There, just a little way away stood Abioye, dried blood covering half his face as he raised his own long sword in his grip and pointed it straight at Nol Baggar. “I said, leave her alone. Now.”
Chapter 23
The Stone Crown
Abioye was filled with a determination and purpose that I had never seen in him before—but he was still sorely wounded. He wavered just a little where he stood, and I saw the tip of his blade wobbling in the air, just a fraction.
But the lordling didn’t take his eyes off of Nol Baggar, and now I saw him slide one of his feet back behind him and set both hands on his sword hilt in what looked like some sort of fighting stance.
“You!” Nol Baggar snarled at him, raising his own blade in mimicry of Abioye’s posture. Both men were injured and looking half-dead on their feet. I had no idea who could win in a fight like this.
“Leave this to me, Nari,” Abioye said to me, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on the mercenary in front of him. “He’s not going to hurt you again.”
What? I had a moment of frustration as that same old fierceness swelled my chest. Maybe I could fight my own battles! that part of me thought, but Nol Baggar interrupted me.
“Not hurt her? We’ll see about that, pretty-boy!” The mercenary captain lurched towards me, flicking his sword down—but he wasn’t as quick as he usually was, not with the injury in his side. I threw myself into a roll, past the nearest boulder that edged the trove. And the Stone Crown.
“Hyagh!” Abioye jumped forward to intercept the mercenary captain’s attack, and I heard a clang as blade met blade—and then the fight was met. Baggar lunged, but Abioye parried the blow with a practiced sweep. He was actually really good at fighting! I thought for a moment, before realizing that he had been tutored and trained at his sister’s wishes, hadn’t he? To be a lord. To rule kingdoms and armies, just like she wanted.
But now, Abioye wasn’t fighting for any realm or for any twisted sense of justice inherited from his mad sister. His face was almost expressionless as he parried and counter-attacked, for Baggar to dodge the blow and step close—
He’s fighting for me. To save me, I thought, as my heart leapt into my mouth.
The two men fought like wild lions, each blow faster and more deadly than the next, testing each other with a tumult of blows before springing apart to breathe, and slowly circle around each other before engaging again. The fight might have been different if Nol Baggar was at his full strength, but as I crouched by the boulder, I couldn’t be sure. Abioye had seemed to have been transformed by his injuries, not crippled by them.
Like he had finally become who he was meant to be, I thought, as I knew that this was my chance, too. I could get the Stone Crown. And Inyene would never get her hands on it…
As the two men fought, I pressed myself through the gap between the boulders to once again see the Stone Crown lying there, invitingly. And once again I felt that surge of power rush over me. It was like the tingle in the air that came on the superheated, hot and balmy evenings in late summer. The same sensation that preceded a lightning storm. I was struck by a small moment of doubt—a premonition of a storm approaching—but I brushed it aside as I reached into the nook with both hands to seize the Stone Crown.
“Little Sister! Nari!” Ymmen’s voice was hot and loud in my mind, startling me just as I put my hands on the crown.
Instantly, all noise of the duel raging just a little way away stopped, and a wave of calm washed over me. I could still feel Ymmen on the edge of my mind, but his concern and worry appeared a faraway thing. I knew that his concern didn’t matter, not really, not now.
“Everything is going to be all right,” I murmured, and wondered whether I was talking about Abioye’s and Baggar’s fight, or Ymmen’s agitation, or the mechanical dragons that were coming in, hot and clashing, to the assembled people above.
We have the Crown now. A sense of purpose settled on my shoulders. I have the Crown.
The stone felt cool and refreshing under my hands. The Earth Lights glowed their blue glow, seeming to grow stronger as I lifted the crown to me. To my head.
The sounds of the duel were still there in the background, but that didn’t matter now as I set the Stone Crown on my head and felt it slide easily to the top of my brow. It was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. I wondered at the luck that made it fit my head so perfectly…
I wondered at how long the Stone Crown had lain here, undisturbed. For centuries, probably. A thousand years, perhaps. And after all of that time, it was my hands that were the first to touch it. It was on the head of a young Daza woman who had never even been to the shining citadel of Torvald or ever seen a ‘proper’ Dragon Rider.
For a wild moment I was caught up in all of that history that this cool crown of stone had lived through, quietly—dormant. I got a curious notion that this Stone Crown was like a seed in the middle of a vast forest, awaiting its moment to sprout. I could sense all of that history as a web, with the Stone Crown at its center, and every action and event—from wars to battling dragons—could trace its way back here, to the old high Queen Delia’s most treasured artifact.
This is where it all began, the thought struck me. At least for the Three Kingdoms, anyway. This simple, somewhat heavy, circle of stone—
“NARI!” A sudden shout from behind me jolted me out of my thoughts. It was Naroba, and her voice was tight and horrified. I spun around to see what had happened to see that my rival had pushed herself into a crouch on her bed of sand and was pointing at the duel raging in the cavern.
The fight was going badly for Abioye, I could see. The young man had lost his earlier speed and force and was now being pushed back by the more experienced mercenary. Nol Baggar had probably fought in countless skirmishes, after all—this was something he knew how to do—and something that he appeared to be taking delight in, despite his current condition.
“Guard up!” the mercenary shouted with some glee as he hammered home an obvious, easy-to-deflect overhead strike. Abioye punched upward with his blade to parry the blow, but his arm shook with the effort. He lurched to one side and didn’t even offer a counter-blow as Nol Baggar roared his sarcasm once again.
“Come on, Abioye! Remember whatever foppish, weak classes a guy like you went through—” Nol Baggar swept his sword around in a sideways strike. “Right guard!”
Abioye thrust the blow away.
“Left guard!” Another roar from Baggar, and another parry from Abioye.
“Leg guard!” This time a downward sweeping blow towards Abioye’s right leg. Another parry as my friend reversed his sword’s direction to protect his lower body.
“Guard up!” Nol Baggar shouted again for another, predictable, overhead smash. But even though Abioye was expertly catching and deflecting every blow—I could see the force that the mercenary captain was putting behind every sweep. He’s not even trying to kill him, I understood in a flash. He’s trying to tire him—
Abioye once more stumbled back, too tired to do much of anything else than respond obediently to the captain’s rudimentary practice—
And then it happened.
Abioye’s back foot slipped on the outward spray of sand, and he wobbled for a fraction of a second in place as he fought to maintain his balance. Abioye’s sword flashed out to the next expected parry in the mercenary’s cycle of attacks—it should have been his right-hand side guard—only it wasn’t.