Sword Fight

by Nathan Van Coops

  It would be close. There was no stopping now. If she was wrong about her choice, she’d end up a pile of twisted steel and burning flame, pancaked against the portcullis.

  “Come on. Come on. You can make it,” she whispered. Her jaw clenched as she made the final push for the closing gate.

  The crowd was on its feet, shouting and cheering as she streaked across the end of the bridge. The metal spikes of the portcullis sparked off the top of the Guardian and tore long scratches down the roof, but the car kept going.

  She was through.

  Valerie shouted in elation and slapped the steering wheel as the Guardian erupted through the other side of the gatehouse into the heart of Sterling Arena. Trumpets blared, and the portcullis thudded into its place, announcing the end of the race.

  She’d made it. She was the last of the contenders to continue, but she was moving on.

  The spectator train had offloaded all of its passengers into the arena.

  Slowing the car, she scanned the crowd and found Rico cheering wildly from the sideline. She angled the Guardian toward the finisher’s circle, watching for Damon among the crowd, but she saw no sign of him.

  The noise in the arena was deafening.

  In all, only a dozen cars had completed the course. As she climbed out of the Guardian, the royal band was playing Hail to Avalon, and Valerie’s eyes roamed up the bleachers to the seats of honor. The royal box was crowded and chaotic, and she wasn’t able to make out any details of what was going on inside.

  She was immediately met by a race official in a jacket and tails who handed her a piece of parchment trimmed in gold.

  “Congratulations, finalist. Here is your invitation to the King’s celebratory ball. He looks forward to meeting you this evening at the masquerade in his honor.”

  Valerie accepted the invitation breathlessly. The adrenaline from the race and this massive scene was still so intense that she couldn’t find any words to reply.

  “You’ll find all the details you need on the invitation,” the official continued. He gave her a smile. “That was some incredible driving.”

  “Thank . . . thank you,” Valerie finally managed.

  The official bowed and moved off.

  A young man vaulted the line of spectators and ran toward her, startling the guards.

  “It’s okay! He’s my mechanic!” Valerie shouted as Rico raced up. The guards nodded and went back to monitoring the crowd.

  Rico grasped her by the shoulders. “You did it! That was incredible! Some of those bang-ups looked so awful I thought for sure you’d be crushed. Are you okay?”

  “Not dead yet,” Valerie said. She held up the masquerade invitation with a grin. “And tonight I see the King!”

  30

  Transformed

  “Tonight is the night,” Valerie whispered to herself, barely able to contain her excitement.

  Her plan was working.

  Her success at the race had entitled her to a celebration. The crowd had thrilled at her inclusion in the finisher’s circle. She saw more people waving Terravecchia flags, and this time it was clear that they were waving them for her and not for Jasper. One young girl shouted “L’ Orsa Nera!” from the sidelines. When Valerie had taken her bows and descended from her place at the end of the finisher’s pedestal, she waved to the race fans and stopped to sign several pennants.

  She froze when she saw Jasper Sterling approach. His driving armor was less shiny now, and his forehead was streaked with motor oil. The smile on his face was as fake as his blond hair, but he maintained it as he waved to the crowd. He walked up to Valerie and gave her a nod.

  “Seems you’re full of surprises these days,” he said. He glanced at the Guardian that Rico was prepping for its drive back to Tidewater. “Your mother will be shocked you managed to hide a war car from her. I understand she had a great interest in where that had vanished to.”

  “Upset that there’s one more piece of my family legacy you can’t have?”

  Jasper waved to the crowd and spoke through his forced smile. “We’ll see how long you keep it.” He snatched a bear claw banner from a child and signed his name across it, larger and bolder than Valerie had done.

  “You don’t intimidate me,” Valerie said. “Your time to gloat is up. Justice is coming for you.”

  “I love the idealism of youth,” Jasper said. “It’s so refreshing to hear your charming and unrealistic views of reality.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, still smiling as though to congratulate her. “Bit of advice. You should run back to whatever hole you’ve been living in and stay there. It’d be a shame if more of your friends had to get hurt.” He waved at Rico.

  Rico froze in place, staring back at them but unable to hear over the noise of the crowd.

  “Stay out of this tournament,” Jasper continued. “If you show up for the fight tomorrow, I promise you won’t like what happens.”

  He patted her shoulder amiably, then waved again to the crowd as he moved off.

  Valerie gave the children in front of her a reassuring smile, signed a few more banners, then walked back to the Guardian.

  “What the hell did he want?” Rico asked.

  “Let’s just get out of here,” Valerie replied. She climbed into the Guardian and slammed the door.

  Their drive back to Tidewater was dotted with spectators who cheered and waved as they passed. The village itself was quiet, the mood far less festive. They passed several garages in the warehouse district that were now empty, the cars and drivers having failed to return from the race.

  Valerie parked the Guardian in one of the rear bays of Damon’s garage and assessed the condition of it, noting the dents and gouges in the body.

  “Pretty banged up but nothing we can’t fix,” Rico said.

  “It’ll be rough getting parts. We’ll need a bit more than primer and paint.”

  “I’d start with hair and makeup.”

