by Bailey Dark
“Cartari, don’t be stupid. This man is a monster and he will be more used to just fighting with his fists.” Ilisa spoke the truth, but there was no way around it.
“I can handle it.”
“Good, then.” Blatson released Zaya into one of the guard’s arms with a shove.
“Kala, grab Zaya the moment you can,” I said, speaking to the Farian nearest my Destin. She nodded.
The guards surrounding Blatson backed away a bit and he took off his sheaths of knives. Then he slipped one across the floor to me.
“I’ve chosen our weapon.”
“Let’s duel.” I picked up the knife, feeling its weight in my hand. It was nice, well balanced. It would be a good weapon. It would just be odd to have it be my only weapon…
“On Vailstor, we duel to the death. Are you all right with that, charzbos?”
I looked at Zaya and smiled. I took off my winter coat and tossed it on top of his highly decorated military fatigues. “To the death, General.”
The General let loose a roar and ran at me, knife before him, and I ducked aside, ready to fight, stripped of my normal skill set…
But, I wasn’t worried. I was still going to kill him.
Nineteen
Zaya
Cartari twisted the knife in his hand and looked at me with a smile. My heart was beating fast. I couldn’t believe he was going to fight Blatson without telekinesis. Was he a good fighter that way? Surely, he was. He was athletic, fit, ripped, even. Muscular and large-chested, with rippling muscles down his body, pecs that I loved to kiss, that made my heart swell just to imagine right now. I loved running my lips and hands and tongue over his body. But, right now, he was going to be using that body in hand-to-hand combat against one of the strongest Vailstor warriors. Granted, Blatson didn’t do much of his own battling these days, but, still. I knew he sparred often.
“Blatson has a weak left knee. Old war injury,” I told him as we locked eyes.
“Thank you. It will be okay, Zaya. Just stay safe. Take the instructions of my comrades. I will be with you shortly.”
Then the General roared and rushed at him, shoving me out of the way. I nearly tripped as I fell into the guard’s arms, but I knew it was my chance, too.
As the General and my charzbos clashed knives, I jerked my elbow back into the stomach of the guard who was holding me, then spun and jammed the heel of my hand upward into his chin, making his head crash backward as he doubled forward, gasping for air from the first surprise hit. At the same time, the Farian that Cartari had called Kala kneed the guard in the back and he fell to the ground. Kala grabbed my arm and tore me fully out of the guard’s grasp and I was running after her, away from the other guards as Kala thrust them back from us with telekinesis.
“Can you fight?” Kala asked, her sharp blue eyes scanning the building for a good place for us to make a stand as guards converged to win me back. We settled for sliding to a halt behind a pillar that led to a small alcove.
“I’ve trained a little with a sword, but I’m best with a bow and arrow.”
Kala stood up, searched quickly, then whipped her hand back and a bow ripped from the hands of a guard in the upper balcony, one that another Farian had been focused on watching, wary of his attack. The guard fell to the floor from the force of the quiver being torn off his waist, yelling as he tumbled, his cry crushed as his body swelled with blood. The bow and arrows hovered in front of me and I took them with a deep gulp.
“Shoot to kill.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Can you communicate telepathically?”
“With Cartari… I don’t know--”
“Try with me.”
I opened myself up and sure enough, there she was.
“Can you hear me?”
“Yes!”
It was thrilling… It wasn’t just because of the Destin connection. Something had happened when Cartari mind controlled me. I was a telepath. I wondered if I would be able to just make it stronger. I wondered if I would be able to use telekinesis.
“Good. Communicate with us Farians like this and obey our commands. Stay here, behind this pillar, and watch our backs. You stay trained on the guards in the balconies. The plan is to let the Commander and Blatson fight, then we take everyone’s weapons and imprison them until Truloy gets here.”
“Ok, good. What happens if they resist?”
“Then we show them why resisting is futile.”
