“If you would only accept that I am superior, I might be swayed to let you live. You could be my slave. I hear you make an excellent one.”
Using her free arm, Leyna brought the back of her hand across Damir’s face, interrupting his rant and snapping his neck to one side under the impact. He gave no pause at the strike, his own hand clenched tight, knuckles driving into her cheek, leaving her disoriented. The blows kept on, punch after punch, his grip on her wrist finally released to press down on her shoulder, his knee rising to knock the wind out of her lungs.
He pushed her back with each strike. Closer and closer to one of the wide tree bases, face twisted into a menacing scowl. She couldn’t regain her senses long enough to counter him, the pain in her body flaring with every blow, feeling herself forced against the tree, no longer able to retreat. Each punch precise, he brought his fists to one side of her face, then another, only stopping to admire his work as the vines from up above crept down to wrap Leyna’s arms in place, pinning them against the rough bark.
“You might be right. You might be stronger than your mother.” His voice was steady, unaffected by the exertion of his attacks. “But I am stronger now than I was when she tried to fight me. Which doesn’t say much for your chances of survival, now does it?” He drove his fist hard into her stomach.
“Do you think you can hurt me with your constant mention of her death?” she asked, struggling to breathe.
He smiled. Confident, he stepped in closer to her. “It doesn’t bother you to think of the things I did before I killed her?” He took another step, his body pressed up to hers. She could feel his breath against the skin of her neck. Involuntarily she shuddered, unable to break free of the vines. “The way I broke all the fragile bones in her body?” He whispered into her ear. “The way my blade slid easily through her, the same way it will you. Will you scream just as she did? Screams of agony at the pain of death? I reveled in hers before I snapped her pretty little neck.”
Leyna was surprised at the calm which came over her. Anger boiled up in the back of her mind, yet she pushed it away. They were lies. She knew it, somehow. He wouldn’t break her. She refused to let him. “I fail to see why you are so confident in your victory,” she spat. “Even if you manage to kill me, your other men have fallen. Arcastus is dead. You have lost.”
“Lost?” he cackled maniacally. “On the contrary, child, you have helped me to succeed. Kael’s incompetence might have been Arcastus’s weakness, but to me – it was an opportunity. And you played into it all quite nicely.”
She stared at him, mouth agape, unwilling to believe what he was saying. It couldn’t be true. She had done nothing which would benefit Damir. “You lie!” she shouted angrily. “I killed Arcastus.”
Damir struck her again, his fist sinking hard into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her. “Yes, you killed Arcastus. And for that, I thank you. I wasn’t sure how I was going to pull that off myself. But with your help, I don’t have to. Admittedly, I doubted you to be capable of it, but when I saw you fighting him out there – I was impressed. It seemed only fair for me to help you out a little. Guide things along.”
Idly he let his fingers trace along the chain which hung around his neck. Leyna recognized it instantly. The amulet. He had it. If she could just get free… “You did not help me. I watched him die. You were nowhere around.”
“Did you really think the great Arcastus would fall so easily?” Damir clucked his tongue, shaking his head in exaggerated sympathy. “A shattered stone at the right moment weakened him. I saw you draw your blade back for the killing blow. It was my chance to see Arcastus dead. To possess the power which once was his. And now, I have the strength of the others. My hope was to kill Oran before I found you, but I couldn’t wait any longer.”
Leyna’s head reeled. It had all been part of his plan. “No,” she whispered in disbelief. “I will not accept that.”
“We make a good team, you and I. It is a shame I have to kill you.”
A surge of energy pulsed through her limbs at his words. Small at first but quickly growing to an ache in her muscles, the way she’d felt in the chapel courtyard at the thought of Enaes being defeated by Kael’s men. This was stronger than even that. Building until it culminated into a bright flash of pure white light, guiding her to snap through the vines with little effort, her hands pressed tightly to the sides of Damir’s head, slamming her own hard into the bridge of his nose.
