The Sorcery Code (The Sorcery Code #1)(68)

What he had not counted on was encountering a master swordsman. Because that’s what the girl had to be, despite her delicate appearance. She fought like a man possessed, like a demon of old fairy tales, with a skill and agility that possibly superseded his own—a skill that increased with every moment that passed. How was she learning so fast? What was she? There was a kind of calculated precision to her graceful movements that seemed almost . . . inhuman.

He noticed only one weakness. She seemed to get distracted when the lions and the old women were in danger. And as distasteful as it was, Barson knew what he had to do.

Giving the order to set the beasts on fire, he moved forward decisively with his best men.

She met them without even a hint of fear. Within moments, Barson and his men were fighting for their lives. The girl was working two swords in her hands, thrusting at any hint of an opening, parrying every blow that came her way. The worst thing of all, however, was that she was adapting with every strike, getting faster and more efficient as the fight went on. If he hadn’t been in mortal danger, Barson would have given anything to study her technique—because at this point, she was perfection itself, a virtuoso with a blade, her every move imbued with deadly purpose.

The first blood in this frantic confrontation came from a strike at Kiam’s shoulder. A minute later, Larn was bleeding from his thigh. Furious, Barson put all his strength into a last desperate assault—and then he smelled the acrid odor of burning lion fur.

The girl shuddered, her concentration broken, and Barson finally saw an opening in her defense. One quick lunge, and his sword sliced open her belly, leaving behind a deep, gushing wound.

She screamed, dropping her weapons and clutching at her stomach.

Barson and his men moved in for the kill.





Chapter 42: Gala


Gala had experienced pain before, but nothing had prepared her for this.

The agony was debilitating. The man with the pendant—the man who seemed to fight like no other—had sliced her open.

Clutching her stomach, she could feel the warm flow of blood trickling through her fingers, and for the first time, she was struck by the realization that she could actually cease to exist.

No. Gala could not, would not accept that possibility.

Time seemed to slow. In the distance, she could hear the lions roaring and feel the pain of their burning flesh. She could also see the soldiers’ blades moving ever so slowly toward her, ready to end her life.

In that brief moment of time, a million thoughts ran through her mind. The pain in her wounded flesh was terrible, and the realization that she’d hurt the soldiers in a similar way added to her turmoil. Would she die now? Could she die? Thus far, her body did not behave as that of a regular woman, but it still had to be bound by some rules that were at least somewhat based on how human bodies worked. She got tired; she ate and slept. She got scared and happy, felt heat and cold. Would she be killed if those swords that were moving ever so slowly reached her body?

No, Gala decided. She could not risk letting that happen; she could not let them kill her. She loved existing too much. She had too much to see, to experience. She wanted to see Blaise again, to feel his kisses.

She also had the lions, Esther, and Maya to save.

Just as the swords of the four soldiers were about to pierce her flesh, she put all her energy into one last desperate blast. Focusing all her fury on the metal blades that had caused so much pain, she willed them gone with all her might.

And as whatever spell she thus unleashed started working, Gala felt a burst of agony unlike anything she’d known before. The lions roared, and she felt their pain and suffering, the screams of the soldiers adding to the chaos.

Through the haze clouding her mind, she understood what happened. She’d made all the swords on the field explode, driving deadly shards of metal through the soldiers’ armor and into every bit of exposed flesh. Nobody had escaped unscathed—not the soldiers, not the lions, and not even Gala herself. Only Maya and Esther were sufficiently far away to be safe. Here on the field, the smoldering remnants of grass were covered with blood.

Dazed, Gala stared at the metal shards sticking out of her body. Somehow, seeing them made the pain worse. Falling to her knees, she threw back her head with an agonized scream. As though responding to her agony, the shards of metal came out of her body, hanging for a moment in the air before falling to the ground. All around her, the same thing was happening to the soldiers and the lions.

It didn’t help the pain, however. Her vision blurring, Gala struggled to her feet. All she wanted to do now was get away, rise above this terrible field of slaughter before anyone recovered enough to attack her again. And that was when she felt her body slowly floating up from the ground.

Strong hands grabbed her leg as she was rising into the air, and Gala saw the soldier with the pendant—the one who’d wounded her—holding on to her with grim determination. His face and armor were covered in blood, but that didn’t seem to stop him. She was far too weak to shake him off, and they floated up together, rising slowly into the air.

Below, Gala could see the battlefield. It was littered with bodies and soaked with blood. She had done this; she had caused all this pain and suffering. The realization was worse than the agony wracking her body.

Lifting her hands up to the sky, Gala watched the bright blue expanse. A sound escaped her throat, a sound that turned into something else. She couldn’t stand the feel of blood on her hands; she needed to wash this nightmare away.