  Valerie turned and realized that Rico had been assessing her and not the car.

  She looked down at the sweat-stained racing gear she had on. “They won’t let me dance in this, huh?”

  “Unless the king likes his guests reeking of gasoline and motor oil,” Rico said. “Come on. The car will keep. Time to raid the fun side of the closet.”

  Valerie tried the interior door on Damon’s garage before she left, but it was still locked.

  “Don’t worry. He’ll turn up,” Rico said.

  “Did you see him aboard the spectator train?”

  “The mechanic car was packed like sardines. I wasn’t about to go looking and lose my spot. I’m glad you didn’t end up needing roadside repairs.” He unlocked the outside gate and began tromping up the stairs to his apartment. “Once the train lost communications ability with you down in those moat tunnels, I thought we might never find you.”

  Valerie paused her walk up the stairs. “What are you talking about? I had coms in the tunnel. Damon was able to call me.”

  Rico stopped at the top of the stairs as he found his door key. “Then you were the only one. All the other teams were freaking out.” He got the door unlocked and pushed through.

  Valerie considered his words and tried to match them with the reality of what she had heard in the moat system. It didn’t make sense. How would Damon have been able to call from the train with coms out? She finally followed Rico into his apartment and found him rummaging through his closet full of dresses. He held up an electric-blue dress with wild, multicolored ruffles. “What kind of image are you going for tonight? Center of attention? Look at me now?” He switched hands and displayed a sequined dress that flared at the bottom into a sparkly swirl of tulle.

  “I need something that says, ‘I’m here for justice, and if Jasper Sterling so much as touches me, I’ll stab him in the face.’”

  Rico considered the dresses in his arms, then scanned his closet. “Okay. A little more challenging, but yes, I can make that work. Go get cleaned up. When you get back, we’ll get you d
ressed for revenge.”

  “Tell me you have everything ready for tomorrow,” Jasper said. “Is it set?”

  Blaise Cavendish was lounging on the chaise, examining the box of cigars on the lamp stand. “Our man is dropping off the package tonight after they do the final sweep of the island.”

  “And you’re sure we can trust him?”

  “He was willing to sell out his position on the security team for the miserable amount we offered. So, of course we can’t trust him. What do you want me to say? But I did put the fear of God into him. I’ve researched all of his debts and made sure he knows I can call them in tomorrow if need be. Come morning, the package will be there.”

  Jasper checked his reflection in the mirror and nodded. “As long as he’s discreet.”

  The door swung open. “Ah, here is an interesting sight,” Lord Alister Sterling said, barging into the dressing room. His cold, blue eyes took in Jasper in his new suit. “The peacock in all his plumage.”

  Jasper fidgeted with his cufflinks and wished that, for once, his father’s glare wouldn’t instantly unnerve him.

  “I plan to look good for my presentation to the king.”

  “Dressed to impress?” Lord Sterling replied. “I daresay the impressive tend to be so regardless of what they are wearing. Still, it’s a good suit.”

  “I used your tailor,” Jasper said. “I thought you would approve.”

  His father was wearing a similar cut of suit. This evening it was a pale gray that matched his silvery hair. Through the open doorway, the noise of guests already emanated from the ballroom downstairs.

  Lord Sterling walked closer and grasped Jasper’s tie, pulling the knot tighter. “You almost didn’t get to dress for the occasion at all, it seems. It looked as though your would-be stepdaughter nearly took you out of the race.”

  “She didn’t stand a chance,” Jasper said.

  “And yet she finished,” Lord Sterling replied. “A loose end you have yet to manage.” He gave Jasper’s tie a last violent tug, making Jasper squirm.

  When his father stepped back, Jasper ran his fingers along his collar. “Why didn’t you tell me that King Logan had been friends with Il Orso Nero? That’s information that would have been relevant to know before proposing to his widow.”

  “You didn’t bother to ask,” Lord Sterling replied. He crossed his wrists at his waist. “These are turbulent seas we are navigating. That’s why it’s imperative that the house of Sterling have more than one chance at the Round Table tomorrow.” He turned to Blaise. “How many of the remaining contenders are still in your pocket?”

  “Two,” Blaise replied. “Not counting your champion.”

  “I assume you saw he barely finished the race,” Jasper interjected.

  “The Red Reaper? Yes. But he has many uses beyond driving.” Lord Sterling reached into his pocket and produced a black-and-white photograph. It appeared to be taken the night of the tavern fire and showed a man carrying an ash-covered girl into a warehouse garage. Jasper recognized the girl as Valerie.

  “That’s your hired sword?” Jasper asked.

  “He let me know he has been keeping tabs on your loose end, since it seems you have been less than effective at it.”

  Jasper snatched up the photo. “If he’s that close to her, he’s been compromised. He could be on her side of this for all you know. You should choose another champion to represent our house.”

  “And lose the best swordsman in the tournament? Not likely. He has proven himself most useful. And whatever his nocturnal activities with this girl have become, he remains the strongest contender for the win. If either of you win, we can still name you as the knight to represent us. He’s your best chance to ever see the Round Table.”

  “I’m our best chance,” Jasper argued. “We don’t need him.”

