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He charges at me with pure, lethal grace that is so wholly inhuman I lose a split second of reaction time.
On the ground on the other side of the room is a downed guard with dual spears.
Here goes nothing.
Rollo is upon me within seconds. He’s fast.
I am faster.
His moves, his approach… it reminds me of other movements I’ve defended against before. He is Underling, after all. Perhaps the Corediver methods are similar to the Oksvakt.
Just as I predicted, he swings at my middle, and I shuffle a few steps to the right, using the unconscious bodies to my advantage. I hop and dodge in a zig zag pattern as I hear his axe unsheathe behind me.
The spears are just a few paces away.
Pain erupts from my calf as Rollo’s blade slices through a few layers of skin.
But I’ve been enduring pain, physical and otherwise, since my capture. I must endure.
No. I will endure.
I send the final kernel of magic left in a flash of light behind me. Roars of Rollo’s pain reward my ears in a glorious symphony. B minor.
I pivot to the side and jump over another unconscious Underling, but the cut to my calf throws off my balance and I fall to the ground on my stomach, my fingers only inches away from one of the spears.
I will endure.
Pain pulses through every fiber of my being, but I press myself upward, heaving my body forward with one large push. My fingers grip around the—
Rollo lands on top of me, stealing all of the air inside my body at the impact. I can feel the oxygen leaving at a rapid pace. I beg my heart to slow and heave…
one
last
breath
…and slide the spear into the meaty shoulder of the male pinning me down.
9
The Final Stitch
Rollo roars in pain and jumps off me. Precious air fills my lungs almost immediately, and I grab the other spear, roll onto my back, and kick my legs upward to stand in one quick motion. My calf throbs in pain; I can feel my blood dripping down into my shoes.
The bodies around me stir as Rollo’s eyes darken. He reaches for the spear now protruding out of his large muscle between his shoulder and neck.
“You’ll pay for this, Starwatcher. You will submit to me, but I’ll need to teach you a lesson first. This is no way to treat your future husband.” He pulls out the spear, paying no mind to the steady trickle of black blood seeping from the wound.
I don’t let my stomach curdle at the words. Won’t let my fear rise this time. I ignore the pain in my legs, the loss of blood.
“No,” I say simply. “No,” I repeat, more strongly. “I will not be ‘paying for this,’” I whip the spear around my head and grip it like a staff. I jab in a series of three strikes.
“I will not submit to you.” I swing the spear over his head, but he ducks just in time, then I follow with four more swift strikes. Each one the Jord Lord deflects easily, but he retreats a few more steps until he is nearly pressing into the polished red stone wall. One singular beam of sunlight gleams down, heating my head and shoulders as I close in.
“…and I most definitely”—I spin my staff once more—“will not”—I pin him to the wall—“be your wife.” I point the tip of the spear to his throat.
The entire castle rumbles with a great and terrible power. Small pieces of rock fall from the sides of the castle walls. The earth begins to shake so intensely, but I hold my ground, bending my knees to absorb some of the shock, and continue to press the spear into Rollo’s throat until a small bead of blood forms on the tip.
