My palm connects with the sword midair.
Clang!
My intention was merely to deflect the blow, but the collision of the sword and the medallion creates a sound as beautiful as any melody. It’s a clear, ringing bell as pure as the sound of my hammer on iron.
Light explodes between us, a shock of energy that bursts across the Vandawolf below us, lighting up the mess across his chest, brightening Bethoc’s features and making her pale skin appear like delicate porcelain. Even her black armor seems dazzling in that heartbeat.
Oh, but the power that blasts through my body is like nothing I’ve felt before.
Her blade can’t be made of ordinary metal.
I realize this in an instant.
If I’d had any doubt about its form, I’m now certain that it’s infused with magic.
Not Blacksmith magic. This power is foreign to me. It feels like the heat of sunlight, the rush of winter wind, the strength of a solid tree, and the beat of a heart—the essence of life encased in this single blade.
I may not recognize this power, but it’s as susceptible to my strength as if it’s made of living flesh.
In that instant, as Bethoc flies past me and our bodies are on the cusp of being blasted apart, I close my fist around her blade.
It’s a terrible risk. The sword’s wickedly sharp edge could cut right through my fingers.
It doesn’t.
Bethoc’s eyes are already wide, but now I sense her fear, like a streak of energy through her hand where she grips the blade. Her emotions seem to pass all the way through her sword into my body.
It’s a terrible, stomach-sinking horror that’s reflected on her face, as if she’s witnessing her own death in the bright air, seeing it before it happens, and there’s nothing she can do to stop it.
Her blade turns to putty in my hand a mere fraction of a moment before the explosion takes hold and we’re blasted apart.
Time seems to speed up again, and I crash against the cave wall a few paces from the narrow opening. My back hits the rock with acrunchthat rattles my bones and for the second time today, I’m pressed against rock. This time, it’s only for a second before I land on my feet, swallowing my cry of pain at the impact.
Bethoc’s sword is in my hands and it’s like holding on to a living thing, the blade molded where my fingers press into it, leaving peaks of metal between my digits.
Bethoc has a shorter path since she was already leaping at the side wall that the Vandawolf’s stretcher is pressed up against. Her shoulder was turned toward it as if it had been her intention to cut off my head on her way past me before she would protect herself from the impact and rebound off the stone surface.
Instead, her arms have flown wide. The blast carries her back at a sharp angle.
She smacks the stone hard, the back of her head bouncing against it with an awful, cracking sound.
She crumples to the ground, landing at the Vandawolf’s feet, where she doesn’t move.
Dusana has tumbled across the cave floor, somehow managing to land on her feet and keep hold of her weapon despite the blast.
She’s now ten paces away from me, rising back to her full, albeit short, height, her wide eyes passing wildly from me to Bethoc’s still body.
The corners of my mouth turn down as I decide to give her one chance. “Let me pass, and I’ll let you live.”
She doesn’t even appear to think about it. Switching her dagger to her left hand, her right hand is immediately sweeping across her shoulder, mimicking the same motion Bethoc performed.
A sword peels from her shoulder, gleaming like the one I’m holding.
“Don’t do it, Dusana,” the violet-haired woman cries from the side of the cave. She wasn’t as close to the center of the blast and has remained on her feet, although, judging by her current location, the impact must have forced her much closer to the wall on that side. “You can’t win against a Blacksmith.”
“Shut up, Gliss,” Dusana snaps. “If I beat this bitch, nobody will deny me the chance to challenge the Commander at the next Winter Ascending.” Her lips twist. “Iwill stand at the head of the Queen’s army, not your fucking sister.”
I have no idea what power games Dusana is playing, or who the Commander is—or the Queen she mentioned, for that matter—but I don’t have time to ask questions.
