Sweep of the Blade

Maud strode down the length of the bridge, measuring it with her footsteps. It was early morning, and the sky was lightly overcast, the sun playing tag with ragged clouds. Next to her, Helen yawned and rubbed her eyes.

Last night Maud had reported the conversation with the lees and the tachi to Soren and Karat. She had no doubt the Lord Consort would give a complete account of it to Ilemina. Soren agreed with her assessment-Serak and Kozor were targeting the battle station and wanted both alien species out of the way, but how exactly they were planning to pull it off was anyone's guess.

Afterward she returned to her quarters to check on Arland. His door was locked, and he didn't respond to her harbinger message. It drove her nuts. She kept imagining wild scenarios, each of which involved him dying in his sleep, defenseless. Eventually she surrendered and used the private passageway to check on him. He was asleep in his bed, his chest rising and falling in a smooth steady rhythm. She'd considered climbing into bed next to him to hold him but decided it would be creepy and made herself walk back to her suite. Nothing was going to happen to Arland; he would sleep off the booster while a cocktail of drugs the medic had administered repaired his injuries. There were a lot of injuries. It was perfectly reasonable for him to remain asleep for another day or more.

Maud kept moving. A refreshing wind pulled at her hair, throwing the short strands in her face. The exile to Karhari had shocked her. By then she was used to Melizard's schemes. He was always creating problems, but he was the younger son, beloved and spoiled. His sins, however grievous, were always forgiven. Except that time.

From the moment she'd seen her former mother-in-law's face, Maud had learned to expect the worst and her imagination obliged. If Melizard was delayed, it was because he was dead. If Helen ate a piece of unfamiliar fruit, it was surely poisonous, and she would likely die. If Maud met strangers on the road, they were assassins sent to kill her. And Karhari had proven her right again and again, feeding her paranoia.

Now Arland had joined the short list of People Whose Death She Imagined. There were only four names on the list: Helen, Dina, Maud, and now, Arland. Last night she kept waking up, checking on Helen, and when she drifted off, Arland died in her dreams, and she would jerk awake. A couple of times she got up and prowled on her balcony, like a caged cat.

If only she could have seen him this morning; if she had touched him and felt the warmth of his body, it would have reassured her that he was alive. She had rolled out of her bed planning to do exactly that. Instead, Karat had barged into her quarters as soon as the sun was up, announced that Ilemina required her presence, and took off.

Maud and Helen passed through the arched entrance to the Preceptor's tower.

"What are we doing today, Mama?"

"Today we're going on a hunt," Maud said.

She'd reviewed the day's agenda late last night, after giving up on getting any sleep. At their core, vampires were mostly carnivorous predators, and hunting was in their blood. They liked to kill, cook their catch, and eat it. Humans had retained some of those primitive memories, too. No matter how civilized they became or how evolved the art of cooking became, nothing beat a piece of meat roasted over a fire.

The Holy Anocracy was not that civilized. They didn't bother to make any excuses or to distance themselves from their predatory past. As soon as a vampire House claimed territory, they did two things. They planted a vala tree and they designated hunting grounds.

House Krahr maintained a huge hunting preserve. Today, at noon, they would be riding through it. Missing the hunt was unthinkable. She could get away with missing games, skipping a formal dinner, even being late to the wedding ceremony, although that last one would require reparations for the offense to the newlyweds. If she missed the hunt, however, the insult to the hosts would be monumental. Even children were brought to the hunt as soon as they were old enough not to fall off the mounts.

"What kind of hunt?" Helen asked.

"Do you remember when Daddy and I took you to House Kirtin and we rode out to hunt bazophs?"

It had been one of the rare bright moments in their exile. Melizard had landed a position with a stable House and for two months they had a brief taste of normal Anocracy life. And then he had punched the Kirtin Marshal and it all ended. Helen's eyes lit up. "Can I come on the hunt?" "Yes."

Maud realized that if she had told an average Earth woman that she would be taking her five-year-old daughter onto a temperamental alien mount and allowing her to ride in a large pack of homicidal vampires to hunt an unknown but surely dangerous beast, the woman would have tried to take Helen away from her on the spot. Some people had PTA meetings, she had hunts.

