of splinters shot into the sky. The other bolt hit Riven in the thigh and sent him spinning, knocking him prone. Shadows swarmed him. If not for Cale’s ward, Riven would have been dead. The assassin recovered almost instantly and even from the ground his blades stabbed and slashed. Shadows keened and died.
Cale ignored the shadows harassing him and intoned the words to a spell as he hurried to Riven’s side. In answer to his words, a column of flame formed in the air above Kesson and bathed the First Chosen of Mask in searing orange fire. The heat and flame washed over Kesson to no visible effect. He beat his wings, smiled a mouthful of fangs, and rapidly intoned another spell.
“We go at him again,” Cale said, and started to draw the darkness around them.
Kesson completed his spell before Cale could transport them and Cale felt the magic turn Weaveshear’s hilt warm, felt the buckles on his armor and scabbard start to heat up, but the magic resistant shadowstuff that composed his form resisted the spell and the metal returned to normal temperature.
“We need to bring him out of the air,” Riven said, sheathing his sabers. Thin streams of smoke issued from his belt, several places on his cloak, and his scabbard. He was not resistant to Kesson’s spell and his metal gear was growing hot.
Cale took his point, and sheathed Weaveshear. He grabbed hold of Riven’s cloak and they stepped through the shadows to appear again beside Kesson Rel.
Darkness met darkness.
Cale grabbed Kesson around the waist and tried to bring him down with his weight. He tried to get a hand on a wing, hold it still, but could not. Riven grabbed one of Kesson’s arms, and wrapped one of Kesson’s legs with his own.
“You have not the strength,” Kesson said, wings beating rapidly as he incanted another spell.
“We’ll see, bastard,” Riven said, and freed one hand to retrieve one of his punch daggers. Meanwhile, Cale began his own spell.
Shadows whirled all around them, keening, reaching for them, into them, but Cale’s ward held. Still, it would not resist the onslaught much longer.
Kesson finished his spell first and a blast of unholy energy went out from his body in all directions. As it passed through Cale, it tore open wounds in his flesh, hammered organs, loosened teeth. Cale tasted blood but endured the pain and kept the thread of his own spell.
Riven screamed, spraying spit, blood, and at least one tooth as the energy of Kesson’s spell tore open his skin and ripped at his body. The assassin lost the grip of his legs on Kesson but swung them back into place before he fell. He pulled a punch dagger from a sheath at his back and drove it into Kesson’s stomach, once, twice, again, again. The hilt of the dagger smoked in Riven’s hand and the assassin screamed, but whether with rage or pain Cale could not tell.
Kesson winced, grunting with each blow Riven dealt him. The beat of his wings slowed and they started to descend. Hope rose in Cale and he finished his spell. Dark power gathered in his hands, already gripping Kesson’s robes. He let it flow through him to Kesson but it was as if the spell had struck a wall. Kesson’s body resisted magic, the same as Cale’s.
Cale cursed and reached for a dagger as his regenerative flesh worked to heal the damage he had suffered, closing gashes, repairing organs. Kesson’s flesh did the same where Riven had stabbed him.
The First Chosen of Mask steadied himself in flight, nearly shook Cale and Riven loose, and held his position in the air. They were not going to ground.
Kesson began another spell.
Riven, his clothes and armor smoking, stained dark with blood, reared back for another blow, but the punch dagger glowed red hot in his hand. He screamed and dropped it. His clothes caught fire where other metal implements on his person reached almost to their melting point—buckles, snaps, knives, caltrops. Cale could see the teleportation ring on Riven’s finger glowing orange, could see the flesh around it turning black and curling. Riven screamed, a prolonged, stubborn wail of agony, but refused to release his grip on Kesson.
Cale grabbed at Riven, put a hand on him, and rode the shadows to a nearby rooftop.
The moment they appeared, Riven, roaring with pain, tore off or cut off the metal buckles, clips, and other items burning on his person. A rain of implements pattered on the