16. Clash of Stone and Steel
Clash of Stone and Steel
Talyn
Samhail’s attack was lightning fast, and Talyn barely got her sword up to block the blows he rained down on her.
Her hand vibrated from the ringing of his blade against hers, and for a few seconds she had the overwhelming feeling she’d made a huge mistake in challenging him as he forced her backward in the small clearing.
This is what she’d been hoping for, though. A fighter relying on defense rarely left themselves open, but when they went on the offensive, they eventually became vulnerable, and Samhail was no different.
Instead of blocking his next attack, Talyn dodged it by slipping under his swing to bring her sword up as she slid by.
She felt the resistance as the tip of her blade scraped along his armor before she rolled forward and back onto her feet.
She looked up quickly, not sure how far her blade had sunk in.
She was both thrilled at finally getting a hit past him, but also strangely nervous to see what kind of damage she’d done.
Nemesis damn her. She wasn’t going to be able to fight him if she was afraid to hurt him. Why in the three hells was she afraid to hurt him?
Samhail’s eyes met hers before they both looked down at the cut that slashed his armor across the sternum.
Talyn held her breath as he snaked a hand underneath it.
When his hand came back, the tips of his fingers were just barely red with blood.
It was a scratch, but she’d still managed to cut through the armor.
Or rather, Samhail’s own razor-sharp blade had.
“Nice move,” Samhail said inclining his head in acknowledgement. He sounded genuinely impressed, then he twirled his sword in his hand. “My turn now.”
Talyn’s eyes went wide, and she whirled to the side as he attacked again, even faster than before. She just barely blocked four of his blows and had to port out of the way of his fifth and sixth swings, both of which would’ve drawn blood if she hadn’t moved.
“How did you get the nickname ‘The Raptor?’” Samhail asked with a growl of annoyance. “You’re more like a gods damned hummingbird.”
Talyn barked a laugh. “Hummingbirds are vicious, aggressive little birds,” she said. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She ported to his side and came around swinging, but Samhail had already turned, and she abandoned her swing when she saw his hand out in front of him instead of his sword.
She realized just in time what he intended to do and threw herself out of the way of the forcefield that reverberated by her.
Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to get out of the way of the second one, and she was thrown back several feet as it hit her, causing her teeth to jar together.
Talyn’s sword came loose from her hand, and when she looked up, it lay on the ground between them. If she tried to go for it, he’d hit her with another forcefield, so she did something insane instead.
She pretended to go for her sword, but as soon as she saw him move, she ported right next to him and crouched down to grab the dagger she knew was in his boot before she ported away again.
Samhail pivoted to face her and stared at the dagger in her hand.
“How did you know I had that?” he asked.
“Lucky guess.”
In truth, she’d trained herself to notice the signs of hidden weapons, but it also wasn’t hard to guess a warrior like him probably had something in his boot. When she was dressed for a fight, she normally carried several small daggers in her own boots.
“Be careful with Fred,” Samhail said. “I’ll want him back.”
Talyn blinked at him in shock. “You…named your dagger Fred?” she asked incredulously.
Samhail shrugged one shoulder. “It’s a long story.”
“Please tell me you didn’t name your swords as well,” she said. “You didn’t strike me as the type to name your weaponry.”
Her eyes dipped to his groin briefly. In her experience, only men who were compensating for other inadequacies named their weapons, and she knew firsthand Samhail was exceptionally…adequate.
When Samhail didn’t answer, she rolled her eyes. “You did name them, didn’t you.”
Samhail held out a hand to summon the sword she’d left on the ground so he now had both again.
“Let’s just say they only acquired their names recently and somewhat by accident,” he said.
Her brows flew up. “How does one accidentally name their swords?”
Again he remained quiet.
“Alright,” she said, “but now I need to know what their names are.”
Samhail held up the blade in his right hand. “This is Righteous Hand.” He raised the sword in his left. “And this is Lefteous Hand.”
Talyn stared at him. “Sweet gods,” she whispered. “You didn’t.”
Samhail cocked his head in acquiescence, and a second later he lunged for her again, both blades swinging.
