Филип Этанс - The Death Ray

“—that damn thing stop!” Regdar shouted, his voice echoing in the suddenly quiet, still air.

The wind blew itself out all at once and Naull was left standing with her chemise over her head. She felt her entire, largely exposed body blush as she fumbled with the twisted material. When the garment finally came away from her face, Naull could see Regdar sitting on the floor next to the young woman, whose own skirt had blown scandalously high up her thin, milk-white thighs.

Naull took a deep breath, then felt a chill. Regdar looked up at her and stifled a laugh, his own face turning red. When Naull looked down she realized that the tearing sound had been one of the thin straps of her chemise ripping away. One side of the neckline sagged far enough to reveal what it was intended to hide.

Naull drew the silk over her breast and said, “I…”

Regdar looked down at the young woman, who was straightening her own garments and breathing heavily. She was beautiful, young, and dressed in fine clothing that was no less attractive for its windblown condition. Her long, blond hair was almost playfully in disarray, a gentle curl falling over her alabaster face, caught up in a diadem knocked askew across her forehead.

Regdar stood, showing an uncharacteristic lack of dexterity, and almost fell on the confused, frightened girl. He reached out and helped her to her feet, quickly withdrawing from her as she shuffled backward toward the door. Her sandaled feet crunched broken glass on the marble.

The girl looked as if she was going to say something but she yelped and jumped back when Regdar’s greatsword clattered onto the floor at her feet.

“Naull,” Regdar said, his face red, sweaty, and confused, “may I present the duke’s daughter, the Lady Maelani.”

Naull froze, unable to breathe, think, or move.

Maelani didn’t seem any less surprised to see her.

“Are you…? “ Maelani said, her voice shaking along with the rest of her. “I mean, is she…? Are you and…?”

Naull stepped closer, still holding her chemise up with one hand, and said, “Why are…? Where did…?”

“Is this…?” Maelani said, looking back and forth between Regdar and Naull. “Are you two…?”

“Does anyone…?” Naull pressed on, wholly unable to synch her mouth with her mind. “Did you…?”

“Please,” Regdar cut in, “I think…”

“No, it’s…” Maelani replied.

“It’s not…” said Naull.

“I mean…” Regdar started.

If Naull could have ever imagined an instance in which she’d be happy to have a huge bed flip up off the floor and smash into her back, driving her face-first onto a hard, cold marble floor, this might have been it.

She was unconscious before she knew for sure.

His fighter’s instincts took over. Regdar reached out to pull Maelani safely behind him the second the bed came off the floor. Something pushed it up, flipped it over, and took Naull down with it.

Maelani was more fleet of foot than Regdar expected, though, and she flinched just out of his reach. Regdar extended his arm a little too far so that when the edge of the mattress came down on him, his effort to dodge out of the way only sent him sprawling onto the hard, cold floor.

Maelani screamed, and Regdar grunted. There was a loud noise like a door slamming and a deafening rustle of fabric. Regdar saw his sword still on the floor, just within reach, and the backs of Maelani’s heels as she scrambled toward the veranda. A heavy blanket and a satin sheet fell over him, blocking his sight, but his hand came down on the hilt of his sword just the same.

A tremendous noise made the floor shake beneath him. Regdar spun on his backside to bring his sword up into a guarding position. He was still under the heavy bedcovers, though, and the fabric twisted around his blade and pressed down against the top of his head as if something heavy held it down.

Maelani screamed again and Regdar heard fabric tear. Through the tight weave of the bedcovers he could see nothing. He scrabbled backward, trying to get out from under the covers and onto his feet at the same time.

He heard Maelani’s grunt and the peculiar sound of a body hitting the floor. Regdar growled in frustration as the floor shook again. The bedcovers slipped away and he sensed something coming toward him, something too big to be either Maelani or Naull. Despite years of training to choose his targets carefully, Regdar thrust his greatsword blindly out in front of him.

The tip of the strong, thick blade met resistance. The sword’s point tore through the bedcovers and caught on something. There was a scream of metal on metal, and whatever Regdar hit flinched slightly, rolling with the thrust. The blade caught again and Regdar pressed hard, hoping he’d found a space in his unseen opponent’s armor. There was a snapping sound and the heavy thing fell away. The sudden release of energy made Regdar lurch forward. He almost succeeded in pushing his own face onto his razor-sharp blade and had to flip himself back equally as violently to avoid it.

There was no tension on the bedcovers. Regdar scrambled to untangle himself, pulling with short jerks in one direction, amazed at how huge an expanse of fabric he was confronted with. He heard a woman moan—it was Maelani—and the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor.

“Stop!” Regdar shouted, thinking that someone or something was dragging Maelani away.

When the duke’s daughter moaned again, from the same place, Regdar knew that wasn’t true. He heard a door slam and something heavy and soft sliding across the floor.

The bedcovers finally came off and Regdar grunted, “Damn.”

Whatever he’d stabbed was gone. The bed was upside down, but had been slid to one side. He could see the back of Naull’s head and her naked back, but the rest of her was still under the bed.

“What…?” Maelani said, and Regdar looked at her.

She was sitting on the floor. Her hair and clothes puffed around her so that she looked both ridiculous and pitiful.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Did you see it?” Regdar asked, crossing to Naull and kneeling next to her.

Maelani shook her head, a tear rolling down one cheek.

“Naull,” Regdar whispered.

The young wizard rolled her head to one side and Regdar could see her right eye and the curve of her nose. She blinked and looked up at him.

“Naull?” he prompted again.

“What,” she replied, “in the Sand Tombs of Payratheon was that?”

Regdar didn’t understand the reference, but was happy to see she was alive. His reply was interrupted by the approaching rumble of what must have been dozens of booted feet.

“Regdar?” Maelani asked, her voice still weak, distant.

He looked at the duke’s daughter, sitting there on the floor with her skirts splayed around her, and he swallowed with a dry throat. Regdar could see little reason to believe that anyone knew Maelani had come to visit him. The daughter of the duke of Koratia doesn’t go anywhere unannounced, and she sure as the Abyss didn’t climb up someone’s veranda in the middle of the night unless The footsteps were almost at the door when Regdar let his sword clatter to the floor next to Naull. He leaped to his feet and practically fell across the room to Maelani. Still dazed, she didn’t try to stop him from scooping her up in his bulky arms.

The footsteps stopped in front of the door and turned to hammering when Regdar deposited Maelani as gently as he could into the room’s huge, nearly empty armoire.

“Stay in here,” he whispered, “and be quiet.”

Maelani nodded and blinked at him. The door to the armoire clicked shut barely a moment before the door to the corridor burst open.