I gulped again. I didn’t want to kill more than I had to… I hadn’t really adjusted to the dark sentiment haunting my soul for the men I had killed at the cabin in the snow… I had just pushed aside those thoughts. But… I looked at Cartari as he was knocked backwards by a hard left hit from Blatson. My heart leapt into my throat in fear and anger and protection. I slipped an arrow to the bowstring and took a deep breath. I knew my side. I knew my mission. I would kill anyone to protect my Destin.
The guards who had captured me at the toolshed had known immediately that I was Lady Zaya and they had brought me here, but they clearly hadn’t known that there were more Farians around. Cartari certainly hadn’t even known. I was sure he would have told me. It was a good thing, though. Blatson and his men wouldn’t go down easy.
My heart was still breaking for not having told Cartari sooner about my tie to Blatson, but it was blazing with hope and happiness that it hadn’t even been a consideration on his part for him to trade me for the trade deal Farian wanted to make with the Vailstorans. I was lucky… I was so lucky. Cartari might be a charzbos, a barbarian… as I thought this, Cartari did a spin move, jump through the air, and landed a huge heavy blow against Blatson’s cheek that knocked the larger man backwards, stumbling to swing his knife hand, but Cartari parried and slashed at his stomach, slitting the General’s shirt and making first blood.
I cheered, as did the Farians.
He was my charzbos, my Destin, my protector, my soul.
Cartari swung his green eyes to me across the hall and he grinned, waiting for Blatson to steady his feet. He twirled his knife in the air, catching it deftly.
“I’d fight a million Blatsons to have your heart, Zaya…”
I swooned, my head spinning, heavy heart lightening, tingles running through my body, butterflies sweeping up through my skin and racing through the world around me.
He is going to win. He is going to win.
Then Blatson lunged, pummeling into Cartari and knocking him back, slamming him into the wall, crashing his head back against the stone, massive hand clenching his knife wrist, other hand at his throat, and my bow trained in on Blatson’s back almost of its own will.
I can release… I can end this… I can protect him…
Kala stood in front of me, frowning down at me. She pushed the arrow aside.
“You cannot interfere. Commander Catari wants to fight this battle alone. Curans take duels for honor seriously. He will be fine. You must believe in him.”
I dropped the arrow’s point, feeling my heart drop with it, and released the tension on the bow. I took a deep breath, nodding to Kala, and refocused my attention on the balconies. I cast sideways looks toward Cartari, where he still struggled, still clenched to the wall by Blatson, Blatson’s knife at his throat, his own knife hand held suspended, unable to get a tactical advantage…
“You can do it, Cartari… I trust you…”
I trust him with my life, my future, my love.
The doors of the hall burst open and ten more of Blatson’s soldiers flooded in. A cry went up, signaling an eruption command of attack and the others unleashed their weapons. Where the Farians had been holding them at bay just by the threat of their own floating knives and arrows, now they had to defend and attack in earnest.
It was a true battle, as arrows fell and knives flew. I trained my arrow in on one of the guards on the balcony and took aim.
I fired.
My aim was true, because, not only did I deserve my Destin for my passion for life, but I was also a kickass charzbos…
I could be a barbarian, too.
Twenty
Cartari
I hadn’t expected the fight to be easy, but I hadn’t expected it to be difficult, either. I sparred in Bristola with Spec Ops soldiers all the time. Becoming leadership on Farian didn’t mean we got lax and out of touch with the things that made us great warriors. Granted, we were able to use telekinetic shoves, lifts, throws, and floats. Not to mention all the different ways that power supplemented our weapons techniques. But, Blatson was skilled… He had hit me more than once. My eye was swollen, my lip was split. I was sure I had a few broken ribs. But, my knuckles were bloody, too, and that showed on his split and swollen face.
I cast a quick look toward Zaya as I sensed her distraught emotions and saw Kala talking her down from shooting Blatson in the back with a bow and arrow she had somehow gained from one of the Vailstor soldiers. Part of me wished she would. God, this guy is powerful.
