Empress Game: The Empress Game Trilogy Book 1 (21 page)

Hekkar frowned. “Only one person could expect to be known just by referencing his people’s presence when the entirety of the empire had arrived on Falanar.”

“Yeah.” The unease the letter generated kicked in triple at the conclusion. “Dolan.”

K
ayla sat on the arena floor with both legs stretched out in front of her. She leaned over them, breathing into the stretch, feeling her muscles liven. She was early, but hundreds of women and their attendants were on the floor doing the same already.

Her body hummed, energy banked until her first fight. Isonde, in her Kayla hologram, chatted with another of the attendants.

I hope she’s not making an ass of me.

Every time Isonde spoke, every time she stepped with her Kayla-feet, every time she waved her Kayla-arm, Kayla’s skin crawled. From deep within came the aversion to seeing herself walk apart from her soul.
She’s stolen my body
. It was nothing to her to wear the Isonde hologram. She knew who she was inside, the program was just a costume. But seeing herself walk around without her…

Isonde–Kayla walked over and took a seat in the chair beside Kayla. She hadn’t issued one complaint at the early hour, and had come to the pit like it was natural to show up two hours before the fighting was due to start because Kayla said she needed to be here. She didn’t question the necessity, trusting that this was Kayla’s arena, that she knew what needed to be done.

Just like Kayla had put herself in Isonde’s hands when it came to politics, Isonde gave over full control of this aspect of their charade to Kayla, recognizing Kayla’s skill. Two pros, two talents, one goal.

It was surprising and gratifying to be thus respected, even silently.

The arena began to fill. Contestants appeared in greater numbers and the air’s charge intensified. Everywhere Kayla looked she saw determination, trepidation, focus and resignation. All had come to fight, but not all had come to win.

“There’s Countess Æther,” Isonde said.

Her first opponent—an easy fight: rush, overpower, score a point, repeat.

Assuming Kayla’s rating was higher and the choice of weapons hers, dual knives, of course, Countess Æther, who had chosen unarmed combat every time, had zero chance. No telling who Kayla might face afterward or what they’d bring to the fight, but she would be ready.

* * *

“You’ve been beating them handily,” Isonde said with approval, as they crossed the immense floor of the arena on their way to Kayla’s fourth series of the day.

Kayla chuckled. “Kicking ass.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s ‘you’re kicking ass today.’ And thank you, I have been.” She hadn’t dropped a point yet, never mind lost a match. Three flawless series.

Isonde gave her an amused smile. “If you say so.”

Kayla might gloat a little more if this morning’s matches hadn’t been fairly easy. Which wasn’t all that surprising, considering that most of these women shouldn’t even be in a tournament like this. The prize was just too good to pass up, though. Anyone with a claim to sovereignty on her homeworld and the ability to hold a weapon was at the Game, trying to win the crown.

None of her competitors this morning would have lasted five minutes in the Blood Pit.

“Who’s next?” she asked.

“Looks like…” Isonde scanned the datapad with their schedule on it. Her good humor melted into a look of distaste. “Arcanist Zerustae.”

“Who?”

“Elder sister to the Low Divine on Falanar.” Isonde looked even less pleased at having to mention the Low Divine.

“The who?”

“The Low Divine? Third in power to only the Mid and High Divines within the church of Aih?”

Religion? Bah. Who the void cared about that.

Isonde must have read her thoughts on her face. “You know, the church that ‘you’ belong to, the dominant religion among the Sovereign Planets…?”

Kayla rolled her eyes. “Right, right. So. You and this Arcanist don’t get along?”

Isonde’s lips quirked into a slight grin. “Let’s just say I want you to kick her ass.”

Kayla returned the grin. “I shall endeavor to beat her handily.”

She paused when they approached the ring and saw the choice of weapon: swords.

Well, that’s unexpected
.

She’d yet to fight with swords in the Game. Good thing she’d been able to brush up on her technique on the way to Falanar. Swords weren’t her favorite weapon. They lacked subtlety. No one had ever been sneak-attacked by a sword, you couldn’t fail to see it coming. Daggers were so much quicker, so much more… personal.

Sure, she could kill someone with a sword in about fifteen seconds. She was a
ro’haar
after all, weapons were the tools of her craft. Didn’t mean she enjoyed using one.