  “We’ll find out tomorrow, won’t we? Just make sure that there are no more loose ends.”

  Lord Sterling walked out of the room, headed to the grand staircase. Jasper hurried along behind. He finally caught up to his father at the top of the stairs.

  As they made their descent, side by side, one thought solidified itself in Jasper’s mind. Whatever else came of the fight tomorrow, if Valerie Terravecchia was foolish enough to show her face in the arena, she was going to die.

  Valerie stood before the mirror and marveled at the creature staring back.

  “I don’t even know what to say.” She ran her hands over the form-fitting, blue-green dress that Rico had fashioned from multiple outfits. A layer of sheer black lace gave an undercurrent to the look, showing through cutouts in the silken dress. It hugged her curves until it fanned out in a fishtail at her calves. When she moved, the layers made a pleasing swishing sound like wind through grass.

  The green and black continued across the textured bodice. It gave the impression of an ocean wave over black rock. One shoulder was bare, and the look revealed her prominent collarbones, but the single sleeve of the dress picked up the black lace that ran down to her wrist before cutting in a V at her fingers. This delicate sort of armor hid the bruises along her sword arm.

  Rico had given her smoky eyes and pronounced cheekbones, finishing the look with a pale matte lip color. Her lips parted as she ran her fingers over the waist of the dress. Weeks of training had made a clear difference. Her waist was firm, and the fabric was tight but comfortable. She could breathe easily and relax without affecting the slender lines of the dress.

  Rico had worked his magic on her hair as well, styling the places that had been scorched with accents of delicately twisted metal. Her hair swept up on one side but cascaded in curls down the other. A bracelet on her left wrist was also repurposed steel. It gave her a literal edge.

  Beautiful and dangerous.

  Valerie smiled as she took it all in. Until now, she had always thought of ball gowns as cumbersome things, bulky and inconvenient, but Rico had created something nearly as practical as it was beautiful. It was as though he had retrieved the design from somewhere inside of her mind.

  “You’re an absolute wizard,” Valerie said.

  “I’ll come clean,” Rico said. “I didn’t just put this together tonight. I’ve been working on it ever since you said you might get to attend the masquerade and you told me about that pretty mask your boy, Damon, gave you.”

  “Oh no!” Valerie exclaimed. “The mask is still locked up inside Damon’s garage.”

  Rico moved to the window and looked outside. “Actually, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

  Valerie stepped out the door onto the iron landing and looked down to find Damon standing in the driveway. He was waiting beside the Vulcan with her mask in his hands.

  Valerie’s breath caught.

  “Thought you might need a ride,” he said.

  It had only been a day, but she was surprised at how much she had missed seeing his face.

  She lifted the edge of her dress to descend the stairs, revealing the fact that she was still wearing boots. Footwear had been one thing Rico didn’t have in her size.

  “You look stunning,” Damon said as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “You don’t look bad yourself.” Damon was wearing a black suit and black shirt open at the collar. Calm. Confident. To top it off, she caught a whiff of the clean, earthy scent of him. Like a forest in a rainstorm.

  She knew there were things she wanted to talk to him about, but for the moment she couldn’t think of a single one. His eyes on hers made her lose focus, taking her into that blurry place where all that existed was the two of them.

  “I’m proud of you,” Damon said. “I’ve never seen anyone drive like that.”

  “The plan worked,” Valerie said. “I’ll finally get to see the king.”

  “Let’s get you up there,” Damon said. “As much as I’d like to keep this view all to myself, I suppose I ought to share.” He opened the door for her.

  Valerie turned back to Rico, who had descended the stairs, and gave him
a hug. “Thank you. I wish you could be there with me.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m gonna go bust my way into the hospital and visit Janet tonight. Now that I’ve been on a winning race team, we’ll see if they still try to keep me out. We’re gonna have our own party and celebrate your victory.”

  “Give her a hug from me?”

  “You got it. Don’t worry. She’s a fighter. Like you.”

  Damon took Valerie’s hand and helped her into the car. Rico waved as they pulled away.

  “You’ve made a good friend there,” Damon said.

  “The best,” she said. “I don’t think I deserve him.”

  Damon studied her. “You have a power that I don’t think you realize. People see it in you. The good. Why do you think I agreed to train you?”

  “You said if I won, I’d give you the Guardian.”

  “Is that what you think I want?”

  Valerie looked over and met his stare. It was there again, that hungry look. The wolf. She looked away, heat rising in her cheeks. She put her mask on to hide the flush of color that was no doubt appearing in her face.

  Damon turned onto the Crown Bridge and headed through the Port Hyacinth city gates. Valerie flashed her invitation to the guards, and they bowed as they let the car through. They made the drive to Broadway and Main, then out to the peak of the city where the spires of Sterling Castle were all illuminated.

  As they drove up the twisting road to the castle, her mind cleared enough to focus on the night ahead. She exhaled as she imagined meeting the king and tried to envision what to say. She wished she hadn’t lost the proof of her case. The thought made her pause.

  “I found something in your garage this morning,” Valerie said. “Before I left for the race. A briefcase I took from Blaise Cavendish, Jasper’s lawyer.”