Helen would enjoy it and Maud wanted her to be happy. Plus, after the poisoning, letting her daughter out of her sight without an army of bodyguards ready to tear any attacker to pieces was out of the question. Whatever Ilemina wanted would likely take place before the hunt.

They reached the Preceptor's study. The door was retracted, the doorway framing Ilemina bent over her desk. The older vampire woman seemed deep in thought, her expression focused and harsh.

A feeling of dread mugged Maud. Now what?

She halted in the doorway. "My lady?"

Ilemina raised her head. "Come inside."

Maud walked into the room, bringing Helen with her. The door slid shut behind them. Trapped.

Ilemina fixed her with a heavy gaze. "Lady Onda and Lady Seveline have invited you to the bride's wassail."

The wassail was a long-standing vampire tradition. Despite the grand name, it was basically a brunch, light on food, but heavy on drinks, which, for vampires, meant caffeine. An average vampire could drain a bottle of whiskey and remain perfectly sober, but Maud had seen them down an expresso and dissolve into a soggy mess of slurred words and draping arms, declaring their undying love and devotion to a stranger they met ten minutes ago.

The wassail involved a large punch bowl filled with a caffeinated beverage and each guest would be served from it, toasting the host. It was common before a wedding; in fact, the tradition prescribed having several wassails for both the bride and groom. Maud had attended a few of these before and every time proved to be a hilarious experience. Inevitably someone challenged her to a drink off, which ended with them under the table and her, completely sober, urgently looking for a bathroom.

Ilemina's face held very little humor. It promised doom. Definitely doom.

"Is the invitation cause for alarm?" Maud asked.

"No female members of House Krahr received an invitation. It is a family wassail. You are the only outsider."

She would be isolated and surrounded by knights of House Kozor. House Krahr was honor bound to respect their guests' privacy. If something happened, there was no guarantee back-up would arrive in time or at all. To decline the invitation would be both rude and cowardly, and Onda and Seveline were counting on that.

"It's a trap." The words came out flat.

Ilemina nodded. "They'll provoke you. They'll try to test you to see what you know. Failing that, they'll seek to humiliate you."

"They're counting on Arland. If they insult me enough, and I run to him crying, he'll be honor bound to do something about it. They're getting bolder."

Ilemina's gaze was direct and cold. Maud had seen this exact expression on Arland's face, right before he threw himself at a world-destroying flower. Ilemina had made up her mind. Neither Kozor nor Serak would get off this planet unscathed. It chilled Maud to the bone.

"Do you want the post of Maven?" Ilemina asked.

She didn't even have to think. "Yes."

Ilemina turned to the screen glowing on the wall. A recording began playing. Onscreen, Seveline dashed at a group of otrokar. Each of the five Horde warriors was bigger than Seveline. Maud had fought the Hope-Crushing Horde before; they had earned their name and then some. Seveline danced through them, slicing limbs, cutting bodies, graceful, lethal, unstoppable...A radiant smile played on the vampire knight's lips. Blood stained her blond hair. She looked like a berserker, lost to the slaughter, but she moved like a fighter completely in control of her body. Fluid. Precise. Aware. Underneath a caption glowed.

Seveline Kozor 57 confirmed kills Shit.

Onscreen, Seveline beheaded a warrior with a single swing and laughed. She seemed to know where every one of her opponents was at all times, anticipating their movements before they made them.

Ilemina sank steel into her voice. "You will go to this wassail and you will endure every assault on your honor and dignity. Under no circumstances are you to draw your sword. Do you understand me, Maven?" "Yes, Preceptor."

***

"So, is it customary for humans to be kept as pets?" Seveline asked.

Maud sipped her coffee. It was genuine Earth coffee, given as a gift to the bride by House Krahr, and sweetened with some local syrup until it was less drink and more dessert. The bridal party about lost their minds when they watched her pour cream into it.

She was painfully aware of both Onda and Seveline staring at her. The questions started the moment she sat down and became progressively more outrageous. The last one was an insult. If she were a vampire, by now there would be blood. It wasn't a bad plan. Isolate her. Get her drunk. Insult her until she threw the first punch, then kill her. They were likely recording this to absolve themselves of blame. Maud had done a mental sweep of the room when she entered. The situation hadn't changed. They were in a tower, in a round chamber. Eight tables, four vampires each. She could hold her own, but nobody was that good. Ilemina was right. If I draw my sword, I won't make it out of here alive. Her best defense was to pretend to be dense. "I don't know what you mean," she said.

