I charged with Ebon raise, leaped into the air, and brought my blade down in an arcing strike. Before the attack could connect, the king deflected it with his blade. His weapon didn’t shatter. Instead, it sent reverberations through my hands, arms, and up to my shoulders.
“You are not the only one with artifacts of power,” he said as he slashed at me.
I blocked the attack before I spotted the upper blade heading toward my head. Having nowhere else to go, I rolled forward between Demetrios’ legs and avoided the strike, only to have to block the lower blade as he thrust it between his legs.
The screeching laughter started again.
“Ah, that’s more like it!” Demetrios said. Though it sounded like he was smiling, his face—such as it was—didn’t change. “Finally, a worthy opponent. I’m so very glad to have met you, Jacob.”
“Have you been watching me?” I asked. “Listening? That’s beyond creepy.”
He was trying to get to me. I knew it, I understood why, but still, his words bothered me. First, I didn’t know how he knew my name. We’d never met, and I couldn’t recall seeing any guards around when my name was mentioned. Second, he seemed genuinely happy to fight, like it was his birthday, and he was getting exactly what he wanted.
I decided to play his game. I flipped him the bird. He seemed to like it the first time, so I figured a second time would really impress him.
“Your insolence is simply a mask for your insecurity,” the king said.
“I don’t let other people do my fighting for me. That’s the difference between leaders. You’re happy to sit back and let your people die in droves.”
He didn’t respond, so I continued.
“You’re a coward, a thief, and a fucking disappointment. My dumbest greenhorn could run this city better than you.”
“And you think you’re the one to do that?” Demetrios sneered. “Take control?”
“Nah,” I said. “I’m just passing through. Got bigger and better things to deal with. But since you’re so interested in a good fight, I’ll give you one. If you’re up to it.”
My goal was to anger him enough that he would make a mistake. But I discovered the furious version of Demetrios was a whole lot more dangerous and aggressive than the slightly annoyed version.
We were 15 feet apart, but the king closed it in less than a second. I leaned in, Ebon held diagonally across my body to prepare for a strike from either end of his weapon. Demetrios crouched and spun the blade like a blender, first one end, then the other. He became a blur while I danced backward, barely able to keep up with his strikes. To my surprise, he was able to spin his blade while working in jabs and reversals. At the same time, he attempted to taunt me with his voice. I watched his patterns, kept on the defensive, and waited for an opportunity.
“Oh, what fun we’re having, aren’t we, Jacob?” he whispered. “This world is mine, little human. I own it. It is mine.”
“The Sitar… own it,” I said between breaths. “You’re not… the… king. You’re just… their bitch.”
And there it was, a hesitation. It only lasted for half a heartbeat, but I struck hard.
Ebon bit into Demetrios’ shoulder just below his neck before he could bring his weapon up. He shoved at my sword and ripped it free of his carapace, so I kicked his weapon’s center handle hard, driving the lower blade into and through his foot, stopping him dead in his tracks.
I stabbed at his face, but he caught Ebon with a hand, so I twisted the blade sideways, removing four fingers. Demetrios hissed and recoiled. When he reached out to retrieve his weapon, I arced Ebon downward and removed his hand.
“No!” Demetrios shrieked.
“What?” I asked. “I thought you wanted a good fight. This isn’t good enough for you?” I cut him again, this time across his nose. The lower half of the skin and cartilage flopped down like a warm piece of processed cheese and stuck to his face.
Demetrios shrieked again and yanked hard at his impaled foot, which tore in half as he pulled it free from the broad side of his weapon’s blade. There was no blood, but he was running out of limbs.
I lifted Ebon over my head and slashed down hard, but hit nothing but air. The king had leapt away, even with his bad foot, and was stumbling toward the city.
“Return to me!” he yelled, and it sounded like he was speaking into a comm.
I sprinted for him and kicked him straight in the back with everything I had. He stumbled forward, and an iridescent appendage burst from the king’s narrow waist. It was as though he’d vomited the object out from his torso. It had torn through his carapace armor and landed on the ground in front of him.
As he toppled to his knees, I chopped sideways and took off his head.
I walked over to the appendage and wondered why it had exploded from his guts. It looked like a Xeno leg. Too similar to be a coincidence. Too similar to be anything other than that.
My mind recoiled in protest.
We were far from Xeno space, as far as I knew. I was certain that the planet I was on had not been charted. I’d never seen anything like it, and Mars would have sent an envoy or, at least, a few spies to find out more. If they hadn’t returned, I’d know because the planet would have been marked as hostile, and the next to arrive would be a battle fleet. Mars would either eliminate the hostile forces or convince them to play nice. They’d be free to rule themselves, but we’d also insist on building a base to help keep the Xeno forces away.
I stared in disbelief. Xeno… here...
I
