“You know, I’m done talking with you,” Caldera said. She stepped back into a combat stance and beckoned. “Bring it.”
“I gave you one warning,” I said softly. “This is your second. That’s more than I’m in the habit of giving these days.”
Caldera spat.
I closed in. Caldera held her ground, watching me narrowly. I made a few attacks, probing. Caldera batted them away but didn’t try to counter. She was fighting defensively, not giving any openings.
I’d sparred against Caldera many times, back when we were both Keepers. Once we’d had a chance to get a feel for each other, the matches had usually ended in stalemate. Caldera wasn’t quick enough to catch me, and I wasn’t strong enough to hurt her. In the end I’d have to back off, or be worn down.
I slipped past Caldera’s guard to hit her with a palm strike to the head. The impact stung and jarred my arm; Caldera barely noticed. I withdrew slowly, leaving a clear opening, but again Caldera didn’t take it. She just watched, eyes hard and suspicious.
No good. I wasn’t going to lure her into a trap. Well, in that case . . .
I focused my magesight on the spells reinforcing Caldera’s body. The earth magic flowed through her limbs, sluggish and heavy. In one pocket I carried a slim metal dispel focus. It could break Caldera’s protective spells, leave her vulnerable. Trouble was, I’d used that trick before, and Caldera would be expecting it. She’d pull back instantly, giving ground while she rebuilt her spells, and she could do it fast.
Well, I’d give her what she expected, then.
I slid the dispel focus into my left hand, my dagger into my right. I kept them concealed, but Caldera shifted her stance in reaction. I began circling, feinting and sliding, looking for an opening. As I did I began to weave together a future, twining several strands to converge on a single target.
The future grew, strengthened, drew closer. I feinted again and struck.
The dispel focus discharged into Caldera’s side. A pulse of countermagic surged through her body and instantly she jumped back, weaving a new set of spells to replace her defences.
I pushed with the fateweaver, the future snapping into place. The spells I’d disrupted went wild, maintaining their pattern but discharging their energies in the wrong way. Surges of strength went through Caldera’s muscles, uneven and erratic; her stoneskin magic poured all its energy into hardening parts of her body while leaving others unprotected.
Caldera staggered, almost falling. Her new spells fizzled out; the malfunctioning spells were blocking them. To fix the whole mess she’d have to rebuild it from scratch. I wasn’t going to give her that long.
I attacked again and this time Caldera struck hard, trying to drive me away. I ducked the punch and sliced her arm, the blade cutting across an unprotected piece of flesh. Caldera flinched and pulled away. She gave ground, trying to gain herself the chance to rebuild her defences, and I pressed her harder.
My knife stabbed, opening up wounds in Caldera’s shoulder and thigh. Her movements had lost their smoothness: they were jerky, almost fearful. It was probably the first time Caldera had ever been cut with a blade; all of a sudden she was discovering that when you aren’t invulnerable, knives are scary. I drove her back against one of the rough stone walls, getting in close. Caldera swung a hook; I ducked and the punch smashed chips out of the rock face, and as it did my knife sank into her gut.
Caldera lost her breath in a gasp. I pulled back slightly, watching Caldera put a hand to her lower stomach. It came away red, and she looked up at me in shock.
“Last warning,” I said quietly. “Walk away.”
Emotions flashed across Caldera’s face; shame, fear, rage, others too fleeting to read. The futures jumped wildly. A dozen Calderas stood and fought, walked away, went berserk and attacked, broke down and screamed. Flicker-flicker-flicker . . .
The futures settled. Caldera stared at me in pure hatred. “Screw you.”
My face hardened and I moved in.
Though Caldera still had her magic, and though her wounds weren’t crippling, what followed was more like an execution than a battle. The stone wall heaved, trying to pull me in, and Caldera swung wildly, her punches still carrying enough force to kill. I evaded, stabbed, stabbed again. Red bloomed on Caldera’s shirt and jacket. Caldera tried to tangle my feet and I put my blade through her thigh. The only sound was the panting of breath, and the scuff and thump of footsteps on the tile. Light flashed on my knife, blood dripping to the floor.
Caldera broke away, bleeding from a dozen wounds. I watched her steadily as she pulled herself upright, trying to rally. I’d taken a couple of bruises, no more. Our eyes met and I saw a kind of dawning realisation, then her expression went blank.
I don’t know why Caldera went in for that last attack. I think at some level she had to know what was going to happen, the battle experience that had served her for so many years turning on her at the end. Maybe she just didn’t know how to do things any other way. Or maybe she was like so many battle-mages, and when it came right down to it, she could never really believe that someone as tough as her could ever lose to someone like me.
I met Caldera’s rush with my own. Her strike missed. Mine didn’t.
Caldera staggered, turning to me with an odd sort of surprise. Then, slowly, she crumpled to the floor.
I looked down at Caldera. She was still breathing. My knife was red with her blood, and I looked from her to the blade and back to her again. Seconds stretched out as I hesitated.
Then, from the direction of the entrance hall, I heard the sound of clapping.
I turned to see Anne, strolling towards me unhurriedly. “Nice,” she said with a smile. “Very nice.”
“What were you doing?” I snapped. I forced my muscles to stay still to stop my hands from shaking. “Sightseeing?”
“Oh, I’ve been watching for a while,” Anne said. “Was tempted to step in, but I figured it wasn’t fair if I got to have all the fun.” She nodded down at Caldera. “Do you mind?”
I paused, then stepped aside.
“Thanks.” Anne crossed the room and knelt at Caldera’s side, careless of the spreading blood. “Huh, you really did a number on her. Did you drag it out on purpose?”
“No.”
“I would have.” Green light glowed around Anne’s hand, her life magic weaving through Caldera’s body.
“What are you doing?”
Anne rose to her feet, brushing off her hands. “Just first aid.”
I looked down and saw that the blood had stopped spreading. “Why? You’ve never liked her.”
“Hey, don’t make it sound like it was my fault,” Anne said. “She hated me from the first time we met. Tried to hide it with that I’m-an-impartial-Keeper act, but I could tell. And that was before she suffocated me.”
“Why the act of mercy then?” I asked. “Also, where’s Barrayar?”
For answer, Anne clicked her fingers. Four of the summoned jann stalked in from the entrance hall. One of them was carrying Barrayar in its claws, the mage’s head and arms hanging limp. I scanned ahead and saw that Barrayar was alive but unconscious.
I looked at Anne, eyes narrowed.
“What?” Anne asked innocently.
“What are you up to?”
“Me?”
Two of the jann stalked past, their eyes resting on me coldly as they passed. They bent down and picked Caldera up, shifting under her weight. “You’re taking prisoners now?” I said. “Why?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“You telling me that is a very good reason to worry about it.”
“Oh, relax,” Anne said. “People are more useful alive than dead, right? Seems like the sort of thing you’d say.” The jann turned and began moving in the direction of the entrance hall, leaving us behind. “Anyway, this is where I get off.”