Please, Ni’mod, drive them back, she thought as she stood still. She would protect Dualayn. He was too important to lose. What they’d found this day could save so many lives.
The two easterners fought, Ni’mod’s bare back flexing, rippling with dark muscles. Steam poured off of him as his flaming blade hacked at the lighter-skinned Tethyrian. He backpedaled, feet moving with grace. The light shadowed his face strangely, making his eyes seem haunted to her.
“Oy, Phriliph, grab that girl. Bet she’ll make that big ‘un drop his cleaver.”
The words cut through her mind. She gasped as she saw two of the bandits advancing on her. A scrawny man with a runny nose led the way, his sword held low. He had a dangerous feel to him. At his side, a taller man with a pug nose advanced, a big grin on his face. He stared at her in a way that made her skin crawl.
“You do not want to fight me,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t quaver. “Ni’mod himself taught me to fight. I’ll set my blood aflame and set both of you on fire. By Elohm’s White, I swear it.”
The runny-nosed man sniffled. “I’d like to see that. Do it.”
“Sure,” the other said. His smile swelled. “Let’s see that pretty trick.”
“You don’t want that,” she said. Her feet didn’t want to move. Her shoes felt leaden, holding her in place as the bandits advanced. “I’m deadly.”
“With that little sewing needle?” the runny-nosed man said. He grinned, his teeth stained black from the narcotic Tethyrian weed. “Come on, try ‘n prick me.”
She swallowed and then grabbed the dagger with both hands, prepared to stab at them.
The taller man just laughed. “Where’d you learn to hold a knife, girly?”
“Stay back!” she shouted. They were only cubits away.
Footsteps thudded. Flames hissed. The giant bloodfire appeared at her side, his sword flashing. She squeaked in shocked revulsion as it swept off the head of the taller man. His body collapsed into a twitching pile, blood spurting out of the major arteries in the neck. The right and left common carotid arteries, rattled through her head from her anatomy lessons. The man’s head rolled to a stop nearby, helmet tumbling free.
“Bugger me Black!” shouted the runny-nosed man as he threw himself back, Ni’mod’s hooked blade slashing down at him. It slammed into the red grass, sparks flaring, blades smoldering as the runny-nosed man fell on his back. A dark stain spread across the bandit’s crotch as he scrambled away.
“Thanks,” she said to Ni’mod. Fear rattled her body.
Ni’mod nodded. “One-handed, Miss. You have better reach and precision.”
She nodded.
Her protector turned as an eastern bandit rushed up, his eyes hard, his chainmail rattling. His blade hummed.
A Demochian resonance blade? she realized as Ni’mod turned and swung his fiery weapon. Here?
*
Does Lausi’s wind sing through him? thought Ōbhin as he charged the fleet-footed bloodfire. The hulk’s speed shocked Ōbhin.
Phriliph lay dead and Whiner Creg stumbled back in terror. Ōbhin may not like them, but he was their companion. He couldn’t stand by and let the bloodfire butcher them all. The speed, the skill. It shook the complacency off Ōbhin like snow kicked off boots at the threshold of a house.
The bloodfire turned from the woman. His green eyes, burning with his inner fire, fixed on Ōbhin. That smile grew as the flaming sword swung in a blurring streak. Ōbhin flicked out his vibrating weapon. It could cut through the strongest steel. Only another resonance blade could parry it.
The bloodfire knew that.
He pulled his attack short to save his weapon. The humming tulwar sliced through the end of a hook. The burning metal tumbled through the air and plummeted into the grass. It smoldered as Ōbhin pressed in his attack.
No holding back. He had to risk all on the stroke of his blade, on his skill, and his speed.
Would it be enough?
A calm gripped him as the bloodfire sent a hacking overhand swipe, swinging fast. Ōbhin ducked low and swiped a diagonal, upward slash at the bloodfire’s legs, a disabling cut. The hulk backstepped, the blade missing by a few fingers. Ōbhin let the attack flow into the next, shifting his leather grip and swiping down at the bloodfire’s neck.
His enemy’s response came fast, burning blade howling at Ōbhin’s torso.
It forced him back. Flames snapped before him, the heat washing over his features. His feet danced across the ground while the weight of his chainmail dragged at him. It was useless against the hook and the flames.
Brutal swings flashed at him. Ni’mod’s face twisted. He’s trying to end me before I can do more damage to his blade.
The hulk held nothing back. Neither could Ōbhin.
His tulwar swept out in an arc for the blade, forcing the hulk to shift back. Ōbhin had an opening he could exploit, but not with his sword. Left hand extending, he darted into the bloodfire’s guard and seized the wrist of the hulk’s sword arm. The heat of the bloodfire’s passion warmed through Ōbhin’s armor. He fought against the brute’s strength as Ōbhin swung his blade in at his foe’s side.
With a snarl, the bloodfire cracked his forehead into Ōbhin’s temple.
Lights flashed before his eyes. The world spun. He hit the ground, groaning. The morning dew covering the grass soaked through his woolen hose. He struggled to think. His entire body felt fuzzy. He blinked. Thoughts cleared.
He looked up to see flaming death slice down at him, a burning hook plunging for his heart.
*
Avena trembled as she watched Ni’mod’s sword screaming down for the foreign bandit. Flames reflected across the coat of chain the Tethyrian wore. He stared up at death with a
