Counters attack

‘Brother, I swear here and now by the Youngest God that if air touches your blade you die this night.’

Krysithius did not waver. In a single calm, formal motion, he placed his hand upon the pommel of Ajennion’s sabre, the ritual signal given to convey a swordsman’s readiness at the start of a duel upon their long-destroyed home world of Chemos.

Lucius gave a short, thoughtful nod. ‘Very well, my dear brother. So be it.’

Krysithius’ other hand shot out, flinging a fist-sized sphere at Lucius. The sphere exploded in a burst of sound and blinding light. Lucius grinned as the blind grenade’s detonation tore at his face. He had known his brother would be smarter than to attempt a fair fight. Ajennion’s blade flashed as it blurred from its scabbard. Krysithius launched himself forwards. He knew the ruined condition of his wargear after battle upon the daemon world. He knew Lucius’ ­ensorcelled shell was just as damaged, and that he was badly wounded in the side.

The blind grenade would be of little help, but it would give Krysithius the second he needed to cover his leap. If combat were to stretch into a protracted clash against Lucius, he would die. He was certain of that. He had to move as lightning, and end the duel before it began.

Krysithius flew into the dissipating detonation of the blind grenade. He took aim precisely for the soft joint between Lucius’ cuirass and shoulder guard. The point of his blade would shear through the soft fibre bundle musculature and carve into flesh and bone, severing Lucius’ sword arm clear from his body. Follow up strikes to the right arm and knees would finish the business of disabling him.

The angle of the blade was exact. Krysithius funnelled his energy into the speed of the attack, making it a preternatural blur, nearly impossible to track. It was truly a perfect strike.

Except Lucius wasn’t there.

Ajennion’s blade cut only the thin smoke coiling through the air of the corridor, continuing to fly unerringly forwards along with the rest of Krysithius’ sword arm. Lucius had seen his attack coming, and rather than parrying or dodging it, he had chosen to show his brother just how effective the cut would have been by executing it himself.

Flawlessly.

Blood sprayed dark and free from the stump of Krysithius’ shoulder, drenching the wall and deck at his boots. Immediately his trans­human physiology laboured to staunch the haemorrhaging, while his armour plunged its last reserves of combat narcotics and pain nullifiers into his bloodstream and spinal column with a stinging chemical kiss. Krysithius did not hesitate, drawing the gladius sheathed at his shin.

In an eye-blink, the short blade was spinning into the air behind him, along with the hand holding it. Blood soaked Krysithius’ cuirass as he looked down at his severed wrist. His eyes, wide with shock, flashed up.

Lucius stood in front of him, smoke clinging to his boots, as if he had never even moved. The only indication that he had was the Laeran Blade drawn in his left hand, its power field hissing and ­popping as blood cooked along its edge.

Krysithius’ blood.

‘You know,’ said Lucius, as his lash uncoiled to the ground with a wet thud, ‘I rather liked the idea you had for me, my dear brother. Since it doesn’t seem that you will be needing it, do you mind if I borrow it?’

Lucius’ movements were quicksilver like the flashing blink of lightning. A surgical backhanded cut sliced off Krysithius’ left leg at the knee in a shower of blood and the fountaining sparks of shorn ­servos and fibre bundles. The return strike cut his right at mid-thigh, the power field of the Laeran Blade flashing as its disruptor field disintegrated solid matter into crumbling ash with each strike.

Krysithius crashed to the ground. One of the finest Palatine Blades to ever fight beneath the banner of the III Legion had been reduced to a ragged torso clad in broken armour, emptying what remained of his lifeblood onto the deck. All the while, Lucius’ face was a cold mask, not betraying the merest hint of emotion.

***

Lucius: The Faultless Blade, I.X