by Rachel Aaron
Julius jumped back. All around them, the ankle-deep, freezing water covering the ground was now flowing away. It was like watching the tide go out, only instead of racing out to sea, Vann Jeger’s water began to churn around them in a circle, spinning up until they were surrounded by a whirlpool of water as tall as a five-story building.
Until this point, Julius hadn’t even realized there was that much water on the ground, and for a horrible moment, he was sure the whole thing was about to crash down and drown him. Bad as that would be, though, the truth was actually worse, because the wave didn’t crash down at all. It went up, shooting into the evening sky before curving over on itself to create a domed cage of surging, spinning, obviously magical water cutting them off from the rest of the world.
By the time he realized he was trapped, Julius’s panic was almost enough to break the illusion. He couldn’t even see Marci through Vann Jeger’s wall of water. For all he knew, he was cut off from Chelsie as well, which meant he was alone, trapped in a watery arena with the Death of Dragons. About the only thing that had gone right was that they were still inside Marci’s giant circle, not that that was much comfort when Vann Jeger planted his spear on the ground and used it like a pole vault, leaping off his horse to land in front of Julius with a crash.
“Since the challenge was mine, I shall allow you the first move,” the spirit said, banishing the horse back to water with a wave of his spear. “You may attack when ready.”
That offer struck Julius as oddly fair. It also gave him an idea. The wall of water had been a surprise, but otherwise, Vann Jeger was behaving exactly like the archaic warrior Amelia had described him as earlier. With that in mind, Julius switched gears completely, keeping his hands at his sides as he asked, “Why?”
Vann Jeger scowled. “Why what?”
“Why do we have to fight?” Julius clarified. “You’ve gone out of your way to provoke me, harassing my human and forcing me into the open, yet I’ve done nothing to harm you or Algonquin or this city. There are plenty of arrogant, destructive dragons in the DFZ for you to fight. Why waste your time hunting those of us who just want to be left alone?”
A dragon would have seen through that question before it got out of Julius’s mouth, but as he’d just seen, Vann Jeger wasn’t a dragon. He was a spirit, a proud soul who clearly got his values from a very different time. And, as Julius had learned as a teenager trying to argue on the internet, if you wanted to get a proud person talking, all you had to do was ask them to explain why they thought they were right. It didn’t hurt that he was also legitimately curious, which made his attention all the more believable when Vann Jeger snapped up the bait.
“I hunt you because you are what you are,” the spirit thundered. “You say you’ve done us no harm, but that is impossible when your very existence harms those around you. Consumption and destruction are a dragon’s nature. It’s why you came to our world in the first place, because you’d already destroyed your own with your never-ending greed.” He bared his teeth. “You are all parasites feeding off a world that does not belong to you, and it is my pleasure as well as my duty as a soul of this land to make you bleed.”
That was much more of an answer than Julius had been expecting, and one that sadly made a lot of sense. But even so, “We’re not all like that,” he said earnestly, forgetting his role as a ruthless, terrible dragon for a moment. “Some dragons are what you describe, but there are plenty who just want to live in peace. Surely this world is big enough for both of us?”
“No world is big enough for your greed,” the spirit said bitterly. “Enough of this. I didn’t come here to explain what you should already know.”
“But I still don’t understand,” Julius said quickly. “Dragons didn’t destroy the world in the thousand years you were sleeping, why would we do it now? We just want to live here, too.”
“But none of us want to live with you,” Vann Jeger snarled, stabbing his spear through the air at Julius. “Understand that, wyrm. This is our world, not yours, and we will not share it with the likes of you. Now.” He bared his yellow teeth. “Change and fight, or I will go back on my offer and strike you down like the mortal you pretend to be.”
Julius took a step back. He’d been doing surprisingly well up until now, but apparently he’d trodden on sacred ground with that last question. He was scrambling to think of a way to sidetrack the spirit onto another topic when Vann Jeger charged straight at him.
