Meanwhile, the Adherents jeered and laughed at her, calling her names and using words they, as proper gentlemen, would probably never use in the presence of their wives or daughters, or in polite society, but she was not part of their polite society. To them, she was not even a person. She was a captive, in their minds a slave.
She took a glancing blow to the hip and slid away, steam puffing from her mouth. For all that the Guardian’s moves were swift and well-executed, they were familiar to her. She willed herself to recall her training, and to allow it to overtake her. She must incorporate the uncertain footing into her fight, find her center, use it to her advantage. It was not easy, for the Guardian was relentless. He pounded on her bonewood, numbing her hands, the wrist that Silk had clenched so hard aching. But she was warming up.
Soon she found a rhythm, a desperate rhythm, but one she could work with. Still, she had to be ready when the Guardian made an unexpected move. Just as she had tried to teach Cade in swordplay, she must not become lulled by that rhythm.
The constant din of colliding staves filled the room, the raucous shouts of the Adherents falling into the background. The Guardian’s staff smashed into a mass of icicles hanging from a chandelier. Shards of ice pelted Karigan, bit into her hands and cheeks, but she managed to block another numbing blow.
She used the slick floor to move quickly out of the way, sliding here, then there. The Guardian’s armor slowed him down only a little. She skated among columns, using them as shields. She knocked a phosphorene sconce off the wall, a ball of flame hissing to the floor, a burning tail sizzling behind it in an arc.
When Karigan engaged in yet another punishing series of forms, she thought, I am a king’s messenger. I have lived through worse. This is nothing. Even if the Guardian defeated her, humiliated her, she could live with it. With that in mind, she decided to make a move that would likely be her last, but which was better than breaking a leg, or worse, her head, on the slippery floor. It was a move that was not part of any proper form, one that only the desperate and untrained would attempt. She took her staff by the end and swung it like an ax, bearing down on the Guardian’s. Wood splintered like a crack of thunder. Not hers, but his, for she wielded bonewood, which was the strongest of them all. She jerked her staff back, its hooked metal handle catching his staff and pulling it apart into two pieces that clattered onto the floor.
At first all she heard was her own hard breaths. Then Amberhill’s laugh. The Adherents had fallen silent in astonishment.
She could not tell what the Guardian felt because of the visor and bevor concealing his face, but he blinked rapidly and gazed at his empty hands.
Then he stared directly at her. She cocked her head. Was there something familiar about his eyes?
“Well done, Rider,” he said in a low, harsh whisper.
The voice . . . No, she didn’t think she knew it, but because she was distracted and mulling over it, she did not see him move before he backhanded her across the face.
THE ETERNAL GUARDIAN
The blow sent Karigan careening, and she landed on her knee, heart hammering from shock, and face stinging. She shook her head and touched her cheek, and opened and closed her mouth to make sure her jaw worked properly. Fortunately the Guardian’s armored gauntlet had not broken or dislocated it.
She rose unsteadily to find that Dr. Silk had confiscated her staff, which had dropped from her hand when she’d been hit, and the Eternal Guardian was returning to his post beside the throne chair. Coins clinked from hand to hand as the losers of the wager paid up.
A thunderous boom shattered the quieter noises, and everyone looked up.
“What now?” Dr. Silk muttered. His moment of triumph clearly was not going the way he had hoped.
BOOM! The throne room door shuddered. Guards scrambled toward the entrance. Were they under attack? BOOM! The door cracked, and then another impact slammed it open. A high-pitched whinny resounded down the length of the throne room.
“Oh, no,” Karigan said when she realized what was going on. A familiar stallion reared in the doorway. “No, no, no.”
She set off for the doorway at a run, her feet slipping as she went. She paid the Adherents and the emperor no mind. No one tried to stop her; they must have all been distracted by Raven’s intrusion. Her only thought was to reach him and calm him before anyone else could harm him. How had he even gotten into the palace?
“Raven!” she cried.
He had most certainly sensed her distress and was coming to her aid. Green Rider horses bonded strongly with their Riders, and he being the headstrong and willful creature he was, had come for her.
It was difficult to see exactly what was happening in the confusion of the doorway, but she saw a guard nearby raising and aiming his firearm.
“No!” She leaped toward him, grabbing the gun, holding on despite the pain that seared her hands just by being in contact with the weapon. She knocked it out of the guardsman’s hand, and it slammed to the floor, steel striking icy marble.
Despite her efforts, the unmistakable report of gunfire exploded in the entryway. Before she could even break away from the guard she wrestled, there was more shooting, and Raven’s screaming. Desperation made her strong, and she pushed the guard away in time to turn and see Raven stagger.
“No!”
His knees buckled as she ran toward him, and he crumpled to the floor.
She slid to his side. “No,” she whispered, frantically patting his neck. Blood pooled beneath him, and his legs jerked and trembled.
“Don’t leave me! Please . . .”