Adelina the Sorrowful Blade stood at the crossroads, standing beneath the statue that pointed, at this very moment, back the way she had come, into the Greatwood Forest. She was wearing her black chainmail, sans helmet and wore Maze’s sword (which she had taken to calling the Betrayer’s Blade) across her back. She stared down the path at the Guild. In the pre-dawn gloom, the castle was grim and foreboding, rising out of the mist like an ancient sentinel.
She took a deep breath and screwed her courage to the sticking place. She had Twinblade’s broken Guild Seal dangling from the hilt of the Betrayer’s Blade, all the proof she needed to convince Maze she had completed his quest. She did not intend on staying in the Guild Castle for long; she needed to make a journey to Knothole Glade and, from there, to the Arena. A minstrel had sought her out by name in Oakvale, bearing a message for her.
Adelina,
I have been invited to compete in the Arena. I’ve decided to do it. I’d like for you to be in attendance.
~Sabre
It seemed that Sabre was going to fulfill the predictions made when he earned his Seal. He had yet to reach twenty, was not even nineteen summers of age, and he was going to compete in the Arena. She did not know if he would become an Arena Champion, that was a feat that seemed beyond even him, but it was a great honor to just be invited. Quick and deadly, she knew he would do well, though.
But her pleasure at his success wavered before her need to test him, to test all of the young Guild Warriors that were her friends and the experienced Guild Warriors that she had grown up idolizing. She did not think any of them would betray her.
But I once believed that Maze was like a father to me. The thought was sad and tinged with bitter hatred.
She started walking again as the sky lightened to a steely gray in anticipation of the dawn. She was ushered into the Guild by a hooded apprentice and she saw the Guild Master laying Quest Cards on the Map Table. His eyes widened when he saw Twinblade’s broken Guild Seal dangling from the pommel of her sword and she knew that her reputation would be bolstered by this victory, false though it was. She inclined her head to him but bypassed the Map Table on her way up the stairs. She paused outside the door to the room she had shared with Whisper.
Why did I come back here? None of my friends live here anymore.
She opened the door silently and stepped into the room.
And I don’t live here anymore, either, it would seem.
A young girl, perhaps thirteen years old, was sleeping in Whisper’s bed. A boy about the same age was sleeping in her bed. She sighed and closed the door, stepping back into the hall. She would have to find a steward and locate the box with her things in it. As she stepped out into the training grounds, she spotted a light burning in Maze’s tower.
Might as well get this over with.
She needed to show him the trophy, to close the Quest and be done with him. She entered the tower and ascended the serpentine stairs. She paused below the landing as she heard the sleepy murmur of voices. Her armor made silence impossible so she did not bother. She walked boldly up the last curve of stone steps and across the floor. She found Maze abed with one of the Guild Apprentices, a slim young thing called Rumor, a slender and small breasted blonde that was a summer and winter shy of sixteen.
“Twinblade is dead,” she said, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the silence.
Maze sat up quickly, startled awake. Rumor yanked the covers up to her chin with a yelp and hid her flushing face by turning away and curling into a little ball. Adelina wondered if Rumor had been compelled into his bed, as she herself had been, to learn a spell or if the old Sorcerer had simply taken her with the promise of knowledge.
“Could this not have waited until morning,” Maze snapped, “as my summons of you in Oakvale did?”
“It is morning, Maze,” she said, “and just as in Oakvale, I see you’ve forced yourself on another young Guildswoman.”
Anger darkened Maze’s cheeks and mottled his neck. He rose from the bed and Rumor wrapped the sheet around her body, fleeing. Neither of them spoke again until the girl was gone.
“Jealousy ill suits you, Sorrowful Blade,” he snarled.
“You mistake jealousy for disdain, Maze,” she retorted, “and disgust. She doesn’t even have a Seal.” Her eyes pointedly turned to the bed and the evidence of Rumor’s sundered maidenhood.