She gave him no chance to regain his balance, her fists pummeling, pushing him back. Bringing her leg up, she drove the heel of her foot into his midsection, his figure flailing while tumbling to the ground. “You are a murderer and a traitor,” she snapped. “No one will mourn your death. Your soul will burn forever in Sytlea’s abyss.”
From around Damir’s neck, she caught sight of a soft yellow glow. It was unmistakable. The perfect circular shape, reflecting the colors of the shattered gems, like a kaleidoscope. Her hand shot out. It needed to be destroyed. They’d made a terrible error in allowing it to fall into his hands.
Damir’s eyes opened wide, reaching up to clench his hand over hers, keeping her just out of reach. “I don’t think so,” he growled.
They wrestled over it, Damir’s strength returning to press her back, straddling her on the ground, his free hand connecting in a fist to her body. She heard a snap and knew instantly it was a rib. She refused to let up, her elbow knocking into the side of Damir’s head. With a grunt he tipped to the right. Leyna took advantage of his poor balance, rolling over to position herself on top of him once again, the knife edge of her hand delivering a strike to his throat, his fingers releasing their grasp over hers, giving her leave to snatch the medallion.
The chain around Damir’s neck was stronger than Leyna expected. It took her two strong yanks to snap, Damir’s hands returning to reach for it, his fingers brushing over her skin just as she tore it away. Leyna fell back from her own momentum. She paused to stare down at it in awe. The central stone was split into several pieces while the red swirled pearl next to it remained intact. A hard crack from the third corner gem caused her to jump in surprise.
A stone for every person involved in the ritual. Arcastus in the central location. Four others surrounding. Kael, Kyros – Oran. A smile passed over her lips. “You are all that is left,” she said softly, her tone revealing her content at the realization. “Oran is dead. It is between you and me now.”
“And you are a fool to think you can end me. Do you realize what that means?” Damir laughed, the sound less intimidating than it had been before. A soft glow crept along the ground, wrapping itself around his legs, seeming to seep into his skin. “We are all linked. When Arcastus died, his power was transferred to Oran and myself. If Oran truly is dead, it only serves to relocate the entirety of Arcastus’s magic into me. I am nigh indestructible now.”
With a sudden burst of newfound strength, Damir pushed her backward, forcing her to the ground. In a fluid motion she rolled onto her knees, slamming the face of the amulet into a nearby tree. Leyna ground the corner gem into the rough bark, her palm twisting hard to dig it deeper. To her dismay, the gem remained whole, no sign of damage evident at all over the surface. “No one is indestructible,” she muttered, rising to her feet while stepping away to place more distance between her and Damir. “I will find a way to kill you.”
“It is impossible!” he shouted. “Face it, Leyna. You’ve failed in everything. To avenge your mother, to save your people. Everything and everyone you love will be destroyed, your land burnt and overrun by the very race you thought you could beat. I almost wish I could keep you alive so you could witness the fall firsthand.”
Leyna frantically pondered her options. Arcastus had been injured by her blood when Damir claimed to have broken the central gem. It was strengthened by his state of health. She needed to wound Damir, wear him down, weaken him.
Thoughtfully, she slid the amulet into a pocket of her shirt under her armor, a casual look on her face w
hile she scanned the ground for her sword.
“Yes, I think that would be a bit of entertainment, don’t you think?” he continued blithely. “To see the death of everything you hold dear? I could start with your beloved Consul. You can die knowing that he’ll be with you soon – after I’ve satisfied myself with torturing him thoroughly.”
“You will not touch him!”
Damir’s head tilted back in raucous laughter. “So, now I see how to hit a nerve with you!” In a blur of motion, he moved to stand in front of her, his laughter cut off abruptly as he stared curiously into her eyes. “I think you honestly believe you love the bastard. The truth is – you are nothing more than a nighttime fling to him. A whore–”
Frustrated, Leyna brought her knee up into Damir’s groin, his voice trailing off at the pain, doubled over on the ground. “You know nothing about him,” she spat.