The official sword of the Game was a rapier, a thrusting weapon of finesse and control. If it had to be swords, that would have been her choice. It was still a dangerous choice, though. Even with a blunted tip, the blade, which started near the hilt as a flattened diamond shape and tapered to a fine point, could still pierce flesh if too much force was applied. No wonder most combatants chose unarmed combat or staves—much less risk of injury.

So, Arcanist Zerustae was confident in her skill. Excellent. Let’s see what a confident imperial could do against a
ro’haar
.

The official called them to the center of the ring and handed them each their weapon. The rapier was light, weighing about a kilogram, and had a compound swept hilt. Several steel knuckle guards swirled down from the quillon to the pommel with an artful twist. She would have liked to have a kris in her off-hand, but the Game only allowed for the rapier. Kayla shrugged. Rapiers had very little cutting edge, being mainly a thrusting weapon. She could parry with the flat of her palm just as well.

Zerustae favored her with a smug smile. Kayla was becoming used to the expression, as most of her series began that way. Apparently the world hadn’t quite discovered yet that “Isonde” was the one to beat at the Game, and everyone assumed the princess couldn’t hold her own in a fight. Kayla grinned right back. They’d learn soon enough.

Zerustae sooner than most.

Kayla whipped the blade through the air a few times, listening to it sing, getting a feel for the grip, the heft of it. Zerustae’s smile sagged a little.

Oh yes, Arcanist. You’re about to get way more than you bargained for.

Kayla studied the woman as the ring official conferred with the official scorekeepers. Zerustae was around the same height as her, long-limbed with an excellent reach. Her face said, “You might think you’re ready, but I’m still going to beat the shit out of you.” Likely she had been trouncing people soundly with a sword all day.

Kayla saluted her with a flick of her wrist and settled in for the fight. Zerustae, seeing Kayla’s perfectly angled L stance and low guard, apparently decided to take the match seriously, and likewise readied herself. Her stance looked competent and she held the blade comfortably.

Kayla should probably take it slow to start, wait for Zerustae to offend, develop a sense of her style…

But when the official called “begin!” and Zerustae attacked right off on a high outside line destined for Kayla’s heart, Kayla made up her mind in a nanosecond.

Caution be damned, let’s show a little style
.

Kayla lunged full out in a passata sotto, dropping under the attack, front knee bent, back leg fully extended, empty hand flat on the floor to balance her while she thrust upward with her sword. The blunted tip kissed the fabric of Zerustae’s tank-top square in the mid-section.

“Point, white!” called the official.

Zerustae couldn’t have looked more stunned if Kayla had simply chucked the sword at her head like a rock. She hung a second, arm still outstretched, as if replaying the point in her mind.

The passata sotto was a risky move, leaving Kayla much too vulnerable to counter-attack if it hadn’t succeeded—she’d never use it in a real swordfight—but as far as statement pieces went…

Welcome to my arena, Zerustae.

Zerustae got set for the second point with a much more cautious expression. They went around the circle, Kayla forcing herself into the less comfortable heel-first movements proper rapier footwork demanded, watching Zerustae’s mirrored steps with some respect. The woman knew what she was doing.

She had apparently decided Kayla was as rash as her opening move declared her to be, and offered a series of feints designed to draw Kayla in. Subtle moves, but too obvious for her. Kayla wouldn’t be drawn into an attack not of her choosing.

Seeing Kayla’s unwillingness to leap into an easily countered attack, Zerustae switched tactics, becoming more aggressive. She struck with a thrust to Kayla’s face and Kayla applied counter-pressure, smoothly forcing Zerustae’s tip out and to the left as she slid forward with her own thrust that would have pierced Zerustae through the oral cavity had Kayla not checked it.

“Point, white!”

One match down, one to go. No way Kayla would let her take this series to three.

Kayla opened the second match on the offensive, offering inside cuts from the elbow that Zerustae dodged adroitly. Apparently her defense was better than her offense. Zerustae seemed content to dodge and parry as Kayla brought more and more pressure to bear. She parried a low thrust with her palm and caught Kayla off-guard with a counter while Kayla’s sword tip was still low. Zerustae thrust high, her blade stopping three centimeters from Kayla’s cheek and only a centimeter below her left eye.

