Queen of Swords (unabridged)

As the man fell to the floor, the crowd had begun their cheers. Their voices rang through the underground cavern, and the winner relished it. Her victory was unexpected, with the loser being a straight winner for the past year. His reign had ended though, with a well-timed flick of her wrist. The Queen of Swords, she had been touted, and Kythara had never bothered to inform them of their mistake. Her chosen weapon, after all, was the whip, but looking at it from a different angle, the Queen of Swords sounded much nicer than the Queen of Whips. No matter. She was the Queen here, and she loved the thrill, the rush of adrenaline that every new challenger sent through her. The people who came here were usually young nobles, or rich young dandies, looking for other kinds of entertainment besides the dreary parties organized ever so often by the older generation. The young woman bowed one last time, and disappeared into one of the place's many gates that led to the arena. Even though she had left the cavern, the crowd seemed oblivious to her disappearance, settling their bets and either handing over pouches or collecting them. A man in the front row seats stood up, and walked out of the arena as well, and up into the chill night wind.

He met up with Kythara, the young Queen, outside the arena, nodding to her. The pair entered a carriage, one with all the curtains drawn.
"Excellent. Your fight was perfect. No unnecessary flairs, no clear way for any one to point out your flaws and weaknesses."
"Yes, and I thank you for those kind words." Her voice was soft and melodious, with no hint of conceit, only acknowledgement. They traveled in silence for the rest of the trip, and both alighted outside a huge mansion. The main house had over a hundred rooms, and even that did not count the gardens and land that made up the surrounding area. he may not have been born a noble, but his house would put all questions to rest. This house served a dual purpose, for it was here that the arena fighters he groomed would live and train, and also where his family would live. He had yet to own a champion, but as he watched the recently touted Queen of Swords enter her own room, he understood that all that might be soon to change.

Kythara entered the room, feet sinking into easily three inches worth of priceless carpets, and stopped in front of the full-length mirror that leaned against the rear wall. The face and body that stared back at her provided a stark contrast to the street urchin he had swept off the streets five years ago. Tall and slender, with almond shaped black eyes that had curious gold flecks in them, coupled with fine features in a face that was a perfect oval, she presented a fine picture. Morever, she was wearing a tight fitting, high-necked, and short sleeved black dress with slits at the sides, and fingerless leather gloves. Kythara reached up to release her hair from its prison, allowing it to fall in cascades down her back. In no time at all, she had changed into a plain gray robe, leaving her fighter's dress there for the servants to clean. At this late hour, the whole mansion was silent, as everyone would have fallen asleep. Kythara glided through the mansion like a wandering spirit, entering the baths, enjoying the cool feel of water against her skin for a while, before heading back to her room refreshed and clean. At this time, tomorrow night, she would become Nemesis, the dealer of righteous justice. Three names for a person, three different identities. There was a sweet irony to it, for on one side she fought for those nobles' pleasure, while on the other, she killed them for their corrupt practices, or inability to carry out their duties as they should.

The next morning, she awoke and changed into far more practical clothes for training, which meant shirt and breeches, with supple leather boots. Unlike some of the mansion's other occupants, Kythara did not need somebody to wake her up; the sunlight streaming through the gauzy curtains was sufficient. A breeze swept through the room, ruffling her hair. The fighter picked up a leather thong and gathered the wayward lengths together, before tying it back and out of her eyes. Picking up the whip lying on the dressing table, she pulled on the same fingerless gloves, before tucking the weapon securely into her belt. Kythara stopped outside the room next to hers and pushed open the door. He was still sleeping, and very soundly too. She went up to him, and shook him hard.
"What in the world-"
"It's me, Taleth, Kythara."
"Girl, don't you ever do that again."
"Don't you want to be the first in line for breakfast?"
"All right Kitten, I admit defeat. Now leave my room."
Barely five minutes later, he exited the room, dressed in practice clothes similar to her own. Probably only a year or two older than Kythara's fifteen, and tanned, with angular features amd eyes the color of the grasslands in spring. He carried no weapon with him, for his was in the training room."

