Blade Dancer

by S. L. Viehl

  but who’s to say what kind of flier you’ll be? Maybe you’ll be faster than they are. Don’t let them

  intimidate you.”

  “I wish I were larger and stronger. Like you.” She smiled a little. “They were scared of you and Danea

  and Kol. Especially Kol.”

  “Hey, I was scared of Kol.” And I had been, when I’d seen what he’d done to the first idiot stupid

  enough to try to capture him with a net in the simulated tunnels of the escape class. The student, who

  hadn’t possessed wings, had gone flying along with his net through the simulated tunnel wall and had to be

  hauled off to medical for some stitching. Everyone had stayed well away from Kol after that. I felt the

  tension in her back ease away, and stopped rubbing. “Better now?”

  “Yes. Thank you, ClanSister.”

  I patted her thin cheek. “Get some sleep, little bird.”

  Galena returned to her mat, stretched out with a sigh, and quickly fell asleep. Over her shoulder I saw a

  pair of glowing white eyes watching me.

  My mouth hitched. “You want to share some girl talk now?”

  Danea rolled over and presented her back. “Shut up, Terran.”

  “Good night, Sparky.”

  The second day of Tåna training was only slightly worse than the first, objective-wise, but we were all

  tired, and that made us prone to making more mistakes. Even Renor, who didn’t sleep and hardly messed

  up the day before, seemed to be running on empty cells.

  “What’s the matter with you?” I asked him as we dodged more raen-tån-wielding students in targeting

  class. He’d been “killed” at the end of movement class, and so far had taken three hits as a target. The

  latter didn’t harm any of us—the holographite blades dissolved on contact—but one of the students had

  struck dangerously close to Ren’s chest implant.

  “I have overextended my… self,” he said, the planes of his face beading with sweat.

  “So has Sparky, apparently.” Danea’s corporeal field seemed to have lost its sting, and I’d noticed her

  taking more of a beating today as well. “You guys need to conserve your zings a little more.”

  Renor flashed like a Yuletide ornament as he spun out of harm’s way. “That would be wise.”

  I waited until my attacker was nearly on top of me, then flipped out of the way and sent him sprawling

  with a well-placed kick. “You’d better tell Sparky to conserve her batteries, then, ‘cause she won’t listen

  to me.”

  Kol stopped us from heading in the same direction as the other students when we were dismissed from

  grappling, and pointed to the long way around the quad. With a few raised brows, we followed him.

  “I overheard two of the others talking about a female named Fayne,” he said. “They said she will be

  confronting one of us today.”

  “Everyone in this place is confrontational,” Nalek pointed out in a reasonable way. “Why should this

  female concern us?”

  “Evidently she has a reputation for brutalizing new arrivals and dispatching them from training.” Since we

  were in a red-lined area, we couldn’t stop moving, and Kol led us in a second, unnecessary lap around

  the quad. “Stay in pairs—Nalek with Galena, Osrea and Danea, Renor with Sajora. I will take point.”

  “Excuse me, fearless leader.” I tapped him on the arm. “What if she goes after you?”

  “I will have the six of you at my back. I am hopeful you will watch it.” He hissed as a beam connected

  with the top of his shoulder, and a hoverdrone appeared. “It appears we have deviated long enough from

  our training schedule.”

  The drone trainer was already lecturing the class on the techniques to be used that day, but tracked us

  with his optic sensors as we assumed our positions among the ranks.

  “—never delay locking a grip on your opponent, but establish the one-handed hold as early as possible.”

  Lights flickered along its metallic abdomen to show contact points as it explained the next move. “If your

  torsos are touching, wedge your lower limb joints between any he may have, bend as if to prostrate

  yourself, then push your left limb out quickly and forcefully, and fall upon him.” The drone’s head turned.

  “We will begin practicing the various grip-falls with those who were unwilling to arrive when this session

  initiated.”

  That meant us, and the other students made various sounds of amusement as we approached the drone.

  “Nal, Os, Kol, Ren,” the drone recited, shortening their names to one syllable as the other trainers had.

  “Approach me from the front. Dan, Gal, and Saj, from the rear. Establish a locking grip and attempt to

  pin one of my limbs to the floor.”

  A minute later, the trainer had all seven of us wedged in various positions on the floor under his web of

  jointed appendages, and the class erupted into outright laughter.

  “I trust you will be on time for the next session?” the trainer asked as it released its many grips and let us

  up. “Yuz, San, Hil, as you find their efforts so entertaining, you may now attempt the same.”

  Knowing someone was gunning for us made us more alert as a group, and we stayed paired up and

  watchful for the remainder of the training day. Only after we left the escape class simulator to head for

  our meal and rest interval did I start to relax.

