting down the guests. People trampled each other in their efforts to get away, making it easier for the men to reach them.

  Duke Lancaster was pushing his way through the crowd, he still hadn’t seen them yet, “What the bloody hell is going on here!?” He roared as people fought to get around him, and then he saw the men. He was nearly slain then, as he was still unarmed. Two of the men had him caught between them and a fallen table, but Lord Thornbear rushed into them from the side roaring like a bear. He didn’t have his sword either, but he held a chair and used it to smash one of the men to the ground. Then he drove the other back like some eastern lion tamer, holding the chair in front of him.

  At least thirty of them were already in the room, spreading out, killing anyone they found. I could see many more entering through the main doors. “Lyet Bierek” I spoke and the men all around the doorway fell back, shocked and stunned. That bought us some time while Sir Kelton and the guards in the room struggled to form a line between the remaining guests and the intruders.