The gang closed in again, more cautiously this time. Neridia noticed that the leader was hanging back a little, letting his friends throw the first punches. She didn’t like the cold, calculating expression on his face. She wanted to shout a warning to her strange champion, but didn’t dare interrupt his concentration.
Still humming, the stranger blocked every would-be attack with his left arm while returning powerful blows with his right. Yelps and shocked curses filled the air. In short order, one man was staggering back clutching a broken nose; another wheezed helplessly on his knees, all the breath driven out of him by a seemingly casual fist to his stomach.
One of the remaining men evidently decided that he didn’t want a drink that badly, and started backing away. The stranger’s humming sharpened, like a violin crossed with a wolf’s snarl. He lunged after the retreating man, one enormous hand closing over the back of his neck.
“Only a coward seeks to retreat from a challenge honorably met.” The stranger straightened, lifting the man clean off the ground without any apparent effort whatsoever. “But if you insist, allow me to assist you.”
He spun, as if throwing a discus, and released his grip. The unfortunate man was sent hurtling through the air, limbs flailing.
Open-mouthed, Neridia followed the drunk’s trajectory. He splashed down into the shallows a good fifteen feet away.
Most of the other men retreated in a hurry, scrambling over each other in their haste to get out of the stranger’s reach. Only their leader remained, still holding Neridia’s pearl.
Except now, in his other hand, he was also holding a knife.
The stranger’s humming cut off abruptly. He went very still, focused on the blade. The man holding it grinned with vicious satisfaction.
“Not so tough now, are you?” he taunted, making the knife weave like a snake about to strike. He definitely knew how to use it. “That’s changed your tune, hasn’t it?”
“Yes,” the stranger replied, clear contempt ringing in every word. “I sang for the joy of challenge, and there is no challenge here now. Only the tedious task of exterminating vermin.”
The man’s face darkened as he worked out the insult. He paused for a second, mouth half-open as if trying to come up with a witty retort.
“Motherfucker,” he spat, and lunged.
Neridia shrieked, instinctively surging forward. She had no idea what she’d intended to do—grab his arm? Try to distract him? Protect her champion by getting stabbed herself?—but as it turned out, the stranger needed no assistance. He calmly sidestepped the attack, the knife missing his bare chest by mere inches. Grabbing the man’s arm, he gave it a sharp twist.
The leader screamed, the knife falling away from a suddenly limp hand. He sagged, only the stranger’s grasp keeping him upright.
“I can only break your bones,” the stranger told him, without any hint of pity or remorse. “And bones quickly heal. You have broken your own honor, and from that injury, there is no recovery. Go, and live with your shame, all the remaining days of your worthless existence.”
The stranger plucked Neridia’s pearl from the leader’s other hand, then tossed the man aside like a piece of garbage. The leader staggered back, curled over his broken arm. The other men grabbed him, hustling him away with nervous backward glances.
The stranger stared after them until they’d disappeared from sight, then turned, holding out his hand. Neridia’s pearl gleamed in his broad palm.
“My lady,” he said, and the voice which had been so fierce mere moments ago was now as soft and gentle as the ripples murmuring against the shore. “Thank you for the honor. I believe this is yours.”
Still feeling as if this was all some sort of dream, Neridia was already reaching out for her pendant. As her fingers brushed his skin, a jolt went through her. It was like a static shock, except a hundred times more powerful…and pleasurable. She gasped, her head jerking up.
For the first time, their eyes met.
“Yours,” the man repeated, his musical voice fading to the merest whisper. “I am yours.”
Neridia couldn’t take her fingertip off his palm, that strange, warm energy sparkling down every nerve of her body from just that tiny contact. She couldn’t stop herself from staring up into those incredibly blue eyes-
Wait.
She was staring up into his eyes.
Neridia blinked. She shot a swift, disbelieving glance downward, expecting to find that he was
standing on a rock…but he wasn’t. His bare feet were at the same level as hers.
And he was taller than her.
She had only a split second to gape at the impossibility, before he crashed down to his knees in a spray of water.
“Forgive me,” he said brokenly, pressing his forehead to her hand like some ancient knight swearing fealty. “I have failed you. Forgive me.“