The Spirit War(148)

He fell to the sand, panting, staring up at Den with wide, unbelieving eyes. For his part, Den raised a hand to his cheek, rubbing the uninjured skin with a disappointed sneer.

“Is that it?”

It was, and they all knew it. But no one who could master his own spirit was one to give up when faced with the impossible, and Tesset was no exception. Hands clenching in the cold sand, Tesset stood up. He set his stance, his feet solid on the wet beach. His breathing steadied, calm returned, and he raised his fists to face Den again.

Den’s eyes lit with a mad gleam as he looked down on his former student. With a joyous shout, Den attacked.

Nico had never seen anything like Den’s charge. The enormous man moved like water, each step flowing into the next with the kind of speed she’d seen only in Josef when he was moving with the Heart. His feet hit the beach with such force, such precision, that the sand did not shift beneath his boots. But even as his fists came up to strike, Tesset was already moving. As Den’s foot landed to brace the blow, Tesset’s landed right beside it. He moved with Den, matching his body to the Warlord’s as he stepped inside Den’s guard. His arm moved with a speed Nico couldn’t follow to catch Den’s punch at its farthest, weakest point while his other hand landed in Den’s side, right over his liver.

Or it would have.

In the split second before Tesset’s hit connected, Den stepped back. Tesset, still holding Den’s fist, was pulled forward. He teetered a moment trying to find his balance, and in that moment, Den’s knee shot up to knock him in the jaw.

Tesset flew backward and landed sprawling on the sand. Nico held her breath, waiting for him to roll over, to cough out the blood and stand up. His jaw was almost certainly broken, but that shouldn’t have been a fight-ender, not for a man like Tesset. And yet he didn’t move. He just laid there, glassy eyes staring at the sky, his chest rising in tight little gasps, and she realized he was stunned.

Den walked across the sand, his smile fading. He bent over, grabbing the fallen man by the shoulder and lifting him with one hand until Tesset dangled in front of him. The motion must have snapped him out of his stunned state, for Tesset’s head rolled from side to side and then lifted, meeting Den’s eyes.

“It wasn’t enough,” he mumbled, blood dripping from his mouth. “Thirty years of training, becoming my own king, and still, after all that, with everything I had”—a faint smile drifted over his lips—“I lost.”

Den sneered and raised his arm, lifting Tesset’s body high over his head.

“You lost the moment you called me master.”

And with that, he slammed Tesset into the ground. Nico felt the impact through her boots. She didn’t even realize she’d run onto the beach until she was falling to her knees at Tesset’s side. He was lying on his stomach, his body half buried in the sand, perfectly still. Her hands flew to his face, turning his head, but the second she touched his skin, she knew.

Nico snatched her fingers away, letting his head fall back. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be gone. Not like that. Not so quickly. Not Tesset. Not the man who’d stopped the demonseed with one hand.

But it was true. When she looked at him, she no longer saw a man of iron. She saw nothing but dullness, a spirit turned to dumb, dead meat. Choking back a sob, Nico moved away. This thing was not Tesset. She had seen much death in the small parts of her life she could remember, but she had never seen death, not like this, and her mind was scrambling to make sense of something a human soul was never meant to see.

“It’s a waste, really.”

Nico hadn’t even heard Den move, but he was standing over her. She tensed, but the Warlord wasn’t looking at her. He was frowning at Tesset’s body like a child examining a broken toy.

“I’d thought for sure he’d be stronger after so long,” he said bitterly. “Such a waste. Sorry, little girl.” He patted Nico on the shoulder. “I guess I’ll go and see if that swordsman can’t give me a better run.”

Nico’s arm shot up and grabbed his hand, her fingers digging into the back of his palm. She felt him tense, and then she heard his voice, very low, right beside her ear.

“You don’t want to do this,” Den whispered. “I try to fight only strong people, but I will kill you if you get in my way.”

Nico held her grip. “If you think I am weak,” she whispered back, “you are the one who will die.”

Den paused, and his eyes sparked with a new light. “I’d thought you were his daughter, maybe,” he said, a smile spreading across his face. “But I was wrong. You were Tesset’s student, weren’t you?”