Page 90 of In Darkness Forged
Instead of brute force, this battle required skill. And even though it had been many years since he last called on the full power of his grandmother’s legacy, today it might well be the only thing that saved him.
Pushing magic into his blades, Tal sauntered forward, letting tendrils of his power wind silently through the air before he lifted his sword and attacked.
He had not fought so many since he was perhaps sixteen, but those lessons had not faded. As each sinuous coil of magic sought its target, his opponents snapped into place in his mind with razor-sharp clarity. Each one slowed, their attacks suddenly as clear as if the fight were following a script.
And as they followed that script, he flowed among them, thankful they were slow and poorly trained—easily disarmed, tripped, or knocked unconscious. One nearly stumbled right into the edge of Tal’s blade, and only a swift reaction by Tal prevented the unfortunate guard from gaining a deep cut along his ribs.
It was a dance that could easily have led to death had Tal wished it. In the grip of his peculiar power, their lives were little more than candles waiting for him to snuff them out.
But Aislin was right. They were pawns, and none of them understood what they faced. Even if they understood, they could not have refused the fight, and so he left them groaning and weaponless but alive.
When the last of the guards lay on the floor, he turned back to Aislin and raised one eyebrow, barely suppressing a smirk at her shocked expression.
“Were you worried?” he asked.
Her shock became relief, and she smiled as she stepped towards him, joy brightening her face until he would have sworn the stars themselves had appeared in the midst of the hall. “Of course I was,” she scolded him, but without any heat or anger. “I just wasn’t certain who I should be most worried for—you or…”
Her eyes widened, joy turning to horror as she reached for his arm. “Tal, look out!”
He pivoted, faster than the eye could follow, placing Aislin at his back and raising his blade just as a thrown dagger flashed past his face and sank deep into the wood-paneled wall behind them.
Had Aislin not warned him, that would have been his back, and it required no deductions to determine who had thrown it. The treacherous lord stood only a few feet away, advancing on Tal with a sword in his hand and naked hatred on his face.
Determined to carry this fight to its bitter end.
Tal heard a pained cry from somewhere else in the room—the lord’s son perhaps—but he could spare no part of his attention from his opponent. The human’s face held neither calculation nor any hint of surrender. He had just seen his entire contingent of guards destroyed, and in his rage, he was too bent on murder to consider the likely outcome.
So Tal sheathed his blades and let him try.
Back and forth across the hall, always just out of reach, till the human was all but screaming in his frustration. Then Tal darted behind a branching candelabra, and for a moment, the two men regarded each other through the dancing flames.
“We can choose to end it here,” Tal said coolly. “You cannot kill me, and I prefer not to kill you. Walk away, and there need be no more enmity between us.”
It was a far more generous offer than he wished to make, and it was only for Aislin that he would make it. Only to prevent this place she called home from being stained with blood.
“Father, please.” The young blond lordling stood behind his father, watching the scene with anguish in his gaze. “You don’t have to do this. Not over a stone or a wedding. Our family makes its own fortune—we always have! So long as we are alive, we can always rebuild.”
But those words only seemed to enrage his father more. His teeth bared in a vicious snarl, the older man swept away the candelabra in a violent lunge.
Burning candles flew through the air, narrowly missing Tal and landing beneath the draperies along the wall. In an instant, the fabric blazed up, flames crawling across the velvet and brightening as they found purchase on the wood panel beneath.
But no recognition of danger brightened the human’s eyes. Even as the fire grew, he seemed immune to fear, too consumed by hatred to be aware of his own deadly peril.
So as he continued to advance, caught in the grip of his own thwarted rage, it was the lord’s son who lurched into motion. The younger man helped the guards to their feet and urged them to leave the hall, calling out for anyone within earshot to warn others of the fire.
Tal also heard shouts from other parts of the house as word of the danger spread. But still, the human stalked him, nearly blind now in his lust for Tal’s death.
“This must end,” Tal demanded. “Go and save your people.”
“Please!” From behind him, Aislin added her own desperate entreaty. “Lord Dreichel, your family and your guests are in danger. Your servants are below stairs! But there is still time to save them. If we hurry, we can put out this fire before it spreads!”
Smoke had begun to fill the air as the flames crawled higher. Behind them, the blond man finally seemed to give up, shaking his head and gazing at his father with empty eyes. “I’m going to get them out, even if you won’t,” he muttered. Lifting the collar of his jacket to shield himself from the smoke, he raced off deeper into the house.
His father did not even turn to watch him go.
Aislin, her throat likely still raw from nearly being strangled, began to cough.
Lord Dreichel’s head swiveled as if he had only just remembered her existence, and Tal could see when the target of his hatred shifted. His hand jerked, and he darted towards her, sword raised with unmistakable intent.