Giving Chion a worried look, Lara asked Chion, Can you make it a little longer? You’ve already lost a lot of blood.
Before the paka could answer, Skye said with unequivocal command, “No, after you finish off the lunatic, you are both done.”
Before either of them could argue, Skye whirled around. He yelled a warning, yet the queen and her guards were too intent on the Malirrans’ slow but steady defeat happening right before their eyes.
Calculating the angles and trajectory of people’s movements between him and Aleena, Skye leapt over the dead and injured. His inner sight gave him an advantage. He didn’t have to look down to know where to step. With a snarl, he kicked a guard who was leaning over one of the fallen pakas. The satisfying crack of his boot’s thick sole against the man’s forehead made Skye grin even as he rushed forward. As he passed, he jabbed the end of his sword into the Malirran’s eye socket with unerring accuracy. With his eyes closed, his full concentration on wading through what his sight channeled to him, Skye threw a large mirror toward the ceiling. Rolling on the balls of his feet, he twisted in a circle to dodge a sword thrust, never losing his forward momentum. Feeling his blood pumping, he grinned. With a shout, Skye warned, “I need by.”
A paka dipped his head and sat back, giving him a little more room to maneuver. Skye ducked under a blade of a Kurite with a surprised huff.
Sliding his feet forward, which allowed him to squeeze between the queen and the servant door, he struck his sword into the barely cracked doorway. Shouldering the door open, Skye released his battle cry as he hefted his weapon with the man still caught on the tip of his sword. With his inner sight, he saw Aleena turn with a soft gasp.
He chastised her guards, “We did not cover all the servant corridors. Be on guard.” With this small crisis over, Skye grunted as he used his foot to kick the man away. The Malirran’s scream was cut off as he tumbled down the stairs. “Lukar is still alive,” he updated the new queen, yelling to be heard over the cacophony.
A quick, assessing glance told him the fighting was finished. Taking command of the chaos, Skye called out, “We have control of this hallway. Post a guard at the other end.” He pointed in the opposite direction of where the Malirran king had yet to come out of his room. “You,” he jerked his head at a mid-sized paka, “update the others in the tunnels. We have two more Malirrans to kill before our battle is truly over.” Flicking the blood off his weapon, he scanned the hall with his magic as he strode back to Eiren’s side. “Split up into teams. The injured should return to the safety of the tunnels. Everyone stay alert.”
Looking down at Eiren, he absently noted the blood splatters across her coat. “Are you ready, My Lady?”
I am.
Skye took the lead. Ignoring the shackled advisor in the room on the left, where demented screams echoed behind the solid door, Skye went straight to the double doors at the end of the hall. With his magic, Skye knew the Malirran king stood waiting for him. At the door, Skye sank deeper into his magic. It expanded and contracted around him. Heeding Lara’s warning, Skye placed mirrors in a tighter circle around him, shrinking the area his inner sight would gather information from. In response, the information he garnered was clear and crisp. There was no delay required for him to process what his abilities sent him.
Eiren whispered, Trust the God and Goddess. In all the people in both kingdoms, you were their choice. You cannot have a shred of doubt about your ability to control your magic once you open this door, My Lord. You must hold your belief close.
And if we do not succeed?
Through their bond, a mental shrug made it through, We do not. She paused before offering, her tone far too innocent, Would you like me to go first?
He grinned. I rather you did not. Stay behind me, Eiren.
When he pulled open the door, Skye was met by a cold, deep voice. “Ah, I wondered who my supposed conqueror would be.”
With his grin still in place, he studied his enemy down to every hair and speck of dust. With his eyes, he saw the blackish stains on the Malirran’s clothes, the evil glint in the man’s eyes, and the silver jewelry that decorated the warrior’s hands, ears, and hair. At the same time, Skye’s magic catalogued the man’s stance, the way he held his sword, as well as the details of the room.
The horror of the room could not be overstated. Blood-blackened rugs portrayed the true evil roosting within the castle. The altar, with its gruesome sacrilege of a human body, displayed the evil inherent in the man in all its despicable, obscene glory. The stench of rotting flesh and the sweet, bile-worthy scent of death, along with the bits of leftover human remains scattered across the large room, conveyed the Malirrans’ desire for ruin and destruction.
Thankfully, he’d already seen something similar on Earth, so the horrific scene did not hold him captive. Keeping his expression as disinterested as possible, Skye asked, “I was not who you expected?”
The gaunt face of the king turned into a demented version of a skull when Lukar’s mouth twisted into a tooth-filled grin. He chuckled. “No, Pyranni. My goddess and I expected a Kurite.” He struck faster than Skye thought possible. One moment he was standing in the middle of the room; the next the Malirran was within an arm’s length.
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If it hadn’t been for the slight twitch, a tell the Malirran gave while shifting his weight, Skye would have died. His block skated down Lukar’s sword before they broke apart. A finger’s width down and the sword would have struck true.
Close your eyes, Eiren advised. Trust.
Stepping to the side to give himself more room, Skye did as she said. He flared his magic to its full strength and narrowed his senses to the man before him. The speed at which Lukar moved proved unnatural, verifying that he received assistance in some form from the Malirran’s foul goddess. Skye turned his sword to block another strike. Lukar was too fast and strong for a regular man.
The sound of their swords clashing and Skye’s grunts filled the otherwise silent room. It was as if Eiren had turned into a statue so as to not distract him, neither moving nor breathing. The slight rolling of the man’s right foot warned Skye of an impending swipe. The straight edge of the weapon hit his counter block with such power that Skye’s arm trembled.
