Windwitch (The Witchlands #2)v(109)

An eruption of wind. It snapped beneath their bodies, flipped them hard into a new spiral. More, more. Merik summoned more in a roar of heat that Kullen could not contain. Enough air to stop them. Enough wind to send the grass flattening outward. A vast circle above which Merik and Vivia slowed. Finally stopped.

They landed on their feet, legs crumpling beneath them. Merik’s hands sank into wet grass and soil. Such a bright, living smell after all the smoke and storm.

“Merry,” Vivia tried to say. Her shoulder was bleeding.

“Your arm,” Merik replied. He stood, shaky. Had there always been so much grass? Already it sprang back to its full height, as if Merik’s winds had never come.

“I’m fine.” Vivia stood beside him. “I can’t feel it. Merry, I need to tell you—”

A loud crack echoed through the valley. As if a mountain had fallen. As if the earth itself had split in two.

The dam was breaking.

*

Safi versus Kahina.

They fought on the cutter’s deck while the crews watched from the dock. No weapons, no shoes, and no one else on board. Just the two women and gulls circling overhead.

The rest of the world fell away. No more distant roar from the arena. Nor even the nearer creak of the ship’s planks. The world fell away because Safi made it fall away, just as Habim had taught her almost a decade ago. Her gaze hung chest level at Kahina, the better to see all of Kahina’s body. All of her twitches and twists. Then Safi planted her soles on the rough wood—the better to feel how the ship might pitch and yaw.

Kahina was shorter than Safi, but Safi wasn’t fool enough to think this was to her advantage. She could already tell Kahina was an experienced, comfortable fighter. It was in the way she bounced foot to foot, arms up and fists loose.

It was also in her ears: lumpy and swollen from decades of being pummeled—and from getting back up again.

What made Kahina especially formidable, though, was her freshness. She hadn’t spent her morning on the run from flames or Baedyeds or an arena gone mad. In fact, Safi’s greatest challenge would be in staying alert. Focused—

A fist swooped in. Safi swore. Kahina was already on the attack. Another swing, then another. Safi could scarcely block in time. She had no choice but to skip back.

Too soon, she ran out of space. The bulwark loomed, which meant Safi had to move offensively or be caught in a corner. She kicked—just a feint to send Kahina’s hands dropping. It worked, and Safi’s fists connected in a double punch.

One set of knuckles hit Kahina’s nose. The other slammed into her chest—not for pain, but for power. For the distance it gained when Kahina stumbled back.

But the admiral was smiling, all her stained teeth bared, and though her eyes watered, Safi hadn’t broken her nose.

Kahina sniffed. “You know, girl, I do not know your name.” She stomped her left foot, catching Safi’s eyes, before darting in fast. A flat hand sliced against Safi’s throat. Next came a hooking punch to Safi’s nose—and Kahina did manage to break it. A final kick sent Safi windmilling back.

Blood spouted from Safi’s nostrils. Her eyes gushed tears. At least, though, the pain was a distant thing. She was used to getting hit; it didn’t slow her.

Though she was on the retreat again. Kahina was speaking again too. An intentional distraction.

“How delightful for me”—jab, cross, kick to the ribs—“that you like a wager as much as I do, girl.”

More blood. More pain. Don’t listen, don’t listen.

“Do you know what I like more than a wager, though?” Kahina ducked beneath Safi’s punch. Then hopped back before Safi’s foot could connect with her knee.

Safi kept charging. Snap kick, fingernails across the face, back fist. The harder she pushed, the less Kahina seemed able to block. Until soon, Safi was landing blow after blow, and she was close enough for a knee to the gut. An elbow to the chin—

Kahina flipped her.

One moment, Safi’s view was of wood and sailcloth and sky. Then the whole world turned to only sky.

Safi’s head cracked. Stars swept over her vision. Then pain erupted in her ribs. Kahina was kicking her. Once, twice.

Safi curled in, grabbing for a leg, a foot—anything. What she got was a fistful of Kahina’s pants. It was enough. She yanked down the pirate.

Or so she attempted. Instead, though, Kahina used the momentum to tow Safi upright—directly into a waiting fist.

Safi’s already broken nose crunched. Black rushed over her eyes. She swayed back, and once more, her skull slammed to the deck. Not that she felt it.

Blink. She was falling. Blink. She was down. Blink. Kahina was straddling her. Blink, blink. Kahina’s forearm braced against Safi’s windpipe. Except Kahina paused here—no force in her pinning hold. Just a gentle lean while her other hand braced beside Safi’s head.

“You didn’t answer me, girl. So I repeat: Do you know what I like more than a wager?” Kahina’s jade ring flashed sunbeams into Safi’s eyes.

“What?” Safi barely got out that word. Blood, blood. It fringed everything she saw. Every breath too.

“I like a good bargain.”

Safi had no response for that. There was no point in using her wits against Kahina—not when she’d already lost. If Kahina wanted to distract her with words, so be it.