Her sword wasn’t far away. Taking a step she tried to reach for it, finding her legs caught up by Damir’s hands, pulling her down to the ground with a heavy thud. Leyna kicked outward with her feet, unable to break free of his grasp. He crawled over to her, arms wrapped tightly around her waist as he lifted her, rising to his feet. In a surge of strength he threw her across the clearing, her back jarring painfully upon making impact with one of the trees. Crying out, she tumbled to the ground, agonized tears filling her eyes.
He was too strong. With Oran dead, there was nothing stopping him. She had no control over him. No means of weakening him the way she had Arcastus.
Before she could stand, Damir was on her again, gripping her by the arms to slam her against the tree a second time, her skull cracking hard along the surface. Through Damir’s laughter, he threw her down, her body skidding along the uneven ground, coming to rest near the center of the clearing.
Through the haze of her jumbled thoughts, she could see the reflection of the moon flash over something amidst the grass. Her sword. Groaning from the strain on her battered body, she reached for it, feeling the tips of her fingers graze the hilt, struggling to drag it closer. She hurt everywhere. The thought of standing only added to the excruciating discomfort, but she had no choice. She had to try and find a way to weaken Damir. Injure him. It would take a miracle for her to accomplish in her condition. His endurance would surpass her own.
Lifting her eyes to the sky, she prayed silently for help. She needed guidance and strength. “Mother, if you can hear me, I need you with me now,” she whispered, a sting of tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “I cannot do this alone.”
A feeling of peace settled upon her again, like that day in the Lake of the Gods. It all came down to this. Whatever was meant to be would be, and only fate knew what was in store for her. Victory or death. There could be no in between.
She heard the sound of Damir’s blade being drawn. Lowering her eyes, she saw him over her, eyes flashing with untapped power. A predator’s snarl escaped his mouth as he charged. Leyna gathered the last of her energy to pull herself to her knees, spinning around to face Damir, their swords meeting with a loud clang through the small clearing.
They traded blows in perfect time, neither able to break the guard or concentration of the other. Leyna’s lungs burned from the strain while Damir kept his breath even, effortless. There was too much riding on her success. No matter how exhausted she felt, she had to press on.
Her arms and legs screamed in pain and fatigue. It wasn’t working. He wasn’t getting any weaker from the battle. She feared he was growing stronger, faster, refreshed after every clash, while she was failing fast. Time no longer made sense. It felt like hours to her tired muscles. The speed with which he attacked was enough to wear down even the most skilled of warriors, forcing her to react with the same intensity.
Damir delivered a hard blow to the side of Leyna’s head with the hilt of his sword, dropping her to the ground, her head swimming. This was it. Her arms no longer reacted to her urges to lift the blade. She was vulnerable. Open to whatever Damir chose to do. “I’m sorry, mother,” she breathed. “I tried. I wasn’t strong enough. I have failed you.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to talk to her soon enough.”
His final blow came as if in slow motion. She braced herself for the strike. For the instant the world would cease to be. She could see Thade’s face, her heart breaking to think of losing him. She didn’t want to die. This wasn’t how things were supposed to end.
A thrum of energy wrested her arms suddenly. It felt like tiny fingers at first, taking on the sensation of hands clasping over her own, fighting against her uncooperative limbs, tightening her grip on her sword. Some outside presence wrapped itself around her in an invisible cloak, the only sign of its existence the softly glowing aura which radiated over the surface of her skin from head to toe.
What is happening? She no longer felt in control over her own body, yet she still sensed the unnatural calm. Damir was getting closer. The tip of his sword thrusting toward her. At the last second, her body lowered, the strange ethereal hands lifting her arms. In that instant she felt her pain subside. Nothing more than a dull throb through the bruised and broken bones she’d endured under Damir’s assault. She was on her feet again, though she wasn’t sure how she’d managed it. She watched the sword in her hand lash out at Damir, a look of surprise in his eyes to see her pressing on in the battle.
