Spring 44th, evening, 513 AV
Zandelia was thinking. Her mind worked over the details of the not-Ana she’d met in the market place. Evalin, she called herself, but there were too many inaccuracies, they bugged her with their multitude. It wasn’t till she put her hand on the door to her room, that the revelation hit her, giving her pause before she entered. She’d walked like a man pretending to be a woman…not an uncommon practice in Sunberth for the particularly thin among the Nighteyes, but it was more than that…wasn’t it? Yes, it wasn’t that she had failed at acting like a woman, moving like a woman, it was as if she was untrained to deal with BEING a woman. There was no exaggerated gait, it was as constrained as it could be. She was a woman who had tried to walk like a man.
And that. That was interesting. Maybe she’d stop by the infirmary to check on Neilles, perhaps tell her about Evalin. Yes. That would be the next logical step. Revy wouldn’t be back till later, likely honing her skills or still getting familiar with the city. When Amelias stepped into the room, it was dark. Ordinarily, this was no strange occurance, but something told the seasoned fighter something was wrong.
Too dark to see. Only wood to the touch. But…it was the smell.
It smelled like a man.
Zandelia pulled her tonfas up as a sliver streak struck from the darkness toward her, catching the long dagger against one of the tonfas, reversing it along her arm to prevent it from slicing and then pumping it forward, knocking the dagger back.
There was fire in the room. Bedside candles burst into new life and cast flickering shadows across the room. The man before her was tall…not nearly so tall as Ximal, but enough to warn caution. He had a long dagger in his right and left, turning them over in his hands with an uncomfortable skill. Zandelia hissed. Magic. She didn’t need auristics to tell her that no candle she knew leaped eagerly to the sight of battle.
She was wholly unprepared.
But the door behind her shut, swinging as she turned to prevent it from closing, but not fast enough to stop it. Not that she would have. The moment she turned, her assailant charged. He led awkwardly with his daggers, as if unaccustomed to using them in tandem. He led with one over the other. Zandelia ducked down as the first strike passed over her, rolling along the wall and swinging her arm out in an arc, determined to catch his elbow and shatter the arm. But he was snake-quick, and the other dagger angled to catch the tonfa. She spun it, displaced the edge, firmed it along her forearm and thrust outward, up toward his gut. The cloak around him fell around him, black cascading falls. But she didn’t have time to question the odd wardrobe choice for pitched combat. It wouldn’t matter anyways.
But it did.
Her tonfa hit the cloth like stee l, with a muffled clang. Zandelia was surprised, shocked even, but did not have time to consider the ramifications. She was up, strafing sideways to stand straight as her assailant followed. Tonfa met dagger, spinning out and back, defense and offense in a moment. But he was unlike any Zandelia had faced before. The way he moved, the fluid way he followed the dagger’s thrust and curve. It was like fighting water, like fighting Ximal with his towering mastery.
Both blades came forward and she caught them with her tonfas, he put his weight against it, trying to force her down. Zandelia shifted her weight sideways, letting him fall, still against the tonfa and disengaged one from the tangle, twisting around and bringing it down against his back. Again the thump of metal, but before she could withdraw, there was a sharp pain.
At her waist half an inch into her stomach, a dagger tasted her blood. Impossible. He’d need to reverse his grip on the dagger in an instant to bring it around that fast. She leaped away from him, spinning her tonfa up, back to the door. She was vulnerable here. Surprised and perhaps outfought, she needed to escape. Now. They engaged once more, all flashing metal and the ring of combat. And then she fell back, grabbed a candle around its base and hurled it at the assassin. Certainly the fire would distract…
But the candle went out before it hit him, snuffed in an instant, and he cut it out of the air with his blade.
“Not bad, Zandelia,” the assassin chuckled, sheathing his blades, “I needed to know you had not grown stagnant in the time I saw you last.” He held a hand out to a chair as he took a seat on the bed. “Come now, I’ve travelled a long way from Sunberth to find you. Certainly you’ll at least let me talk.”
