Part 27 (2/2)
Marrget drove in, carrying herself lithely and with a quickness that was almost hypnotic. Alouzon backed, slid to one side, and caught her in the ribs with an elbow. For an instant, Marrget staggered, and Alouzon gave the power momentary play: her foot snaked out, tripped her.
Marrget hit the dirt with a thump, but she was on her feet again without pause, rolling smoothly from the fail into a recovery, and then into a guard stance.
”Even,” said Alouzon.
”You think this is a game?”
”Nope.”
Alouzon attacked. Giving and taking with a lethal power that sought always to turn her actions toward death, she sidestepped in and deflected Marrget's guard, then swung hard and prayed that the captain's reflexes were good.
They were. Marrget deflected in turn and landed a backhand fist on Alouzon's jaw. She stumbled with the impact, and slashed with the hilt of her sword to break off the attack. Marrget grunted and backed away, but Alouzon felt blood trickling down her cheek.
And the fight went on. Attack, parry, smash, riposte, parry . . . Survival was a matter of blade against blade, quickness of foot, and instinct for battle. Blows came from any body part that could be swung. Weapons were anything that could damage. Attack and reply blurred into one another until they could no longer be distinguished.
Without warning, Marrget caught the Dragonsword in a sleeve of her robe, held it, and nearly tore the weapon from Alouzon's hand. Instead of pulling, though, Alou- 240.
Gael Bandiiio zon pushed, and her unexpected response toppled Marrget and put her on the ground as Alouzon dropped on top of her with a shoulder.
Inside, she was dancing: dancing with the power. In, out, back and forth, she let it take her, but broke away before it could make her kill. She allowed the Dragon-sword to find the openings, but she herself chose when and how far to act upon them. It was a demon lover she embraced, one that filled her flesh with fire, but she steadfastly denied it full possession of her.
On their feet again, they faced off. Their movement had taken them away from the fire, and the fight continued in shadow. Blades flickered in the moonlight. Footfalls were m.u.f.fled in the soft, uncrushed gra.s.s.
Gathered together by the fire, the remaining women of the First Wartroop watched. Alouzon felt their eyes as she pushed the power away again and struck for their captain. Whether they knew it or not, she was fighting for them.
It was not a matter of glory or valor. It was a matter of friends.h.i.+p and caring. She had knelt by the dying at Kent State, powerless, unable even to scream until the hysteria had taken her days later. Tonight, she could not scream, but she could, she hoped, heal. She could make Marrget see who she was, and what she could do; and she could pray.
Please say that it's going to be all right.
What religion wors.h.i.+pped a Cup? Whatever its name, its convert fought tonight beside a fire in Gryylth. She clung to the image of the healing chalice, letting it guide the hot bloodl.u.s.t of her sword into something that could deal out life.
”Why don't you give up, Marrget?” she gasped as she pulled out of another flurry of exchanges. ”You can't take me.” Fatigue was building on both sides, but she had to press, to taunt, in order to keep Marrget fighting.
The captain was panting too, but she shook her head. ”I will have vengeance.” Her sword leaped. Alouzon blocked it and locked crosspieces.
Frozen suddenly, motionless, they stood straining .
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against one another, their faces inches apart, Marrget's hard gray eyes burned out of a smooth face streaked with sweat and caked with dust. A cut in her temple oozed blood and lymph.
Alouzon planted her feet and held. In her mind, the Grail flamed alongside the power of the sword, tempering it, turning it to other ends. ”What about vengeance against the Dremords?”
Marrget kicked her away, and Alouzon fell to the ground. Her breath was coming in deep, harsh gulps, her sword felt as though someone were standing on it, and she discovered that she could only pick herself half up. But Marrget did not take advantage of her weakness. The captain stared at her, sword in hand, seemingly unable to force her body into action.
They were both tired, crushed beneath a weight of mental and physical strain. For nearly a quarter of an hour they had been fighting furiously, without pause, with scarcely a chance for breath, and their strength was nearly exhausted.
”How about it, Marrget?” Alouzon managed between pants. ”You're so d.a.m.ned big on vengeance, and now you want to pull out of the big fight.”
”I have nothing to fight for.”
”s.h.i.+t. You've got everything.”
”I ... cannot . . . fight” Marrget's voice was ragged. ”I cannot. ” In spite of her words, she rushed forward and aimed a vicious cut at Alouzon's head. Still on her knees, the Dragonmaster blocked it and levered Marrget into the gra.s.s just before falling beside her.
For a minute or two, they lay still. ”I just want to go to sleep,” Alouzon murmured. Had she allowed herself, she could have dropped off with her hand on her sword and her head cradled on her arm, but she forced herself to her hands and knees, and crawled toward Marrget. Kneeling over her, she bent and rolled the captain onto her back. The loose robe fell open and exposed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.
”Look, honey,” Alouzon said, ”don't give me s.h.i.+t about-”
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Marrget swung up with both fists and punched her in the belly. Alouzon sat back on her heels and stared stupidly at her, but there was no follow-up: Marrget just panted, sucking in breaths as though she were gagging on die air.
Her robe fell off as she dragged herself up, but she paid no attention. She gripped her sword. ”I am going to kill you, Alouzon Dragonmaster.” She lunged.
”G.o.ddammit, no!” Alouzon brought her fist down on the back of Marrget's head, and the captain sprawled face down into the damp gra.s.s. Teetering for a moment, Alouzon collapsed beside her.
They stared at one another as though their eyes could continue the battle. ”You're not making sense, Marrget.”
”I make sense enough.”
”You can fight. You've been fighting me for-what?- years now.” Alouzon panted, caught her breath. ”You can still swing a sword.”
Marrget was choking with fatigue and emotion both, and there were long moments when she could not utter a sound. ”I am a woman.”
”Yeah. Big deal.” Alouzon tried to crawl, but her body was not responding to any further commands. ”So am I.” She gave up and let her cheek rest on the gra.s.s.
”You do not understand.”
' 'All I understand is that your people are going to get cut to pieces if you don't help.”
Marrget pried an eye open. Her fingers twitched on her sword. ' 'What kind of help can the likes of us give? We cannot fight.”
”What the h.e.l.l do you think you've been doing to me?”
Marrget let go of the sword, pressed a hand to her face, ”lam . . .”
Alouzon pushed herself toward her. ”A warrior of Gryylth. Say it! Dammit! Say it! I am a warrior of Gryylth. ” Nearly toppling, she grabbed Marrget by her bare arms, shook her in cadence to the words. ”I am a warrior of Gryylth.''
”By the stars, leave me, Alouzon. Let me die.”
”No such luck. We're all stuck with this, and you're not getting out of it.”
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