rolled to his feet again and shakily drew another blade from his boot. Coriano gave him a scornful look.
“Come now,” he said. “Surely you don’t intend to keep insulting us with your dull blades?” He whirled his sword, and Josef could almost hear the snowy blade singing as it cut the air. “You must have realized what she is by now. Why do you not draw your sword?”
Josef’s hand went to the hilt of the great iron sword on his back. Coriano’s grin grew delighted, and he brought Dunea back to her ready position as Josef’s hand gripped the wrapped handle. As he began to lift the iron blade, his fingers turned deftly and his hand flew out, flashing silver. Coriano sliced the first knife out of the air, but he was a hair too slow for the second. The throwing knife grazed his shoulder as he dodged, leaving a long, bloody gash.
Josef straightened up with an enormous grin on his face and three more knives fanned between his fingers. “Not yet,” he said, tossing a knife and catching it in his free hand. “I’m not out of things to throw at you.”
Coriano gritted his teeth, but as he leaned forward for another lunge, his posture changed. Just before kicking off, he stopped and shivered like a cat dipped in cold water. Josef lowered his knives a fraction and watched in confusion as the other swordsman clutched his sword to his chest like it was a frightened child. The wizard wind driving the storm around them died as suddenly as it had begun, and the dust fell to the ground with unnatural speed, as if something was pressing it down.
“That idiot,” Coriano whispered, clutching his sword as the white light flew in wild patterns across the blade. “That short-sighted, power-drunk fool.”
Josef shifted his weight, easing the knives between his fingers, waiting to see what kind of ruse this was, but the scarred swordsman lowered his sword and gave a little bow. “We’ll have to finish this another time, Mr. Liechten,” he said with annoyance. “Things are about to become very unpleasant. If your Eli has an escape set up, I suggest you use it.”
“You can’t be serious,” Josef said. “You can’t run now; we were just getting started!”
Coriano smiled back at him. “I have tracked you for a very long time, too long to waste my one chance on a wizard’s stupidity. Don’t worry, we’ll meet again very soon. Then, Mr. Liechten, I promise, I will make you draw the Heart of War.”
“Wait,” Josef called out, but Coriano was walking away through the falling dust. Josef hurled his knife into the dirt a finger’s width from the scarred man’s feet. “I said wait!”
But Coriano kept walking, disappearing like a shadow into the trees at the clearing’s edge. Josef ran after him for a few steps, but the pain was too much. Clutching his burning chest, he reached into his pocket with a grimace and pulled out one of the long strips of cloth he kept for occasions like this. He wrapped it around his chest, binding the wound as tight as he could. The angle was awkward, but it stemmed the bleeding for now. He could have Nico redo it later, if there was a later. The wound was quickly dropping down his list of priorities. There was a ringing growing in his ears, a high-pitched wail just out of his hearing. It reminded him of the dull buzzing he heard in Eli’s voice whenever the wizard talked to rocks or trees or whatever he wasted his time with—only this was more frantic, and it was getting louder.
As the dust cleared completely, he could see Nico on the other side of the circular clearing standing over a pile of groaning soldiers. She was looking away from him, watching something. He followed her gaze and saw Eli. Their thief was standing over the downed Spiritualist and her dog, who looked to be out of the fight, but Eli’s attention was on the tall, blond leader of the Mellinor troops, who was the only other person besides themselves still standing as the dust settled. The man was saying something, but all Josef could hear was that high-pitched whine, more like a pressure than a sound. Then the man opened his fist and everything went to hell.
The scream shot through her, driving everything else from Miranda’s mind. Only the sharp pain of her bruises and the feel of grit in her mouth told