Anya’s Fight
Anya’s Fight
Darius strode into the library, poison snapdragons dangling from the end of his sword. Anya stood in the middle of the room, a rapier in each hand. Teren was behind her on the window seat. As Darius came in, the harpy flew down and spread her wings in front of him like a shield.
‘Get back,’ said Anya. Her eyes were hot, and her teeth set. ‘Don’t come any closer.’
‘Don’t be a martyr, little girl,’ said Darius. ‘All I want is the Immortal.’
‘No,’ she said. The two red patches of rage were rising in her cheeks. ‘That can’t happen.’
‘This doesn’t have to be painful,’ said Darius. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘Then we have nothing in common,’ said Anya. ‘Because I do want to hurt you.’
Anya Argen touched the tips of her rapiers together, and listened to the flare of burning oxygen as they sparked into flames. She bared her teeth like a wolf. She rolled back her lips. There was fury in every inch of her soul. She screamed, and the sound rocked the palace: a war cry.
Darius ran at her. Her burning blades clashed – one, two – against his sword. She swung with her right blade, holding the left up to protect her face. The air rang with the clang of metal.
‘Your fire won’t help,’ he spat. ‘My sword is centaur-made.’
She said nothing, only fought harder, her hair escaping from its ties, her breath coming hard. The burning tip of a rapier singed his wrist and she hissed in triumph. He bellowed in pain and anger, parried and struck out, and she leaped back just in time.
Darius’s fury seemed to give him strength, and Anya began to falter.
She fought with a wild speed but he was a mercenary, trained in killing.
He pressed on, forcing her back across the library floor towards Teren.
She tried to break away, to lead him to the left into an alcove, but he was too fast. He jabbed, and jabbed again, and this time the cut went home.
Anya stumbled backwards and fell with a cry, bleeding from beneath her ribs.
The man turned to Teren. ‘Come on, kid,’ he said. He bent to pick him up, and as he did so the harpy gave a screech and flew at him. He roared in shock, slashing at the bird. The harpy dropped, one wing bleeding, to the library floor.
‘No! You shall not take him!’ Jacques launched himself at Darius, belching great clouds of smoke. He came too close: Darius coughed, snatched the fireless dragon from the air and threw him against the wall, where he fell stunned.
But it gave Anya time. She drew herself backwards, every muscle pulling inwards like a coiling spring – and as Darius bent to lift Teren, Anya exploded forwards.
With a clash of metal her fiery blades came together, twisted, and struck Darius’s sword from his hand.
It flew clattering across the long room.
Anya leaped after it, took three victorious steps, and suddenly found that the room was spinning around her.
She clutched at the bookcase and blood ran from the cut at her side.
The red-haired man laughed. He strode across the room to retrieve his sword. ‘I’ve never seen anything like you,’ he said. ‘It seems almost a shame to kill you.’
He bent to pick up his sword. And then he screamed, reeling backwards. He looked incredulously at the needle that had been thrust straight through the palm of his hand.
Meri snapped to attention. ‘Batrachomyomachian mice do so love to assist,’ he said. He bowed to Anya. ‘My lady, I am ever at your service.’
Darius hauled at the needle. His hands were wet with sweat and he could not get a purchase on it, and his eyes grew panicked as he tried to pull it out with his teeth.
Anya clawed herself to her feet, fingers scrabbling at the bookcase. She picked up Darius’s sword in both hands, and then she leaped forwards with one great swing, a swing that held in it all her passion and love, every inch of strength Anya Argen had in her small and furious body.
Darius’s own weapon struck him across the side of the head and he crumpled at her feet.
But she had used the flat of the sword.
‘I decided, Meri, back in Dousha, that I wouldn’t kill. And especially not in front of Teren,’ she said. ‘He has to remember everything he sees, forever. I would not add another death. Meri, could you assist me? Would you tie him up? I’ve got to get to Christopher.’
And she took Teren by the hand and half ran, half stumbled from the room.