Page 77 of Starside

He is known by many names, and all of them mean death.

I can’t see his face, but I can feel his gaze on me, sharp as a sword’s edge. “Either you leave of your own will. Or mine.”

I can imagine grown men tremble under his notice. They piss themselves, apparently. But I’ve made it this far. A warrior I despise with every ounce of my being is not going to be the one to make me fail at my purpose.

“Then I guess you’re going to have to finally kill me,” I say, my voice as vicious as his. My stomach tightens, as if predicting the metal that will slice through it.

But he doesn’t move.

We stay like that, staring each other down for a moment. Two. Twenty. Sweat slides along my spine. Still, I refuse to look away first. I refuse to lower this sword that has numbed my arms with its weight.

Just when I think he’s going to cut me down, he sighs and turns instead. There’s a slight rustling as he gets his things. Then he’s back. He makes to move past me, toward the mouth of the cave.

I blink, shock rendering me useless.

It isn’t the fact that he didn’t actually kill me. It isn’t that he clearly let me win. That’s surprising, sure. But what’s even more surprising is that he would rather leave this spot than be in my presence.

I should be relieved. I should watch him go.

Instead, I’m reminded that I’m alone, in the middle of a strange land, without a creature. Surrounded by fire and enemies hunting me down. Standing in nearly extinguished sunlight, unsure if I’m about to be torn apart by mysterious night demons.

He’s my enemy. I’ve hated him for years. I remember that day in the rain. The day he could have taken mercy but didn’t. The scars on my lower back are proof of that. The fact that he caught me on the stairs doesn’t change any of it.

But enemies often make the strongest allies.

“Work with me,” I say, before my pride can silence me.

Those words were gathered from the very pit of my desperation, but he doesn’t stop. It’s as if I haven’t spoken at all. My fury melts into prickling shame. I used to think hatred was the worst thing someone could feel for another. Now I know it’s apathy.

He’s almost at the cliff’s edge. He’s almost gone. I don’t know why I do it.

But before he can leave, I raise my sword to strike him.

He turns in an instant. His weapon is unsheathed in half a second, his metal hitting mine, and—

Music. It’s like music, the ringing.

Two glorious swords meeting. Neither yielding.

A bolt races down my arm, spearing through my stomach, down my legs, and into the ground. The very world seems to tremble.

I wonder if he feels it too. I wouldn’t know. The hood blocks everything.

But not his voice.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he snarls, the words like rocks grinding together.

Yes. Almost certainly so, for being bold enough to try to strike Harlan Raker, the warrior without marks on his armor.

“Work with me” is all I say, panting from the simple movement.

Our blades are still touching.

His voice is even deeper and more chilling than I remember. He takes a step forward, and our blades scrape together, emitting a high pitch that echoes around us. “Why would I ever work with someone as pathetic as you?”

Fury and shame burn my face, but I swallow them down. I’ll do anything to make it to the gods—even if it means working with this bastard.

I glare at him, trying not to let the strain reach my expression. Both of my hands are gripped on my hilt—he’s only holding his with one. “We have the same sword. Clearly, I’m not as pathetic as you think.”