But, I can get out… I can get out…
As the doors to the hall split open and more soldiers rushed in, so did the other Farian soldiers. Ilisa began barking orders telepathically and I left it all up to her. Arrows fired, knives flew, soldiers smashed into walls with telekinetic force. My comrades would take care of the battle quickly. And they would protect me during this duel. They could tell I was serious when I said I wasn’t leaving without defending Zaya’s honor.
My wrist was starting to ache as Blatson held it tense against the wall, his thumb on my pulse, trying to get me to drop the knife. My other hand barely held his knife hand at bay from slicing my throat. His heavy chest was pressed against mine, smothering me to the wall.
With a quick movement, I gave in completely, letting Blatson push my wrist free, so that he moved in hard against the wall, the slight stutter forward surprising him enough to let me slip my leg in between his and wrap around his thigh, placing extreme pressure on his bad left knee, dragging him down, throwing him off and to the ground.
As we tumbled to the floor, our hands released from each other, his knife hand swung down and impaled my left thigh. I roared in anger and pain, but managed to jerk away from him, spinning aside on the floor in a tangle of blood, limbs, and blades, as he fell face first.
I bent to one knee and studied the blade sticking out of my thigh as Blatson gathered himself, grinning at me. I placed my own knife carefully on the ground and then pulled his out of the side of my quad, grimacing and yelping a little. Thankfully, it hadn’t severed anything seriously, but it was bleeding quite a bit.
The good thing was, now I had two knives.
Blatson put up his fists and came toward me, not seeming to mind that I was about to be slashing at his body with two daggers. I lunged up, my left leg a bit wobbly, and aimed one for his neck, the other tucking in toward the side of his body. That one bit in solid.
He spun away, jerking the blade with it, this time, his turn to yelp. He plucked the blade from his side, near his kidney. He might have a knife again, but I had injured him pretty badly, blood flowing profusely out his shirt and down his side.
“You’re doing better than I might have expected, charzbos, I do have to say. I figured you would just be a pretty boy hiding behind your mind skills, no true fight in you.” Blatson spit out a long string of blood and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“Delighted to surprise you.” I looked around briefly to notice my Farian soldiers were doing a brilliant job quelling the uprising. There were a dozen soldiers dead and a dozen more tied up. Even Zaya was lasering in arrow shots.
“Well, it still won’t be enough,” Blatson said.
The General came at me again, knife extended, other fist up, and our blades clashed together. His left hook met my right eye before I could slip out of the way and lights thudded in my brain. I stumbled back a step and he was quick inside me with three slashing whips of his blade to my chest, leaving my shirt in ribbons and blood streaming down my chest, fire flaring inside me and pain streaking through my stomach. At least I didn’t see any entrails hanging out.
Oh, how much easier it would be if I could just throw ten knives at a precise pattern from a distance… I would never again take my telekinesis for granted. I would also not slack off in the sparring ring.
The General left me no room as I stumbled backward, following me quickly, slashing out, whipping at my shoulder, which I barely deflected, then I ducked under the next jab and managed to ring a solid uppercut to his chin, then I burst a rapid range of tight jabbing cuts into his left lung area as he tripped backwards against the wall.
A blood bubble appeared on his lips.
Ooo… I had made sincere damage…
But, not irreparable, if I didn’t finish this quick. I swooped in at him, blade raised, ready to slash his throat, but he ducked down, rolled away, then dove at my feet, knocking me head over heels, and then he was on top of me, slamming his fists down into my face, his knife gone, not even sure where, pummeling my chest and chin and temple as I put up my forearms to defend myself.
He got in five solid hits and I was seeing stars, rapid fire fear of “Get out! Get out!” raining in my mind, knowing I couldn’t handle these blows for long, before I managed to swing up my blade and slam it into his stomach, kneeing him in the back to push him further onto the blade from behind.
He roared with pain, blood seizing out of his lips, and he grabbed at the knife in his guts. I pulled it out and reached up, slashing his throat. He rolled aside from me, nearly collapsing on top of me, as blood sprayed out, and I barely scrambled away from him before he collapsed to the ground.