Maze clenched his fists but brought himself visibly under control, becoming the sagely old councilor. “You promised me Twinblade’s head,” he reminded her.
“It was too ugly to take as a trophy. I brought his Seal as proof.”
His eyes went to the broken seal dangling from the hilt of the Betrayer’s Blade by a leather thong. A tense silence grew between them and Adelina sundered it.
“![G o o d [Good]](/emoticons/g_o_o_d.gif)
bye, Maze.”
She turned her back on him and started for the stairs. The skin between her shoulder blades crawled but she forced herself to keep walking. She did not relax until she was crossing the grassy field towards the Guild Shop. She saw Rumor running up the outer stairs that led back into the Apprentice Dormitories but ignored her. The girl would need to learn her own lessons.
It was past dawn but the town of Bowerstone was still slumbering, with only a handful of dock workers wandering the streets and the Guards sleepily standing watch or patrolling the streets. She had surrendered her arms, as dictated by the town charter, and she hurried through South Bowerstone, heading for the house near the town’s school. The door was locked but she found the spare key hidden cleverly in a cleft between two loose stones and let herself in.
Empty mugs and bottles stood on every flat surface and she stepped over boots and cloaks as she entered Sabre’s house.
They must have celebrated his invitation to the Arena.
She walked upstairs and sighed when she beheld the carnage.
Sabre was sprawled naked on top of the covers of the largest bed, with an equally nude Whisper face down beside him, drooling on the pillow. Thorn was sleeping on the other side of Whisper, perilously close to the edge of the bed, wearing one sock. Sparrowhawke was on one of the other beds, under the covers and snoring softly.
She sat on the third, unused bed, and took off her boots and armor. Picking a book off of Sabre’s shelves, ‘The Guild of Zeroes’, she leaned against the ornate headboard and waited for them to wake from their debauched slumbers. But her eyes were constantly drawn back to Whisper’s nude form. By Bloodraven’s account, he had claimed Whisper several times and had even enjoyed her with a whore called Selene in the Darkwood Bordello. She sensed the truth in those tales and, after her own experience with Bloodraven and Selene, she found herself wondering what it would be like to be with Whisper.
She looked away.
Before they had earned their Seals, Whisper had regularly slept with Sabre and with Thorn, often at the same time. She was fairly certain that Sparrowhawke had slept with her once or twice as well.
I gave myself to ‘raven and Selene at the Bordello. I sought his bedroll every night we traveled together. I let Maze use me. Does love exist for us? Do we sacrifice love for power in the Guild?
The thought that love would not or could not exist for her depressed her. She closed her book and stood up, bare feet silent on the smooth floorboards. But when she turned around with a new book in hand, something to cheer her up, she found herself looking into Sparrowhawke’s dark blue eyes.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said softly.
He stretched beneath the covers. “Walk more softly,” he said with a smile. “You jingled all the way up the stairs.”
“I meant to come later but new Apprentices had been moved into my room at the Guild.”
He smiled. “You should have come sooner. We wore poor Whisper out.”
Jealousy surged through her as she considered all the time she had wasted, the many opportunities she had to be with Sparrowhawke. She suddenly regretted giving herself to Bloodraven.
He must have seen something in her eyes. He sat up.
“I didn’t mean to offend.”
She hesitated. “I…” She could not look into his eyes any longer. “You didn’t. I…”
He rose from the bed and moved to sit next to her. He was wearing loose black pants. She had thought him naked beneath the sheets.
“What’s wrong?”
What’s wrong? I’ve wanted you since I was a girl and I’ve given myself to two men.
With the harsh light of day between her and the Barrow Fields, she now believed that the Bloodraven did not love her, had used her just as Maze had used her. Only he had been successful at seducing her where Maze had taken what he wanted.
“I…” She looked at him, deep into his eyes.
“What is it?”
Words failed her so she kissed him. After a moment, he kissed her back, his arms closing around her. She let him bear her back onto the mattress. His hands were cold, his mouth was hot, and she felt a deep, moist heat flush through her body as he slowly removed her clothes.
