Page 10 of The Edge of Dawn

She was too naive. Too unguarded.

She thought he was a figment of her imagination, for her amusement only.

If only you knew, foolish human.

“What is that expression, hmm?” Ashrael’s quiet voice sliced through his thoughts like a Callidum blade. “That isn’t a look I’d associate with you, Dragek Katach.”

He used the old word, katach, semi-ironically. In the Old Language, it meant Ruler. It was said that those who possessed the ability to wield the ka’qui were more closely related to the ancient rulers of Kythia, the Zor.

What irony, then, that they’d been enslaved and mindbound to the infernal Mistresses—agents of the Kordolian Empire.

“Nothing,” Dragek grated, flexing his fingers as a sudden thirst for violence was awakened within him. “Maybe I’m just happy to be out of the Mistress’s cursed grip.”

He didn’t dare reveal the existence of the strange human yet. For all he knew, her appearance could be some sort of trap.

“I can relate.” Ashrael’s tone softened ever so slightly. “It’s a strange feeling at first,” this seemingly unfettered freedom. Seamlessly, he switched to mindspeech. The sound of words coming out of a mouth that shouldn’t be capable of producing any sound at all. Perhaps it’s best that we’ve fallen under the control of one such as him—Tarak. He raised his arm—the artificial one, a highly sophisticated cybernetic limb. If Ashrael hadn’t revealed what it was, Dragek would have no idea it was an implant. The skin covering the framework was a perfect match. But the arm itself was monstrously powerful—much more so than the Silent One’s already lethal other arm.

Dragek had found out the hard way. He stared at the older man in confusion. What in the Nine Hells is he going on about now?

See this arm? It’s thanks to him. He took it away and returned it with interest. Like you, I once had a neural immobilizer—a death-switch. It was implanted in this arm. At first, I was incensed, but over time, I came to understand its necessity. Tarak leaves nothing to chance. If there was ever a leader the likes of us should serve under, it’s him.

Dragek seethed as he remembered the humiliation of being bested, of falling to Tarak al Akkadian’s lethal sword after infiltrating the Kordolian compound on Earth. Even though he was faster than the general and equally skilled in certain combat styles, Tarak was more experienced and wily, and he had that infernal super-regeneration ability.

When the general had incapacitated him and immobilized his body so he could no longer carry out his Mistress’s commands, part of Dragek had felt a certain kind of relief.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, it was far preferable to serve Ashrael and Tarak al Akkadian than the woman who had controlled his mindbond.

She’d been callous and empty, a true servant of the old Kordolian Empire.

Well, she was dead now.

“I will comply with your schemes for now,” he said coldly, sneaking out a tendril of his ka’qui to test Ashrael’s deceptively quiet aura. “But I have no interest in swearing allegiance to another master in this lifetime. I just want a chance to take my revenge. If you are the vessel, I’ll be your blade.”

Ashrael smiled: an empty, bleak smile. “You would take revenge against the empire that wronged you?”

“I would. I would see them destroyed; every last one of them obliterated into dust.”

“Good. We have use for a tool like you, but the time you spent as a captive has dulled your edge a little.” He folded his arms and gave Dragek a stern, appraising look. Like him, Ashrael was shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose trousers. The bastard was in supreme physical shape. The difference between them was minuscule, but it was enough for Ashrael to be able to beat him—for now. “It doesn’t matter, though. I’ll get you honed in no time. Let’s go.”

Without warning, he shot forward, fist clenched and aiming for Dragek’s face.

Fast.

Kaiin’s Hells.

Dragek snapped his head to the side just in time to see Ashrael’s fist flying past his face, grazing his cheek.

Dragek countered with a savage kick, aiming for his opponent’s knee.

But Ashrael was already moving, hooking his leg around Dragek’s, bringing them both to the floor. Dragek landed on his back and started to roll, hooking his arm around Ashrael’s neck, attempting to get him into a choke.

Ashrael slipped out.

Dragek rolled again and jumped to his feet, putting his hands up in a defensive stance. Ashrael came in, the sheer speed of his movements turning him into a blur.

He struck.

Dragek blocked.

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