Seveline heaved a sigh. Onda leaned forward, brushing her chestnut hair out of the way. "It's a logical question. You are not a member of our society. You have no rights, no purpose, and offer no benefit to House Krahr." "Aside from sexual amusement for the Marshal," Seveline added.

"In other words, you're being kept around as a source of comfort, much like a dog."

"That's not true," Seveline said. "Dogs serve a purpose. They warn you of intruders and add to your safety."

"Very well, not a dog then." Onda waved her arm. "A bird. A pretty, ornamental bird."

Maud raised her eyebrows. "So, what you are saying is, I'm here for the Marshal's sexual amusement like a pretty bird? Are members of House Kozor in the habit of copulating with their pet birds? I had no idea you had such exotic tastes." The two women blinked, momentarily derailed.

Seveline switched to Ancestor Vampiric. "I'm going to wring her neck."

The bride chose that moment to float by, all smiles. She smoothly turned, rested one hand on Seveline's shoulder, and still smiling, said, "Do it and I will personally jab a knife in your eye. You have a simple job-provoke this bitch. How hard could this be? The hunt is about to start. Get on with it."

Interesting.

Kavaline offered Maud a bright smile. "Are you enjoying yourself? These two aren't bothering you, are they?"

The temptation to answer in Ancestor Vampiric was almost too much. "Not at all. They've been the soul of courtesy."

Onda looked like she was about to have an aneurism.

The bride's smile sharpened. "So glad to hear it."

She floated away.

"So, you're content with being a bedwarmer?" Onda asked. "How will this reflect on your daughter? Or do you expect her to learn by example?"

"What a good question," Seveline said. "Perhaps you have already selected a client for her?"

Amateurs.

"What a disturbing thought," Maud said. "Sexual contact with a child is forbidden. It's incredibly damaging to the child. I'm surprised this is tolerated within House Kozor. This is turning out to be a very educational conversation. Birds, children...Is anything off limits to your people?"

Onda turned gray, shaking with rage.

Seveline glared. "We do not have sex with children!"

Vampires at other tables turned to look at them.

"So, just birds, then?" Maud asked.

Seveline picked up the pitcher of coffee, jumped to her feet, and hurled the contents at Maud. There was no time to dodge. The coffee was barely warm, but it drenched her completely.

Onda's eyes were as big as saucers. The room went silent.

Seveline stared straight at her, anticipation in her eyes.

Maud looked back. It's still your move, bitch.

Seveline unhinged her jaws. "Coward."

Under the table, Maud sank her fingernails into her palm. In her mind, she flipped the table, gripped her sword, and drove her blade into Seveline's gut.

A moment passed.

Another.

The sticky coffee slid down her neck, dripping from her hair.

Another.

Seveline bared her fangs in a vicious grimace, spun on her heel, and stomped off. The door hissed shut behind her.

Maud sat very still. This could still go bad. If they came at her now, her best bet would be to jump out the window. It was a thirty-foot fall to the ledge below, but she could survive it.

Kavaline opened her mouth. Every pair of eyes watched her.

"My lady, we are dreadfully sorry. I do not know what came over her."

"Clearly," Maud said, her tone dry, "some people just can't handle their coffee."

A light ripple of laughter spread through the gathering.

"You are most gracious," the bride said.

Oh, you have no idea. "I implore you, think nothing of it. Please excuse me, I must now change."

"We wouldn't dream of keeping you."

Try and you'll regret it.

***

Maud gritted her teeth as the long elevator sped downward, through a shaft carved in the heart of the mountain. Getting the sticky coffee mess out of her hair had taken forever. Getting it off her armor had taken even longer. She'd had no time to apply any cosmetics or make herself in any way presentable.

She was never fond of caking makeup on her face, but she'd always loved eye shadow and mascara. In exile, mascara became an unattainable luxury and often a hinderance. Having mascara bleed into your eyes while you sweated buckets trying to kill an opponent twice your size before she did you in wasn't exactly a winning strategy. But as soon as Maud had gotten to the inn, Dina invited her to raid her makeup stash. Maud had worn eye shadow, mascara, and a light lipstick every day since landing on this planet. Now, her face was bare, her hair was wet, because she didn't dare to waste three minutes drying it, and she still, somehow, smelled of that damn coffee.

