The Wandering Isle

[Warpath]

They’d done this once before, but this time Flint was ready.

The exorcist threw a wild right hook, and Flint narrowly ducked his head under it. He felt displaced air on the back of his neck, and his breathing went shallow as a fresh rush of adrenaline sent a visceral shock through every nerve. This woman was dangerous – taller and stronger, and her hate was almost a physical thing. That would be enough to give the brute pause, but she also had the ability to rip his spiritual essence from his body with nary a thought.

She was a worthy opponent, his equal or better, and he wanted her hate as profoundly as he wanted Luned’s acceptance.

Flint attempted a sharp jab at her ribs, but she caught his gauntleted forearm and yanked hard, sending him stumbling past her off-balance. He knew she wouldn’t be able to resist coming after him – knew she wouldn’t choose caution, not with him, not now. He planted one foot hard, then twisted at the hips with a shout and swung his arm in a vicious backhand. When his knuckles met the right side of her face her head snapped brutally to one side, and her body followed it, but she didn’t fall.

When she raised her head her lip was split, and there was a fresh line of angry red on her chin. “First blood!” Flint shouted, gloating with his arms held out high to the sides.

The word ‘blood’ was cut short when Resolve put her foot firmly into Flint’s abdomen, forcing him to wheeze and double over, and then she shoved his head downward while raising her knee up to meet it. He tensed his bruised abdominals to stop his descent and used his metal-clad forearms to intercept her knee, and then he shoved forward and up, slipping his arms between their bodies. It was unexpected – pushing closer to her rather than away from her – and the shock of it gave him just enough time to put his arms around her.

Resolve looked at him somewhere between rage and disgust, and then he lifted her up off of her feet and he squeezed, and her expression quickly shifted toward dismay. Flint’s broad, disturbingly well-muscled back, shoulders, and chest apparently lent themselves well to bear-hugs, and the young exorcist thought for a certainty that she could feel the blood being forced outward toward her head and extremities. Her ribs steadily shifted, and the air was long gone from her lungs.

And then she set her jaw, and she resisted, pushing outward with her arms. Sweat beaded on Flint’s forehead and he growled, veins straining against skin, but the immutable fact remained: the girl was still stronger. He redoubled his efforts, determined not to be overpowered, but Resolve wasn’t interested in proving herself. She threw her forehead into his nose, and he immediately let her loose, stumbling away with a strangled groan. Blood rolled over his lips in freshets, and made long, shimmering lines in his beard.

“Who’s bleeding now!” Resolve shouted.

They were mere seconds into only their second clash, but Resolve and Flint had a basic understanding of one another: she was angry, fierce, and unstoppably strong, and he was tough, experienced, and controlled. So when Flint’s eyes registered an abrupt and overwhelming fury, the exorcist was understandably put off, if only for a fraction of a second.

He came on in a flurry of swings, and Resolve turned the first few aside before one caught her in the jaw, and then another in the stomach, and then Flint grabbed her by the throat. Before her mind registered what was happening, he lifted her bodily off of her feet and into the air. She had only begun to react to this when he curled his fingers into her sari just above her hip, and then he near-effortlessly lifted the rest of her body up over his head. He was poised to dash her body on the ground and while it wouldn’t be a long drop, it wasn’t likely to be a pleasant one.

The exorcist’s moment of panic was woefully short-lived. Robbed of her reckless violence, she resorted to calculated skill, grabbing hold of Flint’s wrist with both hands, and then she rolled toward his back. He went down backward with a frustrated roar, and when they hit the ground their fight dissolved into a messy struggle, all kicking legs and ungraceful lashing, tangled black hair and torn cloth and flashing teeth. Ultimately Resolve caught Flint’s right arm, and then wrapped her body around it in a vicious lock. He panicked, struggling against her attempt to hyperextend his elbow and shoulder.

Fear granted him strength and he lashed, twisting and spinning like a disadvantaged crocodile, kicking up dust and crushing the lilies until he managed to get his feet beneath him. With a savage grunt, he lifted himself to a standing position, but Resolve did not relinquish her hold on his arm. Determined, she pulled with all her might, doggedly trying to pull his arm right out of its socket.

Flint tensed his back and his stomach and he lifted, pulling Resolve right up off the ground and into the air again, and the sensation was just enough for her to loosen her grip on him. Satisfied, he dropped her again and she landed on her back with a cruel, rib-crunching impact that once again forced the air from her lungs. The brute lunged up over her, fist raised, but she got her legs between them and kicked hard.

As if he weighed nothing, Flint went airborne, limbs flailing. He struck the wall of the library hard enough to rattle the nearby window pane and his head cracked against the brick, dazing him. He stumbled, but Resolve was suddenly there, shoving her forearm up under his chin and then she pushed. She pinned him to the wall and lifted him, slowly crushing his windpipe. And he could only think, her forearms looked so delicate.

“Say something else,” Resolve said, baring her clenched, bloodstained teeth at him, panting hard. “Where are your words now?”

Flint struggled lamely, raising his hands to try and shove her away, to scratch at her eyes – anything – but she used her free hand to shove his hands down and aside. The corners of his vision closed in, and he heard and felt his heart pounding hard, and the pressure grew behind his eyes. She was going to kill him. Again.