I stood up slowly, jerking the knife out of Blatson’s neck, the slice clean. His eyes were wide as he watched his blood swirl onto the stone floor before him, painting his garments, pooling in between his fingers. He choked, gasping his last remnants of life. I closed off my mind, not wanting to hear him pant out his mortality. I flung the knife away to the other side of the hall.
I stepped unsteadily back from him and took a deep breath. I wiped my lips on my sleeve, spitting out the blood and clearing away any from my mouth. How many times had he actually hit me?
I shook my head, trying to clear those last heavy hits he had rung to my bell and looked around, arrows and knives still flying all around me. There were more soldiers in the hall than there had been when we began our duel, and there were many bodies lying dead on the floor.
“Zaya!” I spun frantically. Where was she? Then, her slender, curvy frame appeared through my bleary eyesight, dodging through the battling warriors. She threw down a bow and quiver as she reached me and jumped into my arms. I could hardly hold her, my impaled leg giving out, and I dropped us to my knees. But her arms were around me, holding me tight, and I wrapped mine around her, too. I tangled my hands in her hair and let her push me all the way back to the ground.
It feels so good to lie down… It feels so good…
She was kissing my face, holding my cheeks in her hands, her body on top of mine, her breasts pushing into my chest. Her waist was tiny in my hands, perfect and smooth curves that I had already memorized…
“Cartari… Cartari, talk to me…”
I opened my eyes blearily, the left one nearly swollen shut, and tried to grin at her. “I won for you.”
“I know you did, I know you did.”
Her hands were bloody where they flurried over my chest and her blue and black dress was getting stained with red. Her eyes looked so worried... I remembered that my chest had been cut, rather deeply, a few times. I grabbed her hands where they were pressing into me and took a deep breath. I pulled her in tight to me, devouring her mouth. Her lips sank into mine with abandon, her mind opened to me, and the Destin connection exploded, flooding each of us with all the intense emotions of connection we felt for each other: the love, the lust, the vulnerability, the fear, the hope. I gripped her arms hard and then flicked my tongue into her mouth and she giggled against my lips in the cutest way I adored.
An undeniable rush of refreshment flooded
through me and I grabbed her around the waist, then spun her around and flipped her, so that I was on top of her. I grimaced against landing on my leg, but straightened out my thigh so it had less pressure. She wrapped her legs around my waist and thrust her pelvis up into me, pulling me tight into her. My hard, swollen cock pressed in against her. I gyrated down and moved slowly against her, kissing her deep and long, holding her jaw, her throat, her neck, pressing down on her chest, looking into her eyes with amazement.
How did I deserve this love?
She wrapped her fingers in my hair and pulled my lips back to hers, biting my lower lip and sucking it into her mouth. I moaned.
“Commander?”
Ilisa’s tentative voice was a bit judgemental, but laughing a little, too. The hall was quiet. Where the sounds of battle had been gracing the background, the hall was now silent.
I pushed off Zaya and she sat up on her elbows as I straddled her and we looked around. The Farians had tied up all the soldiers who were not dead and had piled all the weapons to the opposite side of the room. Now they stood in a listless group, waiting for their Commander to realize the battle was over.
I grinned and rubbed my chin. I stood up, wincing against the pain in my leg, my chest, my face, my hands, and pulled up Zaya, holding her close to me, feeling bad for the blood smears on her face and pretty outfit. She blushed a little, looking around at the Farians. The blushing made her even more charming.
“Looks like we won?” I winked at Ilisa. She laughed shortly then gestured to the dead, unmoving, bloodied and beaten body of Blatson. The gesture was one meant to make me feel triumphant, and it did.
“We have successfully deposed Blatson and incited a military coup. General Truloy shall take command. She should be an hour away.”
“Then, let’s find out where the mess hall is and begin preparing a feast in our honor.”
“Don’t you mean in her honor, Commander?”
“Ha! In her honor? Did she just win a fight with her bare hands?”