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Chapter 7 Blood Tells True

-Ticca-

‘Steady, calm, wait for the right moment.’ Ticca’s trainer had said that in every knife fight they had together.Knives out, balanced foot, cautious on the approach, all key. The Knife apparently had similar training. They circled each other slowly, both measuring the other up.

“Who’s paying you?”

He smirked. “Sorry, missy. That is privileged information, and where you’re going, it won’t be of any use.”

Confident bastard. Looking at his excellent disguise, as a wounded workman, she knew he was experienced. He had to have been following us. Urdu! I shouldn’t have let the priestess drape me in that hood. She spotted the quick shift of his rear foot and was able to parry the first thrust. She sliced up with her dagger, but he had already shifted and parried with his off hand. They exchanged a handful of feints, attacks, and parries, circling fast.

Ticca glanced over and smiled as Lebuin and Ditani finally got through the door. Turning her attention to her opponent, she saw he was circling towards the door. I need to keep him occupied to give Lebuin time to get clear. In spite of the danger, she launched a series of attacks. The Knife managed to hold her off. It meant he got into a better position. He seized the opportunity without hesitation. Feinting with his left hand, he changed direction at the last moment, and dropping low, scooped up the loose end of her initiate’s robe. Parrying her dagger, he yanked hard, pulling her off balance.

Urdu! This robe is going to get me killed! Gotta do something unexpected, or I’m dead when his knife comes back around. Ticca was already off balance, so she let herself fall forward, instead of fighting to stay standing, as he expected. He had already reversed his knife and was trying for a neck strike, but without her counterweight, he was also off balance. Ticca twisted and arched back, effectively dodging the strike. Unfortunately, that exposed her mid-section, and she was much too close. He delivered a vicious knee strike to her chest. The air was forced out of her in a loud yelp of pain and surprise. Releasing the robe, he sliced out, smiling as he cut what felt like a bone-deep gash across her shoulder. Clenching her jaw on the pain, she managed to only squeak.

She recovered from the maneuver by taking a couple of wild shots to keep him occupied while she stepped past. Okay, you’re not bad. She backed up, and he let her go. Think you’re winning, don’t you? But I’m better than you. She glanced at her shoulder and was relieved when she saw it wasn’t as bad as it felt. It wasn’t a deadly or impairing wound, unless the blade was poisoned. If his knives are poisoned, I need to end this fast to get help in time. Almost laughing, she thought, Well, at least, I’m already at the hospice. She smirked back at him and saw his eyes light up with joy. Yep, you think you’re winning. But you’re not as fast or as well trained. “Not bad, but do try to keep up.”

Ticca relaxed her stance, controlled her breathing, and moved with a fluidity and grace that would make any dancer jealous. Stepping forward, she delivered a series of thrusts and cuts, and he parried every one. She didn’t give him time to riposte. She kept thrusting and cutting faster, as she warmed to the fight. He started backing away from the flurry of blows, and she stepped forward with him, never stopping the attacks. He managed to get a riposte in about every third strike. She easily parried those and followed through with her own riposte. She looked him in the eye as the attacks continued. Finally, his eyes showed real fear. He had backed all the way to the wall. Sweat poured down his face.

She paused. “Care to reconsider?”

“To hell with you, khab!” He feinted left, but she saw his right, moving to throw. She ducked under the thrown knife, thrusting up with her dagger and cutting the wrist of his extended hand. He was exposed. She reacted, knocking his knife wide and burying her blade to the hilt in his heart. Stepping back, she pulled her knife out and let him fall, face first, to the floor.