The brethren loved it, chanting her name: “Ursula! Ursula! Ursula!”
Slowly, she began to drive the Gray Ghost toward the far wall. When they reached it, she pretended to falter at the end of a particularly wild strike.
She’d made herself an inviting target. Would he take the bait?
He dove at the ground, but she’d anticipated his strike, leaping into the air. She swung her katana low, but the Ghost had rolled out of reach.
He crouched, blades drawn, ready to strike.
She began backing away from the wall. “Let’s see what you can do.”
The Ghost stalked toward her. His daggers didn’t have nearly the reach of her katana, but he had two of them, which meant he could throw one. Also, she might need to dodge if he launched a swift counter-strike.
Abruptly, she lunged forward, slashing at his head. He ducked, then dove for her ankles again. She leapt to the side—but not fast enough. One of his blades slashed into her calf, and the pain shrieked up her leg.
Hot blood dripped down her skin inside her trousers.
The Ghost advanced on her. His posture had changed. He leaned forward now, his knives pointed straight at her. He’d wounded her. Like any good predator, he sensed when a kill was imminent.
And maybe she could make him a little more confident then he needed to be...
Grimacing, she forced herself to yelp with pain, hobbling on her leg. Without a moment of hesitation, he dove into his roll—just as she’d expected.
As soon as he was in range, she slashed down, ramming her blade through his throat. And not a single drop of blood spilled from the wound.
Her hand shook as she leaned down and pulled the scarf from his face, and her stomach turned at what she found beneath the cloth.
The thing that looked up from the sand wasn’t human, and Ursula was pretty sure it wasn’t a demon, either.
So that was why they called him the Gray Ghost. He had no face, just a smooth expanse of gray skin. No eyes. No nose. He had a mouth—now hanging open—but no teeth.
Her blood ran cold.
“A golem!” Hothgar’s voice boomed. “Who has entered a golem into the tournament?”
Ursula yanked her sword from the creature’s neck. A sticky, gray substance covered the blade.
She glanced at Bael, her next opponent.
She’d seen him raising one of these creatures in the mushroom forest. So what, exactly, did he know about this? From what she could remember of the demon books in her New York library, golems did as their masters commanded.
As she walked across the field of blood, Hothgar’s demon guards circled the golem where it lay on the sand.
“Destroy it,” Hothgar shouted.
Ursula turned to watch the action.
Around the golem, the guards chanted in Angelic. A chill rippled over the crater as air thickened with shadow magic. When the demons incanted the final words of the spell, the magic condensed into a sphere no larger than a marble.
The sphere hovered above the golem’s body. The gray flesh seemed to lift and bend up toward the marble. A crack reverberated over the crater, the golem’s body snapped, condensing. The sphere of magic sucked the golem into its darkness. An instant later, nothing remained of the golem but a few lonely pieces of gray cloth fluttering on the sand.
Chapter 46
The soldiers cleared the field of the golem’s ichor.
It was just her and Bael, and she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Right now, the thought of him terrified her.
Pain splintered up her leg. The cut in her calf wouldn’t kill her on its own, but it would slow her down considerably. That in and of itself was probably a death sentence. Especially given her opponent.
She stole a glance at him.
He kept his eyes on the horizon. He didn’t want to look at her, either.
Hothgar spoke, “Great men—and a golem—have bled their last on the sand today. Before the final duel begins, let us honor the sacrifice of these champions of Nyxobas.”
A great cheer rose from the crowd.
Hothgar continued, “I would have never believed it myself, but the final duel will be between Bael, the Lord of Abelda, and Ursula, the hound of Emerazel.”
Finally, at least, he was using respectable names.
“This will be a clash of the fallen versus the filthy…” Hothgar continued.
Anger simmered. Okay. Fuck this guy.
“...Of night versus fire.” His voice boomed over the crater. “Neither worthy of the House of Abelda.” He raised his hands to the sky. “But let us hope that it will be epic!”
Ursula glanced up at the Earth, bathing the crater in a blue light.
From beneath Nyxobas’s statue, Hothgar declared, “Step forward onto the field of blood.”