It happened so quickly, even Julius’s speed wasn’t enough. Despite his bulk, Vann Jeger moved faster than Julius’s eyes could track. One second he was standing several feet away, the next, all ten feet of homicidal, dragon-hating spirit was right in front of him with his giant spear already crashing into Julius’s chest.
If not for Marci, that would have been the end. Forget dodging, Julius hadn’t even seen the attack until it was way too late. But in addition to her fantastic illusion work, Marci had also given him some insurance in the form of a ward against blades similar to the one she’d used on herself to stop bullets when she’d confronted Bixby. But while the magical barrier did indeed stop the point of the spear from actually stabbing through his chest, it couldn’t do anything to stop the force, which was still enough to send Julius flying across the soggy field and into the spinning wall of water.
He bounced off it like a rubber ball, thrown face first back into the field by the magic current. But this, too, was a stroke of luck, because the muddy dirt actually absorbed most of the impact. It still hurt like crazy, but at least he didn’t break anything. Unless, of course, you counted Vann Jeger’s willingness to believe that Julius was actually an ancient and powerful dragon.
“That’s it?” the spirit roared, stomping over to grab Julius out of the dirt. “Where is your fire? Where is your strength?”
He shook Julius violently with each word, making it impossible to answer, not that Julius could have given him one. His power was entirely on the surface, and by the time Vann Jeger let him go, it was obvious the spirit knew it.
“Is this what Heartstriker has come to?” he growled, throwing Julius back into the mud. “I came here because I was promised a true fight, but you’re even weaker than the whelp this afternoon! At least he had fire.”
Julius tried to come up with something disdainful and witty to say to that, but between the shaking and his second impact with the ground, he could barely form words. Everything in his head was ringing and shaking. He was still working on pushing back up to his knees when he saw the spirit raise his spear.
“Pathetic,” Vann Jeger growled, lining up his spear to skewer Julius’s heart. But as he pulled back his arm for the killing blow, a whistling noise sliced through the air, followed by Vann Jeger’s roar of pain.
Julius gasped in surprise, yanking his still-ringing head up just in time to see Vann Jeger drop his spear and reach around with both hands to grab at something on his back. The spirit was so large though, Julius couldn’t actually see what he was trying to catch hold of until Chelsie jumped down, her sword glinting wetly in the light of the setting sun.
Not counting the few seconds after she’d first fallen into his living room, Julius had never actually seen Chelsie’s Fang out of its sheath. Not surprisingly, the bone-colored, curving blade looked very much like Justin’s. But where his brother’s sword was clearly designed for power, Chelsie’s was narrow and sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel. It was also dripping with a black liquid Julius could only assume was Vann Jeger’s blood. Literally dripping, as in Julius couldn’t understand how she’d gotten that much blood out of a single attack. When Vann Jeger whirled around to face her, though, he understood.
Chelsie hadn’t just stabbed the spirit in the back, she’d gutted him, slicing him open from the base of his neck to the small of his back. If he’d been human, he’d have been cut him in two. But Vann Jeger was no more human than he was dragon, and the dripping wound closed before Julius’s eyes, the dusky blue flesh sealing over in seconds until it was
impossible to tell the spirit had even been injured.
If Chelsie was upset her surprise attack hadn’t worked, she didn’t let it show. Vann Jeger, on the other hand, looked like he’d just stumbled over a hidden treasure. “I was expecting a trap,” he rumbled, his blue face splitting into an inhumanly wide grin. “But Bethesda’s Shade herself?” He laughed again, a joyous, delighted sound. “You are known to me, black snake! And to think I fell for that pretender when you were within my grasp all along, but no matter. It shall be my great pleasure to take your hide.” His black eyes dropped hungrily to the sword in her hands. “And your Fang.”
“Try it,” Chelsie snarled, lifting her blade. “And we’ll see who ends up getting skinned.”
Her taunt only made Vann Jeger happier. “Change, then!” he cried, spinning his spear with a flourish. “I’ve waited centuries to face a Fang of the Heartstriker. Return to your true self, Shade of Bethesda, and give me a battle worthy of your name!”