Maud tapped her foot. The elevator refused to descend faster.

This was not the way she intended to appear at the hunt. If the hunts she'd attended were anything to go by, this would be an almost ceremonial occasion. Everyone would look their best as they rode in a procession. Armor polished, weapons ready, hair styled. When they finally tracked down whatever they were hunting, the strikers would move forward and close in for the kill. The strikers were determined in advance. To be chosen was an honor, and she was sure the strikers for this hunt would be the groom, the bride, possibly Arland, Otubar, Ilemina or Karat. Whoever was chosen from House Krahr would be there solely to make sure the bride and groom got the kill. Everyone would cheer and record the event so later it could be shown to family and friends. Then, the whole party would turn around and go home.

All she had to do was get to the stables on time, ride in the middle of the procession, exchanging pleasantries and looking well put together, then express admiration at the strategic moment, and ride back. She couldn't even manage that. She was at least ten minutes late. More like fifteen. And that's if they'd left on time.

Maud tapped her foot again. The elevator kept going with a soft whisper. She'd checked the message from Helen again. Her daughter's excited face flashed before her, projected from her harbinger. "Hurry up, Mommy. We're going on a hunt." A message from Ilemina had followed. "I have your child with me." Which didn't sound ominous at all. Maud heaved a sigh. Damn vampires.

The elevator finally stopped. The doors parted, opening to a tunnel leading to wide open doors. Daylight flooded the doorway. Maud broke into a jog and emerged into the sunshine.

A wide pathway, completely straight and paved with flat stones, rolled out before her, leading to a gate. On both sides of her, large corrals lined the path, secured by massive fences. Behind each row of corrals lay a large stable. The corrals were empty.

The vihr, the big-boned massive mounts vampires preferred, were gone.

She spun around and saw the Stablemaster off to the side. Middle-aged, huge, grizzled, with a mane of reddish hair going to gray, he scowled, checking something on his harbinger. A younger male vampire with grayish skin and jet-black hair stood next to him with a long-suffering expression. Maud strode to them.

"Salutations," Maud said. "Where is the hunting party?"

The Stablemaster didn't look up. "Gone."

"Gone where?"

He stopped and gave her a flat look. "Hunting."

"In which direction?"

"North."

"I need a mount."

The Chatty Cathy of the vampire world favored her with another look. "I don't have any."

"You were supposed to hold a vihr for me."

"Someone took it. Hunting. North."

Maud summoned the last reserves of her willpower and kept her voice calm. "Do you have any other mounts that I could ride?"

"No."

Okay. "Do you have any mounts at all here? Anything that can run fast?"

The young stable hand glanced at her. "We have savoks. But you can't ride the damn things." He looked at the Stablemaster. "Why do we even have them?"

"Gift from the Horde, after Nexus," the Stablemaster said.

Maud's heart sped up. The otrokar of the Hope-Crushing Horde lived in the saddle. They prized mounts like treasure. They wouldn't offer a gift of anything less than spectacular.

"I'll take a savok," she said.

"The hell you will," the Stablemaster growled. "They will throw you, trample you, gut you with those claws, and bite your head off. And then I'll never hear the end of it from the Marshal."

That did it. She didn't have time to argue this. "You had orders to provide me with a mount. Bring the savoks or I'll get them myself."

"Fine."

The Stablemaster flicked his fingers at his harbinger. The closest gate in the stable on their left opened. Metal clanged and three savoks galloped into the corral. Two were the typical rust red and one was white, an albino. Incredibly rare. The sun caught the velvety short hair of their pelts, and they almost shone as they ran. If they were horses, they would be at least eighteen hands at the withers. Muscular, with four sturdy but lean legs, they moved with agility and speed. Their hind legs ended in hoofs, their front had three fused fingers and a raptor-like dewclaw. Their thick, short necks supported long heads armed with powerful jaws that hadn't been seen on Earth since the extinction of bear dogs and hell pigs. They thundered past her, the white male flashing her a vicious look from its emerald-green eyes, and kept running along the fence, testing the boundaries of the enclosure, their narrow long tails whipping behind them. They took her breath away. Growing up in her parents' inn, Maud had seen hundreds of otrokar mounts, but none quite like these three.

