Firedrake - By Bianca D'Arc Page 0,82

toward where Prince Wil was speaking with the warriors he’d just battled, “—was something I never thought to witness.”

“Agreed.” Mace would have said more, but Lilith tossed two shining metal objects straight at Krysta. They were long and slender, but somewhat boxy, in a shape that puzzled Mace.

Krysta, seeing them out of the corner of her eye, shot her hands out reflexively and caught the objects. They were each about a foot long. Surprise crossed her features, to be replaced with a huge grin. A moment later, two resounding snaps made Mace step back.

The objects were fans, but these were no mere lady’s adornment. These were metal fans that had the distinct ring of steel, intricately patterned, to be sure, but tipped with sharpened razor edges. They were weapons!

“Do you know the way?” Lilith seemed to challenge Krysta as the women squared off. Two more sharp snaps, and Lilith was armed with her own set of bladed fans.

“I have danced the dance,” Krysta answered with an almost gleeful glint in her gray eyes, matching the glint of sharpened steel she now twirled in both hands.

They didn’t bow in the formal way of men, but rather did the graceful half-curtsy of noblewomen before engaging in a lightning-fast swirl of bodies and blades almost too fast for Mace to follow. The battle was circular in form, with a great deal of pivoting and turning, long graceful sweeps of the fans that could be so very deadly if they made contact with tender skin. It was clear both women were expert with the amazingly odd weapons. Mace had never seen the like.

In a day of novel happenings, this ranked right up there with fireballs and wizards. The demure woman Mace had pledged his life to was more than the simple warrior he’d come to respect. She was some kind of weapons expert with knowledge of things he’d never even heard of. It was humbling, but also incredibly intriguing.

Mace settled in to watch the match as the women made graceful, arcing patterns with their supple bodies, their sinuous arms and those lethal half-circles of steel. The flash of light off the blade edges, as well as the patterns on the finely wrought metal, was dazzling and hypnotic. Mace was fascinated by the exaggerated movements needed to use such clever weapons.

The benefits of this kind of weapon were not lost on him. Many women carried fans, as did men in warmer climates. A fan would not be remarked upon in places where folk could not go about armed with blades or bows. Social gatherings, for example, or intimate interludes. The sharpened blades of the fan could probably be concealed beneath a fabric covering until such time as the warrior was ready to strike. This then, was a perfect assassin’s weapon.

And Krysta was an expert with it.

That troubling fact would require further thought but Mace saw the match between the women was drawing to a close. Both were breathing hard and as they stopped whirling around, Mace could see both had been bloodied by the battle. Krysta had several fine lines that welled with blood on her arms and legs. Lilith had fewer, but Krysta had held her own. Mace was proud of her showing against such a formidable opponent.

The four fans snicked closed as the women curtsied to each other a final time. Lilith closed the distance, a broad smile on her face.

“You’re far better with those than I would have credited.”

“Thank you. That’s high praise coming from such a skilled warrior.” Krysta turned the fans over to the fair woman. “It’s been a while. Frankly, I’m glad to know I still have the knack, even if you were pulling your punches a bit.”

“Not by much, Lady Krysta. I have never battled a human with as much fan skill as you. It was a pleasure.”

“Likewise.” Krysta grinned, but it turned to a grimace as she held one hand to a cut bleeding more profusely along her thigh now that they’d stopped moving.

Lilith must have seen it as well, for she called to one of her students and a young male rushed over. “Lothar will see to your injuries. He has more healing power than I.” Lilith nodded and left the strange man facing Krysta.

“My sister is a little abrupt,” the man began, moving closer. “I’m Lothar, youngest of the Eliadnae line. Lilith is my eldest sister. She’s our best warrior of her generation, but not much on tact, I’m afraid. Please allow me to see