The Spirit Thief(40)

Eli arched an eyebrow at him. “I don’t see how it’s so hard to believe. Most spirits are very obliging when you’re not trying to crush them into submission. But you wouldn’t know much about that, from what I hear.” He straightened up. “Now, are you going to play nicely, or do I need to ask the dirt for another favor?”

The ground around Renaud began to snicker, but the smile on the prince’s face did not change. “As grateful as I am to you for the opportunities you’ve given me, I’m afraid my thanks are all you’re going to get, Mr. Monpress.”

“Oh?” Eli crossed his arms over his chest. “Does that mean you choose the ‘Eli takes the money from you’ option?”

Renaud’s smile widened. “Let me show you how a true wizard works.”

Still chuckling, he closed his eyes and, for a moment, nothing happened. Then Renaud opened his spirit, and everything changed.

This wasn’t the controlled opening Miranda had done earlier. Renaud threw his spirit wide for the world to see, and the strength of it was wholly unexpected. Miranda barely had time to register what was happening before it hit her. She fell to her knees, gasping for breath as the full pressure of Renaud’s soul landed on her. Her rings cut into her fingers as her spirits writhed under the weight. Behind her, she heard Gin whimpering as he fought it, but even the ghosthound was forced to the ground in the end. Miranda gritted her teeth and focused on dampening the panic shooting up the link she shared with her spirits, but they were already beaten down. Another wave of pressure hit, and she gasped as it slammed her into the ground.

Spitting out dirt, she forced her head to turn, and she caught something out of the corner of her eye. Eli was still standing beside her, arms crossed just like before, as if nothing was happening, but the cocky smile on his face had vanished.

The sand trapping Renaud burst outward, the grains cutting Miranda’s skin. The prince stepped calmly out of the crater he had made and looked over to where Gin lay pinned with the king’s body still slung over the arch of his back. His hand went to his pocket, and when he spoke, his words pulsed through his opened spirit, battering over Miranda like iron waves.

“I’ve been saving this since I left the desert and returned to Allaze. I was waiting to use it on my brother, if I ever got the chance.” He grinned at Eli. “Now that you have made me king, I won’t be needing it anymore. Such a pity.” His mad grin grew deadly. “I will miss collecting your bounty.”

Eli glared at him. “And why’s that?”

“Because once I’m done cleaning this clearing, there won’t be enough of you left to turn in.”

“Sounds like a stupid waste of fifty-five thousand standards to me,” Eli said. “And if that false-bottomed chest was any indication, you could use the gold.”

“Yes,” Renaud cackled, “but as another of your kind once told me, there are some things that are worth more than money.”

His eyes flicked away from Eli’s incredulous expression and came to rest on Miranda, who was still fighting to raise her head. “Watch and learn, Spiritualist,” he whispered, holding out his clenched fist. “This is how you master a spirit.”

He opened his fist and a small, dark, glittering sphere dropped from his fingers. At first, Miranda thought it was a kind of black pearl, like the pearl she kept Eril in, but as it fell, the ball began to disintegrate, and as it broke apart, the sphere began to scream.





CHAPTER 13





Josef struck hard and fast, bringing his twin blades down one after the other so that there was no pause between strikes. Coriano blocked each blow on his sheathed sword, his scarred face bored and impassive. Josef tried striking low, high, and both sides at once, testing for weaknesses, but every blow was knocked aside with the same easy indifference, no matter how fast he struck. Finally, Josef tried a wild attack, striking high and low simultaneously while leaving his middle deliberately unguarded. The other swordsman ducked the high blow, slid the low off his wooden sheath, and ignored the easy opening all together. After that, Josef lowered his swords and stepped back.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping the sweaty dust out of his eyes with the back of his hand, “but if we’re going to fight, you have to do more than block. It also helps if you draw your sword, I’m told.”

Coriano planted his sheathed blade in the dirt and leaned on it. “I’ll draw my sword when you draw yours.”

“I don’t get what you mean,” Josef said, swinging his twin blades in a whistling arc.

“Well,” Coriano said, straightening up. “If that’s the case, I’m going to have to start breaking your toys until you do.”