Leyna’s arms and legs moved with increased precision and speed. Every strike Damir delivered, she countered, advancing on him with a barrage of movement to dazzle his already confused senses. In a final effort, she saw her opening. Ducking below Damir’s powerful swing, she dropped to her knees, the blade of her sword piercing through his armor, driven upward into his chest.
He let out a surprised puff of air, the weight of his body bearing down on top of her, pitched forward under the unexpected blow. With a hard jerk, her hands twisted the sword inside him, his convulsions adding to his weight, impossible for Leyna to fight any longer, her back pressed into the cold snow underneath her, the strange energy dissipating almost as suddenly as it had come.
The amulet. It was there within her reach, if she could just get the strength to move her arm. He was so heavy! She could hardly breathe under his weight.
“Leyna!”
Someone was coming. But that didn’t matter. She needed the amulet. As long as the gem remained intact, there was a chance for him to reanimate. Any moment he could jump back to life. There was no telling what the magic would do. Arcastus’s power was in him with nowhere to release itself.
Slowly, she felt the cool metal against her fingertips. So close! It was right there… in her grasp. She struggled to pull it from inside her pocket, her eyes looking it over fearfully. The final stone remained in one piece, though a tiny flaw could be seen in the center. A weak point.
Movement from Damir’s body sent a wave of panic through her. He’s not dead! She gasped, frantic to find a way to destroy the stone. Resting her thumb over it, she closed her eyes, the last of her energy focused from her core into the gem, a flash of light bursting from her fingers. The tip of her thumb pressed through the stone, a wince of pain crossing her face as tiny fragments pierced her skin.
She waited, holding her breath. Damir was still again, blood seeping from his gaping wound to cover her hands, staining the snow with its deep crimson shade. It worked. She couldn’t bring herself to believe it through her exhaustion. It worked! Damir is dead…
“Leyna!”
The voice came again. She couldn’t locate the source from where she was lying. Something about it struck her as odd. Familiar. It was Thade, distinct, desperate, growing increasingly louder, the echo of it bouncing around in her aching head. But it wasn’t possible. Her imagination had to be playing tricks on her. Hallucinating from the strain of the battle. Thade was not involved in the military of Tanispa. He wasn’t present for the battle.
Damir’s body lifted, air rushing into her lungs in grateful gulps. She wanted to pick up her head, to see who it was th
at came to her rescue, but the otherworldly light had left her, along with any hope of regaining the use of her muscles without more rest. If she could just close her eyes and sleep for a moment…
“Leyna, wake up!” Thade’s voice came again. Closer this time. He was right by her side, her body being lifted from the snow, arms pulling her to his chest. She couldn’t see anything. Her eyes refused to open while her conscious mind struggled to maintain control over her head, fading in and out of awareness.
She couldn’t remember ever having felt so physically and mentally exhausted. Her body was shutting down, slowly, sleep winning the battle she waged in keeping it going. Cool fingers pulled at her eyelids, opening them enough to let in the moonlight which shone down on her from up above. There in the soft glow was the familiar silver light of Thade’s eyes gazing down at her sadly.
“Thade?” she whispered. Her voice was hoarse. Strained. “What are you doing here?”
At the sound of her words, Thade lifted her head up higher, his fingertips pressed against the center of her forehead between her eyes. A soft light transferred through him into her. She started to feel her senses clearing, her energy returning enough to allow her to hold her eyes open on her own.
There was no denying Thade’s presence there beside her. He was real. No part of her imagination could create something so believable. The muscles on his arms were firm where they held her to him, cradling her. His hair was matted down with sweat, a helmet discarded off to his side, just barely in Leyna’s vision as he sat her up to look her over with concern. He was clad in full armor, prepared for battle, the surface of it nicked and scratched, several gouges torn from it, speckles of blood spattered about. At his shoulder was the royal crest; the same clasp worn by the Prince when he joined her and Cadell on the field.
“Why are you wearing the Prince’s armor?”
His eyes widened, an expression of pure misery forming over his elegant features. “Leyna, I can explain –”
The Myatheira Chronicles: The Vor'shai: From the Ashes (Volume 1) Page 95