His companion circled Bouvier. “Go with your God.”
“But I doubt he will receive you, mate,” continued the other.
Von stared at them as every muscle in his body chilled. That prayer. The mercenary had altered the last line, but it was something he’d taught his men to say before every true battle. As it had been taught to him years ago when he served as a knight for Lord Morken.
These men were of Azure.
The one-eyed mercenary flung his throwing stars—right at the roof where Len perched. She fell out of view, and Von heard the thud of her body hitting the roof, then nothing after. He growled a curse.
The blond mercenary came fast and vicious, matching Von with each strike of his blade. The heavy clash of steel against steel vibrated up his arms. Within seconds, he knew these men fought at an advanced level. For every rapid slice of his knife, his opponent countered with his own.
Von aimed for his throat, and the mercenary blocked his arm. He released his knife and caught it with his other hand, slashing for the stomach. The mercenary knocked the knife out of his hand with a flick of his weapon. Von quickly grabbed another. Their blades clashed with every strike, an exact mirror of each other as they fought for an advantage.
The rapid dual blades left him reeling. It was a technique Von had seen before. The mercenary snapped out a kick that threw him against the prison. The blow rattled Von’s head, his vision spinning. Before he could get his bearings, the mercenary leaped and rammed his knees into Von’s chest, knocking him back into the wall. Wheezing, he sank to the ground.
The other mercenary threw Bouvier over his shoulder and he hit the ground hard. His rapier clattered away, out of reach. The spy raggedly groaned, clutching his bleeding side.
Damn it all.
There would be no surrendering here. The thought of returning to Yavi had Von gritting his teeth. He armed himself with another knife and forced his lungs to recover the air stolen from him. If they couldn’t stand, they were dead.
He was hit with overwhelming relief when Len silently slipped out of the smog. She stalked behind the one-eyed mercenary, taking advantage of his blind spot. Blood leaked from the gash on her cheek. Teeth bared, she withdrew a karambit and launched at him. He noticed her a fraction too late and ducked. But Len’s curved blade slashed through his back, and he dropped under her weight.
The blond mercenary whipped around. “Eagon!”
Von tackled him to the ground. He brought his knife down, but the mercenary caught his wrist, bringing the point to a stop above his eye. A throwing star knocked the knife from Von’s hand. Eagon was still alive and locked in a fight with Len. With a twist of her body, she leaped and wrapped her legs around his neck, tossing him on the ground. He rolled to his feet, and they came at each other with vicious kicks.
Von’s opponent rammed a fist into his face. They traded blows, each hit more brutal than the last. It loosened the mask and Von ripped it off, revealing a face layered with a cropped beard. The firelight blazed in the mercenary’s eyes, turning them a piercing white-blue.
He kneed Von in the gut and snaked his legs around him in a rapid move, throwing him on his back. His short sword stopped at Von’s neck. “Where’s Tarn?”
He glared silently back.
“The King abolished slavery for all Azure citizens, Von. You don’t have to serve him anymore.”
He froze at the sound of his name and the information the mercenary knew. It mattered not. He would never betray Tarn. It was his duty as a life-servant to always protect his master.
Seeing his defiance, the mercenary’s mouth twisted with an icy smile. “Aye, if you’ll not speak, I have other much more interesting ways of making you sing, mate.”
Von narrowed his eyes at the brogue voice. “What part of Azure do you hail from?”
Gaze sharpening, the mercenary’s sword barely grazed Von’s jugular, and the warmth of blood leaked down his throat. “I’m offended you haven’t guessed yet.”
His accent was northern, and he knew the prayer. He fought with moves that were strangely familiar.
“You’re … you’re of Old Tanzanite Keep,” Von said.
The mercenary’s smile grew vicious.
Before Von could respond, Bouvier struck the back of the man’s head with his rapier’s hilt, and he fell limp. Von shoved him off. He crouched over the mercenary. Now that he wasn’t trying to kill him, he appeared a lot younger than expected for The Skulls.
There was something about his face.
A throwing star sliced through the edge of Von’s ear. He leaped away with a curse. Eagon fought Len off and now had his fury set on Von. Red leaked from the edges of his coat, splattering on his black boots. His fingers gripped more of those sharp-pointed weapons.
A gallop of charging horses thundered in the distance. Reinforcements were coming. Called by the explosion that had rattled the city awake. Smoke from the wagon fire spiraled like a signal in the sky.
“Get away from him,” Eagon snarled.
