Tales of the Vangen: The Siege of Middengard (Book 2)

Chapter 54: Vengeance

"I always knew we'd end up like this." Ohban smiled at him, flashing rows of perfect, shiny teeth. "It's as if destiny wanted us here. Do you believe in destiny, Harald?"

Regis frowned. "I have no need for destiny. I've learned now that if you want something, you have to take it." He twirled Giantsbane in his hands, its dark, dull edge casting but the faintest of glimmers. "Which is why I will be taking your life here and now."

Ohban's smile became a skeleton's grin. "We will see then, won't we?" She lept, sword flashing in her hand, coming down on Regis like a silver meteor. He caught it in a backswing, felt his arms buckle against the impact, pain straining up his forearms. By the gods did this woman have some muscle on her. Felt like an ox had kicked him.

He fell back, but she was lightning fast, on him before his heels even kissed the ground. Another swing, this time forcing his arms up, metal clanging together like they were in a blacksmith's shop instead of a battle. He swung at her to get his bearings, but she lunged back, tip of his blade kissing the air where she'd been not too long ago, a line of sun chased silver darting towards him.

Another parry, another step back. Ohban twirled her sword overhead, posture set to one side, lips curled back in a mocking sneer. "What is the matter, Harald? Getting tired already?"

"No," Regis puffed. "Just getting started."

"Are you sure you don't want to sit down for a couple of minutes? I would hate to run you ragged." She chuckled, mirth spilling out of her like an overheated kettle. "If only Erik could have seen you one final time before you died. He would have liked to know what happened to you after all these years."

"Silence, witch!" Regis roared, already tired to death of listening to her carp. "Keep my brother's name out of your fecking mouth!" He lunged, sweeping Giantsbane in a tight arc to lop her lying head off. It would have connected too with how hard he'd swung the damn thing. Big as it was, and compared to the miniscule size of Ohban's sword, it should have struck.

But it didn't. With a single sweep of her arm, Ohban caught the blade with hers, sparks spitting as they scraped together. Regis felt his heels rise again as the force of her parry threw him off balance. He turned with the momentum of his sword, tried to correct his balance, before a line of silver flashed past his eye, inches from his face.

With a mighty lurch that made the muscles in his back squirm, Regis dodged her attack. He fell, bones aching, body screaming bloody murder as he came back to his feet.

Ohban stood before him, smiling triumphantly. "Feeling a little woozy, are we?"

"What the hells are you blabbering about?" Regis flinched as something warm and wet tickled his face. He placed two fingers to his cheek, found them coming back all sticky and red. Blood. His blood. She'd cut him across the cheek, he realized. So thin and so fine he'd barely felt it.

"A taste of what I will do to you very soon, my dear prince." Ohban took a step towards him and for the first time in a long while, he found himself afraid. He took a step back, eyes scanning for a way to turn things around. He spotted Nox buried amidst the rubble, arms pushing unsuccessfully to lift a piece of mortar off his chest. Culter was nowhere to be found and Elba had run off to stop the cannons from turning Libro and the rest of the Vangen into mince meat. He was alone.

"Eyes on me, prince!" Ohban jumped, swinging her sword in a backswing. Regis caught it, shuddering as the force of the blow rippled from the tips of his fingers to the tips of his toes. By the gods, this woman was a monster. A mountain made flesh. An old, bitter oak turned into an old, bitter bitch.

"Call me prince one more time," Regis threatened. "And I'll cut your fecking tongue out."

"Oh, you mean this?" And she stuck it out for emphasis.