Ten feet from where they’d started, the slide stopped, and the moment he could raise his arms again, Josef dropped the hilt, clasped his hands in a double fist, and brought them down hard on the broken blade lodged in Sted’s shoulder. It worked even better than he’d planned. The sword had landed not in Sted’s shoulder blade, but inside the arm socket. Josef’s fists hit the sword like a hammer against a wedge, and Sted roared in pain as the blade lurched sideways, disjointing his shoulder with a sickening crack.
Using both boots, Josef kicked himself free, scrambling across the sand before Sted could grab him again. The moment his feet were under him, he was running for the wall. He grabbed two more swords from the endless line and spun to face Sted again, but the enormous man was still on the ground clutching his shoulder. Overhead, the bandits were screaming, a great roaring ocean of throats that drowned out even the pounding blood in Josef’s ears. With a deep breath, Josef took a step forward, his eyes narrowing until Sted was all he could see.
It was a sickening, pathetic sight. Sted was thrashing on the ground, struggling to get his clawed arm up to his shoulder to pull out the blade while his human arm dragged on the sand beside him, useless. He finally got it, dragging the blade out with a pained roar. He tossed the broken shard away, glaring at Josef with eyes both too large and too bright.
“Don’t look … so cocky,” he panted, clutching his mangled shoulder. “Our duel isn’t anywhere near over.”
“Our duel never started,” Josef said. “Duels are tests of strength and skill between two equal combatants. This”—he swung his sword, taking in the bloody sand, Sted’s limp arm, the roaring crowd pressing in along the arena’s edge—“this isn’t a duel. This isn’t even a fight; it’s a slaughter. You’re not even a swordsman anymore. You’re an animal, an enraged bull wallowing in the dirt.” He flipped the flimsy swords in his hands. “I’m glad I couldn’t use the Heart on you now,” he said. “It would be a disgrace to the blade to waste it on blood like yours.”
Sted’s face went scarlet, and he began to pant, squeezing his butchered arm until the flesh bulged beneath his grip. “I’ll show you a fight,” he spat. “You’ll eat those words with your blood before the day is through.”
As he spoke, a horrible sound spread through the arena. It was an unnatural cracking noise, like hollow bones snapping, underlaid with the wet, sucking sound of something being drawn in. Josef stared at Sted, horrified, as the black stain from his demon arm began to grow. It leached across his chest, sliding under his skin, pouring into the rivulets of his scars like a black, hungry tide. As it spread, the horrible sound grew louder, and Sted’s shoulder began to pull together. Muscles sprouted out, bridging the gap between shoulder and arm. Bones pulled together, joints snapping into place as dark skin grew to cover the wound. It happened with blinding speed. One moment his right arm hung limp and useless; the next, Sted was pushing himself up with it, the gaping wound now no more than a patch of discolored flesh over his healthy, functional shoulder.
Sted grinned a horrid, feral grin and raised his fist to thump his chest, which was now completely covered with the black stain. “Slaughter, you said?” His voice had a strange double resonance to it that made Josef’s blood run cold. “How do you intend to slaughter a man you can’t even wound?”
“The same way you take apart any animal,” Josef said slowly. “One limb at a time.”
Rage flashed over Sted’s face, and he leaped forward with a roar. Josef sidestepped the mad charge in one neat movement, bringing his swords down across Sted’s open back. They struck in a clean slice, but Sted didn’t even flinch. He dug his feet into the sand and spun around, his clawed arm angled to smash into Josef’s face. But again, Josef was too quick. He jumped back, bringing his swords up for another swing. However, just before he struck, Josef stopped, staring at his swords in amazement. The blades were unbroken, but where the cutting edge should have been was a new curve in the exact shape of Sted’s back. The edges of the metal were still hissing, as though the blades had melted on contact. For a moment Josef just stared, trying to understand what had happened, and then he heard the hated, hollow sound of Sted’s laughter.
“Surprised?” Sted said. He was laughing like a jackal, showing all his teeth as he tilted his shoulders, showing Josef his back.
The moment he turned, Josef understood. Sted’s back was the same as his chest, covered in the horrible blackness, including the skin where Josef’s strike had landed. The wounds were still there, still open and puckered and smoking slightly, but no blood leaked from the inky flesh, and the muscles flexed beneath it with no sign of pain.