Sweep of the Blade (Innkeeper Chronicles #4) - Ilona Andrews Page 0,105

eyes. Murder burned there, hot and blinding. They clashed again, cold and vicious this time. Maud thrust her blade past Seveline’s guard. It bit just above the vampire’s hip, piercing armor and flesh. Seveline backhanded her. The blow rang through Maud’s skull. The world turned black for a terrifying second.

Somehow, she knew even through the darkness that Seveline was coming. Maud slashed blindly. Her sword met resistance, and she charged forward, throwing all of her weight into the swing. Her vision cleared. She caught a glimpse of Seveline’s kick right before it landed.

Agony blossomed in her right side, the impact throwing her to the side and knocking the wind out of her. Suddenly there wasn’t enough air. Panic tore through her. Maud scrambled back to her feet, holding her blade out in front of her.

Across from her Seveline gripped her sword with her left hand, her right arm hanging uselessly at her side. The floor around them was slick with blood.

Seveline bared bloody teeth at Maud. “Die.”

“You first.”

Seveline screamed and charged. The world slowed to a crawl. Maud watched her come, one powerful step after another, face skewed with rage, mouth gaping, fangs on display, her blond mane streaming behind her. Her own heart was beating like the toll of a massive bell, steady and somehow too slow. Heartbeat…another…

Maud thrust. Seveline lashed at her, but she was too slow. Maud’s blade pierced her chest.

Too low. Missed the heart. Missed my chance.

Seveline dropped her sword, still impaled, and locked her hands on Maud’s throat. The air in Maud’s lungs turned to fire. Spots exploded in her vision. There was no way to break the hold. Seveline was too strong. Maud clamped both hands on her sword’s grip and dragged the blade, still buried in Seveline’s chest, upward, through the muscle and bone.

She will not kill me. I will not die here, with her hands around my throat.

Seveline was screaming, loud, so loud, spitting blood into Maud’s face. Maud’s lungs turned to molten lead. She forced the blade up farther, sawing through living flesh.

The light dimmed, Seveline’s face swimming out of focus.

With a last desperate jerk, Maud twisted the blade. The hands crushing her neck fell away. Seveline stumbled back and collapsed, her blond hair fanning out as she fell. Maud dropped to her knees. Her stomach spasmed and she retched.

Red liquid burst from her mouth and she didn’t know if it was wine or blood.

Get up. Get up, get up, get up.

She crawled to Seveline on her hands and knees and locked her hand on her sword. Seveline’s dead face glared at her with empty eyes. Maud forced herself up, into a crouch, then to her feet. She gripped her sword, put her foot on Seveline’s chest and pulled the weapon free.

The fighting around them was drawing to an end. She saw Arland walking toward her, armor stained with blood. Their gazes met and suddenly Maud knew that everything would be alright now.

The ceiling of the medward was pristine and white. Every cell in her ached, as if her whole body had been through such a long and grueling punishment that it simply gave up and now wallowed in self-pity and pain.

Maud blinked at the whiteness above her. She remembered many different medward ceilings from the last two years: the grimy mud-brown stone of the Karhari’s East Plateau, the thick metal plates of the Kurabi Fort, the multitude of chains hanging from the darkness at the Broken Well…She had woken up a few times like this, in pain and unsure, surprised to be alive. This ceiling was, by far, the cleanest.

I survived again.

She didn’t remember losing consciousness. There was Arland coming toward her, covered in blood, and after that, soft darkness.

To the side, quiet voices murmured. Maud focused on them and the formless noise congealed into words.

“…what if she doesn’t wake up?”

Helen.

“She will wake up.” Arland. “Her injuries are serious but not life-threatening.”

“But what if she doesn’t?”

Maud turned her head. Arland lay in an identical medcot. Helen sat by his feet, her blond hair drooping over her face. A smile played on Maud’s lips. There you two are.

“Am I in the habit of lying?” A touch of steel crept into his voice.

“No, Lord Arland.”

“Your mother will wake up. Have you thought of what you will tell her?”

“Nothing she can tell me will make me less mad,” Maud said. “There will be repercussions. Huge repercussions.”

Helen flew off the medcot and jumped the five feet separating them. Maud barely had a chance to