Kyen barely had time to draw his sword before Ennyen struck like black lightning. They collided with a clash of steel. Their swords—flashing, singing blurs—whipped around them. An unrelenting clamor rang out, steel clanging steel. Within seconds, Kyen cowed under the onslaught. He struggled sideways, reaching for space, drawing Ennyen away from the others, as Ennyen bludgeoned him with a speed born of ferocity. They crossed the street in a matter of moments.
Ennyen’s blade suddenly flashed out underneath Kyen’s guard. The blade slit him across the stomach, its sharp edge digging across his linen armor vest. Kyen staggered backwards but caught his balance in time to leap sideways. The black blade cleaved apart a pyre behind him, slinging sparks, as it just missed him.
Running a stone’s throw away, Kyen turned with his sword upraised. The slice to his armor had left a black stain. From it spread inky tentacles that grabbed at the material. Without taking his eyes from Ennyen, Kyen ripped open the latches, shrugged off the vest, and threw it aside. It hit the ground, crumpling into the dark tentacles and vanishing.
Ennyen turned on him and flourished his blade. With a casual step, he walked over the flaming debris of the pyre, his dark eyes hard and focused. The two swordsmen traveled up the street, Kyen walking backwards, Ennyen closing in.
Breathing hard, Kyen held a defensive stance. The tip of his sword was trembling. Up and down its edge, black pockmarks were spreading, eating gaping chunks into the steel.
Ennyen launched himself forward, and Kyen dove to meet him. When their swords connected, Ennyen slung Kyen’s sword aside and stabbed. Kyen bent; the sword-point grazed his side. He swung his hilt down at Ennyen’s head with both hands. Ennyen caught it with one. Staring him in the face, he held the hilt firm even as Kyen’s arms shook from the strain, trying to press down on him and failing. Ennyen’s one-handed grip on the black blade clenched.
Kyen’s eyes widened. He jerked his sword free as Ennyen attacked at close range, striking with one lightning blow after another. Kyen parried the first two, but at the third, an odd metal snap resounded. The top half of Kyen’s sword flew off as the impact from Ennyen’s blade snapped the steel in half. The point skittered away between a couple pyres. Kyen tried to lean out of the way as the black blade flashed out again.
Adeya covered her eyes with a cry.
Blood splattered the cobblestones.
The force of Ennyen’s sword catching across his chest slung Kyen to the ground. He hit the dirt at a roll. Coming up in a crouch out of range, he steadied himself with a hand on the ground. He panted, his broken sword still clutched in a fist, the other hand holding a gash across his chest. Red oozed into his tunic.
Ennyen advanced. Firelight glistened off Kyen’s blood along the edge of his black blade.
“No, stop!” Adeya drew her sword and ran after them.
Ennyen turned at the sound of her voice.
“Don’t!” Kyen made to stand, but Adeya reached him first.
She lashed out.
Ennyen blocked and disarmed her with an easy flick, and her sword clattered to the ground. He pointed his blade at her neck. She backed away, drawing out her dagger and brandishing it at him.
Ennyen smiled—a black look that didn’t touch his eyes. He said over his shoulder where Kyen struggled to his feet. “You’d let a half-trained maiden break in on our battle? She’s not even a swordsister.” Then to Adeya, he said, “There’s no honor in killing you, maiden. But if you break in again, I will not hesitate.”
“Adeya. Don’t!” Kyen said through gritted teeth, finally reaching his feet, bloody and unsteady.
Her gaze jumped between them.
With a yell, Kyen charged with his broken sword. Ennyen whirled to meet him, slamming him back with rapid blows too fast for the eye to follow. Kyen dodged to the left, again and again, to get out of range, Ennyen’s blade a black wind nicking him. They cut a diagonal across the street.
With a crack of metal, the rest of Kyen’s sword snapped off at the base, leaving him with only a stub and a hilt. He caught an overhead slash on the crossguard. Ennyen threw his weight to bear down on him. Kyen gritted his teeth, bending deeper and deeper under Ennyen’s strength. The black blade dug into his shoulder, drawing blood as Ennyen pressed closer. He suddenly slipped his blade from Kyen’s hold to smack him hard across the face with the pommel.
Kyen went down. He landed face-first, sprawled out between a couple of pyres. He groaned and pulled his hand underneath him.
Adeya gripped her dagger with white fingers. Tears bubbled up in her eyes as she watched Kyen shift painfully in the dirt.
Ennyen straightened out of his sword stance. Hefting his blade, he stepped over and stood above Kyen.
Cradling one arm to his chest, Kyen struggled to his hands and knees. The other arm holding him up trembled. Blood dripped to the ground as his breath came in hard, shuddering gasps.
“That look suits you.” Ennyen flipped his blade underhand. “I know only one better.” He drove his blade down at Kyen’s exposed back.
Adeya shrieked.
Kyen dropped into a roll—the black blade driving into the dirt behind him—and came up on his knees at Ennyen’s feet, underneath his guard. His hands, clapped over glint of steel, flashed towards the inside of the other swordsman’s hip. Ennyen’s eyes widened. He tried to shift back, out of the way but not far enough. Kyen’s hands slammed into his thigh.
For a fraction of a second they stood. Ennyen stared down, wide-eyed, bent awkwardly over Kyen who crouched beneath him. He glared up, blood oozing over his fingers where he held the base of his broken blade; the bloodied tip protruded out the other side of Ennyen’s leg.
The swordsmen snapped apart: Ennyen stumbled away and Kyen lunged backwards to his feet.
Kyen sprinted for Adeya. She opened her mouth, but he yelled “Go!”, grabbed her arm and dragged her after him. They ran hard down the street.
Ennyen, limping up, watched them clamber over the ruins of the watchtower and vanish into the night beyond the firelight. He looked disgusted. The villagers edged away from him, crowding close to the dome. He ignored their stares and their frightened murmurs as he wiped his sword off on his cloak.
The fiend caladrius fluttered to the ground beside him. The grinning face bent up, cocked sideways. He eyed it.
“Quit smirking.” He slammed his sword back into its sheath. “You do your job.”
The fiend chortled—it sounded like a laugh—and took to the sky.
Ennyen limped down the road after Kyen, ignoring the broken blade sticking through his leg.