Breakfast was a simple affair, with only bread and a little cheese. Right after breakfast was training, and as to be expected, the instructor paired Kythara and Taleth together. They were supposed to fight a mock duel, but with both parties' competitive spirits aroused, the fight soon got serious. She had kept lashing out at him, and yet he always danced out of range. Every time he sent the sword ahead in a thrust, the whip would be waiting to wrap itself around his sword, in a bid to allow her to snatch away his weapon. Even though the sword's blade was dulled, it could still injure, and Kythara's ship was the one she used in battles, meaning that it was deadly, for she would be very used to its grip and capabilities. The dance had continued, even after most of the other trainees had stopped, either due to exhaustion or defeat. Now all eyes turned to the fight taking place, the instructor as well. These two used techniques unknown to even him, for both used unconventional and unexpected routines, confusing everyone. Yet despite all their unorthodox styles, every parry was perfectly in place, and every strike would be returned with an equal fury. The instructor was at a loss now, without any idea of how to break it up without injuring himself.

Finally, losing all patience with these two, he took a blunted dagger from the weapon's rack, and tossed it at them. It might hurt them, but at least it would help break up their fight. His guess proved wrong though, as the whip and sword turned at once to knock it away. The whip had grabbed it first though, in mid-flight. The fight went on, Kythara beginning to get an increased advantage, for while her ship engaged his sword, the dagger would be thrusting at him. Finally, both tired out, her hair plastered to her face by sweat, and his shirt was stuck to his back. He grinned at her, and she returned it.
"We have played out this scenario countless times, and it is always a draw."
"Well, then we will have to do it until someone wins, don't you think?"
The instructor came up to them, in that instant, never saying a word until only the three of them could hear each other, and he asked.
"Where did the pair of you learn all that?"
"well, some of it from experience in the arena, and the others, well, that's our secret." Taleth answered.
""I am your instructor, and I think that I have a right to know."
"I cannot tell you. That is Kythara and mine's secret."
"I will find out, the two of you, I will."

Kythara threw Taleth a grin, chiding him gently.
"You should have not teased him so. Now he will be greatly agitated, and will take pleasure in making our training torture."
"Let him. Do you think that he could do anything to the Queen of Swords without raising the master's ire?"
"Actually, yes. he has the master's ear, you forget."
"Good point, but do you think he will believe it if we told him that we created those moves?"
"No."

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and it was soon night. Night, the time when Kythara would become Nemesis, a champion for the repressed. Dressed in the black dress, she picked up a bag in one concealed corner, and fastened a rope to a loop on the windowsill, before jumping down, using the rope as her guide. Kythara crept towards the stables, picking a black stallion as her mount this night. The corrupt official she was hunting down lived on the outskirts of town, and she knew that he had not gone visiting, or anywhere else. But there would be one single complication soon, as Kythara was not the only one determined to see him dead. As horse and rider neared the house, they had noticed another horse, also black, tethered to a tree some distance back. There was something strange about a horse being tethered there in the middle of the nowhere at night, but the pressing situation gave no time for idle thoughts. Kythara discounted them, tethering her own mount to another tree. Fingers resting on the stone wall, the agile young woman scaled the wall, before entering through an open window. From there, Kythara picked her way to his room, picking up any trinkets that might be worth something.

Upon entering his room, the very epitome of splendor, Kythara uncoiled the whip, preparing to deal death. As she began the flick of her wrist that would mean his death, a voice whispered behind her.
"Go on, kill him. I will know who you are, and I will fight you later over who should claim credit for his assassination."
Kythara whirled around, looking out for the unseen speaker.
"Show yourself, whoever you are."
"I am an assassin, if you require to know, and this man is my quarry."
Now this would become a contest of speed, to see who could land the killing blow first, and also a contest of nerves. Even as Kythara prepared the lash once again, a single rapier arced through the air. Before Kythara could strike it away, the rapier buried itself in his body. The man shuddered a moment, then lay still.
"I win." The voice called out, even as its owner stepped into the moonlight.

A girl no older than Kythara herself, with gold-streaked brown hair tied under a headscarf of a forest green, and a dress with slits up to her waist of the same color.
"I was expecting someone older." Kythara remarked.
"As I was." The assassin replied, even as she yanked her rapier free of the corpse. As the moonlight shone even more brightly into the room, her features sharpened. A pair of eyes of a clear, vibrant green, but strangely enough without the slightest hint of compassion, framed in a heart-shaped face with aristocratic features.
"Shall we take our fight out of this house and into the arena?"
"A grudge match?" The assassin returned.
"Yes."
"In the arena then, two days from now."
"We shall part ways then, here."
"You will complete the arrangements necessary?"
"Yes. Is there any way I might be able to contact you?"
The assassin told her a place, and left through the window, as silent as death.

