that are worth more than money.”
His eyes flicked away from Eli’s incredulous expression and came to rest on Miranda, who was still fighting to raise her head. “Watch and learn, Spiritualist,” he whispered, holding out his clenched fist. “This is how you master a spirit.”
He opened his fist and a small, dark, glittering sphere dropped from his fingers. At first, Miranda thought it was a kind of black pearl, like the pearl she kept Eril in, but as it fell, the ball began to disintegrate, and as it broke apart, the sphere began to scream.
CHAPTER 13
Josef struck hard and fast, bringing his twin blades down one after the other so that there was no pause between strikes. Coriano blocked each blow on his sheathed sword, his scarred face bored and impassive. Josef tried striking low, high, and both sides at once, testing for weaknesses, but every blow was knocked aside with the same easy indifference, no matter how fast he struck. Finally, Josef tried a wild attack, striking high and low simultaneously while leaving his middle deliberately unguarded. The other swordsman ducked the high blow, slid the low off his wooden sheath, and ignored the easy opening all together. After that, Josef lowered his swords and stepped back.
“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping the sweaty dust out of his eyes with the back of his hand, “but if we’re going to fight, you have to do more than block. It also helps if you draw your sword, I’m told.”
Coriano planted his sheathed blade in the dirt and leaned on it. “I’ll draw my sword when you draw yours.”
“I don’t get what you mean,” Josef said, swinging his twin blades in a whistling arc.
“Well,” Coriano said, straightening up. “If that’s the case, I’m going to have to start breaking your toys until you do.”
Josef opened his mouth to say something rude, but before he had taken a breath, Coriano was there, his sheathed sword pressed deep into Josef’s stomach. Josef went sprawling in the dirt, and only years of training brought his swords up in time to block the next blow before it landed on his head. If Coriano’s blocks had been fast before, his blows were in another category altogether. The next one fell before Josef realized the scarred man had lifted his blade, and the force slammed Josef into the ground. A cloud of dust shot up at the impact, and a long crack appeared in the wooden sheath of Coriano’s sword. Sprawled on his back, Josef brought both swords in a cross over his chest, blocking the next blow on both blades, inches from his face. Coriano’s cracked sheath shattered on impact, sending wood flying in every direction, and Josef found himself staring down the blade of the most beautiful sword he had ever seen.
It was pure white from tip to guard, unembellished, except for a slight wavering shimmer along the sharpened edge that glittered like new snow in the dusty light. The hilt was wrapped in blood-red silk, but the bright color paled beneath the sword’s cold, dancing light.
“River of White Snow,” Coriano whispered. “Dunea.”
He pushed down, and the shimmering white edge cut through Josef’s crossed blades like paper to bury itself in the swordsman’s chest. Pain exploded where the blade bit down, darkening his vision, and Josef gasped, forcing his lungs to work. Coriano only smiled and pushed his blade farther, clearly intending to pin Josef to the dirt like a butterfly on a board. With a desperate heave, Josef flung the hilt of his broken blade at the swordsman’s face, aiming for his scarred eye. Coriano jumped back, and Josef scrambled to his feet, clutching his chest with one hand and the remaining broken blade with the other.
It was still hard to see, and every breath hurt like another stab, but Josef forced himself to be calm. The cut was small but deep, sticking right below the sternum. It hadn’t hit his heart, and it hadn’t hit his lungs, but it was bleeding in a torrent down his shirt.
Coriano looked him over casually, the white sword balanced perfectly in his hands. “No time for licking wounds,” he said, and lunged.
Josef tossed his ruined sword on the ground and drew a short blade from his belt just in time to parry. However, his parry turned into a rolling dodge as Coriano’s white sword snapped the knife neatly in two without losing speed or direction. The white edge simply cut through the metal like it was not there.
Josef