The blows came fast and furious on both our parts, and I was barely able to slap his sword to one side before it could strike flesh. I managed to score a glancing blow off his right arm but left barely a scratch. The blade did more damage to shirt than flesh.
My own heart beat like a war drum in my ears, my attention solely focused on the opponent in front of me. I couldn’t spare attention for anything else.
With each step and parry, we moved away from the portal, on the fringe of all the other fights raging. I hated each step that took us away, as I wanted to keep him near the portal. It didn’t feel right to get too far.
I sensed my knights fighting behind me, heard them call to each other to deal with the possessed, knew they were protecting my back.
But they couldn’t do anything else to help me with this fight. Sadly.
An explosion of magic and divine power erupted to my left, and I heard the mage who had opened the portal cry out a death rattle. Good, one problematic character down, hopefully more to follow in the next minute.
Gods, it was hard to focus. I had to say the spell. We were doomed otherwise.
What was the next line?
Zag’druren swiped at my knees, and I leapt up and back, avoiding the blow. It gave me about five feet of distance, which I used to pant out the next part of the spell.
“Thou fiend that walketh on mortal plane—”
Snarling like a baited wolf, Zag’druren rushed me again, charging recklessly. I didn’t even try to brace myself, as that wasn’t an attack I wanted to take full on. I spun the second he got near me, sword up vertically to use as a shield, moving quick as lightning to get behind him.
He flipped in midair like a dancer, turning sideways in the process to avoid my thrust from behind.
Dammit, he was too quick!
Had he been this quick the last time we’d battled? I’d been too heartsore to really care, just throwing myself at him over and over again, wanting us both dead.
I couldn’t do that this time. I had my husband waiting for me at home. Recklessness was not the name of the game.
Shit, where had I been in the spell?
Right, the third line.
“Thy—”
His sword swiped at me, and I may have yelped as I quickly parried. I’d have lost an arm if I hadn’t. There was no room to breathe, no time to even think. His sword aimed for my head. I caught it with the flat of my blade but struggled to push him off. I had to put more strength against it, angling my arm to support my sword with my vambrace, feeling the impact all the way up into my shoulder.
That hit had been far harder than the first few blows we’d exchanged. Why?
The obvious hit me and I silently swore. It wasn’t just the people Valentina had hauled up here. Some of my soldiers had fallen in the battle, and he was using their blood like a sacrifice to himself, building up his power. Howfucking dare he.
Their blood, their sacrifice, was not meant for him!
I threw myself at him, thrusting straight for his hand. I caught the hilt of his sword with my blade and twisted, disarming him neatly, tossing the blade completely to the side.
“You know that won’t work with my sword!” he mocked.
Sadly, yes, he could recall the weapon no matter how far away from him it went. But it bought me a few seconds, which was what I needed right then.
“Thy humble servant requests aid from the heavens—”
His mockery vanished and the sword, which had clattered to the ground, was in his hand with nothing more than a snap of his fingers. I tried to say the next line even as I hit him with an arching swing, not wanting him to regain his balance.
“Gods—”
Clang.
“—above—”
