On the far side of the chamber stood a man dressed in black riding leathers. He was young, his skin the same dusky hue as Killian’s, hair a dark brown, but the eyes regarding them were black voids rimmed with flame. “Poetics in such a dark hour,” he said, nudging one of the corpses with his foot. “Not that this rabble deserves it.”
“Lydia,” Bercola hissed. “Run!”
But the corrupted was across the chamber in a blur of speed. He knocked aside Bercola’s sword in its downward stroke, sparks flashing as the blade hit the metal of his wrist guard, then tackled her against the floor with a bone-shattering crunch.
Lydia opened her mouth to scream a warning; then she heard shouts coming from the tunnel the corrupted had come from. They were calling Malahi’s name. Hacken’s name. Help was here, if only she and Bercola could hold off the corrupted long enough.
The giantess grappled with the corrupted, but the creature’s strength was more than enough to counter Bercola’s skill. They rolled, slamming into Lydia’s legs as she tried to stab at the thing. He twisted, reaching up to yank the sword from her hands and toss it across the chamber.
Bercola took the opportunity to punch the corrupted in the face, his jaw cracking, head snapping back. But he only hissed in irritation, catching her arm and slamming it against a ridge in the stone floor, breaking the bone with an audible snap. Bercola screamed and Lydia stabbed with her knife, but the blade only skidded along the corrupted’s ribs.
Snarling, he rose and, before Lydia could dart backward, backhanded her, shattering her spectacles and snapping her head backward.
Agony fired across her face and she fell onto her bottom, her neck screaming in pain; blood dripped down her cheeks. Sobbing, she tried to regain her footing, but her vision was doubled, the world spinning.
Get up. Get up.
Bercola screamed, and as Lydia’s vision finally cleared, she saw the creature had a naked hand around the giantess’s throat, his teeth bared in a smile.
Instinct took over.
Lydia flung herself at the corrupted, grabbing him by the waist. They rolled, slamming into the wall, tiny pieces of rock raining down on them. She smashed her elbow against his nose, blood splattering her face even as his fist took her in the ribs.
Agony split her torso, every gasping breath sending sharp stabs of pain through her body.
You’ll heal! Lydia silently screamed the words at herself. Just hold him here until help arrives!
The corrupted’s fists hammered her body, her wrist snapping as she deflected a blow aimed for her face. It hurt. It hurt with an intensity she’d never experienced. Never dreamed of.
Hang on.
Boots pounded down the tunnel, coming closer. The corrupted turned his head, listening, then tried to shove Lydia aside. “I’ve more important targets than you.”
She lunged, grabbing the corner of his coat and pulling, but he only smacked her arm away with a force that made her cry out. “Bercola, help!”
But the giantess was on her knees on the floor, too injured to move.
The corrupted sprinted in the direction of Malahi and the others.
Go!
Lydia tore after him, running faster than she’d believe herself capable of as she pursued him down the twisting tunnels, following the foul brilliance that illuminated him. Ahead, light bloomed, and with all the strength she possessed she threw herself forward. The corrupted went down but twisted as he fell, and Lydia landed on her back with him on top of her.
“Fine,” he hissed. “If you must have it this way.”
His hand slapped against her cheek.
It felt like her insides were being torn out, her skin burning, her heart hammering, a frantic and primal need to fight rising in her chest.
“No!” Lydia screamed the word in the corrupted’s face. Ripping free one of her gloves, she grabbed the creature’s bare throat and dug her fingers into his flesh. And she pulled.
Life surged back into her, what he’d taken from her and more, her injuries melting away as she pulled and pulled even as her mind recoiled from the strange pleasure that came with it. The corrupted’s eyes widened in shock and he reared backward, her fingers slipping loose from his throat a heartbeat before a sword blade sliced his head from his neck.
Blood gushed from the stump as his body toppled onto her and Lydia screamed as it splattered her face.
Then hands were under her arms, pulling her free.
“Are you all right?”
Killian’s voice. Wiping blood from her eyes revealed his face. His