It was different than it had been with Maze and even the Bloodraven.
There was no pain, her body welcomed him eagerly. Their bodies sliding together, she gasped and moaned as he plunged into her, again and again. Her cries woke the others but she paid them no mind as she gave herself to Sparrowhawke. Words escaped her without conscious thought but they inspired him to greater heights of passion and he dragged her along with him. Sabre and Thorn pinned Whisper between them but she paid them no heed as she gave herself at last to her Sparrowhawke.
No shame burned in her, as it had in the aftermath of her trysts with the Bloodraven. No sick regret flooded her, as it had in the aftermath of her surrender to Maze. It was not the true love that she had read about it books but it was close enough for the moment. She couldn’t breathe. The world closed in on her and unbearable pleasure ripped through her body. His name was on her lips as her first orgasm flared through her, leaving her limp beneath him. She cooed as he spilled his seed deep in her secret garden.
He kissed her gently, supporting himself on his hands and looking down at her.
“You love me?”
She blinked up at him. Did I say that? She had. “I do.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
She couldn’t look away from his eyes. “I was afraid.”
He kissed her again and she forgot her fears and troubles for a time.
The sun was rising higher and Twinblade shielded his eyes against the glare as he gazed down at the harbor far below.
With news of his death traveling far and wide, he would not be able to leave the camp, not until their war against Jack of Blades had ended. He frowned as a ship heeled over and raced into the harbor, sails billowing. It had been ten long years since he had last walked the roads as a Guild Warrior, famed and respected by all. He could hardly believe the day when he could do so again was so rapidly approaching.
“Blood,” he growled. “This be all about blood.”
Aiden nodded. “Yes, old friend… my blood… the blood of Archon…”
“Why di’n’ you tell yer sister about Maze?”
Aiden turned his face to the sun, seeking the warmth of it on his face. “She is not ready to know everything. One betrayal too many and she will be broken. It is enough for her to know that Jack of Blades is her enemy and that Maze cannot be trusted.”
“She migh’ be stronger than ye think.”
Aiden nodded. “Might be… but for her to know that Maze led the raid on Oakvale… she would do something foolish. I have not waited all this time for her to be killed by that ***.”
“When will ye tell her?”
“When she can kill Maze.”
“Bah… tha’ won’ happen so long as she’s lettin’ them young stallions take turns in her saddle.”
Aiden smiled. “The Guild is decadent but they are her true friends. Besides, how many girls became women between you and Thunder in your youth? How many women laid beneath you while their husbands were away?”
Twinblade growled but had to concede the point. “Bah…”
Aiden laughed, a rare sound. “Come, old friend. We have much to do and little time to do it.”
The crowd roared, bloodthirsty and unheeding of the pain and misery they beheld.
Adelina the Sorrowful Blade had to look away as a young Guild Fighter, a man in the black garb of a warrior that never earned a Seal, was pinned to the bloody sand by a Hobbe spear. She heard the crowd raise their voices and his her face in Sparrowhawke’s shoulder.
“It’s over,” Sparrowhawke said softly.
She dared to look and saw a Hobbe lifting a bloody mace, bits of hair and bone clinging to it, high above its head. The crowd went wild. It was the first death of the morning.
“I can’t believe they’re cheering,” she said.
“They’ve never felt the bite of a blade,” Sparrowhawke reasoned. “They’ve never seen their own blood on someone else’s sword.”
The Arena Guards entered through the heavy doors, shields locked together and spears thrust outward, herding the Hobbes back into their cages. Adelina frowned as one of the Guards grabbed the dead Guild Warrior by the ankle and drag him away. The lack of respect for the dead ignited a flare of anger within her.
“Do you want to leave?”
She shook her head grimly. “I’m here to support Sabre. I won’t let him fight with just these… people screaming for his death.”
