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The Fae I had fought before had always been fast, but somehow this one was faster. He dodged as quickly as I attacked, his attacks coming at a speed I couldn’t match. Even with decades of training, and an entire life of preparation, I wasn’t fast enough. Not for him.
He was armed, but that useless rapier remained on his hip and he stepped forward. I moved to slice his arm, but his flat palm slapped my blade away with a firm attack against my arm as he once again moved to disarm me. I heard, so much as felt, the bone in my arm crack at the impact, my already weakened fingers letting the blade slide from them and clatter to the ground. I refused to scream, even though the pain was ripping through everything, that one point of pressure rattling through my bones as though they were being hit again and again.
My feet slid as I spun to face him, his wicked grin spreading as he stood beside the table where the other two were casually rolling up the map and gathering their things. They didn’t even seem to be concerned about the fight happening steps before them, or that everything was on fire. They went about cleaning their meeting away leaving only Vaelar and I, the Fae smiling as he faced me.
“I am truly sorry for your sister, but you have killed quite a few of my people as well, so there is no way I can let you simply walk out of here.” He raised his hand, that same white light from before dancing on his fingertips, except now I saw it for what it was: lightning. He was conjuring lightning. Wicked victory danced in those sharp eyes with a mischief that didn’t quite fit.
Unfortunately for him, I knew what came next as much as he did.
My skin rattled with cold as I faced him. My power writhed within me as the buzzing forces switched places, my eyes sliding to the icy shade of death.
“Tell me something,” I said as I stepped forward, even as that destructive light in his hands grew. “What color are my eyes?”
Vaelar had clearly seen the change, and he didn’t conceal his shock at the shift in my features quick enough. However, his confusion was quickly replaced by awe as his smile returned.
“Interesting. You carry the blades of a Dám Assassin, I would have assumed you to be of their blood. But you are more. I wonder if you know what you are?” He was playing with me. I knew what I was, if only because he had been the first to speak of this magic, Sypher magic. Although, in all my years of travel I had not found another one like me, another one who could bend time, who could tell all the secrets of this power.
This Fae seemed to be the only one who knew. Perhaps I would torture all I needed to know out of him before I ended him.
The light in his hands grew, but I stood there, everything about me dark to the light that Vaelar held, to the light that he was.
I ignited my magic as he let his light explode. The fire that was consuming the walls froze in place, the light reflecting off the bright flame as Vaelar’s two companions turned and shielded themselves from it.
I had been saving that time for the queen, but this monster would be an even better recipient.
Usually, the Fae would step back in shock as I moved forward in time and I would watch through the shadows of the Ether as they attempted to figure out where I had gone. Vaelar simply stood there, smiling, even as the tongues of lightning in his attack extinguished to nothing.
I stepped around him, swinging my blade in my uninjured hand. I would use my blades to behead them, but I wanted to watch this one die. One knife, right to his back. One attack he would never see coming.
“Nice trick.” I froze at the voice, the clear tone undiluted by time as they usually were. “I had been wondering how you had been killing my people. A mortal shouldn’t be able to kill a Fae, after all. Now, I know. You are not a mortal. I wonder what magic you carry, or how you got the magic of a Vynari. That power is blessed. You should not have accessed it.”
I turned slowly to face the Fae who stood beside me, his features twisted into a smirk as he stood, his hands folded over his chest, even as the lightning he had summoned continued its slow burn through the room that was stuck in time.
The other Fae were frozen, their shock and confusion evident.
Fuck. There was no way this was good. I had thought I was the only Sypher, but now it would make sense that he would have recognized me that first day. He was the same.
A Sypher.
Every thought that was running through my head must have been clear on my face with how he was grinning.
“Did you think you were the only one with the Vynari power?” he asked, that smirk growing as he slammed his hand forward, right into my chest. The impact cracked in my ears and I was thrown back, my feet leaving the floor as I soared into the burning door, the broken thing splintering into nothing at the impact. Wood went everywhere, all of it flinging through the air in slow motion as I was thrown into the wall.
“Vynari? Is that what you call yourself now?” I forced strength into my voice as I propped myself up, taunting him closer as I slid my blade into place. He was stronger than anticipated, I would have to play this carefully.
The movements of the other Fae were slow as they turned toward me, their mouths moving in a slow conversation that sounded more like yawns and grunts through the Ether. Their slow conversation stretched as they watched the wood splinter in a fight they clearly couldn’t see. Vaelar walked through the remains of the door, that slow flame continuing to spread over walls and stairwell, the stilted screams of those uninebriated enough to notice filtering up to us.
“Now? So we have met before.” He was still smiling as he stepped closer, leaning over me now. “Tell me, boy, who sired you? What blood runs in your veins.”
“Fae hunter blood,” I snarled, kicking and hitting the smug bastard at the same time.
That time I made an impact, his gasp of surprise one of pain as he was shoved back into the wall. I jumped to my feet, my broken arm screaming as I forced it to hold the blade, forced those muscles to swing as I darted forward. The blade plunged; the sharp edge ready to slice through him. He shifted a second before the blade cut deep. Instead of cleaving him in two, there was only a deep gash that stretched down the right side of his face, right over his eye.
Right in the line of the scar I had seen him with before. The scar I had apparently given him.
Odd.
Deep purple blood oozed from the gash as he growled, the musty smell of their blood going everywhere as he glared at me. The scream I was sure he wanted to release was locked in the tight line of his jaw, leaving all of that blood to drip down his neck and soak his tunic.
