The Blade Baroness

Chapter Ten

“How are you getting home?” I asked, as the clock struck one.

We’d chatted and laughed and still had a third of the bottle left, but it struck me that it might be a good idea to plan before it got too late.

Sephimara twirled the stem of her glass between thumb and forefinger, gulped down the remainder, and set it on the workbench. “No count’s carriage waiting for me, so I thought I’d take a streetcar. Or a cab.”

“Do they run this late?” I’d only taken the streetcar a few times, and didn’t honestly know.

She pursed her lips as she gazed at me. “I suppose we had better find out.”

A quick trip to the lobby revealed that they did not. Nor were any cabs available.

“Well, isn’t that an inconvenience. I finally move in to a new place, and now I find that I cannot get there.”

“You could always stay here,” I said.

“I only recall saying modestly charming, Mister Thistlewood.”

“I mean on the…” There was no sofa in my dorm room. “I could sleep on the floor.”

“It is only two kilometers. The fresh air will do me good.”

“At one-thirty in the morning?”

“That is the time.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“The Blade Baroness—that is what they call me, is it not—does not need an escort.”

“My friend, Lady Sephimara Arazniros, will receive an escort, even though she may not need it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Very well.”

I made a brief stop by my room to drop off my notebook and tools, and leave a note for Cleggs.

“What is that?” Sephimara gestured to the chest-high pole I carried.

“My weapon. It’s called a scythe-axe. The blade pivots and locks into several different positions.

The leather cover is mostly for storage.

You know, so you don’t cut yourself when it’s in the closet.

But I thought it would look less strange than carrying it through the streets with the blade out.

” I wasn’t sure if I could call it a ceremonial weapon with a straight face, but I wouldn’t be caught unarmed a third time.

“Less strange, though still strange.” She motioned down the street, and we set out. “The sword is a much more practical weapon.”

“I don’t disagree. With the prevalence of the timber trade in Thorncove, most people are skilled with an axe. Everyone needs some kind of weapon in the wilderness, and people started experimenting with all sorts of strange variations of an axe.”

We turned a corner onto one of the main streets. Streetcar tracks ran down the middle, flanked by five- and six-story buildings, illuminated by the amber glow of street lamps every thirty paces. Neat, cold, yet the company made it feel cozy.

“By the way, I assume you know which way we should be going,” I said.

“It would be rather silly of me not to know the way to my own home, Mister Thistlewood.”

“A home you moved into today in a city you moved into a month ago.”

“Two and a half months.”

“I meant no offense. Just that I won’t be of much help. I don’t even know if there are sections of the city to avoid at night.”

She fell silent a moment.

As I glanced into the shadows of an alley, my imagination began to act up.

“The count never mentioned any sort of criminal activity,” she said. “And I never considered the idea that some areas of the city might be unsavory.”

“I don’t know either. My home city of Thorncove is too small to really have distinct districts. In Arania, there are definitely places to avoid at night. Here? Halamar always had the reputation as a clean, safe, well-organized former imperial city.”

“Reputations are often exaggerated. The count would certainly see to it.” She gestured down a side street. “This way.”

“It feels like we’ve already walked more than two kilometers.”

“Perhaps it is three, I did not wish to concern you, Mister Thistlewood.”

“Please call—” I froze in my tracks.

“Call what?”

“The street lamp is out oddly close to that alley.” Things did break, even in a city like Halamar, but this was the only one I recall seeing out all evening.

“Now that you mention it.” Her hand fell to the hilt of her saber.

I slid my second hand to the shaft of my scythe-axe, grasping it like a weapon rather than a walking stick. “Is there another way to reach your place?”

“Most certainly.”

We spun to face a trio of thugs who’d managed to approach from behind much more stealthily than their appearance and size would suggest.

Oof. And smell.

“Well, it looks like a princess and a dandy. Aren’t those cute little uniforms.” The apparent leader was a touch taller than I and as wide as Sephimara and I put together.

He was human, perhaps late 20s, and I caught flashes of leather and chain mail armor beneath a damp cloak.

Neither he nor his two companions brandished weapons, but I had no doubt they were there somewhere.

So, first, three elves berate me for being out of uniform, now these three… “Yes. Wouldn’t have been my first choice of colors.” As I sidestepped, Sephimara moved with me.

“I thank you gentlemen for your insightful comments,” she said. “We will leave you to it.”

The three spread out to block us.

“The thing is, what you need around here… is protection.” The leader flipped his cloak over his shoulders, revealing half a dozen scabbards.

Being right about him carrying weapons wasn’t as satisfying as it could have been.

“Them uniforms don’t look like they do much good against the slash of a cutlass. ”

“Or the smack of a mace,” said the second.

“Or a little poke from a crossbow,” said the third.

Damn! Where was Brenda and her ceremonial shotgun when you need her.

Three versus two. They were bigger than we were. And with at least one carrying a ranged weapon, running could get us shot in the back.

I glanced at Sephimara. Our connection was no longer about academics or friendship. It was life and death.

She had to know the basics of swordsmanship, I was confident of that. But just how skilled was she with her blade? It wasn’t the sort of thing that creeps into casual conversations.

I unsheathed my scythe-axe from its leather cover, locking the blade into a pole-axe configuration with a solid clunk. It was lighter and less cumbersome than it appeared, as well as ferocious-looking; compensating for my lack of bad-ass quips.

Sephimara and I exchanged a glance

I will not let you down.

Something in her gaze ignited.

“Protection is a salient consideration in attire.” Sephimara drew her saber, which glowed in the dim light. “Perhaps you gentlemen were not aware of the shortcomings of your attire. Crystal flamed steel will slice through metal chain like tallow.”

The leader took half a step back.

We shuffled further to the side. We would either make it around them, or at least back up against a building to avoid being surrounded.

