and got her dress dirty?” Sabira replied,reaching around to unharness her urgrosh as she took a step back to give herself more room to maneuver. “Considering she drew a weapon against a Sentinel Marshal, she’s lucky she’s still breathing. Are you really that anxious to find out how far your family’s luck—or my patience—will hold out?”
“Save it, you metal-loving bitch!” he growled, bringing one blade down in an overhead strike while he lunged at her midsection with the other, as if he were trying to enfold her in a deadly, drunken hug.
Sabira whipped her shard axe out and across, catching his left elbow with the cheek of the axe and sending the knife headed for her stomach flying into the courtyard. The force of her blow rocked him back and the other blade went wide. On her backswing, she brought the sharpened dragonshard that formed the spear tip of the urgrosh down into the meatiest portion of the man’s right thigh, then jerked it back out again with equal force.
As blood spurted, he dropped the other blade and clutched at his leg. A kick sent him sprawling onto the ground, where he rolled around in agony.
Sabira turned to face what remained of the crowd, her shard axe held across her body in an easy two-handed grip.
“So. Who else is feeling suicidal today?”
There was a sound behind her and Skraad yelled, “ ’Ware the mother!”
Sabira spun, expecting to see Melcare. Instead, the blade the woman had thrown skimmed Sabira’s cheek before impaling itself into the wood of the building behind her with a quivering
thunk
.
Stupid, stupid
, she chided herself, even as she advancedon the woman who stood up against the tree, dagger held out in front of her. The scar would serve her right for disregarding a potential foe just because she looked more like a washerwoman than a warrior.
Melcare’s eyes were wide and frightened, but determined. She’d thrown her son’s knife, which had landed on the ground near her when Sabira disarmed him. While the woman was definitely skilled with a blade from a distance, it was clear she wasn’t as comfortable in hand-to-hand combat, and the dagger shook in her grasp. But she didn’t lower the weapon as Sabira stalked toward her; instead, she raised her chin defiantly.
Sabira had no desire to hurt the woman. Melcare obviously really believed Guisarme was the culprit, all evidence to the contrary, and she was simply trying to protect her daughter—and now, her son. Sabira could understand the maternal instinct, even if she didn’t share it.
Ideally, she’d disarm the woman and put her in shackles, but that would mean putting her shard axe aside while there were still potential enemies at her back. Sabira had already let her guard down once today and had blood seeping down her face as a result. She didn’t particularly want to add blood from a sword thrust to the ribs into the mix.
So she did the next best thing. She transferred her urgrosh to her left hand with a flourish meant to distract the other woman. When Melcare’s eyes left hers to follow the axe, Sabira pulled her right arm back and punched the hapless woman under the chin. Melcare’s head snapped up against the trunk of the tree and her eyes rolled back, showing the whites. As she dropped the dagger and her knees gave out, Sabira caught the other woman around thewaist with her free arm and lowered her to the ground. She made sure to step on the dagger blade this time, just in case the woman was a better actress than she let on.
Then she straightened and looked back at the father. He was alone now, save for three House Cannith monitors who had their crossbows trained on Sabira. The rest of the crowd had disappeared, deciding they hated warforged less than they wanted to be arrested.
“Drop the—” one of the monitors began, then caught sight of her brooch. He lowered his weapon, motioning for his companions to do the same.
“Your pardon, Marshal. We heard a commotion and came to see
“Save it, you metal-loving bitch!” he growled, bringing one blade down in an overhead strike while he lunged at her midsection with the other, as if he were trying to enfold her in a deadly, drunken hug.
Sabira whipped her shard axe out and across, catching his left elbow with the cheek of the axe and sending the knife headed for her stomach flying into the courtyard. The force of her blow rocked him back and the other blade went wide. On her backswing, she brought the sharpened dragonshard that formed the spear tip of the urgrosh down into the meatiest portion of the man’s right thigh, then jerked it back out again with equal force.
As blood spurted, he dropped the other blade and clutched at his leg. A kick sent him sprawling onto the ground, where he rolled around in agony.
Sabira turned to face what remained of the crowd, her shard axe held across her body in an easy two-handed grip.
“So. Who else is feeling suicidal today?”
There was a sound behind her and Skraad yelled, “ ’Ware the mother!”
Sabira spun, expecting to see Melcare. Instead, the blade the woman had thrown skimmed Sabira’s cheek before impaling itself into the wood of the building behind her with a quivering
thunk
.
Stupid, stupid
, she chided herself, even as she advancedon the woman who stood up against the tree, dagger held out in front of her. The scar would serve her right for disregarding a potential foe just because she looked more like a washerwoman than a warrior.
Melcare’s eyes were wide and frightened, but determined. She’d thrown her son’s knife, which had landed on the ground near her when Sabira disarmed him. While the woman was definitely skilled with a blade from a distance, it was clear she wasn’t as comfortable in hand-to-hand combat, and the dagger shook in her grasp. But she didn’t lower the weapon as Sabira stalked toward her; instead, she raised her chin defiantly.
Sabira had no desire to hurt the woman. Melcare obviously really believed Guisarme was the culprit, all evidence to the contrary, and she was simply trying to protect her daughter—and now, her son. Sabira could understand the maternal instinct, even if she didn’t share it.
Ideally, she’d disarm the woman and put her in shackles, but that would mean putting her shard axe aside while there were still potential enemies at her back. Sabira had already let her guard down once today and had blood seeping down her face as a result. She didn’t particularly want to add blood from a sword thrust to the ribs into the mix.
So she did the next best thing. She transferred her urgrosh to her left hand with a flourish meant to distract the other woman. When Melcare’s eyes left hers to follow the axe, Sabira pulled her right arm back and punched the hapless woman under the chin. Melcare’s head snapped up against the trunk of the tree and her eyes rolled back, showing the whites. As she dropped the dagger and her knees gave out, Sabira caught the other woman around thewaist with her free arm and lowered her to the ground. She made sure to step on the dagger blade this time, just in case the woman was a better actress than she let on.
Then she straightened and looked back at the father. He was alone now, save for three House Cannith monitors who had their crossbows trained on Sabira. The rest of the crowd had disappeared, deciding they hated warforged less than they wanted to be arrested.
“Drop the—” one of the monitors began, then caught sight of her brooch. He lowered his weapon, motioning for his companions to do the same.
“Your pardon, Marshal. We heard a commotion and came to see
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