  “So much for the big, bad Fayne.”

  “It could be that she had second thoughts,” Galena said as we passed by the more experienced students

  emptying out of the bladework room.

  “Or perhaps she waits in the communal eating facility, hoping to ambush us,” Danea said, her corporeal

  field as dismal as her tone.

  Nalek and I were flanking Kol from behind, but I decided a practical example wouldn’t hurt.

  “We need to establish a rep, that’s all.” A short, blocky humanoid with an odd, pointed skull got in my

  way, then turned in toward my left side—a definite sign of aggression. “Like right now.”

  I rolled in and under its guard, using my hip along the way to knock it off balance. It lashed out at me

  with a powerful upper limb, but I grabbed a handful of garment and used the momentum to send it into a

  spin. The tunic tore, and the humanoid went staggering into a wall panel. It hit with a very satisfactory

  thunk and slid to the floor.

  I regarded the swatch of black material in my hand before letting it drop. “You ought to watch your step,

  Pinhead.”

  Other students gravitated toward us, but were thrust aside by a platinum-haired humanoid wearing a

  green band around her neck, followed by a shiny black insectile being and two behemoths covered with

  long, dirty-looking gray fur. All four headed straight for me, and they didn’t look happy.

  “Kol.” I kept my voice mild. “Clumsy here has friends.”

  My clan gathered around me, keeping their backs in so they could face the gathering crowd on all sides.

  Before Pinhead could scramble to its feet, Blondie grabbed him by the arm and heaved him up. The two

  walking rugs took hold of him as she faced me.

  I considered the potential threat the green presented. Her pretty, dramatic face was surrounded by

  enough hair to show she’d been at the Tåna for a while. Not much of a forehead, but the back of her

  skull swelled out in two distinct curves. Her eyes were as black and polished as her bug friend’s shell,

  and looked bottomless compared to her dead-white skin. The top of her head barely cleared my


  waistline, and yet the little female had her tåns in hand and stood poised to strike.

  My blades were already out, but I gave diplomacy a shot first. “You have a problem?”

  “You are breathing,” she said, in a surprising voice pitched even deeper than Nalek’s.

  So much for the tactful approach. Pinhead and Blondie had plenty of friends, from the number of

  angry-looking students who began popping up around the behemoths, forming a wall to keep anyone

  from walking away.

  Kol and Nalek closed ranks on either side of me, and I glanced down for a moment to see their blades

  out and waiting. The girls closed in on our sides, while Ren and Os watched the rear. We couldn’t remain

  still, and moved in a slow clockwise pattern. Blondie, Pinhead, and their wall of pals likewise mirrored

  our movements.

  “I want the Terran,” Pinhead said, panting.

  “No.” The green flicked her blades, a razzle-dazzle trick that made them spin like wheels. “She is mine,

  Cirilo.” She took a step toward me.

  A hoverdrone appeared between us, just above Blondie’s head. “Has a formal challenge been offered

  and accepted?”

  “Not yet,” I told it. “I don’t even know her name.”

  “That’s the current Tåna quad champion,” one of the students to the side said in a helpful way. “She is

  called Fayne.”

  “You’re Fayne?” My laugh was spontaneous. “But you’re just a midget.”

  No one else thought that was funny, and Blondie’s glittery eyes constricted to thin slits. “Your tongue will

  be the first thing I cut off.”

  The drone dropped and swung up by Blondie’s shoulder. “If this is a formal challenge, declare it.”

  I used the momentary distraction to feign sheathing my blades, at the same time swinging and driving my

  elbow into Fayne’s face. She staggered back, bounced into one of the behemoths, then regained her

  footing.

  “Whoops.” I kept my tåns between us. “Clumsy me. What was that about my tongue again?”

  “You.” She wiped a thin trickle of clear fluid—maybe her kind of blood—from her lip, then held up a

  hand as her cronies shuffled forward, stopping them cold. “You dare to strike me.” The drone inquired

  about a challenge again.

  “Stand by,” I told it. “She’s still a little confused. The confusion may go, but the little’s for life.”

  She blinked. “You know who I am.”

  “Sure, but the important issue is, do I care?” I let my gaze drift down, then back up. “Not really.”

  Cirilo lunged forward, only to be brought up short by Fayne as she snapped out an arm and smacked

  him in the chest.

  “No. Not here.” She gave Kol a long, interested look, then refocused on me. Her close-set black eyes

  had double eyelids, and one slowly dropped, then raised as her small mouth lifted at the corners. “This is

  what our Blade Master admits to training so that we may practice our craft. Clods and dregs. Dead

  carcasses present more challenge.”

  I laughed. “You get beaten up by dead people regularly? Maybe you should find another line of work.”

