On Silver Shores by V.T. Hoang

Author:V.T. Hoang [Hoang, V.T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-07-13T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

The silver shores seemed brighter than the last time he’d come here. A strong breeze swept through, kicking shimmering dust into the air. Salwnsu stood at the water’s edge. Her black hair billowed around her like a cloak. She took a fighting stance, planting her feet shoulder-width apart, and raised her open hands up. He intuitively took his own stance, almost mimicking her form. There was no way that he stood a chance against a being several thousand years his senior, but he supposed that was why she wanted to train him.

She moved with blinding speed. He sensed more than saw her before she lunged forward. Her arm swung toward him. He stepped aside, barely dodging the strike. His hand darted for her throat on instinct, his own training taking over. She blocked it with her forearm. Faster than he could react, her hand shot toward his ribs. They gave with a crack, and he staggered back.

She waved her hand toward him, and his ribs snapped back into place with a painful crunch.

“Again,” she ordered.

He lunged first this time. As expected, she brought an arm up to block her strike, and he took the moment to bring his other hand into her side. All his weight went into the blow. She grunted. Any human and most preterns would have ruptured an organ or two from the strength of a siren. Salwnsu just took a step back. Her hand darted out to grab his throat while her knee swung into his.

He fell back on the sand, neck crushed under her weight. How was he supposed to fight her? She was significantly stronger than him.

She eased her hold on his throat and straightened. “The Professor’s enemies are as strong as her,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “You need to draw on her power to compete.”

He scowled as he got to his feet. “I don’t know how that works.”

“And you won’t until you try.”

She lunged for him. He barely sidestepped her in time to avoid the fist that came for his jaw.

They traded blows over and over again. Each time she inflicted a severe injury, she healed it instantly. Broken arms and legs and jaws—wounds that Carver barely flinched at anymore after so many years of enduring worse with the Inquisitors. He only grew frustrated with his inability to inflict any injury in return. How was he supposed to fight an enemy that didn’t even flinch at strikes that were typically lethal?

The tips of his fingers started to blacken when he raised them to block a swing. His bones cracked under the force of the strike, but as soon as he stepped back, they snapped together. Salwnsu jabbed at his throat. He knocked her hand to the side, and her fingers diverted to his shoulder. They buried into the flesh and forced the joint out. It wrenched back into place with a pop when she withdrew her hand.

His hands darkened, as if dipped in ink. Despite the dry air, black scales emerged along the backs of his arms.

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