Rage. Bloodlust. Murder.
She didn’t even think Dayne was capable of that.
The broomstick shattered on Dayne’s blow, and he raised up his sword once more for the kill.
For the kill.
Something was very wrong.
She dashed in, shield raised to take that blow for the young man. The sword slammed into her shield, a hit so hard it made her bones rattle. But she took it.
“Dayne,” she said. “What are you doing?”
“Serving the Brotherhood,” Dayne said. He whipped his sword around at her, which she quickly parried. He switched up to a flurry of feints and attacks, driving Jerinne back.
“Serving who?” she asked. “Have you lost your mind?”
“I finally see clearly,” he said. His attacks were relentless. Jerinne wasn’t able to do anything but draw him away from the two people he had been about to kill. She had no idea who they were, if they were legitimately bad people or not, but she knew that Dayne—whatever had happened to him—would not forgive himself if he had killed them.
“Clearly about what?” she asked, watching Dayne’s feet, watching his wrist, following his technique. In the months of training and sparring together, she had never seen him fight like this. On the offensive, using all his strength. It put him off his usual rhythms.
Whatever was going on in his head, his body didn’t know how to fight like this.
“The divine truth of the Nine,” Dayne said. “They are the way, and the Brotherhood shall be empowered as they rise.”
“That’s some blazing bunk,” Jerinne said. “You were trying to kill? For the Brotherhood?”
“I serve as I am needed,” he said. He overextended his attack. Jerinne parried and then locked her sword into his hilt, followed by a slam of her shield into his wrist. He let go of the blade, and she was able to send it flying across the room, disarming him of that.
She was rewarded by his shield smashing into the side of her head, sending her reeling.
“No,” she said, forcing the words through her haze. “That’s not how you serve, Dayne.”
He smashed his shield on her again, but she was able to get her own up to take the blow. Even still, the sheer power he had, stronger than she had suspected.
“I serve the Brotherhood!” he shouted as he pummeled again and again with the shield. She kept hers up, blocking every blow, even if each one forced her back to the wall.
“You don’t serve death,” she said. “You—”
Another blow. She still had her sword. In his fury, he wasn’t even defending himself. She could stop him. She could end it.
But that wasn’t who she was. She was a Tarian.
And no matter what had been done to him, so was Dayne.
He would have to remember.
She would make him remember.
He hit her shield with his once more, and when she blocked it, his massive fist came at her chest. She had never been hit as hard in her life. It was like a team of horses. The blow knocked her off her feet, landing near the two men, who were crawling weakly toward each other.
“Now you all die,” Dayne said.
Jerinne hopped back on her feet. Five-mile runs with Amaya, morning training with Vien, sparring every day, all that had shown her what she could endure. She would put that to the test, no matter what.
Dayne hurled his shield at her, which she deflected with her own. Then he charged at her, fists raised, shouting a primal scream.
She shouted right back at him.
“With shield on arm and sword in hand!”
Punches rained on her shield.
“I will not yield but hold and stand!”
Blow after blow, relentless.
“As I draw breath, I’ll allow no harm!”
The punches slowed.
“And hold—” Dayne muttered.
She dropped down and swept his leg, knocking him off balance. He landed on his back, and Jerinne sprang on top of him. She planted one foot on his arm, pressed her whole body with her shield on his chest, pinning him down.
“And hold?” she asked.
“And hold . . .” It was as if the words were hurting him to say, but he struggled to get them out.
“Say it!” she shouted.
In almost a terrified whisper, he said, “And hold back death, with shield on arm.”
He started saying the entire oath, repeating it again and again, faster and faster, as tears formed at his eyes. His whole body relaxed as the fight left it. Jerinne cautiously took herself off of him, while he quietly repeated the oath.
“Is . . . is he all right?”
Jerinne whipped her attention behind her, sword up. The two men both quickly raised their hands up, even though they were nearly holding each other upright. The younger one looked like he could barely stand.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“The Thorn and Asti Rynax,” Dayne whispered.
“I take it you’re a friend of his,” the older man said.
“Dayne,” Jerinne asked. “Are you . . . you?”
“I don’t understand . . . how I . . .” Dayne started to cry again.
“I definitely think he’s all right,” the young one said.
Jerinne got up completely. “Do you know what happened?”
“The High Dragon of the Brotherhood,” the older one said. “He’s got this way of, I don’t know, reaching into your head and twisting your soul.”
“It didn’t take on us,” the younger said. “Apparently it doesn’t work on mages.”
“Or people whose soul is already twisted enough.”
“I’m such a fool,” Dayne said. “It all . . . it all seemed so clear.”
“Wait,” Jerinne said. Dayne’s introductions suddenly made sense. “The Thorn? Did Kaiana send you here?”
“Kai?” the young one—clearly the Thorn—asked. “You know her?”
“Well, I helped her get away, and she went to get help. I thought she was going to get you.”
“No, I was already here with him,” the Thorn said, pointing to Asti. “We got separated, I met Dayne, who I thought was the giant, then we tried to stop that mage Senek with his machine, got taken to the High Dragon, and then he turned Dayne into . . . well, you saw.”
She looked to Dayne, who nodded, even though he couldn’t look
