The Lostkind (63 page)

Yasi glanced to Vandark's own sword, sheathed at his hip. "If you like."

Vandark went from still to lunging so fast that Yasi barely reacted in time. He swung her sword with the speed of a lightning strike, left to right. Yasi was expecting it this time and bent herself backwards, far enough that the sword passed over her. An instant later, she swung her boot upward and caught the hilt of her sword with the kick. The handle flew out of Vandark's grip, and the samurai sword went flying.

They both dove for the blade as it arced. He was closer, she was faster, and caught the Sword of the Shinobi he'd stolen from her with impossible smoothness; her eyes cold and deadly as she spun to point the blade at him. "Takers Keepers." She challenged him eagerly.

Vandark drew his own black sword with a smirk. "Indeed."

~oo00oo~

Owen was shining his torch back and forth as he moved through the Labyrinth... When something hit him from behind, sending him staggering into the wall.

He put a hand on the wall and spun around; his torch waving wildly... And he came nose to nose with a pair of enormous, glowing, red eyes. He fell back in horror and felt his spine smack into the wall.

Everything froze for a second and Owen got a look at him, stepping forward awkwardly. "Vincent?"

Pow!
Vincent hauled off and slugged him hard across the jaw. Owen reeled back from the blow and went face first into the wall. The double impact of the punch and the concrete sent him sinking slowly to the floor; unconscious.

"Been saving that one up for
months
, buddy." Vincent grinned, and went running back into the Underside.

~oo00oo~

Yasi was faster than he was, but not nearly as strong. She had learned many of his moves, but he had plenty more to draw on. She had the trick of it now; knowing the pace of the fight. Vandark fought by giving out slower, more powerful blows, and saving speed for defense and evasion. He was far faster than his appearance would indicate; and skilled enough that his timing was flawless.

Yasi did not attack, she counter-attacked. In any battle, you had to sacrifice your defense in favor of offense. She was far more nimble than he was, and could get in under his strikes, taking the opportunity for a quick strike of her own.

It was a dangerous form of combat, one that required phenomenal endurance. Yasi danced, gliding over the floor, twisting into impossible shapes. Her body became an impossible target, hard to predict, difficult to reach.

Vandark was breathing hard, wearing out, their blades glanced off each other in a shower of sparks, like a constant lightning storm; flashes of metal on metal.

Vandark was smart, and saw her movements for what they were, an attempt to wear him down; but there wasn't a hint of worry on his face as he struck methodically, making long sweeping attacks that forced her to change direction every second. Yasi realized quite suddenly that she was getting tired too.

Yasi felt the air shift as she dodged and realized that Vandark had worked her back into the shelves; trying to corner her. She dodged the next slash and Vandark's sword went through one of the large volumes. If his sword had been as sharp as hers, it might have made it through; but the thick blade went into the book like an axe into a tree and stuck there. Vandark realized the error instantly and lifted the sword; volume and all. Long enough for Yasi to slash her blade in under the Wildman's defenses and score a heavy blow to his ribs.

Vandark hissed and lashed out with his fists; clipping Yasi across the side of the head. She rolled with it and headed down the length of the shelves. Vandark freed his sword and kicked out hard; bringing the whole row of shelves down; knocking them over like dominios. In the smaller, resonant space; the noise of the impact was massive; and Yasi had to scramble to keep from getting buried.

Neither of them spoke or taunted, their worlds lost in a frenzy of blow and counter-blow, dedicated to getting a little closer, a little faster, a little better than the other; each looking for a fatal opening, dreading it when it came.

Another slash, and Yasi danced back... when her foot hit the pedestal. She glanced back in horror, and discovered that Vandark had managed to work her back against the steam pipes without her noticing.

With a victory shout, Vandark swung his sword so hard it would have sent her head rolling. She ducked instinctively, and his sword chopped through half a dozen steam pipes instead.

Yasi howled as the gushing steam ripped into her face. The combined heat of the Underside flashed across her vision unexpectedly, and she reeled, blind and hurting. She brought her sword up vertically in front of her body and felt him knock it aside. In the same instant, a massive blow struck her midsection, bending her double. Another strike against her ankles, and she was flat on the ground, half-curled into a ball. She rolled to her feet, everything blurry before her vision; but she forced her eyes shut against the pain, and listened. There was a rush of air and she rolled, feeling his blade pass over her. The roll morphed into a tackle into Vandark's midsection...

...which did nothing at all. Disorientation had made her forget how massive he was next to her, and she was back on the floor instantly.

Too slowly, her vision cleared, and she looked up blearily to see Vandark above her, ready to bring down the death-blow. No room to dodge, no time to beg...

And she was glad for it. She had failed to save her home; but she would die with the knowledge that Vandark had lost; and would have nowhere to go either...

Bang!

Vandark jerked in surprise.

Bang!

Vandark jerked again. Yasi shook her head to clear it, trying to understand what she was seeing, and turned her head to the left. Vincent was back in the Whisper Gallery, stepping off the elevator. And in his hand was Vandark's smoking gun.

Vandark looked down at himself, stunned... and slowly slid to the ground.

Everything was suddenly silent. There was the hissing of the ruptured steam pipes, Yasi's heavy breathing as she struggled to her feet.

Vincent looked down suddenly, as if he'd just realized he had a gun in his hand, and he put it down quickly on one of the surviving shelves.

Yasi rolled to her feet and stood; hurrying to Vincent's side. He started to smile and reach out for her...

...and she shoved him away viciously, putting him into the shelves. "You
idiot
!" She snarled, rubbing her eyes. "What have you done? You burned this place. There's no way your
phone
is gonna work down here. There's no way we can get you back up there in time to stop Gill from-"

Vincent was running again, back for the elevator.

