Chapter Forty-Eight – Mira
Chapter Forty-Eight
Mira
I pushed Aric out of the way and swung violently at Roran with my dagger. ‘ You don’t get to win .’
‘First your mother,’ Roran taunted, dodging my desperate slashes, ‘then Darius, and now Cassius. Who should be next, do you think? Aric – or Lillian, perhaps?’
‘You’ll be dead before you touch them,’ I growled, vaguely conscious of Aric crossing swords with General Harte nearby. But I couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t risk shifting my focus for even a sec–
Roran thrust my blade away from him, slamming his other fist into my face.
My head snapped back, my mouth filling with the metallic taste of blood, but I attacked him like an animal, kicking and punching and dodging. My next kick connected, and I delighted in Roran’s grunt of pain.
We traded savage blows until both of us were bleeding and breathing heavily. A roar of frustration left my lips as he dodged my next strike and slammed into me, so hard that I felt a rib crack at the impact.
I clawed at every part of him I could reach. I was so much stronger and more experienced than I had been when I’d faced Roran the last time, but it still wasn’t enough –
‘That’s right,’ Roran gloated. ‘You can’t beat me, Kasmira. And when you die, Cassius’s sacrifice will be meaningless. I will mount all your heads on the Kalurian gates, and those members of your army that do survive will spend their–’
The platform lurched to the side, sending Roran tumbling amongst the bodies of his personal guard. I lunged after him, landing on his chest and squeezing my hands around his throat. I wanted him dead . I wanted him motionless and bleeding and broken–
But he was already rallying – using his magical Warrior strength to prise open my fingers and reverse our positions.
Roran lifted me like a rag doll and then smashed me back down once, twice, three times.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see, couldn’t think.
When I tried to cough, only blood bubbled out. I spat it in his face.
He was smiling as he wiped it away. As he reached for the very blade that had dealt my mother a fatal blow.
And then Aric was there.
I sucked in a painful, heaving breath, unable to look away as the two best swordsmen I knew went head-to-head, moving so fluidly I could barely see their blades.
Watching Aric fight was like watching Kain reborn. His muscles rippled as he forced back blows that would have shattered any other opponent. He never stopped moving, pushing back and deflecting in a way that allowed him to remain out of Roran’s reach.
They threw everything at each other, holding nothing back. It was brutal and terrible and seamlessly natural. A dance, like all the best fights were. Only Aric was the one leading, driving Roran towards the inevitable conclusion.
Frustration made Roran sloppy – relying on brute force where he should have known better, being baited into taking openings that were really traps.
I had the sense that Aric was playing now, his blade darting out and opening wounds like I had once done with Nikolas Atwood – small cuts here and there, just to enjoy the look on Roran’s face, the rage.
I watched Roran’s threats crash over Aric like a wave. He didn’t even flinch as Roran mentioned Kain, and Lillian, and everyone Aric loved, because all Roran was doing was reaffirming Aric’s decision to end him. There was nothing Roran could do or say to rattle him now.
He was beyond Roran, and I realised that I was watching a master in action. A swordsman beyond equal.
Aric disarmed Roran with ease. Even Scarlett was looking at Aric as though she had never seen him before, and I saw a glimmer of awe on her face. Roran watched him with hatred and confusion. He didn’t understand how Aric could possibly have bested him.
Pride rushed through me as Aric advanced on Roran with his sword raised, forcing him closer to the end of the platform. Beyond it, I saw that the battle was won: my forces had triumphed, and Roran’s had fallen. I relished the dawning realisation that crossed his face as he surveyed the carnage.
‘I told you,’ I said, walking over to join Aric. ‘You don’t get to win. Not this time. Not against all of us.’
Roran’s hateful eyes darted past me – to where I could feel Scarlett at my back. And Cassius, lying wounded beyond her.
Scarlett, Aric and I moved closer, forming a barrier that Roran couldn’t hope to break through.
He stared at us and then glanced over the edge, where my clansmen and remaining shifters waited.
Scarlett’s undead warriors were closest to the platform, their eyes empty husks, their skin streaked with black veins.
An army of unfeeling faces and dead, blackened skin. Hideous. Terrifying.
Wonderful.
‘I promised them revenge against you,’ Scarlett said to Roran. ‘For what the priestesses did to them. It won’t be pretty.’
Roran looked at his sister, searching for softness he wouldn’t find. Then he looked back at the mob – and finally at me. ‘Not like this.’
It sounded almost – almost – like a plea. But there was no mercy left in me.
I glanced at Aric. ‘Would you like to do the honours?’
Aric stepped forward, until Roran teetered on the very edge of the platform. Just below, hundreds of sharp hands waited to drag him down into their midst.
‘I’m sorry for what I did to your brother,’ Roran said desperately to Aric. ‘But he wouldn’t have resorted to this. He was a rebel – a reformer. He would have wanted a trial or even an execution–’
‘You have no idea what he would have wanted,’ Aric said, and pushed Roran off the platform.
Before he even finished falling, I saw the clansmen and shifters converging. Roran’s screams rang out as they descended on him–
Trapping him beneath a mass of vengeful bodies.
Reducing him to bits of blood and bone.