Page 111 of Shielded Heart

Samantha risked a look over her shoulder to see Drakkal near the corridor entrance, only a meter or two from the steps, firing his blaster into the hallway. Her breath hitched when a black figure, moving faster than seemed physically possible, darted out of the corridor. The tall, slender figure ducked low, beneath the barrel of Drakkal’s blaster, and swung a crackling blue energy sword up. The blade left an after-image of its trail through the azhera’s arm; the limb detached from Drakkal’s body a fraction of a second later.

Drakkal’s roar—as filled with rage as it was with pain—was deafening, reverberating off the walls. He swung his free arm, catching his foe in the head with a heavy blow that produced a dull metallicthunk.

The figure spun aside with the force of the blow, but shifted the momentum into a kick, slamming his heel into the side of Drakkal’s head.

The azhera staggered, one of his legs buckling beneath him, but lunged forward, swiping his big, dark claws across the figure’s chest. Cloth shredded and viscous, dark blue blood glistened on the fabric of the figure’s coat. Drakkal fought savagely despite his injury.

The figure reeled for what couldn’t have been more than a second or two before replying to Drakkal’s assault with his own series of quick attacks. Drakkal narrowly avoided the arcing blade, but he couldn’t defend himself from the figure’s powerful kicks.

A blow to his gut doubled Drakkal over. The snarling azhera was unable to recover before his foe kneed him in the face. Drakkal staggered backward, and the dark figure kicked him twice more in the head.

Drakkal collapsed.

Everything had happened so quickly that Samantha had barely been able to register it. She didn’t realize until that moment that she’d stopped before reaching the door; it hadn’t been a conscious decision, just like it wasn’t a conscious decision that had her charging toward the black figure, who now loomed over the fallen azhera.

Samantha was terrified; she knew she was outmatched. She couldn’t stand against anyone who’d dropped Drakkal so quickly.

Drakkal’s voice sounded in her mind, echoing the words she’d heard him say to Arcanthus so many times—don’t be stupid.

This was, perhaps, the stupidest thing she’d ever done, but she couldn’t run while her friend was killed. Her greatest regret had always been her failure to fight for herself. She wouldn’t add failure to fight for a friend to that regret, not if there was some chance, no matter how tiny, of making a difference.

The dark figure stood with his back to Samantha and his head angled toward Drakkal. Slowly—as though relishing the moment—he raised his sword and reversed his grip, directing the tip downward.

Clenching her teeth, Samantha launched herself at her foe.

The figure turned suddenly, facing Sam with his featureless metal mask. She knew in that moment this was Vaund, the devil risen from Arc’s past.

Vaund’s empty hand darted out with lightning speed, and he closed his long, skeletal fingers around her throat in a viselike grip, halting her in midair.

The pain was immense, and her airway was immediately squeezed shut. She grasped Vaund’s forearm with both hands, desperate to relieve the pressure, desperate to breathe. His arm had a strange feel through his shirt—like hard leather stretched over a dense metallic core. Tendrils of smoke rose from amidst the tattered cloth and dark blood on his chest—Drakkal had hit him with at least three blaster shots, but Vaund seemed totally unaffected.

“So, he let his little terran wander away from his side,” Vaund said, his raspy voice pervaded by a buzzing electronic undertone.

Panic and helplessness pressed in on all sides of Sam’s mind, chased by rapidly encroaching darkness. She clawed at Vaund’s arm and kicked his torso, but his grip didn’t falter.

Worthless. Weak. Stupid.

No! She wasn’t going to be a victim of those voices anymore. She didn’t have to listen to them.

Focusing past the pain in her throat, the fire in her lungs, the building pressure in her head, she recalled what Sekk’thi had taught her.

Every foe has a weakness, but you must survive long enough to discover it and take advantage.

Samantha had, at best, seconds to act. She raked her gaze over Vaund, searching for something, for anything, but he was covered from head to toe in black, and her vision was already darkening…

He tilted his head, and her eyes fell on the hoses connected to the side of his helmet, just behind where a human’s ear would’ve been.

Throwing all her strength and willpower into the movement, she bent her abdomen, swung her legs up, and kicked the hoses. Her heel hit one of the connectors, and it loosened. Air hissed from the damaged valve, and Vaund let out a raspy grunt. Samantha hurriedly hammered her heel into the hose again, breaking it free.

Vaund released her and dropped his sword, raising his hands to claw at the disconnected hose and open valve. His wheezing breath sounded painful; were she not otherwise occupied, Sam might’ve found something poetically just about that. She landed hard on her backside, immediately moving her hand to her neck as she sucked in several hungry breaths.

She glanced at Drakkal; he was unmoving save for the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

Focus, Sam. Don’t have much time.

Her eyes landed on the fallen energy sword, which had embedded itself in the floor with its handle angled upward. It slowly sank deeper and deeper into the concrete as its blade melted the surrounding material.

Samantha scrambled forward and grasped the sword’s handle. The blade’s dull vibrations coursed up her arms as she pulled the weapon up; it slid free with unexpected ease. She forced herself to her feet, ignoring the weakness in her knees and the fire in her throat as she swung the sword at Vaund.

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