Letting out a grunt, Dagan did a quick roll, barely dodging the slice of Mammon’s sword. He pushed to his feet and whirled around with his sword, but Mammon turned, swinging his newly forged weapon to block Dagan’s blow.
“Damn,” Dagan cursed as he stumbled back. His arm ached where it had absorbed the impact of Mammon’s hit. He needed to step up his game. One second sooner, and his sword would have struck.
Mammon pushed him back with a gravelly laugh. “Your skills have certainly improved since I saw you last.”
Figured. The first time in years his father had said anything to him, and it was a snide comment on his fighting ability.
“No thanks to you,” he managed.
Mammon swung at him with another blow, and he barely managed to counter it.
“I’m surprised you’re here at all,” Mammon said conversationally. “I figured you’d be hidden somewhere with your tail between your legs, like you were in Egypt.”
“Bite me,” Dagan growled, slicing his sword around in a move that Mammon easily countered.
The only reason he hadn’t initially joined his brothers in Egypt, the only reason he hadn’t been tortured by Mammon alongside them, was because Keegan had asked him to keep Brynn safe. It was something that ate at him, but at the same time he was proud he’d respected Keegan’s wishes.
“You know nothing of honor,” Dagan spat at the man he was ashamed to call his father.
Mammon gave a hard laugh at that. “And you do?”
“More than you could have ever taught me. I learned from the most honorable men I know.” He leaped to the side to avoid Mammon’s thrust. “My brothers.”
His true fathers, in every sense of the word.
Mammon jabbed the sword toward his throat, and Dagan ducked to avoid the blow. Whirling around, he managed a hit to Mammon’s right shoulder. Mammon grunted and pulled away, and the sword made a sick slurping sound as it slid from his flesh.
Oh shit, I hit him.
He could hardly believe it. Sure, it wasn’t a death blow by any means, but he’d actually managed a hit.
Feeling suddenly reenergized, he charged Mammon once more. Mammon parried and then swung around unexpectedly, hitting a glancing blow along Dagan’s forearm. Hissing, Dagan pulled back and engaged him again.
He lost track of how long they fought, but to his surprise, with the exception of a few nicks from Mammon’s sword, he was managing to hold his own. His father, it seemed, had truly aged during his time in prison.
But then Mammon did the unexpected. He dropped his sword to the ground.
Dagan’s gaze instinctively followed the weapon. It was only when he saw the glint of metal out of the corner of his eye that he paid attention to Mammon’s hands.
His father had summoned a pair of jagged daggers, and they arced toward his neck in what would surely be a killing blow.
“Dagan!” Lina screamed from her spot across the field.
Acting on pure adrenaline, he let his sword fall to the ground. He caught Mammon’s hands at the last moment, grunting with the effort to tug them further apart.
“You’ve gotten stronger,” Mammon gasped.
But not quite strong enough, it seemed.
Their heads were close together, their hands locked in battle. One way or another, this was going to end here and now.
Taking a breath, Dagan did the one thing he’d never before dared to do. He met his father’s eyes.
Shock stilled them for a moment. Though he’d known it superficially, he’d never before taken the time to actually examine his father’s features. To see just how similar they appeared on the surface. Same eyes, same nose, even the same height.
But so very different on the inside.
“Why are you doing this?” he spat at Mammon. “What can you possibly hope to gain, other than living out the rest of your life as Belpheg’s bitch?”
From the way Mammon’s pupils dilated and his jaw slackened just a fraction, it was clear Dagan had struck a chord. Apparently his father wasn’t as stupid as he’d thought. Mammon had questioned Belpheg’s game plan, had wondered over his final position in it.
“Better to die a free man than to live as a prisoner,” Mammon finally said.
“Even if it destroys everyone and everything you’ve ever known?”
Mammon snorted, and much to Dagan’s surprise, loosened his grip.
Acting on impulse, Dagan wrested one of the daggers away from Mammon. He sliced it toward Mammon’s neck, but his father grasped his wrist at the last moment, stopping him right before the sharp blade connected with the tender flesh.
As if he realized the precariousness of their position, Mammon’s nostrils flared, and his pupils grew larger. “I’ve never known anything worth fighting for, other than ultimate power. I’ve never known love.”