Kythara watched the assassin leave, knowing that in two days, a fight to the death would occur in the arena.

The next two days was a whirl of training and anticipation, on both their parts. Kythara fought with a passion never seen before, even going to the extent of poring over lengthy swordplay manuals, but somehow knowing that despite whatever she might learn, it would be up to how the situation played out. Taleth might keep her company while she trained, but his disapproval of the grudge match was clear. Grudge matches were usually sell-out fights, with stakes rising sky-high. Yet who would win or lose this fight, it would depend on speed, skill, and nerves. Kythara might be able to defeat a single sword, but she wondered about two. Her whip might be warped with steel, but against two steel blades, Kythara wondered about the amount of force her whip could take.


As for the day itself, the herald called out.
"Kythara, Queen of Swords," but he paused while preparing to announce the challenger. After a while, seeming to be unable to find a title to call for her challenger, he simply announced.
"And her challenger, Alayna."
The assassin was still dressed in the same clothes as the last time they met, fingers resting comfortably on the hilts of her twin swords. Kythara also stood at ease, the whip uncoiling from his holder on her waist. She swung the whip a few times, while waiting for permission to start attacking.

As soon as they were allowed to attack, Alayna was in a crouch, preparing to draw as soon as Kythara attacked. As the whip descended, the twin rapiers flew out, batting the whip away in an explosive fury. Steel rang on steel, for the steel-warped whip was the swords' equal, darting in to find a gap in the assassin's seemingly impregnable wall of defense. The swords wove wildly, and even as one engaged the whip, the other would attempt to make a strike for Kythara, but would always be intercepted by the whip at the last second. There was one maneuver, Alayna knew, that would win her victory. It was a method that was unlikely to fail, but one that would cause her doom if she did. Kythara's whip continued its snakelike dance, striking suddenly and unexpectedly. When first blood was shed or who caused it, nobody knew, for a cut would appear suddenly on one, and then the other. There was no clear way to tell the combatants apart, save for the black snake that was the whip, and the two silver lines that were the rapiers. The betting in the stands increased, and the stakes shot higher than before, causing some of the competitors to nearly come to blows. The winner of this fight would have a lot to gain, but both of them were only in this for the credit of the murder two days ago.

Alayna knew that she could not keep this up for much longer, and chose to try her trick. Flinging one rapier at Kythara, and as the fighter’s whip flew out to catch it, Alayna closed the distance within them and knocked her opponent to the ground, and kicked the whip out of the her range while the assassin held the remaining blade to her throat. As soon as Kythara acknowledged her defeat, Alayna did not make any move to hurt her. Quite the contrary, for the assassin reached out an arm to haul her opponent upright. A whisper ran through he crowd, as this was, after all, supposed to be a grudge match.

Confusion, coupled with amazement, shot through Kythara's mind as she saw the hand approaching her. She also understood why the assassin acted as she had. Or at least she thought she did. Alayna brought her to her feet, and a sincere smile broke across her usually icy features as she turned to Kythara.
"You fought well. Had I not tried that daring maneuver, I would have lost. But I do think the credit for the kill is mine, after all." With that, she turned and left the arena, leaving Kythara to her thoughts. The assassin could have killed her easily while she was lying on her back, and simply taking credit, and at the same time becoming the new 'darling' of the arena's spectators. Some things did not have to make sense, but what it was Alayna did at that moment, it had made the assassin far more human than she had appeared before. It also shattered Kythara's appraisal of the assassin's character, for although the assassin's gaze bore no hint of compassion, she had shown that when she defeated Kythara.

Somewhere though, far away from the arena, in a carriage that rattled its way through the streets, the employer who had hired Alayna to kill the official asked her.
"Why did you refuse to skill here there and then? There was so much you could gain."
"The gain of becoming the enemy of the group of men who had trained, and lived with Nemesis?" The ever pragmatic assassin replied coldly.
"Perhaps there was more to it then that. Perhaps Alayna did not have the heart to kill somebody that was her equal, preferring to keep her alive so that she might prove a challenge in the future?"
No reaction came back from the young killer save a callous shrug, for she only leaned back against the plush interior of the carriage, thinking over her employer's words.