The King of the Skies by Robert J. Crane

Author:Robert J. Crane [Crane, Robert J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Google: 9oJHDwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B07944855K
Goodreads: 38325061
Publisher: Ostiagard Press
Published: 2018-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

12

He parried the blow easily.

I whipped around, swinging in low.

Burnton danced back a step. He brought his blade to bear, catching the tip of Decidian’s Spear at least twelve inches before it could sail through the skin of his kneecap.

Not even close.

I grunted, drew back the spear, and jabbed forward. It was a graceless move, but full of that power and emotion that Barnes had chastised Heidi for during yesterday’s skirmish. I hoped it would be enough to get through—

And still Burnton was quicker, knocking my blow off-course and sidestepping to ensure he was a full foot clear of taking the blade through the guts.

“I do wish you’d take my advice,” said Burnton, “and make off while you can. You won’t win this.”

“Watch me.”

I stabbed for him again, high—then I jerked it low.

Burnton’s eyes widened for a second. He swung the blade down to catch me—but the strike was a lot closer to his body than before, maybe four inches separating his hip and the point where steel clashed and rang.

“A feint,” he observed. “Good move. But I am quicker.”

I swung again, aware of the pirates landing on the other walkways leading into the hexagon’s bubble and the crypt key within. None of them moved beyond where they dropped, turning instead to watch my battle with their leader. Which was good, because it meant the crypt key was still mine for the taking … though not so good when I did get a shot off and their “code of ethics” went out the window, the way it had when Clay and Carson had claimed the first key.

“Why don’t they do anything?” I demanded, swiping again, figuring that maybe if I could get Burnton distracted, talking while we were sparring instead of filling the empty spaces where he gave me breathing room to reset before coming in for another blow, that maybe I could catch him unawares and end this swiftly. “You’re hardly getting your coin’s worth, paying men to stand around and watch you.”

“I like the audience,” said Burnton. “Plus it helps them. They pick up pointers from a seasoned professional. Not that they aren’t all professionals, of course, but …” Blade clashed on spear again, then he danced backward and whirled in a balletic spin. “They’re not me,” he finished with a grin.

“Lucky them,” I said with a grimace.

“You were never this unkind when you were at home,” said my mother. “I knew this world would change you, and it has, oh, it has …”

I resisted the urge to tell my mum to piss off and aimed another swing at Burnton’s neck. He rose to meet it with his sword, and I swung toward his knee. He jerked to follow, but then I forked up again at the last second.

He leapt backward, hissing.

The spear had sliced through his shirt. The material hung, lank, exposing a tanned, hairy midriff, three ribs countable.

He gently lifted it with one hand, looking at it hanging there across his fingers. He looked … not

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