Chapter 140


    Still Too Soft


    There was no time to waste. Femira pulled back from the wall, resisting the urge to close the tiny spy hole she’d left—Saval might detect the faint edir pulse if she did. Instead, she slipped back into the hallway, heart pounding in her chest.


    She darted to the end of the corridor, pressing herself against the cold stone, then dissolved a section of the wall with swift precision. Without looking back, she slipped through the opening and began to climb down the side of the building.


    Femira made her way swiftly back towards the inner city gate. She was on high alert, but she didn’t have time to be overly careful and she could often hear shouts behind her as she ran.


    Finally, as she neared the gate, she spotted Lydia lingering, half-hidden behind a stack of crates. Relief mixed with irritation surged through her. Femira darted over and grabbed Lydia by the arm, pulling her into a deeper shadow.


    “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” she hissed, her voice barely a whisper.


    “Sleek overheard some of Kez’s thugs talking, saying Kez had you on some job in the inner city, I thought you might need help.”


    “Fuck Lydia! You’re not helping by just wandering in like this,” Femira grit her teeth, forcing herself to calm. “I can handle myself, but now they know you’re here too, and they’re hunting both of us. Your man Arken ratted me out to the Reldoni.”


    “He wouldn’t!” She protested. “He’s our biggest benef—”


    “I’m not arguing about this right now. It doesn’t matter. He betrayed you, get over it.”


    “I’m sorry… I just thought—” Lydia at least had the decency to look ashamed.


    “Stop thinking and start moving,” Femira interrupted, giving her a push forward. “Let’s go.”


    They slipped down the quiet streets, keeping their footsteps light, eyes peeled for any sign of patrols. Just as they turned a corner, she felt it—a presence that sent a shiver up her spine.


    Too late. She spotted the dark shape of Saval emerging from the shadows.


    “Jahar,” Saval’s voice was low, dangerous, almost a purr. “And here I thought you’d slip out of my grasp. Good of you to make it easy.”


    Femira shoved Lydia behind her, drawing herself up and glaring back at Saval.


    “I don’t want to fight you Saval,” Femira said with warning. “We’re on the same side here.”


    “You know your reputation has only grown since you left,” Saval said snidely, “they say you tore down some palace in Port Novic single-handedly. And started a riot that burned half the city. Rumour is that you’ve thrown in with some minor rebels.”


    Saval was slowly approaching her. Eyes locked.


    “Don’t come any closer,” Femira warned.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Saval lunged, her sword flashing in the dim light.


    Femira sidestepped the initial strike, Nyth forming into a blade at a thought. She deflected Saval’s next blow with her own blade. Sparks flew as metal clashed.


    “Lydia, run!” Femira commanded. She barely had a moment to glance back, just enough to see Lydia frozen in place, torn between fleeing and staying.


    “Go!” Femira barked, her focus snapping back to Saval as another vicious swing came her way. This time, she ducked and rolled to her left. Saval was relentless, stabbing down and forcing Femira to jump back, she lost her footing and slipped, falling on her back. Nyth clattered to the ground as she dropped her blade.


    The instant Femira’s back hit the cold ground, she snapped her hand up. Nyth burst into a cloud of black dust, then whirled and reformed back into a blade She swung it up with her edir, using her hands to push her to her feet.


    Once she was back into a fighting stance, she held out her hand, and Nyth’s handle whipped into it.


    Saval grinned and then her sword erupted in flame. She lunged at Femira with another assault. Femira met the attack and sparks scattered like embers from a dying fire.


    Saval’s lips curled into a twisted smile as she stepped forward, her hand alight with an orange glow. The gaslamps illuminating the street flickered and then sputtered out abruptly as Saval drew in their heat.


    “Not bad. But your reputation is exaggerated,” Saval hissed, the air shimmered with heat and then a wave of fire was pluming towards Femira. She dodged, twisting to the side, dissolving her blade into wisps of Nyth and reforming it as a short spear. She struck out, aiming for Saval’s midsection, but Saval sidestepped, swiping her hand in a fiery arc that forced Femira back again.


    Femira pulsed out her edir to the earth beneath her feet, feeling the ground respond to her call. Stones shifted, rising up like a shield, absorbing another of Saval’s fire blasts.


    The stones exploded. Fragments scattering everywhere.


    In the same breath, Femira lunged forward, her Nythspear shifting mid-air into a curved dagger, the blade itself still a bizarre twisted helix. She swept low, aiming for Saval’s legs.


    But Saval was quick, twisting out of the way. Femira knew from training with Jaz that holding the heat in your body fuelled your adrenaline. But Femira could tell Saval had pulled too much, the street gaslamps all drained. There was no other source of heat for Saval to draw on.


    She knew she just had to wear the other woman down now, and make sure they didn’t move their fight someplace where Saval would have the advantage.


    Femira reformed Nyth into a pair of duelling daggers and pressed her attack. It had been a long time since she’d fought another bloodshedder and the exhilaration of the fight was pumping in her. She actually found herself grinning. Nyth sent her mental flashes of the weapons it deemed appropriate for each strike, and she reformed it instantly between attacks.


    Saval, even now drained of her source, was still a challenging opponent, deflecting Femira’s strikes with practised efficiency. But then, suddenly, Femira saw an opening and swung a quick kick at Savals heel, flipping the woman on her back.


    Femira jumped forward with her Nyth dagger poised and—


    —knife sliding into an eye socket.


    No! Damn it!


    Saval was going to kill her. Femira hesitated, the blade hovering for a heartbeat too long.


    Saval noticed the delay, her eyes gleaming with the realisation.


    “I’d heard you were soft on the kill,” her laugh was bitter. “That’ll be your death, Jahar.”


    “My name’s Femira,” she spat, then spun on her heel and bolted. She raced down the street, her heart pounding as she heard Saval’s furious shout echo after her. There was no time to look back; all that mattered was getting as far away as possible.


    She turned a corner, dissolving through a solid wall without slowing, and kept running. More twists, more walls passed through like mist. Stupid Saval. Stupid fucking Lydia for following me here. She kept running, trying to put as much distance as possible between her and Saval, and the inner city patrols.


    By the time she stopped, her legs felt like they were made of lead, her chest tight and burning. She pressed a hand against the wall, trying to catch her breath.


    She tried to suss out her surroundings but she didn’t recognise this district. Shit. It was going to be a long slow trip back to the workers quarter and the concealed entrance to Kez’s. She didn''t have many belongings there—nothing she couldn''t leave behind. But Kez could secure her a fast horse and would surely know the best routes to reach Bluewater.


    She also needed to let Connie know she''d be returning with Daegan Tredain very soon.