So powerful.
For once, the crazed smile that Skye normally wore was nonexistent. His entire focus was on Lukar. He reopened his eyes, but his magic held pride of place. His magic had converged onto his enemy to the detriment of everything else. His vision was merely another information source, a way to decipher the man’s moves based on his expressions. To give himself more time to recover, Skye circled to the right, widening the space between them. Slowly, as if barraged by stinging nettles, feeling and strength returned to his arm. With effort, he stopped himself from shaking out his hand. The man was too dangerous and wily of an opponent. Lukar would take any show of weakness and use it against him and all his people.
The king sneered, his eyes indicating calculation and triumph at the same time. He taunted, “Where are your precious God and Goddess now?” He looked around the room as if some deity would jump out of hiding. Spreading his arms wide, he said, “Oh, that is right. They are not here. Fool!” He spat on the ground in disgust. “If you surrender now, Pyranni, I will end your life without too much suffering.”
Skye did not have to have Lara’s ability to know the Malirran lied. The man was incapable of showing mercy. Besides, he refused to kowtow to such evil. Without wasting time on words, Skye rushed forward, slicing the edge of his blade downward. In his wake, although the king danced out of reach, a thin trail of blood coursed down the man’s face.
A roar of rage left the man, and Skye would have sworn the room stretched outward for a brief instance. Narrow, constricted eyes filled with avarice warned him, but Lukar struck at almost twice the speed from before. Skye had no chance to defend himself. The Malirran’s sword carved across his chest and shoulders, leaving in its wake an inferno of pain that left him almost unable to breathe. Almost. He feinted to the left, raising his sword up to parry the coming strike. Skye was too slow.
This time it took a heartbeat before he felt the pain. Skye’s face burned from forehead to chin. A belated shout was torn from him. He received an evil chuckle in return.
Lukar taunted, “I gave you a chance, Pyranni. One you should have taken.”
Terror besieged him when Skye lost sight out of his right eye. He blinked. He blinked again. With a calm he did not feel, he closed his eyes, letting his second sight take over. Skye would deal with being blind in one eye after he defeated his enemy.
With a battle cry of his own, he attacked, keeping his weapon and body constantly moving. With a snarl, Lukar ramped up his defense and counterattacks, and soon they were trading blows. Cuts opened. Blood flew outward, an effect caused by the speed of their movements. Sweat dripped and intermixed with the blood.
Time became inconsequential. He forgot about Eiren’s presence. All that mattered was the enemy. Skye ignored his exhaustion. He ignored the telltale numbness that crept from his hands, up his arms, and into his shoulders. The agony of his wounds became throbbing points of discomfort, noticed only by how his wounds affected his reaction time. Then it happened. He misjudged his enemy’s intention until almost too late. In a flurry of motion, Lukar swept inside his defense and stabbed a small knife into his hip. Only Skye’s turning saved him from a mortal wound—the artery on his inner thigh. Even so, Skye lost strength in his left leg and fell to the floor in an uncoordinated heap.
Lukar limped forward, sword in hand. “And so, your end has come.”
Skye gripped his sword in his hand, his arm barely able to lift the heavy, unwieldy weapon. He pushed backward with his legs and elbows, his mind racing through his limited options. As the Malirran tapped the tip of his sword against Skye’s legs, then his waist, until finally reaching his neck, Skye sent up a fervent prayer for a miracle.
His prayer was cut off when Lukar grunted once. “I must admit you are the first to give me a true warrior’s engagement on a battlefield.” He glanced up and around him. “If the battlefield can take place in a castle.”
Skye gritted his teeth when he saw bright gold eyes behind the Malirran. He realized his vision in his right eye had returned sometime during the fight; it was of secondary concern.
Do not look at me, Eiren urged in a whisper that they both knew Lukar could not hear. Stealthy footsteps brought her ever closer.
Skye sent to her, When I tell you, rush him.
To give her time—and him a chance, Skye scoffed aloud, “I may die, but I did not come alone. Another will take my place. You will die, whether by my hand or not.”
Lukar barked a laugh. “Where is this man, this mighty warrior that will kill me?”
“Not a man, Malirran. A woman. She will kill you.”
The flash of fear vanished as quickly as it appeared was a surprise. Skye tucked the reaction away for later.
I am in position, Skye.
“Now,” he yelled, sweeping his knee to the side, hitting Lukar’s left leg, unbalancing him enough that when Eiren landed on his back, Lukar shuffled sideways. Skye heard the Malirran’s armor buckle under the paka’s weight.
When Lukar flipped the sword in his hand, Skye knew Eiren had to move.
“Jump,” he screamed in warning. At the same time, Skye yanked the knife out of his hip with a cry, rolled over on his side, and jammed the finger-length blade into the Malirran’s foot. Eiren leapt away as Lukar yelled in both pain and rage. During the short reprieve, she padded around to Skye’s side. Skye climbed back to his feet by using his sword to propel him upward. He dared not take his eyes or magic off the enemy. Lukar was still mobile and dangerous. Perhaps even more dangerous now that he was hurt.
Behind him, the door creaked open and two sets of feet could be heard over both Lukar’s and his panting. Skye grumbled between gasps of breaths, “What took you so long?”
The Malirran stood to his full height, sweeping them all with an assessing gaze.
Lara and Chion stopped beside him. Lara said with forced gaiety, “Oh. Uh. Well, I thought we decided you and Eiren would handle the king while Chion and I took care of the screamer. Was I wrong?”
“You,” Lukar gasped, his eyes flaring with recognition.