The Starlight Lancer

Chapter Sixteen: Servant of Darkness

"The remaining heretics must be dealt with. The Marked Empire only fell a century ago, and now we're expected to forget it and move on? I say no, even if the Alliance of Worlds is insisting; and I believe this council would agree with me."

—Highlord Jangar Fyrkaj in a speech to the ancient Dragonrider Council on Midliore

When Zaina's eyes opened, she was staring at the ceiling. She sat up quickly, grabbing at her aching head. That same odd noise was filling the room in rapid, non-rhythmic succession—her eye caught a flash of light, and her head snapped to find it. Gir's cipher was crossed with Beni's black blade. Their swords, too, seemed to be enemies—the black sword shrieked and hissed while Gir's cipher vibrated with a resilient hum.

Zaina was in awe of their battle; the cipher danced to guard attacks from every angle. With every clash, their blades let out bursts of heat and the crackling groans of smoldering sparks.

Beni growled and snarled with each exchange—he was keeping up this time.

How did he get so much faster in one day?

Their swords crossed, and Beni pushed into the lock, driving Gir backward. The Raolgrian disengaged, parried a wild swing, and jumped back. He was taking deep breaths and clutching at his side—Zaina's eyes widened as green blood seeped from between his fingers. One of Beni's strikes had wounded him.

Beni pointed his blade at Gir and spat, "Come then, lancer. Win your glory if you can."

Gir leaped forward and knocked aside Beni's thrust, unleashing a slash—it was blocked at the last moment. Even in the heat of battle, there was an earnest calm about Gir; his movements centered around his wrist with his sword out in front of him. Beni exerted more effort, often the aggressor in their exchanges—his attacks were hackneyed, a series of brutal swings and full-body slashes.

Zaina struggled to her feet. Clicking the mag-hammer to load a spread-tip bead, she aimed the scrapshot—she had to help. They were moving fast, with Beni jumping to attack from different angles, getting a lock would be difficult. As their fight rotated, her eyes met with Gir's for an instant, and there was an understanding between them.

Gir feinted a strike, then leaped sideways, putting Beni between him and Zaina. He met Beni's next frontal charge head-on, pushing against the assault, exposing Beni's back. Zaina exhaled and pulled the trigger. Two pops burst out in rapid succession as the round fired off and split as Gir dashed aside.

Time seemed to slow as Beni, in multiple, dark voices, said, "Defend us."

A black pillar jutted from the ground behind him and blocked the beads with a clatter of pings. Zaina winced—those words, or the way he said them, bothered her mark.

"Strike her."

A stinging pain attacked Zaina's eye, and she collapsed to one knee. The pillar gave an ear-splitting crack as it detached from the ground and launched toward her.

"No!" Gir shouted, reaching out—a stream of water burst from his open palm, whipping around and knocking the pillar off course. Beni took the opportunity to slice off Gir's outstretched arm at the elbow. The Raolgrian jumped back, grunting in pain as he cauterized the wound with his cipher.

Without thinking, Zaina rose to her feet. "Gir—no!"

She charged in with a shriek, fist raised, and threw a punch at the back of Beni's head—

He turned and caught her hand, then yanked on it to pull her shoulder onto his blade, driving his sword through. His face, plastered with a smug grin, was two inches from hers. Zaina's jaw dropped as her mouth filled with blood—the mark flared up at the same time as her injury, jolting her body like a storm of angry needles. Beni freed his sword and she dropped to the hard, cold floor, clutching her wound as she gasped for air.