  Fayne moved forward then, but a crackle of energy flared as Danea came to stand shoulder-to-shoulder

  with me.

  “A fish breed.” Blondie licked her lips with a little white tongue. “We eat your kind on my world.”

  Danea turned her blade so it reflected a flicker of light. “Come and have a taste.”

  “Or you can bite me,” I offered.

  “Dregs always boast from behind their comrades.” Fayne turned back to me. “And you, clod. I will enjoy

  cutting you. I will take my time.”

  “You will either issue a formal challenge or disperse at once,” the hoverdrone demanded.

  “I just don’t see much of a challenge here.” I nudged Danea, ignoring the brief jolt. “Sparky? You want to

  waste your time?”

  “She has a large mouth.” A tendril of her yellow hair crackled with energy, less than a centimeter from my

  cheek. “Nothing else impresses me.”

  “No one wants to play with you, Blondie.” I flicked my fingers. “Run along now.”

  “Our time will come.” Fayne gestured to her cronies, and they turned their backs on us en masse to

  follow her to the communal eating facility. Cirilo hesitated for a moment, then hurried after them.

  It took another minute for the rest of the spectators to disperse, but not without a lot of troubled looks at

  us and muttering among themselves.

  Slowly I sheathed my blade. “She’s trouble.”

  “Hmph.” Danea’s hair settled down. “She is small.”

  “Regardless of her stature, she has many comrades.” Kol looked thoughtful as he watched Fayne and her

  group disappear. “And there is something about her. Do any of you recognize her species?”

  “Fayne is a Skogaq. Species data is available on your room console.” The being who said that strolled by

  us, its form completely shrouded in dimsilk. As it did, it used the goreu staff it carried to point to the

  dining hall. “You have only ten minutes left for your meal interval. Go.”

  “And you are… ?” I asked.

  “Uel. Blade Master of the Tåna.” It continued on and disappeared into one of the corridors.

  What do you know, I thought, just the man I need to talk to.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “The traveler endures the journey; the path endures the traveler.”

  —Tarek Varena, ClanJoren

  “Okay, she’s fast,” I said as I paced the perimeter of our quarters thirty minutes later. “Big deal, so am I.”

  “Skogaq are not merely gifted with speed.” Renor finished reading the last of the data. “Her kind have

  unusual physical conformities—hollow bones, multiple-jointed limbs, extremely powerful tendons and

  ligaments—”

  “So she’s fast and stringy.” I stopped when Kol got in my way. “What?”

  “You will not challenge her.” He swiveled to look at the rest of the clan. “None of you will. This female

  delights in killing.”

  “She’s nasty, a midget, and a bully.” I went around him. “Sounds like a good reason to pick a fight to

  me.”

  “She is the Tåna champion. You have not her skill level with the blade, Sajora. None of us do.” Nalek

  stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “We should sleep.”

  “We should settle this first.” Osrea countered my pacing with his own annoying habit of thrumming two

  sets of his fingers on the floor. “You embarrassed her, Jory, in front of those who fear and respect her.

  She will take revenge, if only to preserve her status among them.”

  “I agree. Her pride will not allow otherwise,” Danea said. “Kol, why do you wish to avoid what is

  inevitable? This female will seek confrontation no matter what we do.”

  “I sense something about her. Something that is not contained within the database.” He made a gesture of

  frustration. “I do not know what it is.”

  “That’s because there’s nothing there.” I remembered the way Fayne had looked at Kol—like she’d

  wanted to take a bite of him, too. Another reason to pound her into the quad floor. “Let it go.”

  “I cannot. We must go carefully from here.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You worry too much.”

  “While you are far too reckless,” he shot back.

  “Enough. One would think you two long bonded.” Nalek dropped onto his mat. “We may debate this

  tomorrow. I am sleeping while I can.”

&nbs
p; “Sounds like a plan,” I said as I went to switch off the optics.

  “You are not amusing.” Kol came up behind me and switched them off himself, then kept his arm up to

  stop me. “Come with me.”

  I followed him into the small lavatory adjoining our room. “They’ll still hear if you yell at me, or I ram your

  head into the bathroom wall.”

  He wasn’t going to rise to the bait—I could tell by the annoying, paternal look he gave me as he closed

  the door panel. “We cannot follow two paths, Sajora.”

  “Ah, the inevitable journey philosophy. You forget, Kol, I’m not Jorenian.” I leaned back against the

  cleansing unit and folded my arms. “And I don’t need another father, thanks.”

  “It is always about you, is it not?” He tried to pace, but there wasn’t enough space. “Never anyone else.

  What of Galena? This Fayne is said to prey specifically on the weak and uncertain. Does it not concern

  you that she may likely attack our ClanSister first?”