"Where the hell are you going?!" Yasi shouted after him, confused. "Don't think a head start will protect you!"

~oo00oo~

Dorcan was limping as he reached the elevator; with Dyce at his side. The doors opened, revealing Vincent, and the three of them started running immediately.

"Vandark?" Dorcan demanded as they ran.

"Dead." Vincent puffed shortly. "The Wildmen?"

"Surrendered." Dorcan returned.

Vincent's watch started beeping; and Dorcan looked at Vincent in horror.

Vincent kept running. "I know Gill. He'll give me a little longer, just because he's hopeful."

"Listen, no offense, but we've gotta hurry." Dyce grabbed Vincent by one arm, and Dorcan took the other. An instant later, Vincent felt his feet leave the floor and yelped as the two Shinobi shifted into another gear Vincent didn't have; moving down the Tunnels much faster.

"I'm really sick of being carried around." Vincent snapped. "But this once, I'll forgive you."

Vincent's feet didn't touch the floor once until they reached the door to the Throne Room.

~oo00oo~

Dorcan opened the door to the Round Table Room and Vincent hurried in. It took him a moment to realize that he was alone. "Come on!"

Dorcan shook his head. "We don't go into this room. Tradition."

Vincent sighed. "Tradition."

The door closed behind him, and he quickly went to the Chairs. It was all as he remembered it; with the curved table, the banners across the walls...

And the projectors half-hidden behind the curtains; laid out in an identical configuration to the ones Vincent had set out in the Archives Room at the City Planners Office.

"Now." He thought aloud. "If only the Triumvirate are allowed in here, then it stands to reason that they must control it somehow... If Archivist is the one that's in charge of all the information..."

Vincent went to Archivist's chair and started feeling around beneath the table. Sure enough, he found a latch and opened a concealed control panel. Like everything the Lostkind made, it was elegant and beautiful. Vincent would never have known it was there, giving the projection a feeling of being spontaneous and magical.

I'm the Wizard behind the curtain now.
Vincent thought distantly, as he started turning the frequency dial.
Now, if I was an on-switch, where on this panel would I be?

He checked his watch. He was several minutes overdue.

~oo00oo~

Gill was pacing back and forth, when his pager beeped.

"Vincent?" Connie asked hopefully.

Gill shook his head bleakly. "The boss. He's suddenly noticed there's a press conference upstairs, and he's wondering what they're here for."

Connie checked her watch for the fifth time in two minutes. "He's... late."

Gill gave a tiny mirthless chuckle. "He usually is. Reliable, trustworthy... not punctual."

"No." Connie agreed with a nervous giggle.

Gill looked at her sickly. "You know what that means, right?"

"Give him a few more minutes." Connie whispered softly. "Please?"

Gill looked miserable. "Connie... I've known him longer than you have; and in ten years, this is the first time he's asked me for anything bigger than a hamburger, I owe it to him to do it right; and I already gave him five more minutes... six minutes ago."

Connie sniffed. "...god. How did this happen?"

Gill pulled some cards out of his pocket. "I have a big news day to unleash."

He gave Connie a gentle kiss on the top of her head, and made his way upstairs slowly.

Connie didn't go with him. She sat staring into space for a second, looking over the equipment, the cameras, the projectors... all the things that she had helped him find...

"I helped you." Connie croaked out. "I helped you do this. You never would have found all this stuff without me... well, yes you would have. Dammit, I should have talked you out of it. We could be halfway to anywhere by now. I'm sorry Vincent. I'm so sorry!"

She rose to her feet, and slowly wandered her way toward the stairs, tears streaming down her face. She reached out and turned off the lights. "Goodbye Vincent. I love you."

She closed the door to the Archives Room behind her quietly, and made her way to the stairs... and stopped.

She had heard something, just for a second, she had heard something. Looking over her shoulder, she saw a glow in the frosted glass of the Archives Room door. There were no lights on, or windows to the outside, so there should have been no glow.

She went back, daring to hope... And opened the door. And there, in the middle of the dark room, casting a ghostly glow over everything, was the image of Vincent McCall, sitting at an ornate desk. "Vincent?"

Vincent's face reacted. "I can hear you, but I can't see you."

~oo00oo~

In the Throne Room, Connie's image flared into existence, as she took her position in the city above, standing between the cameras he had set up with Gill. "Vincent, it's me! It's Connie! I'm here!"

The relief between them was clear enough to reach out and touch. "Connie!" He called to her. "It worked! Vandark is dead! Tell Gill! Hurry!"

Connie turned and ran, her projection vanishing instantly.

"So... that was the plan?"

Vincent spun around in Archivist's chair; to see Yasi in the doorway, staring gob-smacked at the place where Connie's holographic form was a moment before.

"Yeah." Vincent admitted quietly. "That was the plan."

The New York Ninja choked out a laugh. "That was a good plan." A moment passed and Yasi was laughing. "It was a hell of a bluff Vincent. Even I bought it. I honestly thought you'd burned us all." Yasi was laughing from deep inside her; relief for herself and her home merging with her pride in him, becoming a release of emotion that he'd never seen from her before. "God; you bluffed me, and Vandark, and all the Riverfolk across the city at the same time. I honestly can't believe you pulled it off."

Vincent didn't look at her. She could see his back and shoulders tense as though he was expecting an attack to come any second. "I didn't." He said softly.

"
Sorry?
" Yasi smiled; not hearing that, when she suddenly noticing the bloody mess that his right hand had become; knuckles split open painfully. "What the hell happened to your hand?"