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Kymora steps out of reach, turns her head to me, sees that I’m watching. And then she attacks in earnest.
I’m halfway there.
Kymora feints, swings for my sister’s feet, but Temra jumps.
She thrusts the pitchfork forward, trying to get in her own strike. Kymora dodges and brings down her blade, and though I can’t see where the weapon lands, I know it strikes true.
Temra’s screams fill my ears as I bend down to retrieve my hammers from where they fell. My eyes blinded by tears, I watch Kymora strike Temra with her free hand, knuckles colliding with her skull to silence her cries. She hits the ground.
Blood spills everywhere, but Kymora doesn’t finish the job. She turns to me. “You should have come when I said. I warned you what would happen. You’re going to watch as I hack her apart piece by piece.”
She points her sword toward the ground, resting it against Temra’s side, and jerks the weapon upward, opening another wound.
And then I’m finally there.
I scream and rage and fly at Kymora with my hammers. The warlord smirks as she dodges my swing, raises her own sword.
I catch it on my shield, and the warlord’s arm flies backward from the force of the magic.
And then Kellyn is there, taking up position on her other side.
Kymora crouches to retrieve a fallen bastard sword with her left hand. She doesn’t blink as she takes us both on at once.
The most skilled swordswoman in all of Ghadra.
She swings her swords at impossible speeds, and I’m barely able to bring up my magicked hammer in time to catch them. Kellyn’s weapon’s magical ability is of no use to him now. He has only one opponent, and the sword can’t help him with what’s right in front of him.
Kymora is better than he is. I knew that already, but to see him pitted against her, it’s so painfully obvious.
We’re both blocking for our lives, neither getting an opportunity to throw our own strikes. I try once, ducking below my shield after catching her broadsword on it to swing out with my hammer.
She kicks it. Her boots must have metal at the tips, because the hammer makes aclankwhen the two strike and I nearly fall over.
“You can’t beat me,” Kymora says. “You’re only prolonging the inevitable. Your sister will be dead in minutes from those wounds, and I can keep this up for hours.”
Though sweat dots Kymora’s forehead, I believe her.
She spins away and gets a sword around the edges of my shield, but she doesn’t press forward; she hooks on to the invisible boundary of my shield and flings it away from me.
The hammer goes flying to the ground, and I race for it, daring to put my back to Kymora because I know she doesn’t want me dead, trusting in it.
When I have my hammer back and spin around, it’s to see Kymora flying at Kellyn with both swords. Only with the superior length of his longsword does he keep her at bay for one slash, two slashes.
She means to kill him before taking me.
I run. I throw myself between the two fighters, raising my hammer-shield, my grip like iron.
Kymora slams into it, but she’s already used to the way the magic works. She plants her feet to catch herself from the force of her strikes rebounding. Again and again she batters at the shield, while Kellyn tries to strike her from above it.
It’s not going to work.
My strength was once impressive with a hammer. I could beat at metal all day, but I’ve grown soft on the road with nothing to do but exercise my legs.
My strength is failing.
Only the knowledge that Kellyn will die, just like my sister did or will do soon—a whimper escapes my lips at the thought—keeps me standing. Keeps me fighting.
Because even if I lose, I can’t stop if I don’t give it my all.