Zandelia was thinking. Her mind worked over the details of the not-Ana she’d met in the market place. Evalin, she called herself, but there were too many inaccuracies, they bugged her with their multitude. It wasn’t till she put her hand on the door to her room, that the revelation hit her, giving her pause before she entered. She’d walked like a man pretending to be a woman…not an uncommon practice in Sunberth for the particularly thin among the Nighteyes, but it was more than that…wasn’t it? Yes, it wasn’t that she had failed at acting like a woman, moving like a woman, it was as if she was untrained to deal with BEING a woman. There was no exaggerated gait, it was as constrained as it could be. She was a woman who had tried to walk like a man.
And that. That was interesting. Maybe she’d stop by the infirmary to check on Neilles, perhaps tell her about Evalin. Yes. That would be the next logical step. Revy wouldn’t be back till later, likely honing her skills or still getting familiar with the city. When Amelias stepped into the room, it was dark. Ordinarily, this was no strange occurance, but something told the seasoned fighter something was wrong.
Too dark to see. Only wood to the touch. But…it was the smell.
It smelled like a man.
Zandelia pulled her tonfas up as a sliver streak struck from the darkness toward her, catching the long dagger against one of the tonfas, reversing it along her arm to prevent it from slicing and then pumping it forward, knocking the dagger back.
There was fire in the room. Bedside candles burst into new life and cast flickering shadows across the room. The man before her was tall…not nearly so tall as Ximal, but enough to warn caution. He had a long dagger in his right and left, turning them over in his hands with an uncomfortable skill. Zandelia hissed. Magic. She didn’t need auristics to tell her that no candle she knew leaped eagerly to the sight of battle.
She was wholly unprepared.
But the door behind her shut, swinging as she turned to prevent it from closing, but not fast enough to stop it. Not that she would have. The moment she turned, her assailant charged. He led awkwardly with his daggers, as if unaccustomed to using them in tandem. He led with one over the other. Zandelia ducked down as the first strike passed over her, rolling along the wall and swinging her arm out in an arc, determined to catch his elbow and shatter the arm. But he was snake-quick, and the other dagger angled to catch the tonfa. She spun it, displaced the edge, firmed it along her forearm and thrust outward, up toward his gut. The cloak around him fell around him, black cascading falls. But she didn’t have time to question the odd wardrobe choice for pitched combat. It wouldn’t matter anyways.
But it did.
Her tonfa hit the cloth like stee l, with a muffled clang. Zandelia was surprised, shocked even, but did not have time to consider the ramifications. She was up, strafing sideways to stand straight as her assailant followed. Tonfa met dagger, spinning out and back, defense and offense in a moment. But he was unlike any Zandelia had faced before. The way he moved, the fluid way he followed the dagger’s thrust and curve. It was like fighting water, like fighting Ximal with his towering mastery.
Both blades came forward and she caught them with her tonfas, he put his weight against it, trying to force her down. Zandelia shifted her weight sideways, letting him fall, still against the tonfa and disengaged one from the tangle, twisting around and bringing it down against his back. Again the thump of metal, but before she could withdraw, there was a sharp pain.
At her waist half an inch into her stomach, a dagger tasted her blood. Impossible. He’d need to reverse his grip on the dagger in an instant to bring it around that fast. She leaped away from him, spinning her tonfa up, back to the door. She was vulnerable here. Surprised and perhaps outfought, she needed to escape. Now. They engaged once more, all flashing metal and the ring of combat. And then she fell back, grabbed a candle around its base and hurled it at the assassin. Certainly the fire would distract…
But the candle went out before it hit him, snuffed in an instant, and he cut it out of the air with his blade.
“Not bad, Zandelia,” the assassin chuckled, sheathing his blades, “I needed to know you had not grown stagnant in the time I saw you last.” He held a hand out to a chair as he took a seat on the bed. “Come now, I’ve travelled a long way from Sunberth to find you. Certainly you’ll at least let me talk.”