Chelsie’s lip curled in pure disgust, and she spat on the ground. “Make me.”
Vann Jeger’s eyes widened. So did Julius’s. He didn’t know the details of Chelsie’s Fang, but if it was anything like Justin’s, turning into a dragon would give her a massive boost in destructive power, which seemed like a pretty good idea right now. But Chelsie must have known something he didn’t, because she stayed stubbornly human, her green eyes narrowed to slits like she was daring the hunter to attack. A dare Vann Jeger was more than ready to take.
“So be it,” he said, letting go of his spear.
Julius’s breath caught, his eyes locked on the spear as it tumbled to the ground, but didn’t hit. The moment the spirit released his weapon, the long wooden spear turned to water, then vapor, and then nothing at all. It was as though it had simply dissolved into thin air, and by the time it was gone, Vann Jeger was holding two new weapons, twin iron swords that looked even deadlier than the spear.
The whole exchange couldn’t have taken more than a heartbeat. Julius wasn’t even sure where the new swords had come from, but they definitely looked real. Real and highly magical, their edges glowing green with a power that smelled both human and very, very old.
“I’ve always wanted a Fang of the Heartstriker,” Vann Jeger said casually, crossing the two giant swords in front of him. “When I first heard reports of green fire in the Pit, I knew I’d found my chance at last. But if you will not give me a proper demonstration of your weapon’s power, then I have no choice but to force one out of you.” He chuckled. “I don’t think it will be hard.”
His deep voice was mocking by the end, but Chelsie refused to be riled. She just stepped into a defensive stance, raising her sword in front of her like a wall. When it was clear she wasn’t going to join in the banter, Vann Jeger’s face turned sour. “Haughty to the end, I see. How like a dragon.”
On the word dragon, he vanished. He didn’t charge or jump, he was just gone. Then, before Julius’s eyes could even move from the place where the spirit had been, he heard the clash of weapons. By the time his head whipped around, Vann Jeger was bearing down on Chelsie with both swords.
She looked as surprised as Julius had been by the seeming teleportation, but apparently getting the drop on Chelsie was as impossible for spirits as it was for Heartstrikers. Even though her enemy had literally appeared from thin air in front of her, Chelsie met him like she’d had ages to prepare, blocking his attack with both hands on her sword: one on the hilt, and one grabbing the upper half of the blade as she pushed back with all her strength.
With a bloodthirsty grin, Vann Jeger started swinging, pounding his swords down on her defense over and over like hammers on an anvil. Every blow pushed her boots deeper into the ground, but though her guard didn’t break, she was still trapped. Vann Jeger was completely on the offensive, his swords slamming into hers so fast and furious, she couldn’t drop her guard long enough to even try for a strike. Worse still, his constant blows were pushing Chelsie backwards toward the wall of surging water. If she hit it, she’d be thrown just like Julius had been, and then everything would be over.
She must have known it, too, because when they got within five feet of the water, Chelsie dropped her defense and lashed out at last, swinging for the spirit’s left arm to force him to dodge and give her a way out of the trap. But even when it was obvious her sword was coming right at him, Vann Jeger didn’t try to get out of the way. He just kept swinging, letting her cut deep into his forearm below the elbow and then through his arm altogether, slicing off his hand and wrist in a quick, clean strike.
The moment the path was clear, Chelsie darted away, rolling across the field before the spirit’s sliced off hand could even hit the ground. Trouble was, it never did.
Like the spear, Vann Jeger’s severed hand—and the sword that was still clutched in it—turned to water before it hit the ground. Likewise, the black-bleeding stump of his wound was only visible for a second before a new hand formed on top of it with a bow clutched in its fingers. Julius was still trying make sense of that when the sword in the hand Chelsie hadn’t cut off dissolved as well, reshaping itself into a jagged, iron-headed arrow in the blink of an eye. That was all the warning they got before Vann Jeger began shooting arrows at Chelsie like a machine gun.
