The glade was empty when I reached it, but then it always was at first. I hesitated. She had caught me here before, leeching the warmth from my bones to feed on my life essence. How could she be here? She was dead. Another like her? There must be others. I turned around. The path behind me had vanished, the trees clustering closely where I had walked only moments ago.
I stepped into the glade where the sky opened into a black bowl pierced with crystal pinpricks. The stars never blinked here, no matter what evil transpired.
I turned around, half expecting to see a grey figure in a long dress: Solandre, the shade who had brought me here to feed on me. Nothing stirred. No wind brushed the pines, no animal crept in the dense brush. There was a noise, a distant banging. I turned, trying to locate the source. It shifted direction, coming first from behind me, then from the sides. Then I was awake.
The banging was coming from the door to our rooms.
Blackbird groaned. "Tell them we don't want any."
I slid out of bed, my skin chill in the darkness, and pulled on the white robe that Blackbird had used earlier.
The hammering repeated itself. "OK, I'm coming." I opened the door.
Tate was poised to resume hammering. "Garvin wants you downstairs, five minutes ago, dressed for combat," he said.
"Do you know what time it is?"
"No more than two minutes. I'll wait."
"What does he want?"
"You. Now." Tate's eyebrows raised slightly as if he was surprised by the question.
"Is this some sort of drill?"
"No. One minute forty-five seconds."
I closed the door. The light clicked on behind me.
"What does he want?" asked Blackbird.
"Search me. I have to go. I'll be back later."
I pulled drawers open. Tate had said fighting clothes. That meant boots, heavy trousers, tight T-shirt. Nothing to encumber or snag. I dressed inside a minute and went back to the bed.
"Try and get some sleep. I'll tell you what this was about later." I kissed her forehead.
"I'm awake now."
"Don't worry. Snuggle down. I'll be back in a bit."
"Be careful."
"It's nothing. Go back to sleep."
I slipped through the door and found Tate leaning against the wall. He pushed himself forward and didn't break stride as he walked away.
"Will you tell me what this is about?"
"No."
"Because you can't or because you won't?"
"Both."
I followed him downstairs to the practice room. All the Warders were there. Amber lounged against the wall alone while Slimgrin stood beside the weapons rack. Fionh stood with Garvin and Fellstamp in the centre of the room. Garvin had with him the long black staff that he carried as a weapon, the silver tip catching the light. I knew that with a twist of his wrist a long blade could be drawn from it. I wondered what had prompted him to carry it.
He was speaking as I entered. "It's not my first choice, but the other options are worse. It's now or not at all."
Fionh was angry. "He isn't ready."
"No, but you know the situation. If we don't do this now, he never will be."
"Ready for what?" I asked as Tate closed the doors behind me.
"Slimgrin, weapons. Long-sword for Dogstar, broadsword for Fellstamp."
"Me?" Fellstamp said.
"Do you want me to do it?" Garvin asked.
"Wouldn't Amber be better?"
"Amber would kill him. Just don't let him kill you."
"Then give me something better than a broadsword."
"No. Trust me."
Fellstamp shrugged, "As you wish, but it's not my fault if I break something."
"He can heal later. Dogstar, come here. Clear some space."
Fionh and Garvin walked to the edge of the room. Slimgrin held out a heavy blade, point down. It hung like a leaden pendulum from his outstretched hand. Fellstamp accepted it, hefting the weight, and swung the blade in low strokes to get the feel of it. I was handed a longer, lighter blade, much more to my taste, and I suspected more to Fellstamp's too.
"What's going on, Garvin?"
"You're fighting to first blood, open rules." Open rules meant no rules.
"These are metal weapons," I pointed out. I had never been allowed to use real weapons other than for solo practice.
"Yes, and they hurt if you get hit, so don't."
"Why are we doing this?"
"I don't have time to explain. Fellstamp won't be pulling his blows, so you shouldn't either. Begin." He backed away.
I was about to protest, but Fellstamp lifted the blade in salute and then spun on the spot, using the falling momentum of the sword to sweep it in a wide open cut. I stepped back, allowing the blade to pass with a low whoosh. It wasn't a serious attack, but it got me moving. After that it got serious.
A broadsword isn't really a cutting weapon. The edge is sharp, but it's the mass that does the damage. It will snap bones like twigs if you get in the way. The weight is the problem, though. It's slow to wield unless you have the raw power of someone like Tate behind it. Fellstamp was good, but he preferred lighter weapons. He usually favoured a pair of long curved knives with which he wove intricate patterns of defence and attack. There's no intricacy in a broadsword.
It was relatively easy for me with a lighter weapon and longer reach to shift the attack on to Fellstamp and prevent him getting enough momentum to wield the bigger weapon. The trouble was that he could use it as a very effective shield with minimal movement, parrying my blows. My sword clanged off the edge of the broadsword, sparks flying but not penetrating his guard. I could drive him backwards, but I couldn't reach him.
"If you don't cut him soon, Dogstar, I'll come in there and kill you myself," shouted Garvin.
The distraction was enough for Fellstamp. He parried my blow sideways then danced around his blade, punching his elbow back into my face, aiming for my eye. I dodged, but received a painful jab to the cheek, making my eyes water. I dropped backwards, rolling into a tight ball, feeling rather than seeing the blade sweep over me, then rising in a single motion into an upward cut which rang from his blade. I used a series of whirling upward cuts to drive him backwards, steering him towards the corner where he would have no room to wield the bigger weapon. He saw the danger and veered sideways, opening up the space again. We circled each other, both breathing hard.
"You're holding back, Dogstar. You have the speed but not the killing instinct. If Fellstamp wasn't pussyfooting around with that thing you would be dead by now."
This goaded Fellstamp into a renewed attack. He swept in with bold strokes, drawing figures of eight in the air, forcing me to deflect the blows or lose my head. He whirled it around for another blow, building speed and power as he pressed forward. I dropped to my knee and parried it upwards, letting the blow carry through before thrusting my own blade up at a forty-five degree angle. There was a jolt as the blade found his shoulder, piercing it full through. His eyes widened as he slid forward on to the blade, carried by his own impetus. His heavy blade slipped from his hand and clanged on to the floor. He sagged, dragging my blade down with him, the grating slide on bone travelling down the springy metal to my hand. Blood welled around the cut and then ran down the angled blade in a red rivulet.
"Well, don't just sit there man! Pull the blade!" It was Garvin.
I drew the blade back with a soft sucking sound then whipped it out. The blood sprayed out in a long line across the floor and up the wall. I rose, ready to hold the blade in ritual victory at Fellstamp's throat, but his knees gave way.