The savoks came around again, snapping their fangs at them as they passed. The big male drove his shoulder into the fence and bounced off. They galloped on.

"Told you," the Stablemaster said. "Un-rideable."

They had no idea of these animals' value. By otrokar standards, these were priceless.

The vampires, with their crushing physical power, evolved on a planet rich in woods. They were ambush predators. They hid and sprang at their prey, overpowering it. They were not great runners or great riders, and their mounts, huge, sturdy vihr, who had more in common with bulls and rhinos than racing horses, served their purpose perfectly. They could be loaded with staggering weight, carry it for hours, and they were guaranteed to deliver you from point A to B. They wouldn't do it quickly or gracefully, but they would get you where you needed to go.

The otrokar home world was a place of endless plains. The otrokar were lean and hard, and they could run for miles to exhaust their prey. Their mounts were like them; fast, agile, and tireless. They would eat anything: grass, leftovers, prey they could run to ground, and they were as smart as they were savage.

The savoks kicked the fence. They seemed stir-crazy. "When was the last time they were even out?"

"We let them out once a week," the stable hand said.

Maud resisted the urge to scream. She had to resist very hard.

"Did they provide you with saddles?"

"Yes," the stable hand said.

"Bring me one. The one that came with the white one."

"How will I know which one it is?"

She closed her eyes for a few painful seconds. "The one that has white embroidery."

The stable hand looked at the Stablemaster. The older vampire shrugged. "Go get it."

She didn't wait for the saddle. The savoks had halted at the far end of the corral. Maud climbed the heavy metal fence.

"Hey!" The Stablemaster roared.

The white savok saw her and pawed the ground, preparing for a charge.

Maud inhaled and stuck two fingers into her mouth. A shrill whistle cut through the air.

The savoks froze.

The Stablemaster had lumbered over to the fence and was obviously trying to decide if he should grab Maud and pull her back.

When Dina told Maud about brokering peace on Nexus, she'd mentioned the Khanum, the wife of the Khan, and her children. They were northerners; they would train their savoks in the northern way. Maud whistled again, changing the pitch. The savoks dashed to her. The Stablemaster made a lunge for her, but she jumped off the fence, down into the corral.

The white savok reached her and reared, pawing the air with his forelegs. Behind her, the Stablemaster swore.

"So beautiful," Maud told the savok. "Such sharp claws. Such a pretty boy." He wouldn't know what she was saying but he would recognize and respond to the tone of voice.

She whistled again, a soft ululating sound, and the savoks pranced around her, nudging her with their muzzles and showing off impressive sharp teeth. The white male hopped in place like a wolf dancing in the snow to scare the mice out of

hiding.

"So good. So imposing."

She whistled again. The white savok bent his knees, laid his head down, and waited. She vaulted onto his back and hugged his neck. He leaped up and took off in a dizzying gallop, circling the corral. It took all of her strength to stay on his back. Finally, she whistled him to a slow trot.

The Stablemaster and his helper, a traditional otrokar saddle in his hands, stared at her, openmouthed. She rode the savok a bit more and dismounted. "The saddle."

The stable hand passed it to her through the fence.

"Does the white one have a name?"

"Attura."

Ghost.

Perfect. Let's hope he can fly like one.

She was so late.

***

The green plain flew by as Attura dashed through the grass. The savok hadn't run for a while, and the moment she gave him free rein, he burst into a gallop. For a few happy breaths, after they started off from the stables, Maud let all of her anxiety go and lost herself to the exhilaration of the wind, speed, and power of the beast below her. Attura ran, fueled by the pure joy of it. She felt that joy and, swept up in his need to run free, she let him do it and shared in it. Eventually though, reality came back like a heavy blanket wrapping around her. She checked her harbinger. They had swung too far to the west, nearing the mesas rising on her left. The hunting party rode through the center of the plain, to the east and just about four miles ahead. Reluctantly, she shifted in the saddle, whistling softly. Attura whined, slowing.

"I know, I know." She promised herself that the next time she had a few hours free, she would bring Attura back out here and let him run himself out. But now they had a hunting party to catch.