Giving credit to her reputation, Chelsie dodged every one, sliding between the onslaught like a bird in the wind. But though her defense was flawless, she still wasn’t attacking, and Vann Jeger didn’t seem to be tiring. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself, his face split in an enormous smile. “You’re very good at running away,” he taunted, shooting even faster. “Shall we see how fast you can go?”
The question was still rumbling when Julius saw the wall of water behind his sister ripple. “Chelsie! Behind you!”
He barely got the words out before a wall of glinting spears shot out of the water like knives through a curtain. But Chelsie was the Heartstriker all others feared for a reason. She’d jumped the moment Julius shouted her name, launching herself straight up almost to the peak of the domed prison to let the spears fly by beneath her.
Even Vann Jeger looked impressed, letting his bow fall back into water. “Marvelous!” he cried as Chelsie landed neatly in front of him. “You are everything your reputation promised, so how about we make things more interesting?”
He waved his hand, and the entirety of the watery cage—the dome, the walls, even the puddles that still lay on the ground at Chelsie’s feet—began to ripple. Chelsie raised her sword in answer, but Julius already knew it was hopeless. The fight so far had proven that his sister was even better than he’d realized, but there was no way she could dodge simultaneous attacks from so many angles. It was too late for her to get out, though. The points of Vann Jeger’s summoned weapons were already breaking through the water on all sides. So, with no other options to save his sister, Julius did the only thing he could think of.
He shot to his feet, yelling at the top of his lungs. “Cut to me!”
The attack launched at the same time. It came from all sides: spears, arrows, daggers, swords, and other sharp weapons Julius couldn’t even name came shooting out of the water in a volley at his sister. There were so many blades in the air, he couldn’t even see Chelsie anymore. He could, however, smell her blood. But then, just when he was sure he’d yelled too late, the air in front of him split open, and his sister tumbled out.
“Chelsie!”
He dropped to her side, but she pushed him away just as fast, reaching up to yank the arrow—which he hadn’t even seen hit her—out of her shoulder. The moment it was out, she rolled back to her feet and turned to face Vann Jeger, who’d already dissolved the arsenal he’d thrown at her.
“So your Fang can cut through space?” he said, chuckling as he turned to face the Heartstrikers. “Now I must have it.”
“Try and take it,” Chelsie taunted, stepping into position. Julius, however, had had about enough.
“Are you crazy?” he hissed. “Don’t keep
fighting him! He’s clearly doing all of this through water. If you turn into a dragon, you can vaporize him!”
“That’s exactly what he wants,” Chelsie whispered back, never taking her eyes off Vann Jeger. “Turning into a dragon is the worst thing you can do when facing a dragon hunter.” She nodded at the water on the ground, all that was left of the volley of weapons Vann Jeger had just launched. “All of his attacks are tuned for big, flying targets. By staying human, I’m harder to hit. That gives me the advantage.”
Julius didn’t see how the word “advantage” could be applied to anything that had happened over the last few minutes. “So you’re just going to keep dodging until he wears you down?”
“Stalling is the entire point of this,” his sister snapped. “Or did you forget your own plan?”
“Keeping him busy is different from losing,” Julius said frantically, pointing at her bloody shoulder. “How are we going to hold out if you’re the only one taking hits?”
“I won’t be for much longer,” Chelsie growled, looking down her sword toward the far side of the circle formed by Vann Jeger’s wall of water. “When I attack, go stand over there.”
Julius couldn’t see why. That stretch of muddy, torn up grass looked just as bad as everywhere else. Before he could ask what she was planning, though, Chelsie was gone, stalking toward Vann Jeger with her sword held low.
“Tired of running?” the spirit taunted, reaching out with both hands to catch an enormous sword—the sort ancient infantry used to cut down horses—as it condensed from the air.
“Tired of you,” Chelsie snarled, planting her feet in the mud. “When you’re ready.”
Vann Jeger attacked before she’d even finished, charging her with his massive sword clutched in both hands like a bat. Chelsie let him get almost all the way before she jumped, landing on the edge of his raised blade like a bird. She lashed out with her much smaller sword at the same time, cutting down to take Vann Jeger’s head.