Page 33 of An Empress of Air & Chaos

Torin boldly stepped up to the mat. Followed by Gideon and another hunter. Another clan member with reddish brown hair moved forward. And another. And another. Torin’s smile was wicked with confidence as he surveyed his potential opponents. Gideon’s was unreadable as he kept a straightforward focus, waiting to be chosen.

“Well,” Marcus spoke to his audience. “As you can see, we have a few volunteers, but as I do love a good brother-to-brother combat...Blacksteels, you are up.” He turned to the crowd. “You guys are in for a treat.” He dazzled them with a smile. “Try to keep up.”

Emara’s stomach flipped a few times and then Marcus blew his whistle.

Torin and Gideon strode forward and positioned themselves at either side of the mat. All too quickly, they were no longer normal men, but warriors in battle. Torin had strapped a sword across his back, and Gideon had done the same.

They bowed before each other before drawing their weapons and another blow of a whistle sounded through the air. With one flash of movement, Torin was in front of Gideon. A clash of metal clanged through the room and both brothers stood with swords raised above their heads, grinning at each other.

“Don’t worry,” Marcus said. “What they are wielding are training swords. Blunt. We only sometimes train with real swords.”

Sometimes. Emara gulped.

Gideon moved to his right, ducking low, and sliced out his sword.

He missed.

Torin’s moves were almost identical in his pursuit of him. A real game of cat and mouse had commenced. But with weapons.

She watched them dance across the mats. Their feet never tripping, their arms never faltering in a blur of movement as they either attacked or defended.

Torin spun around and brought his sword above his head, then lowered it towards Gideon with extreme force. The crowd gasped in horror as the sword almost sliced down his skull, but Gideon swung up to defend himself just in time. Steel smashed against steel, causing the watching crowd to recoil. Emara remembered how heavy the swords had been in the weapon room and instantly admired the way the brothers effortlessly threw the steel weapons around like a feather quill.

No wonder they both had heavy-set shoulders, bulky arms, and a mass of muscle fathered on their abs.

And thighs.

And backs.

She gulped again.

“A little slow there, brother,” Torin taunted. “Is your mind elsewhere in the room?”

“I was just testing your attack, brother. My mind is on the mat.”

Gideon took the next swipe at Torin. He pushed forward, finally gaining on him. But his older brother had set him a trap. Tricking him with some fancy footwork, Torin swung his sword at Gideon’s with the strength of a god and sent it swirling into the air. The gleam from the sword was all too familiar as it flew past Emara’s face and clattered to the floor.

She rolled her shoulders, shaking off the weight of the memory from her bathroom and inhaled. She tried her best to steady her breathing.

Torin was not done.

But Gideon suspected so.

Anticipating Torin’s move, he pivoted on his left foot and swung a punch into Torin’s stomach. Emara flinched and Cally let out a squeak but she couldn’t look away. They glided over the mats in a perfect synchronisation, punching and swinging, pivoting and circling, blocking and shattering, before Torin finally managed to back Gideon into the corner of the mat.

“Are you scared to put that sword down, Tor? In case I am too quick for you?” Gideon’s eyes winked in taunt. He was quicker than Torin just due to his build, but he clearly wasn’t foolish enough to underestimate Torin’s power.

He was buying himself time, Emara realised.

“Come on, Torin, are you scared to fight me with just your fists?”

Torin dropped the sword and slowly walked towards him. “Haven’t you had enough of my fists in the last few days?”

“I guess not, brother.”

“Is there something bothering you, Gid? If so, just say it.” Torin’s face contorted fiercely as they locked into battle. Gideon dodged two lightning-quick hooks from Torin’s fist of destruction. “There is no need to taunt me. I will happily drop my sword and use my fists.”

“Sometimes strength doesn’t win,” Gideon enticed, provoking his opponent.

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