Page 59 of Red Demon
I drew Istaran from the scabbard with a shing. “Please draw your sword,” I said, cold and clear.
With a frown, she slid a canvas bag of something from her back and hurled it at the base of a tree. Then she unbuckled her belt, her twin sheaths with it, and tossed the weapons in the dirt at her feet.
My mouth fell open. “I—I will not accept your surrender.”
“I’m not surrendering,” she said. A husky, smoky voice. A knife dropped from a clip on her waist in one fluid movement.
I blinked. “Pick up your sword,” I demanded.
“Even a knife is too much if you don’t know how to use that thing.” She nodded to Istaran in my hand, then up to my Chaeten eyes. Her playful tone did nothing to dampen my hatred.
“I know enough to give you the death you deserve.”
“Ah.” She shook her head, rolling her eyes. “You’re not smart, are you?” She moved to sheath her knife.
With the snap of a twig, I struck with every ounce of my rage, knocking her blade up from her hands. The knife hung in the air while I kicked her squarely in the chest to land under it.
She fell back on her heel and blinked at me before ducking away, a surprised smile on her scarred face.
“Face me,” I said through my teeth.
“Happy to.”
I swung Istaran. She dodged, propelling herself past me for the dagger, holding it between us when I turned for her. I gave her space, circling, assessing how she moved.
“That blade smells wrong on you, Chaeten.”
I was proud to draw blood at that comment, running steel down her arm and finishing with a fresh nick in her chest armor before she deflected. She raised her eyebrows at me, nodding. The Red Demon dropped to reach for her boot, and I angled for her neck. She rolled away, coming back with a second dagger.
Then she attacked.
She was a difficult read, but after years of training against several opponents at once, I had the reflexes to match one fast demon and make sure she didn’t draw blood. I’d read a bluff, but not the countermoves. The Red Demon would turn in anything but the direction that made the most sense to me. I wasn’t even sure which of her hands were dominant: she led one way, then another.
She wasn’t even properly armored, fighting me with those daggers. She left flirtations of open flesh: neck, arms, and upper lungs exposed. The Red Demon moved in a blur, then baited me with a false stumble and exposed chest, drawing me in. I fell for it, meeting a sequence of movements so precise and controlled I’m not even sure how she disarmed me. She gashed my chest armor away from the neck, slicing down my ribs as she tore the ties open. She grinned down at my confusion as Istaran fell across the forest floor. Dropping both her daggers into the dirt, she beckoned my bleeding body on with her fists.
Still a fucking game to her.
She landed a blow on my ribs that shot through me, then another to my shoulder as I flung her back with a hard cut to the chin. She rallied, only to be flung back again. Her fists were powerful, beautifully fast, but not as strong as mine. Oh fuck, maybe that’s because she was guarding the force of her attacks, feeling me out. Yeah, that. Panting, I kept up, blow for blow, my strength against her speed. I bit back pain at a grazing punch to the gut, but landed a kick to her hip that had her tumbling hard into the rocky ground.
That was it. I lunged before she could get up, only to find both of her legs wrapped around my body, twisting me, spinning me with more force than I thought possible. I landed against a fallen tree, my ribs giving way under a shard of branch, cracking. Breath heaved out of me, my body hungry for air no matter how I panted.
Panicked, I looked around. Her dagger wasn’t far away, and unlike her, I was not above using any weapon I could reach to stay alive. My chest burned as I picked up the cold black hilt, swiping up as I did. I landed a thin cut across her chin, just missing her neck. She met me with a flurry, leading with punches and kicks. I rolled and twisted and used every stone on the riverbed I could find with my free hand, feeling their weight and trajectory as if they were familiar tools, aiming them at every soft part of her body. The rocky shore was thick with dust as we dove at each other.
My movements slowed, breaths burning and shallow, but I would hate her with every heartbeat I had left. I coughed on the dust, but held my feet as she swung one fist, then the next. She kicked me back into the bark, grabbing my shoulder as I went down, dislocating it with a crack to take back her dagger. I gripped the tree with the other hand, seeing stars of pain.
“Enough?” she said in her husky voice. She’d taken a step back, waiting.
Never. She died or I did.
I pretended to drop, to nod and catch my breath. A stick lay at my feet. With my remaining good arm, I speared it at her eye.
She ducked faster than I thought anyone could move. “Guess not.”
I twisted to the side, putting the tree between us, but she met me on the other side. Ready, I landed a punch square in the jaw as she wobbled in front of me. I moved to grab her, but she twisted out, curled back in, taking me by the neck and driving her boot down against the side of my knee.
I heard the crack of my kneecap. And before she let me drop, pain shot up my other leg so bright it blurred my vision red.
She broke both my legs. Just like that.
