swing, but Nocis intoned a song of death as Selvans brought it around and cut through the air. Their collision rained sparks as the troll forge’s magic ax shattered beneath the godly might of Nocis. The blade cleaved through the heads of the weapon as it wrenched free from Raskyuil’s hands. The other male roared at the impact that sent him flying back into the cavern wall.
Staring at his fallen friend with regret, Selvans stepped to the male’s side and sighed. “You brought this upon yourself.”
The troll winced, his eyes rolling up to return Selvan’s regard. “You bring whatever sorrows come… upon yourself,” he replied in a faint voice.
Selvan’s lips twisted as he turned away, his eyes fastening on the female watching him with sadness shining in her now blue eyes.
He cocked his head. There was something so familiar about those eyes.
“I am sorry,” he rumbled as he stepped toward her. They were not just empty words. His sorrow tore through him, clawing at him, and he felt a wetness on his cheek. Raising one hand, he wiped it away in surprise. Never before had he wept. He hardened his resolve. He had no patience for such sorcery.
Selvans surged forward with a roar. The female stumbled back, her hands searching for a weapon she did not possess. The energy of Nocis curled through him, and triumph surged over him. But as she slipped back over the rocks, a sleek, white body shot up from the waters just behind her. A hiss rattled through the air. Selvans responded with his own furious roar as he wheeled to face his sister.
Dorinda bared her teeth and drew something up from the waters as she coiled on the fountainhead rock of her spring. Her red eyes glowed as a pale silver blade cut through the water, and she pulled it up. He stiffened, preparing for attack, but as she swung her arm forward, she made no move toward him. Instead, she released the blade, sending it spinning through the air.
His eyes followed the path of the blade. A light of its own seemed to wink from the depths of it as it fell to sink, tip down, in the ground in front of his foe. This new betrayal cut deep. For countless centuries, he and Dorinda had an uneasy relationship, often bordering on hostile, but never would have he expected her to betray him like this.
Turning toward the female—Diana, he recalled Raskyuil calling her—he eyed his adversary. He watched as one slim hand reached out and grasped the hilt of the sword. She pulled it free effortlessly from the rock and soil that confined it. Raising its point until it was held out between them in a clear warning, she stared back at him. Her face fell with grief, though her sword arm remained steady as she held the blade out against him.
Reluctance coiled through his body as he met her eyes, and an uncomfortable awareness sparked within him. He wasn’t going to be able to hold any kind of drawn-out fight, nor could he provide her any opening to attack. He needed to end this matter quickly before his bewitched instinct turned against him. Growling, he swung his sword, hoping that the strike would be clean and her death mercifully quick so that his sorrow would not know greater heights.
Her breath was loud within the cave, or perhaps it seemed so because despite his best intentions he was highly attuned to her. Every breath, every move… He longed to capture every moment of her existence for what remaining time he had before Nocis shattered her soul.
The silver blade glowed as Diana drew back and swung it. As she moved, a change seemed to come over her. Her eyes blazed with a sapphire light, and the blade flared as it met the void of Nocis. A brilliant flash erupted at the epicenter of contact as the combustion sent them both skidding back over the cavern floor. Half-crouched in an attempt to regain their balance, they regarded each other as the cave shook and numerous rocks broke and fell all around them, scattering over the ground. Selvans’ eyes widened as he stared at her.
Never before had any weapon withstood the power of Nocis. No aelven creation, nor anything forged by troll or orcish hand. He would not have believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. The blade did not break, nor did it fly free from her hand. It had not