The savok settled into a fast canter, which wasn't really the best term. The canter of Earth horses was a three-beat gait, while the savok launched himself forward with his powerful hind legs and pawed at the ground with his forelimbs. It was a stride more reminiscent of a wolf or a greyhound. But it was one rung slower than his sprint, so she called it a canter. Maud steered her mount on an interception course and soon they found a comfortable rhythm.

She checked her harbinger again. It obediently projected the target of the hunt, a large vaguely feline beast the size of a rhinoceros with dark-green fur marked by splotches of deep rust red. The House Krahr Huntmaster was tracking it, but the main hunting party, and Maud, had no idea where it would come from. The vampires didn't like hunts with training wheels.

Daesyn really was a beautiful planet, Maud decided. Soft green grass with flashes of turquoise and gold lined the floor of the plain. Mesas rose on both sides, the gray stone of their walls weathered by rain and sun to almost white. The sky was tinted with emerald green, the golden sun shone bright, and the wind smelled of wildflowers. It was so easy to lose herself in it all and just breathe.

The mesa on her left curved, protruding. Maud rounded it. Far ahead, a long procession trotted across the plain, the massive vihr stomping forward like they were trying to crush the ground with every step, like oversized tan Clydesdales. She was too far off to hear the hoofbeats, but her mind supplied the sound all the same. Boom. Boom. Boom. They were moving kind of fast. They must have sighted the prey.

Her harbinger chimed, synchronizing, and projected a stylized map, tagging the individual vampires in the party. Eight people in the lead represented by red triangles, followed by a larger group of white triangles, followed by a smattering of green circles. Red signified the killing team, white indicated adults, and green was reserved for children.

"Tag Helen."

Among the green circles, one turned yellow. She was in the center of the group of children. Likely protected by several sentinels and perfectly safe. Still, the fights were unpredictable.

I really am getting too paranoid.

As if on cue, the hunting party split. The red group at the front peeled off, the slow vihr speeding up. The white group remained steady, holding to their original course.

If she didn't hurry, she would miss the kill. She couldn't offer congratulations to the soon-to-be-married couple unless she actually witnessed them bringing the beast down.

Maud gave a short harsh whistle, and Attura surged forward.

A distant roar shook the air. A huge creature burst from between the mesas, running for the killing team, his green fur blurring with the grass. Damn it.

The killing team fanned out, seeking to flank the beast. It would be over in a matter of minutes.

Her harbinger screamed, the shriek of alarm piercing her. Something was happening in the main procession. The formation broke, too chaotic to see. On her display, a big red dot appeared in the mass of green circles.

Panic punched her. Maud threw her weight forward, almost lying on Attura's neck. The beast galloped with all his might.

Individual riders shot out of the procession in all directions. She chanced a quick glance at the projection. There were three red dots now. The children were fleeing, while the adults bunched at the center, trying to contain the threat. The yellow circle indicating Helen angled southwest, another green circle in her wake.

Maud shifted her weight to her left, and the savok angled west.

The group of vampires broke, bodies flying, and through the gap Maud glimpsed a creature. Enormous, mottled gray and stained with dirt and reddish clay, the hulking beast bellowed, swinging its huge scaled head side to side. It caught a knight and the force of the blow hurled him off his mount. The orphaned vihr screamed. The beast's great jaws unhinged and clamped the vihr. The creature swung away and a bloody half of the vihr toppled to the ground.

What the hell was that? It looked like a dragon. A huge scaled dragon.

She had to get to Helen. She had to get to Helen now.

Another dragon, this one pale yellow like an old bone, tore out of the clump of the vampires, and charged southwest. The two riders on juvenile vihr kept fleeing, oblivious to the danger.

It's going after the children.

Maud screamed. Helen's head whipped around. She looked over her shoulder and shrieked.

Maud fused with Attura as if they were one creature, willing him to go faster.

The vihr were running for their lives, the kids bouncing in their saddles, but they weren't fast enough. The dragon came after them, paw over paw, like a sprinting crocodile, jaws gaping, a forest of fangs wet with its drool.

It was gaining.

Faster. Faster!

They were almost there. Almost. A few dozen yards.

The dragon lunged, roaring. The teeth. Huge teeth.

This wasn't a dream. The monster from her nightmares had come to life and was trying to devour her daughter.

