Page 29 of Tortured

I stare at Shayla with round eyes. How can I leave her?

“Go, Kenrik.” She turns to the dragon rider and presses her hand over his chest. “I have accounts to settle.”

He grunts his approval.

My stomach turns.

Chapter 14

I follow the man out into the street. It’s clear that he’s someone of importance. His tight-cropped hair gives his appearance a hard edge, as if I should fear him.

I have feared enough.

Maybe it’s stupid that I don’t fear as I should.

The lord turns when he’s in the center of the street. He holds his swords at the ready.

“I am Meuric. Let’s see what you are made of.” He whips the twin swords around his body in dizzying circles. “I may prefer a single blade, but that does not mean I am any less proficient with twins.”

“Meuric.” I scoff. “The pleasure is all mine.” I withhold any fancy maneuvers and dive right in with a single cut, testing him.

Meuric blocks it with ease. “Don’t hold back.”

I plow into him with a combination of double and single strikes, moving around his body with fluidity. Kelyn had the style, but I’ve at least picked up the moves. They might not be as graceful, but they are effective.

Effective because of the unnatural strength of my arm.

And my light.

We continue to strike, block, jump, whirl. Always meeting each other. Never getting in a hit.

After several minutes, I have a sense that we’re moving faster. I’m not sure if I’ve slipped into my superhuman abilities. If I did, Meuric is able to keep up.

He is a half-emrys.

I am a mutant emrys/human.

I have to come up with a name for myself.

He comes at me, with both his blades overhead.

I catch his with mine.

For a second, we are locked, but I kick him in the chest, and he staggers back.

Meuric wipes perspiration from his brow with a wrist.

He gives me no time for a breath as he comes at me again. His snide grin and the glint in his eyes tell me he is immensely enjoying himself.

I block an overhead strike and whirl to attack Meuric’s midsection. He intercepts my cut and knocks the blade from my right hand.

The energy from the attack vibrates up my arm. My hand throbs. I shake it out even as he comes at me again.

He’s relentless.

Persistent.

The heat of the day adds to the heat of exertion. I drip with sweat, but so does my opponent.

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