“You made the right call,” he said. “Until the triad has everything worked out, I’m glad I’m here.”
After a few minutes, Marguerite and Thorne strolled back toward the group and Jean-Pierre released Fiona.
“Is everyone up to speed?” Thorne asked.
A series of assents went around the group. Grace then asked Leto to remain where he was; she would enter his soul before the triad fired up its power.
She took three deep breaths, closed her eyes, and entered his mind. His shields were already flat, a point of trust that warmed her heart as she began to fall deep into all that was Leto. She passed into his soul, and because her intention was fixed, her blue flame power forged a key and found the lock that contained his ability to use a sword.
All that experience and skill flowed through Grace. She flew up and out of Leto’s soul very fast and was suddenly within her own mind. Her arm felt different, her shoulders, her back. She could feel how her hand was ready to receive a sword.
She glanced at Jean-Pierre who smiled, showing his large gorgeous teeth. He held up a sword and tossed it to her.
Both Marguerite and Thorne gasped. Even Leto moved to intervene, but it was as though Grace had been a warrior for three millennia. She caught it by the grip and went through a variety of training motions, ones that had been passed down through generations of warriors.
When she was done, she faced the group. “This is astonishing.”
“Holy shit,” Leto said. “It certainly is.”
Then she smiled. “What amazes me the most is how the muscles of my arm just reach for the movements.” She stared at Leto for a long moment. “How much you must have loved this part of it—the training, then the use of your skill in battle when you fought the enemy.”
“Everything you’ve said is exactly right.”
Grace turned toward her obsidian sisters. She handed the sword to Fiona. “You’ll need this in a few seconds.”
Fiona swiped the blade through the air. Jean-Pierre wisely gave her some space, but he said in the lilt of his French accent, “How strange to think that I will be battling my breh.”
The moment of truth had arrived, the truth of exactly what obsidian flame could do. This was a very small test, to pit the triad against Jean-Pierre’s ability as a swordsman.
Of all three men, Leto had the smallest role in what was to unfold in the next few minutes. He drew his iPhone from the pocket of his jeans and backed up about thirty feet so that he could make a video of this first test run.
He felt the scowl on his face. He wasn’t thrilled that there was a sharp blade involved in this first venture. But he thought that might be because his woman would be near the battle. He didn’t like the idea of her getting accidentally hurt.
He watched the women join together, hands to shoulders. Even as far away as he was, he could feel their power expand suddenly, like a whip through the room.
He held the phone steady with both hands elevated at shoulder level. He could see events unfold. Grace’s neck arched, then she left the circle and began backing up and away, at a right angle to Leto’s position, and stood very still.
He shifted his gaze to Fiona. Her eyes were wide open and she had a gold aura as she turned toward Jean-Pierre. She held her sword in the ready position, her knees slightly bent, her chin down, her eyes up, both hands on the grip.
He had to remind himself to keep filming because all he really wanted to do was to watch the battle. What followed startled him. Fiona’s skills were at Warrior of the Blood level, a perfect reflection of his own ability as well as his centuries of training and use.
Jean-Pierre worked hard to keep up with her, and yet Leto had the sense that Fiona was holding back.
He shifted his gaze to both Marguerite and Grace, then he saw what he hoped the camera would pick up as well. Rivers of faint light flowed between the women, moving strands of blue, gold, and red.
Fiona—or was it Grace?—began to move faster and faster. She flew through the air with levitation power alone; she tumbled through exotic rolls and kept Jean-Pierre completely off balance. Her speed increased as the triad flexed its power, until at last she was a long blur of speed and Jean-Pierre finally stood still, his sword pointed toward the black mats.
The sound like the roaring of a wind rushed through the room—and then the moment ended. The blur that was Fiona stopped midair, arms outstretched as she floated back to the black mats.
The room fell silent. No one spoke.
Fiona touched down and walked toward her obsidian sisters. Leto saw when Grace returned to herself since her neck arched in the same way as when she left. She walked back in Marguerite and Fiona’s direction.