He raced around the building. A crowd surrounded Ari and Rye’s fight, growing bigger as the bar’s patrons spilled into the street to gawk. Janco pushed through them until he reached the edge.
One glance and he knew Ari wouldn’t last long. Gashes marked Ari’s thick forearms, blood stained his tattered pants, and sweat poured off his strained face. Before joining in the fight, Janco met Captain Kenton’s gaze and nodded.
The bar had been filled with off-duty soldiers and reservists. Most were drunk, but the Captain had been informed about Rye. He and a few others had stayed sober. Since their first plan to prick Rye with a sleeping potion-laced dart failed, the Captain would be needed for plan B.
Janco stepped close to his partner and aimed a blow at Rye’s mid-section. Pemba blurred into motion, countering the strike before Rye reacted. The scimitar controlled the man’s actions, and the insane hunger shining in Rye’s eyes meant the weapon also controlled his mind.
Ari grunted a greeting. “What took you…so long?” His breath huffed with the effort.
“I stopped for a snack, and ordered us a couple beers,” Janco said. “We should finish him soon. I hate warm beer.”
A snort of amusement from Ari, but even Janco grew quiet as they fought Rye. The scimitar blocked every thrust, lunge and attack. Pemba ignored all feints. All the while she snaked under their defenses and sliced into their skin. Little by little the number of cuts grew while he weakened.
The addition of Captain Kenton didn’t slow Pemba down. Three more soldiers joined in. But the scimitar’s movement created a zone around Rye. As if a bubble of glass surrounded him, protecting him. There seemed no way for their weapons to reach him.
Plan B sucked. Although it kept Rye and Pemba occupied, and gave each of them a turn to take a break, eventually one of them would make a mistake and die. They would be forced to give up and…what? Janco hated to surrender.
Time for plan C. Too bad they hadn’t formulated plan C.
When Ari’s broadsword flew from his grip, Janco called for a retreat. The soldiers engaged in the fighting stepped back as one. No longer under attack, Pemba stilled.
No sweat coated Rye’s face. He wasn’t even panting from the effort of defending against six men. Interesting.
“You can’t stop,” Rye said in a matter-of-fact tone. “A blood sacrifice must be made.”
Time to slow events down and think. Unfortunately, thinking wasn’t his strength. Janco glanced at his partner. Perhaps Ari would have an idea.
“Why do you want a sacrifice?” Ari asked.
“We need it,” Rye said.
“What for?” Janco asked. “You’re already unbeatable.”
“Valek.” The word hissed out between Rye’s teeth.
Pain jabbed Janco where the lower half of his right ear used to be. He rubbed the scar. “Now, I’m not a genius—”
“Got that right,” Ari mumbled.
He shot his partner a nasty look. “But how can increasing your magical power help you against Valek? He’s —”
“Immune, I know. But if we’re strong enough to slow him down, all we need is one single drop of his blood and his immunity will be gone.” Rye advanced toward Janco.
Janco backed away. It galled him, but he needed to stall. “Hold on there, puppy dog. What’s your beef with Valek?”
“He put my mother and me through hell after my father disappeared. Our house was under constant surveillance, preventing my father from returning to us for four years.”
Click. An important clue fell into place and answered a question that should have been asked. How did Rye get Pemba?
“Your father has returned. Did he bring you Pemba?” Ari asked.
Rye pressed his lips together, refusing to answer.
Why would he give the scimitar to his son? He wouldn’t. Janco suppressed the desire to do a little dance. “His father returned, all right. But not to see his son. To retrieve Pemba.”
The puppy dog flinched for a second. Bingo. Time to add salt to the wound. “He didn’t care about you or your mother,” Janco said. “Left you without a backward glance. Probably has a new family in Sitia with lots of kids and a faithful dog.”
Each sentence hit the mark. Color leaked from Rye’s face.
“Then one day he uncovers information on an old scimitar he once owned. It could be the infamous Pemba. So he sneaks back into Ixia to get the weapon.” Janco guessed the order of events. “He doesn’t even want you or your mother to know he’s there. But you see him and, after he tells you everything, you kill him in a fit of rage.”
Ari looked impressed and, encouraged, Janco finished his tale. “Not wanting to take responsibility for
your actions, you blame Valek for the whole mess, and plot a way to exact revenge.”
“A fairy tale,” Rye said. “No proof, and it doesn’t change the fact you’re unable to stop us.”
Good point. Janco frowned. Magic sucked. He never knew where he stood and magicians had an unfair advantage. Reading minds, moving objects, healing people, and… Click.
Janco signaled Ari to follow his lead. He glanced at his partner with a surprised smile. “Talk about good timing!” He peered over Rye’s shoulder. “Hey Valek, we were just talking about you,” he called, keeping a firm vision of Valek armed with a broadsword in his mind.
Rye swung around. Janco motioned to Ari, then stepped close to Rye. The young pup barely countered the attack.
“Nice try, but it won’t help you,” Rye said.
But Janco tuned him out. His mind flashed a chaotic array of images. He allowed instinct and years of experience to guide his movements while his thoughts hopped with random abandon.
Pemba used illusion. If Rye had actually fought six men, he would have been at least sweaty and red-faced. Combine illusion with the ability to read minds, and the result was one unbeatable opponent.
Unless you don’t think and don’t see. Janco kept his gaze on Rye’s shoulders, letting the boy’s real movements be picked up by his subconscious, trusting his training.
“Aiming high,” Ari shouted.
Janco ducked, imagining his partner pointing a blow pipe at Rye’s neck. Pemba moved to block the dart from Ari. Without thought, Janco yanked a dart from his belt and stabbed it into Rye’s leg.
Ten harrowing seconds of dodging the scimitar’s thrusts before Rye collapsed on top of Janco. Pemba knocked from his grip on impact.
Ari pulled the sleeping man off him. Brushing the dirt from his pants, Janco stood.
“How’d you keep him from chopping you into ground beef?” Ari asked.
“You know how you’re always yelling at me for not focusing and staying on topic for more than a few seconds?”
“You actually listened to my advice?”
“No. I only listen to good advice. I did what I do best.”
“Be a scatter-brained annoyance?”
Janco pouted at Ari’s word choice. “It worked.”
His partner stared at the sleeping man. “Can’t argue with that.” Ari touched the row of gashes along his forearm. “Heck of an illusion. That’s the second time you’ve seen through it.”
He puffed out his chest. “I might not be immune to magic. But I can outwit it!”
Ari rolled his eyes as Janco danced around. After his little performance, he bent to pick up Pemba.
“Don’t touch it!” Ari yelled.
He yanked his hand back. “Oh. Right.”
Ari sighed. “Just what I need. A variable-speed genius.”
