8 Horseplay #3
I descended to the ground and hopped out of the saddle. Gretsky lay against the wall where I’d left him, propped up on his elbows, glowering at me. I approached and offered my hand. “You fought well,” I said.
Gretsky did not respond with words, but grabbed the zeroblade dirk from his waist in reply.
I stumbled back, shocked by his assault.
I raised my greatsword, but his zeroblade cut through my dull tourney weapon like it was butter.
I threw the hilt of my mock sword into his face, distracting Gretsky long enough for me to draw my own dirk and parry his next blow.
He attacked again and again, driving me back.
I could dance around him on my steed, but on foot, he outmatched me.
I blocked a few blows, dodged more, but his assault was relentless.
He left no opening through which I could lunge, and even had he done so, I didn’t know if I should. His death might upset the negotiations.
He was bigger than me, with a much longer reach, and I was tiring. I’d not kept in perfect practice with my knife fighting. It was only a matter of time before one of his thrusts got through my guard, and against his zeroblade, my shield might as well be empty air.
I blocked a high spike-grip stab, but the demon lord’s knee slammed into my gut, knocking me onto my back.
It didn’t hurt – the shield stopped the blow from really connecting – but I was still flung back and disoriented, scrabbling ineffectually in the dust as Gretsky descended, his blade shimmering in the sunlight.
Suddenly, there was a flash, a high metallic crash, and a molten white beam lanced through Gretsky’s ear, piercing his shield with a spray of blue sparks and emerging from the other side of his head as a thin spur of cooling metal.
Gretsky’s eyes popped and his brains boiled out of his nose and mouth, bubbling like hot gruel.
The stench of burning cranial matter invaded my nose and turned my stomach, but I managed not to retch.
In shock, I lowered my blade, then followed the line of dull grey metal to its source.
Standing immediately below the Emperor’s box was a line of Imperial guards, their black lancer carbines leveled with deadly precision.
The rightmost guard popped the breech of his weapon, ejecting the spent magma shell before professionally slotting a new shell in its place.
The sound of his breech closing echoed through the silent stadium.
The Emperor stood, her face red, her lips trembling with rage. She leaned forwards and placed her hands on the railing. When she spoke, her voice echoed across the stadium as though projected from a megaphone.
“Prince Aureli, I am sorry you had to witness the count’s unforgivable behavior.
I invited you here with the assurance that no harm would befall you, or your retinue.
The actions of Count Gretsky shame me and dishonor his family.
I hope his death will repay our debt to you, but let me assure you his lands and titles shall be confiscated and his family exiled.
” Her voice was level, but hard as iron, heated by the anger she held within.
In the silence of the crowd, Prince Aureli stood and bowed graciously.
He had no voice-amplifying cybernetics, but had clearly learned to project his voice across crowded venues.
“Thank you, Your Majesty, but that won’t be necessary.
My man is safe, and the malefactor is no more. Let us call things as they are.”
The Emperor narrowed her eyes. “Do not tell me what to do with my own people, Prince. I am not punishing them for your sake.”
“Then for whose? Captain Boylan? Perhaps he should have a say in what happens to this, this demon’s family,” Prince Aureli replied.
He looked at me, his face blank. The Emperor turned to me as well, her face furious, but also awaiting my reply.
The assembled spectators muttered as they wondered what I would say.
I rose from the dirt to take a respectful knee. “I must apologize, Your Majesties…”
“Speak up, we can’t hear you,” a voice called in High Imperial.
I raised my head and resorted to shouting. “I apologize, Your Majesties, but it is not the place of a captain to decide the fates of foreign nobles. This is an Imperial affair. I wanted no part in it. The Emperor must do as she sees fit.”
The Emperor smiled, her lips curling back over her sharp, glittering teeth.
“Well spoken, Captain.” She turned to Prince Aureli.
“This offense to my person and my guests cannot be born. I thank you for bringing his treachery to light. I shall not allow his fellow conspirators to threaten me, nor anyone under my protection.”
With that, she turned and walked into the shadows of her box, disappearing into a hidden tunnel. Imperial servants began to herd the assembled notables out of the coliseum, and a group of hordlings emerged to clean up the body of the dead demon lord.
The tournament, for the day at least, was over.