Hazlitt’s palm filled with a swirling red haze, and he directed it away from his hand and into the king. It flowed through the king’s head, into his chest until all of it had been absorbed. The king straightened to his feet, strong and sturdy, his eyes a familiar red as he began to advance toward me.
It was nothing, and he’d let the visions of my mother and brother fade in his effort to possess the king. “You didn’t learn the first time,” I scolded, reaching out to grip that possessing magic. It was more powerful than it used to be, it wasn’t as easy to control as it had been when I’d manipulated the commander Hazlitt possessed, but I could still do it. I shifted the intent, and though it was beyond my ability to destroy the magic and free the king of it, I changed it to something different. I put the king to sleep, and as he fell unconscious, Hazlitt stared at me with a mix of awe and rage.
“What is that magic!?” he demanded, pacing forward with his face twisted in resentment. “You will give it to me!”
“How does it feel?” I asked, my mouth pursing with disgust. “Knowing you wasted your life searching for that elixir, and it’s useless.” His face burned red, but it didn’t deter me. “How does it feel having everything you wanted, only to find that not even the power could make you worth a damn thing?”
Hazlitt roared, lifting his weapon and charging across the dungeon. I spark jumped behind him right when he reached me, but he used his momentum to spin around. I countered the hit, angling my own weapon just enough to deflect it. Like every time before, I didn’t get a chance to retaliate. Hazlitt was fast and fueled by his anger. He swung again, and again, and again. And every time that I couldn’t meet the blow, I spark jumped behind him, only to have him pivot and strike another time.
I was waiting for my opening, waiting for his rage to make him clumsy and for him to mess up. But it wasn’t coming soon enough, and it wasn’t just blocking each of his heavy hits that was wearing on my energy. It was all the magic I was using. I’d felt the pull of the drain every time I used magic, but I’d never used it so much, and so rapidly. Every jump cost me precious stamina, stamina that I was already losing at drastic rates because of our clashing weapons. My lungs were burning with each gasp for air. My forehead and neck were dripping with sweat.
I was getting weak, and all it took was one blunder, because Hazlitt was waiting for it just as much as I was. I sparked myself behind him, catching my heel on an unleveled stone of the floor. It put me off balance so that with Hazlitt’s next swing, I lost my footing, and it sent me crashing down on my back. Hazlitt didn’t waste the opportunity. He lifted his sword, pointed the tip of it straight at me, and began to drive it down with all his might. I didn’t have any other options, and I thought STOP! with every bit of energy I had left.
That splitting crack went down the front of my head, and Hazlitt froze with the point of his sword mere inches above my armor. His eyes went wide with shock, but it didn’t stop him from trying. Though I kept my mind’s hold on him, freezing him to keep him from plunging his thick sword through my chest, he was fighting it. He was fighting it as hard as he possibly could, trying with his weight and his strength to force his sword those last few inches. I’d never experienced someone resisting, and I’d never felt pain like it in my entire life.
It was beyond harrowing. As I stared Hazlitt in the eyes, both of us straining against each other’s will, it felt like my skull was being beat open. The pain ripped through the front of my mind, searing the insides of it and the back of my eyes. It was blinding, and it took so much focus to maintain my control and force myself through the pain that I couldn’t even think to take a breath. All I could see were the white hot flashes of my pulse in my eyes, and just beyond it, the sharp point of a sword and the exertion on Hazlitt’s face, both trembling with his effort.
But I was losing this fight. The pain was so bad that I could feel a trickle of blood slipping from my nose, and my vision was blurring with nearing unconsciousness, and every second that passed, Hazlitt’s sword got that much closer to my chest. I couldn’t keep it up, and I had to do something but I couldn’t multitask with this control. I didn’t know if I could spark jump effectively, and I couldn’t risk striking out with my own weapon while his sword was so near to me. But I had to do something.
The very moment I let go of my control, I spark jumped, but the pain was so great and my focus so limited that I didn’t get as far as I wanted. I only shifted a few feet upward, so that when Hazlitt finally managed to slam the point of his sword down to the dungeon floor, it pierced through my shin and calf instead. I cried out in agony, but Hazlitt didn’t give me a moment to recover. He withdrew the weapon from my flesh, only to heave it upward and start slashing it back down. I was done. I hadn’t the strength or the focus to spark jump in time or to block it with my own sword.
Just when I expected to feel the sharp edge cutting through me, another sword appeared, knocking Hazlitt’s swing off course. “No!” Ava shouted, advancing another step and fighting Hazlitt away from me. “You will not take her too!” Ava wasn’t alone. A handful of footsteps were clattering down the stairs after her, but it was a group of enemy soldiers that ran into the dungeon. “Kiena?” she called behind her, her voice shaking with worry as she squared off against Hazlitt, keeping him from advancing again.
She’d saved my life, but it wasn’t over. Doing everything I could to ignore the excruciating wound in my leg and the fading pain in my head, I scrambled to my feet, wiping the blood from under my nose with the back of my hand. I could barely stand, but I had to. I had to keep fighting. I backed up as the soldiers spread out in front of me, knowing Ava was right behind me facing Hazlitt.
“Are you alright?” she asked. She was breathing heavily and her heart was racing, but I couldn’t tell if it was from physical exertion or panic.
“Fine,” I answered, keeping my sword out to counter if any of the soldiers attacked. “Rhien and the prince?”
“Finding the others,” Ava answered.
Hazlitt roared angrily at that, shouting over Ava and me at the soldiers, “Kill her!”
The soldiers charged, and I mustered all the strength I had left. Ava was more adept than I was with a sword, and surely she could handle herself against Hazlitt. All I had to do was keep an eye out, and make sure he didn’t use magic against her while I was preoccupied.
It was a struggle. My primary concern was with Ava, and I couldn’t put much weight on or trust in my leg, so I countered and spark jumped to avoid as many of the soldiers’ blows as I could. Someone had warned them about my sparks, because every time I tried to reach out they leaned or jumped away. It seemed pure luck when I finally managed to deflect a swing, leaving an opening for me to kill the man with my own sword. I spark jumped again to avoid another buffet, glancing once more at Hazlitt and Ava.
Hazlitt was fighting with her much the same way he had with me. He was on the attack, raining hit after hit down on her, but she was deflecting them all with ease. And even after just that short minute, I could tell it was doing exactly what she wanted it to. Hazlitt’s strikes were coming slower. He was getting tired. That’s when he finally decided to use his magic, but I was watching. The very moment he tried to hurl something at her, I reached out, knocking it off course so it hit the wall, and just in time for me to dodge one of my own enemies.