Duncan’s hands shook. He wanted to punch the bastard, but it wouldn’t achieve anything especially since Merl was about to go Third Earth warrior on his ass. He could feel the Third ascender revving up.
Merl turned his back to Duncan. The man’s wing-locks were pumped and ready to explode into full-mount.
This was not going to be fun.
As Merl mounted his wings, he disappeared into a fold at exactly the same time. Unbelievable. Dematerializing in full-mount was something none of them could do because it did a serious wing-mangle, at least for Second ascenders. Point-of-fact: Luken, sitting on the ground, surrounded by healers.
But where would Merl appear? Behind Duncan? In front of him?
A new flow of adrenaline hit Duncan’s bloodstream.
Merl, who’d served as a Warrior of the Blood in his own dimension decades past, as well as a grid wrecker, would hold nothing back short of slicing Duncan in two with his sword.
Duncan moved in a slow circle, trying to prepare, his sword held wide, knees bent. Merl reappeared with his black-and-violet banded wings shimmering at the tips. A drift of grayle smoke rose from his body.
“Fuck,” Duncan murmured. He lifted his sword as Merl levitated swiftly a few feet into the air then came down on him like lightning.
Duncan barely blocked the strike with his own sword. And with so much Third Earth power behind the blow, Duncan fell to the ground, flat on his back, the tip of Merl’s blade pressed into the unprotected notch above Duncan’s sternum. A little more pressure would sever his windpipe, a major artery, and his spine. There’d be no coming back.
Merl stared down at him, his wings wafting in the cool night breeze. The desert in late fall wasn’t a bad place to be, unless you were on your back with a sword at your throat.
“You haven’t had a vision in a month,” Merl said quietly, but through gritted teeth. “And you’ve left your woman twisting in the wind. What the hell is wrong with you? Can’t you see the connection? I’ll say it again, get in the game.” The resonance he added hurt Duncan’s ears.
Merl levitated with a faint wing-flap, lifting himself backward a few feet to land on the ground. In one smooth motion, he drew in his wings. All those quick, seamless movements were an amazing demonstration of Merl’s Third power, showcasing the skills he’d been trying but failing to teach the team.
Duncan sat up but for the moment remained where he was. He hated the arrogant bastard who’d been ordered to train them in Third Earth ways.
Merl folded his sword away. “This team is fucked.”
As Duncan rose to his feet, Merl faced the rest of the group. “Which one of you pansy-ass little girls wants to go one-on-one with me? Any of you?”
“I’ll go,” Rachel called out. And before anyone could stop her, she plucked one of the daggers from her weapons harness and flung it straight at Merl’s throat.
But instead of the blade finding home, something the entire team no doubt wanted right now, the Third Earth bastard actually caught the hilt in his hand and threw the blade to the gro
und. “Anyone else?”
Luken called out, “Merl, back off. We’re done for the night. Everyone, hit the showers or the Ops Cave or whatever the hell you want. We’ll pick up again tomorrow evening.”
When no one moved, he added in a hard voice, “Go.”
Merl picked up Rachel’s dagger from the dirt and handed it to her.
“Anything I can do to speed up my throw?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Rachel, it’s a Third Earth gift. I don’t know what Endelle was thinking creating a team of Second ascenders to do battle on Third.”
When he moved away, Owen shoulder-blocked him. But Merl did nothing more than offer a glare before moving on.
They were all on edge and pissed.
Rachel didn’t have as much of a problem with Merl as the men did. Though to Merl’s credit, he no longer tried to flirt with her. Duncan and Merl had fought a few weeks back and Rachel had intervened, covering Duncan with her shield and forcing the fight to stop. He’d been out of his mind with jealousy because Merl had turned all his flirting charm toward Rachel. At least he’d stopped that shit.
Duncan turned toward Rachel, wanting to say something to her, maybe to apologize again. But as usual, his voice shut down. All he could manage was, “Thanks for saving my ass. Again.”
She offered a brief nod, but didn’t respond. They were hardly speaking these days unless it was a mission-oriented conversation.
He wished she was pissed off about his having broken up with her a month ago, then he could pretend this wasn’t all his fault. Instead, she’d been womanly about the whole thing and had given him space, lots of it. No pressure. But because he was caught in the breh-hedden, the myth-that-wasn’t-a-myth, even her low-key attitude felt like an unbearable weight on his soul.