Read Online Destiny Abounds (Starlight Saga Book 1) by Annathesa Nikola Darksbane, Shei Darksbane - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Annathesa Nikola Darksbane, Shei Darksbane
Tags: Space Opera
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things were theirs to take. A heavy piece of crudely-fashioned wood, somewhere between a staff and a club, came flying in from Branwen’s side, threatening to strike her temple and likely rob her of her consciousness. Since the gleaming blade of her curved, single edged sabre was busy elsewhere, her other hand whipped fluidly behind her back and produced another hand axe, a sleek piece of solid, curved metal with barely a grip.
She’d picked those axes up from a Kepo trader during her first trading run in space, and they served her as well now as any ever had, sinking deep into the looming wood of the incoming weapon, driving it downward and away from her head. She swept the blow low and pivoted with it, taking the impact to the meat of her thigh instead. Her axe got stuck, wedged tightly into her opponent’s length of barely-shaped timber, but she shrugged the hit off and let go of her axe.
She had more axes, and she’d had worse bruises. As that foe backed away, Branwen reached under her coat for another weapon.
Overall though, the fight was not going well. Over a dozen opponents still held their feet, due mostly to Branwen’s sense of reluctance and the non-lethal orientation of Merlo’s combat ability. She grabbed another axe out of the compact holster at the small of her back with a practical flourish, reversing it so that when she sent it spinning out into the crowd, the blunt side smashed headlong into the bridge of a woman’s nose, instead of the much more worrisome end.
That foe fell, dazed and rolling on the dirt and undergrowth of their surroundings, but was immediately replaced with another. Definitely not good. Unlike in stories, in real fights, people did not commonly survive odds of six or more against one. The group milled about for the length of a breath, but didn't give the defending duo enough time to expel it before they rushed them again, seeming to draw courage from one another and attacking as a clustered mob.
Captain Branwen could hear the measured rhythm of Merlo’s breaths as they worked to defend their stance on the top of the cargo transport. Branwen knew the high ground only helped so much; proven true a moment later as Merlo cried out again.
Branwen’s heart jumped, she spared what attention she could to see the girl being grappled and pulled off the side of the transport. She tried to surge forth to her aid, gripped with a sudden cold chill of worry and urgency, but instead had to abruptly snap her focus back to her own problems. The trusted and tried metal of her war-sabre sliced—lightning quick—once, twice through a wooden haft, shortening the threat of a spear to a useless length of kindling.
In that one instant, she missed as real lightning struck elsewhere as well; the crackle of electricity lit the air as Merlo threw a man off of her and rose to her feet, the others backing away from their twitching fellow in surprise. Merlo hopped easily onto the waist high side of the idle transport, glowing ports on her palms crackling with the barely restrained lambent blue of… some kind of energy. Branwen was pretty certain that those hadn’t been there before; for now, though, she filed the information away. She hadn’t seen firsthand what had happened, but she could make an educated guess, backed up by both the crowd’s hesitance to approach Merlo again and the twitching groans of the man writhing in the road, incapacitated.
Branwen’s moment of distraction cost Merlo, instead of herself. She spun, sensing more than seeing the motion, and Merlo’s warning cry came an instant too late: a knife whipped through the air, thrown with startling precision directly at Branwen’s back as she was turned.
As Branwen had once again forgone her mail armor, the short blade would likely have buried itself indecently far into the flesh next to her spine, if it had not instead dove nearly as far into the lightly armored tissue of Merlo’s hastily-raised forearm. Branwen whipped her head
She’d picked those axes up from a Kepo trader during her first trading run in space, and they served her as well now as any ever had, sinking deep into the looming wood of the incoming weapon, driving it downward and away from her head. She swept the blow low and pivoted with it, taking the impact to the meat of her thigh instead. Her axe got stuck, wedged tightly into her opponent’s length of barely-shaped timber, but she shrugged the hit off and let go of her axe.
She had more axes, and she’d had worse bruises. As that foe backed away, Branwen reached under her coat for another weapon.
Overall though, the fight was not going well. Over a dozen opponents still held their feet, due mostly to Branwen’s sense of reluctance and the non-lethal orientation of Merlo’s combat ability. She grabbed another axe out of the compact holster at the small of her back with a practical flourish, reversing it so that when she sent it spinning out into the crowd, the blunt side smashed headlong into the bridge of a woman’s nose, instead of the much more worrisome end.
That foe fell, dazed and rolling on the dirt and undergrowth of their surroundings, but was immediately replaced with another. Definitely not good. Unlike in stories, in real fights, people did not commonly survive odds of six or more against one. The group milled about for the length of a breath, but didn't give the defending duo enough time to expel it before they rushed them again, seeming to draw courage from one another and attacking as a clustered mob.
Captain Branwen could hear the measured rhythm of Merlo’s breaths as they worked to defend their stance on the top of the cargo transport. Branwen knew the high ground only helped so much; proven true a moment later as Merlo cried out again.
Branwen’s heart jumped, she spared what attention she could to see the girl being grappled and pulled off the side of the transport. She tried to surge forth to her aid, gripped with a sudden cold chill of worry and urgency, but instead had to abruptly snap her focus back to her own problems. The trusted and tried metal of her war-sabre sliced—lightning quick—once, twice through a wooden haft, shortening the threat of a spear to a useless length of kindling.
In that one instant, she missed as real lightning struck elsewhere as well; the crackle of electricity lit the air as Merlo threw a man off of her and rose to her feet, the others backing away from their twitching fellow in surprise. Merlo hopped easily onto the waist high side of the idle transport, glowing ports on her palms crackling with the barely restrained lambent blue of… some kind of energy. Branwen was pretty certain that those hadn’t been there before; for now, though, she filed the information away. She hadn’t seen firsthand what had happened, but she could make an educated guess, backed up by both the crowd’s hesitance to approach Merlo again and the twitching groans of the man writhing in the road, incapacitated.
Branwen’s moment of distraction cost Merlo, instead of herself. She spun, sensing more than seeing the motion, and Merlo’s warning cry came an instant too late: a knife whipped through the air, thrown with startling precision directly at Branwen’s back as she was turned.
As Branwen had once again forgone her mail armor, the short blade would likely have buried itself indecently far into the flesh next to her spine, if it had not instead dove nearly as far into the lightly armored tissue of Merlo’s hastily-raised forearm. Branwen whipped her head
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