The Howling Delve - Jaleigh Johnson [26]
Kail's sword, revealing the matching gems borne by both blades-one steeped in magic, the othet caked with dirt. "You were never worthy of bearing that sword." Dhairr sprang again, slashing in and up, ttying to get under Kail's guard.
"Father, tell me where Balram is. He's the ttaitor." Kail caught the notched blade and twisted to pry the weapon from Dhairr's fingers. Obediently, Dhaitt abandoned the swotd and threw his fist instead, landing a blow hard above Kail's ear.
Dazed, Kail shuffled back. His father flipped his sword back into his hands with the toe of his boot. "You're going to lose if you don't fight in earnest. Think carefully, Kali. You either mean it or you die."
Kail shook his head to clear it. "I'm here to kill Balram, not you," he insisted.
"Balram is gone," Dhairr said. "He left me to face my assassins alone, but I'm more than able to weed the filth from my garden."
"Father, please." Kali blocked high and crosswise as Dhairr chopped downward mercilessly with both hands. The impact resonated along Kail's blade to the hilt. Kail was reminded anew of how strong the man could be. Sick as he was, his fathet was tight: Kail couldn't afford to fight the battle halfheartedly.
"You can resist Balram's control," Kail said. He took a step back and to the side, circling Dhairr, waiting for him to take another lunge. He did not. He seemed to be listening. "Balram may be gone, but his evil is still eating away at your soul. Can't you see?" It was a rhetorical question, for Kali immediately took the offensive, bringing his blade in high.
When Dhairr blocked, Kail grabbed his father by the back of the neck and dragged him in close, tangling their blades in a harmless lock. "I've come back to save you." Kail held his father's stubborn, glassy-eyed gaze with one of determination. Let him see. Let him know I'm telling the truth. Kali prayed he could get through.
He shoved his father back, metal raking metal as their swords came apart. Kali followed up with another slash in a broad arc. Dhairr blocked it easily but lost a step, giving Kail ground.
"You're going to be all right." Kail kept swinging and talking, never allowing Dhairr the chance to respond to or deny his words. Slowly, his father's anger gave way to uncertainty. Kail used the advantage, driving his fathet where Kali wanted him to go. When the backs of his knees struck the fountain's edge, Dhairr fell, his eyes widening in surprise and fear.
Kali ran forward, letting his sword drop to the walkway. He caught his father in his arms before Dhairr's head sttuck the stone basin. Kail kicked the dull blade out of reach.
Dhairr snuggled, but his son stubbornly held on, pinning his arms until the older man stopped fighting. When it was cleat he was no physical match for Kail, Dhairr began hurling curses: foul, hateful monologues-that Kali was not his son, that his mother was a godless, murdering whore, that he had no son… he had no son.
"Kali… Kali," he murmured finally, his voice hoarse. He focused on Kail's face, but there was no recognition. His head snapped from side to side. "Where is my son?" he whispered. "Where is he?"
Kail sat helplessly. For all his father's strength, the man seemed light as air in his arms. He looked small, and very, very old. Kali had no idea what to say to his father, how to answer the imploring look in his eyes. He could only hold him as he slid into unconsciousness.
"You can't save him," said a soft, feminine voice.
Kail whirled, reaching for his sword, but the woman cradled it in her hands. She was almost as tall as he, with a shott bob of black hair capping a round face and green eyes.
"A fine blade," she said, watching Kail appraisingly. "I've no doubt he was wrong. You are worthy of wielding it."
"Who are you?" Kail asked, but he tecognized the symbol she wore. He'd seen it once before, in this same garden.
"Meisha Saira," the woman introduced herself. Of the Harpers, Kail added silently.
"You're here because of Haig," Kail said, lowering his father gently to the ground. He stood,