The little boy's vihr shied, screaming in panic, and stumbled. The boy and the beast went tumbling into the grass. The dragon loomed over them. Maud saw it all as if in slow motion, in painful clarity: Helen's terrified face, her eyes opened wide, her hands on the vihr's reins; the vihr turning, obeying her jerk; and then she was on the ground, between the boy and the dragon.

Twenty yards to her daughter.

A sound ripped the air around Maud, so loud it was almost deafening. A small clinical part of her told her she was howling like an animal, trying to make herself into a threat.

Helen drew her blades.

The dragon opened its mouth. Its head plunged down and Helen disappeared. Something broke inside Maud. Something almost forgotten that lived deep in the very center of her being, in the place where innkeepers drew their power when they connected to their inn. She had no inn. She had nothing, except Helen, and Helen was inside the dragon's mouth. Everything Maud was, every drop of her will, every ounce of her strength, all of it became magic directed through the narrow lens of her desperation. It tore out of her like a laser beam and she saw it, black and red and ice cold, committed to one simple purpose: Stop!

Time froze. The dragon halted, locked and immobile, and the bulge about to travel up its neck stopped in its tracks. The vihr, one fallen, the other about to bolt, stood in place, petrified. The vampire boy sprawled in the grass, unmoving. This is the magic of an ad-hal, that same clinical voice informed her. You shouldn't be able to do this.

But she was moving through the stillness, her sword in her hand, and as Attura tore into the dragon's hide, Maud slit a gash in its cheek. Blood gushed, red and hot. Maud thrust her arm into the cut. Her fingers caught hair and she grabbed a fistful of it and pulled. She couldn't move it, so she planted her feet, dropped her sword, and thrust both arms into the wound. Her hands found fabric. She grasped it and pulled.

The weight shifted under her hands.

The edges of the gaping cut tore wider.

Her daughter fell into the grass, soaked in spit.

Is she dead? Please, please, please, please...

Helen took a deep, shuddering breath and screamed.

The magic shattered.

The dragon roared in pain and swiped at Attura, who was clinging to its neck. The savok went flying, flipped in midair, landed on all fours like a cat, and charged back in.

The dream haunting her since she arrived on Daesyn burst inside her, popping like a soap bubble, and in a flash, she remembered everything: her parents' inn, the monstrous dragon, the deep inhuman voice that reverberated through her bones, "Give me the child."

There were two children behind her, and she was the only thing between them and the dragon.

Maud attacked. She tore at it with all the savagery of a mother forced into a corner. She stabbed it, she cut it, she pierced it, her blood blade the embodiment of her rage. There was no fear left. She'd burned it all in the terrifying instant she saw Helen being swallowed. Only fury and icy determination remained.

The dragon struck at her and she dodged. When it caught her with a swipe, she rolled back to her feet and came back in, her teeth bared in a feral snarl. She stabbed it in the throat. When it tried to pin her with its claws, she cut off the talons. She wasn't a whirlwind, she wasn't a wildfire; she was precise, calculating, and cold, and she cut pieces off of it one by one, while Attura ripped into the monster's flesh.

The dragon reared, a bleeding wreck, one eye a bloody hole, paws disfigured, and roared. She must have lost her mind, because she roared back. It came down on her, trying to trap her with its colossal weight. She had the crazy notion of holding her blood blade and letting it impale itself, then something hit her from the side, carrying her out of the way. The dragon smashed into the ground, and in a lightning flash of sanity, Maud realized she would have been crushed. Arland dropped her to her feet. His mace whined, and he charged the dragon, his face a mask of rage. She laughed and dove back into the slaughter.

They cut and slashed and crushed together. At some point she caught a glimpse of the children stabbing at the crippled dragon's legs. Finally, it swayed like a colossus on sand feet. They drew back and it crashed to the ground. Its remaining

eye closed. It lay unmoving.

Maud gripped her sword, unsure if it was over. She had to make sure. She started forward, aiming for its face.

Arland rose out of the gore, jumped up onto the dragon's head, and raised his mace, gripping it with both hands. They hit it at the same time. She sank her blade as deep as it would go in its remaining eye, while he crushed its skull with

repeated blows.

They stared at each other, both bloody.

Helen hugged Maud's leg, her lip trembling. Arland slid off the dragon's ruined head and clamped them to him.

His voice came out strained. "I thought I lost you both."

Maud raised her head and kissed him, blood and all, not caring who was watching or what they thought.