Colin was powerful and Alec was somewhat surprised that he had been able to hold him off thus far. Not many people had lasted so long against The Legend. But Colin’s skill was of little consequence; Alec used his intelligence, something Colin had been unable to do in his fright, and managed to corner the maninto a particularly thick portion of bramble. It was a stroke of tactics, of pure skill. Of sweet revenge.
Colin realized too late what Alec had done, and in his panic, worked himself into a fighting frenzy that merely succeeded in weakening him further. Alec merely went through the movements, meeting Colin’s thrusts, knowing the end was near. He could have waited for the man to simply tire himself out, but he did not want to wait.
Colin lashed out with a skilled thrust, which Alec met deftly. Using his power, he shoved his opponent backwards and both swords ended up wedged into the bark of a thick tree. Colin grunted out of fright and frustration, attempting to dislodge his weapon even as Alec held it firm. The Legend was in control.
“You will answer a question that I put to you yesterday, Warrington,” he growled. “Did you kill my brother?”
Colin was quivering with adrenalin as he gazed upon the fearsome helm. “A moot point, Summerlin.”
“Untrue. Whether or not you did, it makes no difference, for you shall die regardless. But I would know just the same.”
Colin’s jaw ticked as he struggled with futile effort to extricate his sword. Realizing the endeavor was useless as long as Alec held him firm, he exhaled sharply. “I did not kill your brother. Your father’s horse did.”
The eyes behind the closed visor glittered. “What does that mean?”
Colin had nothing to lose by confessing. “Your idiot brother had the misfortune to overhear my conversation with your sister regarding my plans for abducting your wife. When he confronted me, I silenced him by shoving him under the hooves of the charger. Satisfied?”
Alec stared at him, his stomach lurching as his suspicions were confirmed. “Thia knew of your plans?”
Colin was in no mood to carry on a conversation. “Aye, she did indeed. I told her I would dissolve our betrothal if she helped me destroy St. Cloven. She did not want me, I did not want her, and she was willing to do anything to be free.”
Alec did not react outwardly, but inside, he understood Thia’s desperation and cursed her at the same time. “You coerced her, you bastard. All to destroy St. Cloven.”
Colin yanked at his blade, managing to somewhat dislodge it. “Nay, Summerlin,” he grunted. “All to destroy the de Fluornoys!”
Colin freed his blade, shoving Alec back with a kick to his armored groin. Colin’s sword arced upward and Alec suddenly saw the opportunity he had been looking for.
It was too easy, too unworthy of The Legend’s reputation, but he was in no mood to confirm his fame. In a fraction of a second, he reversed the sides of his blade, moving from the razor edge to the serrated side. In the next half-moment, he went down on one knee, below Colin’s aim, and brought the sword straight across.
Blade met with flesh, bone, vital organs, and blood. In a signature stroke, Alec has sliced Colin in two clean halves.
*
Ali never sawthe battle or the final stroke. He was struggling through mud and zero visibility in search of his sister-in-law. As the seconds passed, his panic increased, and twice he’d had to come up for air. Toby, on shore, was overwhelmed with horror.
On his third dive, Ali was ready to scream with helplessness. He couldn’t locate Peyton in the spot she had been dumped, and his anxieties were threatening to destroy his control. Further and further he swam, deeper and deeper, dragging his gloved hands long the bottom of the bog until a slip of material metwith his hand. Hope soared as he yanked hard on the material, attached to a weighty anchor.
As fast as was possible in the heavy water, he pulled her against him. His lungs were near bursting with need for air but he ignored the pain, the heat welling within his chest. It was nothing compared to the stale air saturating Peyton’s chest, draining her life away. Struggling with every fiber in his body, he persevered to overcome personal agony and threatening unconsciousness to bring Peyton to the surface of the deadly bog.
When his face met with the fresh, icy air, his painful gasping sounds brought Toby plunging into the water. Ali couldn’t manage to speak; he did not have to. Toby was already yanking Peyton from his arms and thrusting her onto the shore.
As Ali clawed his way onto dry land, Toby turned Peyton on her side and pounded on her back to evacuate the water from her lungs.
“Breathe, Peyton, breathe!” he rasped. “Goddammit! Breathe!”
Peyton was ghostly gray, covered with mud and leaves. Her luscious red hair was caked with muck as Toby brushed it out of her face, clearing her mouth of debris. Again, he pounded her on the back.
“Oh, God,breathe!”
Behind them, the sounds of the swordfight had grown eerily still. But neither man was aware of anything but the still form on the ground as Ali crawled closer, barely recovered from his own near-drowning.
“Again, Toby!” he gasped. “Do it again!”
Toby pressed firmly on her stomach, bringing up water and bile, before pounding her again. He repeated the process two or three times when Alec was suddenly by his side, shoving him out of the way.
“Peyton!” he shouted. “Peyton, my love, my dearest love, you have got to breathe!”
Ali managed to push himself to his knees. “T….turn her on her back,” he instructed in a hoarse voice. “You must get air into her lungs!”
