I lifted my sword, a rush of adrenaline giving me the strength to ignore the pain. My other arm pulled out the dagger. With my sword arm injured, I would have to rely on my secondary weapon more heavily. Thankfully, the man I had injured was still down, possibly unconscious, so I faced only two foes.
As they thrust their swords at me in unison, I ducked and spun away, barely missing the whistling blades. They followed and our dance resumed.
It was an exhausting game, trying to keep out of the way of their blades while looking for opportunities to break through their defenses. Unfortunately, the longer we fought, the more my adrenaline drained away. Soon, I was barely managing to keep their swords at bay, unable to even consider making attacks of my own.
I had lasted so long in part because my familiarity with my room gave me an advantage. I had to rely on that advantage more and more as my energy waned, trying to lead them into tables or other tripping hazards, but soon even that was not enough.
They began to break through my resistance, leaving small cuts on my arms and even one across my cheek. Thankfully, none of the cuts were deep, so I was able to keep fighting. My loose nightgown protected my body. They pierced the white material often, but because it hung so far from my slim frame, they missed hitting me. The arms were more vulnerable, with the tight sleeves.
Sweat began soaking my dress and streaming down my face, burning my cuts. The pain gave me a new boost of adrenaline and I managed to stick one of my assailants in the shoulder, but he quickly pulled back and the other landed a blow to my wrist. I dropped my dagger and hissed in frustration. This was it. There was no way I could recover from such a mistake.
Before they could close in and finish me off, my door opened with a slam.
Remdon stood in the open doorway, still dressed in evening clothes, a sword in each hand. His usually carefree face was marred by a dark, dangerous scowl.
He attacked without a word, a silent whirl of flashing blades. I was, at best, a proficient swordfighter. Remdon was an undisputed master. He had been at the top of every sword class he had ever taken and his skills now broke out in full force as he unleashed himself mercilessly on the men in black.
I found myself stepping back as my attackers turned their attention to Remdon. Even with two of them, they were no match for his skills and both had soon lost not only their swords, but their entire sword arms.
As they lay on the carpet in pools of their own blood, writhing in pain, my brother looked at me. Catching sight of what was likely a motley collection of bloodstains on my arms, he turned his glare on the attackers. He might have gone after them again in spite of their disabled and terrified state if I had not stepped to his side and placed a calming hand on his arm.
"They are of more use to us alive," I said softly. "And I am not hurt badly. Merely a few scratches. We should call for someone to treat their wounds and then have them restrained somewhere for questioning."
He growled, but lowered his weapons. Somehow, the fighting had not awoken anyone else in the house. It had been a rather silent affair, marred only by the occasional grunt or groan.
Now I moved to the bell pull on the wall. Mirella soon answered my summons, gasping in horror at the scene she stepped into.
"Mistress!" she shrieked, grabbing my shoulders remarkably uninjured and looking me over. "You're injured! And those men! Where did they-"
"Enough," Remdon called before she could pester me with questions. "My sister is injured. Please tend to her wounds, clean her up, and take her to the gray guest chamber. Also, please send Terriford up to help me take care of these wretches."
"Yes, of course," Mirella answered with a respectful dip of her head. She hurried me out of the room. We headed first to the servants' quarters where she roused Terriford, an older man who had been Remdon's servant and good friend for many years.
Once he was on his way to help my brother, we continued to the bathing chamber.
The next hour passed in a blur. Mirella quickly bathed me and bandaged my wounds, then dressed me in a clean nightgown and escorted me to the guest chamber across the hall from Remdon's room. She seemed to sense my exhaustion and managed to hold off asking questions, but I knew I would have a lot of explaining to do in the morning.
Once she had me tucked into the large, comfortable bed, I expected her to leave and dreaded finding myself alone in the dark, forced to relive the events of the attack. Instead, she left one candle burning and settled herself in a large armchair next to the bed with a book.
"You are staying?" I whispered.
"I hope you don't mind, but I'll not leave you alone after the night you've had, mistress. You just rest well. I'll keep an eye on you. I couldn't sleep a bit, not after seeing you in such a state."
"I do not mind. Thank you."
"You're quite welcome. Goodnight, love." She reached out and gave my hand a motherly pat, then settled back with her book.
The scene was familiar and calming. I had often struggled with nightmares as a child and Mirella had spent many nights just like this, in her armchair by the bed with her book, occasionally reading aloud if I needed help falling asleep.
I did not need her to read aloud tonight. Her presence soothed me and I watched her familiar curls with a smile until darkness closed around me.