Ghost in the Winds (Ghost Exile #9) - Jonathan Moeller Page 0,2

jumped back, the shadow-cloak fluttering around her, and Kalgri stalked after her. She launched a series of quick slashes with her scimitar, forcing the Ghost back. Caina dodged aside, catching a few of the slashes on her dagger. Caina was not Kalgri’s equal in blade work, and Kalgri easily took command of the fight. At last, she forced Caina’s dagger hand out to the side and drew back her own dagger for the kill.

Caina’s hand flew to her belt. Beneath the shadow-cloak, she wore one of her favored disguises, that of a caravan guard with dusty boots and trousers and a coat of leather armor reinforced with steel studs. At her belt hung a short, curved scabbard, which Kalgri thought odd since Caina never used a sword in combat.

Kalgri’s dagger darted forward for a killing stab, and Caina yanked the short curved sword from her belt.

In a flash of white light and silvery metal, Kalgri realized that she had made a serious mistake. She jerked backward with a snarl of fury, the Voice hissing with fear, and Caina swept the sword forward in a clumsy arc. At her full strength, Kalgri could have killed Caina before she finished the strike. In her weakened state, she got out of the way, but the curved blade raked across her left forearm with a flash of burning white fire.

Agony erupted through her, and Kalgri screamed. The Voice echoed her scream of pain, the nagataaru’s wail of fear shuddering through the inside of her skull.

The damned sword was a valikon, one of the blades wrought by the loremasters of lost Iramis to destroy nagataaru, shorter than the valikon Caina had given to Kylon. Where the hell had Caina gotten the damned thing? She must have found it in Kharnaces’s tomb. Trust the damned Great Necromancer to keep a weapon capable of his own destruction.

Kalgri didn’t care about Kharnaces’ destruction, but she cared very much about avoiding her own.

She scrambled to the side, avoiding another swing from the valikon. The agony from the touch of the valikon still flooded through her, and blood dripped down her left arm. Her previous wounds were healing slowly enough, but the wound from the valikon was barely healing at all. The last time Kalgri had been wounded with a valikon, it had taken months to recover.

Kalgri retreated, and Caina came after her. Yes, let her come.

Because behind Kalgri stood Callatas, still gathering his power for a killing spell.

###

Caina pursued Kalgri, valikon in her right hand and ghostsilver dagger in her left.

Kalgri retreated, her weapons held out in guard. Her face looked so much like Caina’s that it was disturbing, with the same blue eyes and nearly the same features, though her hair was blond instead of black. They could have been sisters, though Caina hoped that cruel, insane rage never twisted her expression.

Within Kalgri’s rage, Caina thought she saw a hint of fear.

The valikon could kill Kalgri and destroy the Voice. It could also pierce Callatas’s wards and kill the Grand Master. Caina could end this entire conflict if she could just close with Kalgri.

She just could not manage to do it.

Caina was too tired, her limbs too heavy. Kalgri was just as tired and hurt far worse, but she still had more experience than Caina, and she kept ahead of Caina’s blows. Any other time, Caina would not have lasted more than a few second against the Red Huntress. Only Kalgri’s wounds let Caina match her, but unless Caina landed a decisive hit, Kalgri would prevail sooner or later.

Arcane power shone before her eyes.

Callatas had almost finished his spell.

Caina recognized the shape of the spell, the threads of power weaving together to form a blast of psychokinetic force. Kalgri leaped to the side, leaving a clear line of sight from Callatas to Caina. The Grand Master thrust out his free hand, his tattered white robes blowing around him, and the spell erupted from his fingers. The vision of the valikarion meant that Caina could see it coming, and she attempted to dodge, but the spell was too fast.

Invisible force slammed into Caina.

It felt as if she had run full speed into a brick wall. At Callatas’s full strength, the spell would have turned her bones to dust and her flesh to paste. As it was, the spell sent her stumbling backward, blood flying from her nose and mouth, her body throbbing with pain.

Kalgri was right on top of her.

Countless hours spent practicing the unarmed forms of combat had