Sparrowhawke drew her closer, his arm around her shoulders. Even with the press of the crowd, they had space around them, their armor and their weapons keeping the masses at bay. Their Guild Seals prominently displayed, no one dared press against them.
“Where’s Whisper,” she asked suddenly. “I thought she was going to meet us here.”
On Sparrowhawke’s other side, Thorn leaned forward on the rail. “Don’t know. She should have been here by now.”
Adelina leaned forward suddenly as the heavy doors opened and Sabre stepped out onto the bloody sand. His hands were raised high and he seemed to bask in the roars of the crowd, even going so far as to wink and blow kisses at the ladies that crowded against the lowest tier rails. He played to the crowd even as the announcer proclaimed his name and called for the first round of beasts to be released.
Thunder stood behind the Lady Grey in her private box and gazed down into the Arena.
It had been many long seasons since he had set foot on the Arena sands and carved his reputation out of the hides of beasts and men alike. He still wore his Arena Champion’s Seal affixed to his armor but he felt that the glory days of the Arena were gone and he said as much to the Lady.
“Bah… such feeble games… when I fought in the Arena, I was not given time to breathe nor such easy opponants.”
The Lady Grey seemed far from impressed. “So you’ve said before, Thunder. Hush, I’m watching Sabre.”
He glowered down at the boy as he artfully dispatched the last of the Hobbes and flourished his blade, flicking the blood onto the sand. The crowd roared its approval and the Lady Grey smiled, her gloved hands clapping gently. Thunder gazed upon her breasts and cleavage from above and slightly behind her, where she could not see the aim of his eyes.
“He certainly has style, eh, Thunder?”
He glowered at the boy, tearing his eyes from her breasts. “Style and no substance,” he insisted. “He will not last.”
Lady Grey pursed her lips, a gloved finger tapping against their full curves. “I think he will. I believe he will be champion today.”
“It will not happen.”
She cast her eyes up at him, tilting her chin and turning slightly. One blonde eyebrow was quirked and her blue eyes were alight with mischievous fire.
“Would you be willing to wager that?” Her voice was coy and full of promise.
He nodded. “I would. What do you propose.”
“If Sabre wins,” she said, “you’ll give me your Champion’s Seal.”
He found himself at a loss for words. His hand went to the Seal, where it had been cleverly linked into a recessed hollow above his breastbone. He looked back down at Sabre, still grandstanding to the crowd.
“Do you suddenly lack the courage to wager your conviction,” she asked archly.
“No… but if I am correct and he does not become Champion, I will take your hand in marriage as my prize.”
She considered for a moment. “Done.”
He smiled. Sabre would not be Champion. He was but not enough. This time tomorrow, he would be Lord Mayor of Bowerstone and the Lady Grey would be his wife. He was already hard thinking about the things he would do to her once he claimed her in their marital bed. It would be the sweetest prize he ever claimed and the Lady Grey would be his most grand trophy.
She heard the crowds chanting his name.
No one knew what she planned; she had shared her intentions with the Guild Master and the Guild Master alone. The invitation had come in the dead of night, delivered to her in the cold gray light of dawn. It was hand-written but genuine, bearing the Seal of the Master of the Arena. She could not pass up this opportunity.
I know you will forgive me, my friend.
She tightened her grip on the smooth shaft of her spear, licking her lips. The Arena Guards watched her, measured her. She heard the announcer’s voice proclaiming Sabre’s victory and that they had a special surprise, a new twist to their game. The heavy doors opened and the sudden influx of light half-blinded her.
“Also from the Guild…”
She began walking forward, towards the light.
“…come to battle in the Arena…”
The stones gave way to sand.
“…a fellow member of the Guild…”
She raised her spear and shook it at the crowd, bathing in their screams and shouts.
“Whisper!”
She saw Sabre’s arctic blue eyes lock onto her and Whisper smiled.
Dear angel, where are your warming wings tonight? It's so cold outside. Won't you hold me for a while? And angel, I feel alone and unalive. The night is frozen and these tears have stung my eyes.