Page 168 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)

KILLIAN

Their blades crashed together, the ring of steel a symphony in Killian’s ears, their feet moving in the violent dance of battle. Though threats pressed in on all sides, the world fell away until there was nothing but the fight between him and his old enemy.

“Will the third time be the charm, Lord Calorian? Or is it the fourth? I can’t keep track of the number of times you’ve failed to kill me.

” Rufina laughed as she said the words, but he didn’t miss how her eyes kept moving in the direction of Deadground.

She knew Malahi and Lydia were a threat, which meant he needed to keep her away from them.

This was his battle, his purpose. All that mattered was keeping this creature at bay while Lydia and Malahi destroyed the blight.

It would be no easy fight.

Steel sparked against steel, the speed of Rufina’s attack threat enough, but worse still was her skill.

Long before she’d turned to the dark, when she’d answered to the name of Cyntha, she’d been a swordswoman almost without equal, and her skill had only grown.

It made her a far more dangerous opponent than the corrupted that he’d just killed.

But he’d also fought her before, which meant he knew her weaknesses.

“You’re not going to win this.” He deflected a blow, then threw a knife with his free hand. Rufina batted it away, and the blade disappeared into the snow. “The blight has been defeated before.”

“And it took every tender in Anukastre to do it,” she retorted. “Dozens and dozens, all of whom fell dead to achieve the cure. Malahi is but one woman.”

“Then why are you here?” He danced backward, the tip of her sword slicing through his chain mail like it was butter. “Why not send your lackeys to pick up the pieces while you face down Dareena in the south?”

Instead of answering, her eyes flicked past him, and Killian instinctively moved left to block her as she tried to race past, the impact of their blades deafening.

Killian chuckled, though he felt no humor, because in the distance, he caught side of the horde massing on the far side of the wall. It wouldn’t hold them for long. “You belie your words, Cyntha. Tell me again that they’re no threat.”

Her eyes skipped past him again, and he moved sideways with them.

Too late did he recognize the ruse as she instead ran straight, her blade hitting his mailed side with such force that his ribs cracked.

Ignoring the pain, he closed his hand on her arm, allowing himself to fall.

His weight yanked Rufina back, and she whirled, stabbing the spot where he had lain only a heartbeat before.

But Killian had already let go and rolled, on his feet, sword stabbing out.

It took her in the gut. Rufina hissed, dragging herself off his blade, but she was too slow to evade his fist as it connected with her jaw.

Instead of recoiling, she flung herself at him, either not caring that she’d be injured or trusting that her mark would heal her. Or else deeming it worth the pain as her fingers closed around his throat.

Killian felt her mark catch hold of his life and yank. Panic rose in his chest, but he tamped it down and smashed his forehead against the bridge of her nose, then his fist into her chin when she reared back.

He stabbed her again, blood spraying. Rufina only pulled herself off his sword like meat off a skewer. Even stabbed twice, she was quick as a fox, and Killian sprinted after her. He pulled another knife and threw it, and the blade embedded in her thigh.

Ripping the blade free, she spun and threw it back at him.

Killian batted it out of the air with his sword and then threw himself at her.

They grappled back and forth, but then an explosion rattled his eardrums. Both he and Rufina froze, staring at the plume of smoke rising into the air, but then the ground shook.

The earthquake sent them rolling down the snowy slope.

Killian dropped his sword to catch Rufina’s wrists, but with inhuman strength, she ripped a hand free and drove it into his ribs. Bone cracked, pain spidering across his side, but before he could grab hold of her, her fist flew out again.

It caught him in the shoulder, the joint dislocating right as their roll flung them against a boulder and broke them apart.

The pain was incredible, and it shattered Killian’s focus enough to hear the noise from below.

Awful meaty thuds, a glance downslope revealing that blighters were coming over the walls.

Were falling to form a thick carpet of broken bodies, it only a matter of time until it was thick enough that the rest could flow over like a tide.

Rufina staggered upright. Her wounds were healing as swiftly as he could inflict them, the stolen life within her seemingly endless. He’d fought her before, but those battles felt like child’s play compared to this, her strength limitless.

Pulling his last remaining knife, he threw it at her exposed back, and the weapon sank into her spine. Rufina dropped, paralyzed from the waist down, but she reached over her shoulder and extracted the blade. A heartbeat later, she was standing once more.

“You cannot defeat me, Lord Calorian.” Her burning eyes fixed on him. “I am death.”

She was right. He couldn’t beat her. But neither was he going to die easily. He’d fight her to the bitter last to give Lydia the time she needed, because once Lydia had defeated the blight, she’d come for Rufina.

And the Queen of Mudamora was more than Rufina’s match.

Retrieving his sword, Killian attacked.