Talyn ported in low and swiped for his leg. She felt the resistance of the blade as it sliced across his thigh and heard his grunt of pain, but any elation she might’ve felt at drawing blood was dampened by the sharp sting in her own arm as Samhail’s sword drew across her bicep.
Talyn cried out and gripped her hand over the wound as blood welled up between her fingers.
Ridiculous names aside, the blades were sharper than anything she’d ever seen, and the man wielding them was nothing short of deadly.
And her only defense against him was a knife named Fred.
Talyn groaned inwardly as she clutched at her arm.
She wasn’t used to fights lasting this long.
She usually had only to slit someone’s throat and be done with it.
She still considered herself to be in pretty good shape stamina-wise, but fighting Samhail was exhausting.
Not to mention, this was her third fight with him in less than twenty-four hours, and she’d barely slept.
She might be able to get in a few more lucky blows, but she was at the point where she could admit she was outmatched.
Not that giving up was an option either. She couldn’t let Samhail bring her back to Solandis or Lord Bressen would throw her in Revenmyer, and that was a fate she’d avoid at all costs. If he didn’t kill her, of course.
She’d managed to wound Samhail twice now. The only thing she could do was try to wound him again badly enough that he’d have to go back to Solandis to be healed, and then she’d just ride as fast as she could to get as far away from him as possible.
Talyn scanned Samhail’s armor looking for places he was vulnerable, but he saw her do it.
“Looking for your killing blow?” he asked, his voice deceptively light.
She met his eyes, apology written on her face. “I can’t let you take me back to Solandis.”
She attacked then, no longer worried about hurting him.
She’d never get close enough to kill him, but she had to wound him good if she was going to get away.
She swiped out with the dagger before porting around him to slash again.
She struck quickly each time, swinging once then porting around him so he was turning in a circle to keep up with her.
If nothing else, maybe she could make him dizzy.
To his credit, Samhail still managed to block each blow she leveled at him, even if just barely. Faster and faster Talyn attacked, trying to find an opening. Her power was beginning to wane from too much porting. She needed to end this, or she wouldn’t have enough left to hold him off.
She saw her opportunity on the next swing where he’d left himself open on one side, and she swung out with her dagger.
She realized it was a trap a moment too late.
She tried to pull up, but her momentum carried her right into him.
He dropped his swords and one of his hands wrapped around her throat while he grabbed her dagger-wielding wrist in his other and wrenched it behind her back. She cried out and dropped the dagger.
She ported once more, but she didn’t go far enough, and Samhail found her wrist again to pull her back.
One steely arm wrapped around her waist and crushed her against his body while the other closed partially around her throat again.
His thumb tipped her chin up so she was looking into his dark eyes.
Paradoxically, they shone bright with adrenaline.
Talyn opened her mouth, whether it was to concede the fight or tell him to go to hell, she wasn’t sure, but she never got the chance.
Samhail’s mouth crashed into hers for a punishing kiss, and she jolted against him, first in surprise and then again at the heat that shot through her veins with the feel of his lips on hers.
Samhail’s kiss was brutal and hungry, an extension of the battle they’d been having, and the only thing Talyn could do was sag against him as his mouth ravaged hers.
She moaned unwillingly as his tongue invaded her mouth, attacking her own. Her lips would be swollen when he was done with her, and she might even have a bruise on her neck, but she didn’t care. The fight had stirred something in her, and she’d lost the will to resist.
Samhail’s kiss softened when he realized she was no longer fighting him.
It was still fierce but no longer as violent.
It ceased to be a conquest and became a claiming as his lips roved over hers, his tongue now more exploring than demanding.
His hand moved from her throat to the back of her head, and his fingers threaded through her hair as he let go of her waist. A moment later, that hand ran down her arm, raising gooseflesh.
Samhail gripped her hair even tighter, and Talyn moaned again as she pressed herself shamelessly against his solid, unyielding body.
His hand left her arm for a moment, but it was back on her wrist a couple seconds later, and something about the touch set off alarm bells in her head. Her eyes flew open as she heard a click and felt hard metal close around her wrist before her power winked out.
Talyn’s hair fell down her back again as the loss of her power cut off the shift that kept it short, and she jerked her mouth from Samhail’s to look down at the caronium cuff now clamped tightly on her.