Time slowed as the thug with the crossbow raised it.

As I stepped between Sephimara and the leader to parry a cutlass blow with the shaft of my axe, she lunged at the one with the crossbow, slicing the weapon clean in half before he could get off a shot.

Holy hellweed she’s fast.

I spun, bringing the butt of my axe into the leader’s groin.

He screamed.

The crossbow-armed thug leaped back in confusion.

“Run,” said Sephimara.

We did.

“Nice work taking out their only ranged weapon,” I said between panted breaths.

“That we know of,” she replied.

We darted around a corner to reach an entrance, where I stopped dead, stymied by a massive set of doors with no apparent handles.

“How do you… uhh… where’s the entrance?” I said.

“Down here.” Sephimara clicked a recessed catch towards the bottom, and a hidden door popped open.

“These look like warehouse doors.” I inspected them as she stepped through. “What sort of place do you live in?”

“The available sort of place.” She turned to address someone inside as I stepped through. “Good evening Gretta, I am surprised to see you here this late.”

I fidgeted with the latch. “Should we bar the door or something? In case our friends come after us.”

“That will not be necessary.”

“Hullo Missus Nose,” boomed a voice from above.

I stumbled back against the timbered door, feeling like I’d been hit by a sledgehammer. “What… uhh… Miss… Seph… Lady…”

“Gretta, this rather inarticulate gentleman is a friend. His name is Theodore Thistlewood. Please treat him respectfully.”

“Hullo Mister Wood,” said the ogress.

She stood at least triple my height… I say stood, but she was at the moment seated. She was brawny, with arms thick as my waist, a stout neck, a massive head, and a face with a curiously placid expression.

And she knitted. With needles the size of javelins. Which looked comically small in her thick hands.

The most awkward smile I’d ever managed crossed my face. I raised a hand and waved. “Hi. Gretta, was it?”

“Yeah. Well, you have a nice night with Missus Nose.”

“Come.” Sephimara took my hand and pulled me along after her.

After a minute and a half of twists, turns, and ascending wrought iron staircases, with Sephimara guiding me like a dazed marionette, we stepped into her place.

“I am afraid I am not fully unpacked and organized yet, but welcome to my home, Mister Thistlewood.” She lit a wall-mounted glow lamp near the entrance. “You have the honor of being my first guest.”

I gazed slack-jawed at her. “Ogre. Ogre in the entryway.”

“Og-ress,” she corrected. “This is the ogre district, what did you expect?”

“The main street in the city of Xin is called Basilisk Boulevard. But there are only carvings of basilisks.”

She stepped through the apartment, lighting glow lamps as she went. “Very well. But this is the historic ogre district.” She tapped the side of a table lamp several times. “Oh mitten moths, this one seems to be broken.”

I shook my head. I blinked. I was in a perfectly normal apartment at the moment. I could worry about the rest later.

The place was mostly open, with a wide living area and kitchen in one room and a pair of doors leading off to one side.

The ceiling was easily twice my height with numerous skylights.

Wood plank floors were a tad rustic, with obvious grain and a few knotholes, but were well polished.

The place was huge; easily twice the size of the entire apartment I’d grown up in in Thorncove. ”

“May I offer you something?” She had removed her jacket, vest, and sword belt, and unbuttoned the first two buttons of her shirt. “I dropped the basket, and am afraid my larder is rather poorly stocked at the moment.”

I stepped to her and extended my hand.

“What is this for?” she glanced at my hand a moment, yet finally took it.

“It’s been a bit of a harrowing experience this evening. I hope you forgive me for being a bit… discombobulated.”

“Harrowing?” She tipped her head to the side. “And here I thought I used all woodworking tools in a safe and proper fashion this evening.”

A grin spread across my face.

Her own lips, looking fuller and more inviting than ever before, quirked at the corner.

I inched closer, squeezing her hand. “Do you remember my saying that you weren’t what I expected?”

“I do recall that. I assume it has some relevance to our present conversation?”

I extended my other hand. Was I actually doing this? It seemed like a hazy dream.

Without the jacket and vest, the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips, the sleek profile of those wonderful long legs just popped. I longed to feel every curve pressed against me.

“I don’t believe I elaborated on exactly how you differed from my expectations of an elven lady.”

She took my other hand briefly in hers before sliding her palm under my forearm.

My gaze flitted around her face. The piercing green eyes, short, neat, light brown hair, except for that one stray lock peeking over her right eyebrow. The tips of her ears poking through her hair. And those full lips, teasing with little flashes of emotion here and there.

“Do you intend to enlighten me?” She kneaded the back of my upper arm with her fingertips, her grasp firm, deliberate.

“It’s quite simple, really.” I stepped close enough to feel her breath on my face.

Her eyes glowed at me through slow blinks.

“You are making it—” I puffed out a sharp breath as she slid her hand past my arm, cupping the small of my back. “Difficult to concentrate.”

“Am I?” Her other hand curled over the top of my shoulder. “But you said the explanation was quite simple, did you not?”

I pressed my eyes shut.

Her warm touch, those subtle glances, the fact that we were so close… and yet still separated by those last few centimeters.

“Lady Sephimara Arazniros…”

She pulled me close enough that our hips brushed against each other. I tipped my head back, opening my eyes again to look into hers.

“Yes?” She poked the tip of her tongue between those marvelous lips in a playful gesture.

“You differ from my expectations of a proper elven lady in the following way.” I brushed my belly against hers. Then nestled my chest into the softness of her breasts. Uttered an embarrassing little whine as I felt her warmth.

I stood on tiptoes, pressed my cheek against hers, my lips by her ear.

As she encircled my shoulders and waist with her arms, I felt her own breath on my ear. “I am waiting.”

I whispered. “You are superior in every possible way.”

“Please call me Sephi.”