The hammering of my heart in my ears nearly drowned out the tremendous crash of the magma shot’s explosion. Nearly. Blinded by the flash and unable to hear anything I could only hope that my warscythe struck true. I expected to feel either the pressure that signified my striking true or the complete lack of resistance that would signify a missed target. What I didn’t expect was for my blade to slam to a complete stop the moment the electrical enchantment discharged.

Holding back was a good way to get yourself killed and I knew this, so I’d put every ounce of strength that I could muster into my swing. When it stopped dead in the middle of its arc I was floored. All thoughts of the conflagration surging around me and the spreading itch in my back were washed away with the disbelief that had crashed over my awareness. When activated, the enchantment on the warscythe allowed it to cut through steel and spell alike with the same ease its razor edge had parting flesh from bone. True the effect was limited to a single swipe of the blade each time, but even so it had never failed me. Not until now. How had this waifish little sneak managed to overcome my brutal strength and powerful magic? The afterglow of my explosive attack faded from my vision and I would have been less surprised to see a dragon in the assassin’s place than I was to see the truth.

Ice mage, were the only words that registered in my addled mind. Glistening spots shone in icy patched on the woman’s skin where the magma shot had actually managed to reach her. But even those spots were few in number, a testament to her defensive capabilities with her chosen element. That alone would have earned her my respect, but what absolutely floored me was the sight of her outstretched sword, which had been cleaved in two only to seemingly have been repaired by ice the instant my scythe had bisected it. That same ice was what had trapped my weapon, holding it fast against her repair job. She’d reacted perfectly, timing her counter to the instant my enchantment discharged. It was an amazing display of skill to a degree that I’d only ever seen one or two individuals possess.

No wonder the Ai’Brone had paired us against each other.

I recovered quickly, pushing my admiration for the woman’s talent aside. I could express my appreciation for her talents should we ever meet outside the Citadel, but in here we were still mortal opponents. Until then I had to think of her as nothing more than incredibly dangerous prey.

The floor lurched under me as a mass of ice thrust up under my feet. I reeled backwards, trying to get away from the simple attack and yet unwilling to lose grip on my warscythe. Dangerously off-balance, I did the only thing I could think of and clamped down on the ice as strongly as I could. Three long seconds passed as I hung backwards supported by the grip of my clawed feet and my death grip on the smooth haft of my weapon. Then my weapon tore free from the ice with a snap at the same moment the ice block beneath me splintered under the stress of anchoring me.

I could only glare as the assassin as I fell backwards into the inferno that was blazing to life where my magma had lit the garbage in the room.