I fired.
My aim was true, because, not only did I deserve my Destin for my passion for life, but I was also a kickass charzbos… I could be a barbarian, too.
Twenty
Cartari
I hadn’t expected the fight to be easy, but I hadn’t expected it to be difficult, either. I sparred in Bristola with Spec Ops soldiers all the time. Becoming leadership on Farian didn’t mean we got lax and out of touch with the things that made us great warriors. Granted, we were able to use telekinetic shoves, lifts, throws, and floats. Not to mention all the different ways that power supplemented our weapons techniques. But, Blatson was skilled… He had hit me more than once. My eye was swollen, my lip was split. I was sure I had a few broken ribs. But, my knuckles were bloody, too, and that showed on his split and swollen face.
I cast a quick look toward Zaya as I sensed her distraught emotions and saw Kala talking her down from shooting Blatson in the back with a bow and arrow she had somehow gained from one of the Vailstor soldiers. Part of me wished she would. God, this guy is powerful.
But, I can get out… I can get out…
As the doors to the hall split open and more soldiers rushed in, so did the other Farian soldiers. Ilisa began barking orders telepathically and I left it all up to her. Arrows fired, knives flew, soldiers smashed into walls with telekinetic force. My comrades would take care of the battle quickly. And they would protect me during this duel. They could tell I was serious when I said I wasn’t leaving without defending Zaya’s honor.
My wrist was starting to ache as Blatson held it tense against the wall, his thumb on my pulse, trying to get me to drop the knife. My other hand barely held his knife hand at bay from slicing my throat. His heavy chest was pressed against mine, smothering me to the wall.
With a quick movement, I gave in completely, letting Blatson push my wrist free, so that he moved in hard against the wall, the slight stutter forward surprising him enough to let me slip my leg in between his and wrap around his thigh, placing extreme pressure on his bad left knee, dragging him down, throwing him off and to the ground.
As we tumbled to the floor, our hands released from each other, his knife hand swung down and impaled my left thigh. I roared in anger and pain, but managed to jerk away from him, spinning aside on the floor in a tangle of blood, limbs, and blades, as he fell face first.
I bent to one knee and studied the blade sticking out of my thigh as Blatson gathered himself, grinning at me. I placed my own knife carefully on the ground and then pulled his out of the side of my quad, grimacing and yelping a little. Thankfully, it hadn’t severed anything seriously, but it was bleeding quite a bit.
The good thing was, now I had two knives.
Blatson put up his fists and came toward me, not seeming to mind that I was about to be slashing at his body with two daggers. I lunged up, my left leg a bit wobbly, and aimed one for his neck, the other tucking in toward the side of his body. That one bit in solid.
He spun away, jerking the blade with it, this time, his turn to yelp. He plucked the blade from his side, near his kidney. He might have a knife again, but I had injured him pretty badly, blood flowing profusely out his shirt and down his side.
“You’re doing better than I might have expected, charzbos, I do have to say. I figured you would just be a pretty boy hiding behind your mind skills, no true fight in you.” Blatson spit out a long string of blood and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“Delighted to surprise you.” I looked around briefly to notice my Farian soldiers were doing a brilliant job quelling the uprising. There were a dozen soldiers dead and a dozen more tied up. Even Zaya was lasering in arrow shots.
“Well, it still won’t be enough,” Blatson said.
The General came at me again, knife extended, other fist up, and our blades clashed together. His left hook met my right eye before I could slip out of the way and lights thudded in my brain. I stumbled back a step and he was quick inside me with three slashing whips of his blade to my chest, leaving my shirt in ribbons and blood streaming down my chest, fire flaring inside me and pain streaking through my stomach. At least I didn’t see any entrails hanging out.
Oh, how much easier it would be if I could just throw ten knives at a precise pattern from a distance… I would never again take my telekinesis for granted. I would also not slack off in the sparring ring.
The General left me no room as I stumbled backward, following me quickly, slashing out, whipping at my shoulder, which I barely deflected, then I ducked under the next jab and managed to ring a solid uppercut to his chin, then I burst a rapid range of tight jabbing cuts into his left lung area as he tripped backwards against the wall.
A blood bubble appeared on his lips.
Ooo… I had made sincere damage…
But, not irreparable, if I didn’t finish this quick. I swooped in at him, blade raised, ready to slash his throat, but he ducked down, rolled away, then dove at my feet, knocking me head over heels, and then he was on top of me, slamming his fists down into my face, his knife gone, not even sure where, pummeling my chest and chin and temple as I put up my forearms to defend myself.
He got in five solid