“Point, red!”

Kayla froze, holding herself stiffly as Zerustae pinned her there. Despite the woman’s harsh breaths, the rapier’s point was steady, perfectly controlled. Well, shit, the woman had actually scored on her. The official turned to confirm the point with the scorekeeper and Zerustae leaned forward just a hair, flicking her wrist and tip-cutting Kayla across the cheekbone.

Fire burned along the mark, the blunted tip still sharp enough to score the tender flesh. “What the frutt!” Blunt tip or not, one centimeter higher and she’d have lost an eye. “You—”

Zerustae had already turned away, walking back to her start marker as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t taken an illegal after-point shot.

That bitch! An “honorable competition” for the crown, hah.

The official returned and asked if she was ready to continue. Oh, she was ready.

The points fell to Kayla after that like wheat before the scythe. Zerustae left the ring beaten, embarrassed, and with a matching welt beneath her left eye.

All’s fair in love and the Empress Game.

* * *

Kayla brushed at her temple, rubbing away a dusting of salt crystals that had formed in the wake of her evaporated sweat. She mingled with the other similarly fragrant, damp and battered contestants who had finished their fights for the day, all gathered around the ring where the elder Clanesta Warren towered over her opponent in an unarmed series. Sovein Warren looked like a walking oak tree, with shoulders broader than Hekkar’s and legs that could bear the weight of someone twice her size. Knocking her over would have been impossible, and avoiding the reach of those arms and bear paw-sized hands just as tricky.

Kayla had finished her last series flawlessly against a princess whose strong defense had dragged things out. Now she wanted a nap and a shower. In that order.

Actually first she wanted to strip off the Isonde hologram and wear her own skin again.

All of those could wait, though. Some of her strongest competitors had matches still to fight today and she couldn’t miss this opportunity to study them in person. She wouldn’t be allowed re-entry to the pit once she left for the day so she stayed—tired, sweaty and aching in more than a few spots. Isonde had already headed back to their rooms to prepare for the evening’s dance of politics.

Kayla saw medsticks, wraps, braces, dermal regen patches and more among the crowd of fighters. She’d already had her hand scanned and wore coolant ribbons on two jammed fingers to reduce the swelling.

In the ring Sovein Warren rushed her opponent, leading with her shoulder, barreling into the other woman with the force of a launched maglev train. They caught at least a meter of air before crashing to the ground. The impact had probably hurt Sovein at least half as much as her opponent, but the Clanesta showed no sign of this and had her flipped over and pinned before the other woman could regain her breath.

“Point, red!” called the official. Sovein jumped to her feet, her grin huge and aggressive. She called something to her sister, Urveina, that probably only the two of them understood, combined as it was with the gestures inherent in their half-somatic language. The meaning was clear, though, and her sister hooted in approval. Sovein strutted before noticing that her opponent, a Maude-something as Kayla recalled, hadn’t risen.

Maude rolled to her side, an arm curled in against her ribs, her face white. She breathed shallowly, panting in pain. Sovein bent down to speak to the woman. Maude glared at her and said something Kayla didn’t catch, but she heard Sovein’s reply.

“If ya’ are too weak to fight in ta Game, ya ought not ta be ’ere.” She rose and stalked away, passing the medic on his way into the ring.

The diagnosis came: cracked ribs. Maude remained prone while the series was called and Sovein declared the winner.

Kayla glanced at the triumphant Sovein one last time before heading off. Damn, the Clanestas were big.

The last few series were wrapping up and Kayla had two opponents she needed to watch in action: the Wyrd Princess Tia’tan from Ilmena and the Ordinal Divinya from Janeen’s homeworld. Divinya’s series was yet to be called so Kayla followed the crowd to the ring where Tia’tan circled her opponent like a tireless snake.

She had flawless form, which was no less than Kayla expected. Tia’tan held her sword with perfect balance, the blunted tip at exactly the right angle, her edge precisely controlled when she struck. She executed each technique in a classic style Kayla would love to watch—if Tia’tan wasn’t a Wyrd traitor and in major contention for the crown. She studied Tia’tan’s footwork, her approaches, her favored retreat patterns. The woman was efficient and controlled, but Kayla saw something she hadn’t expected to see: flair.