The first swing broke what was left of the ice. Then the other mace came down. Morok’s arms moved too quickly for the archers to follow. Stone broke under every blow. Violet sparks and powdered granite filled the gorge. Up on the ledges, men covered their ears and crouched behind their shields.
Pei Jing let the maces pass. He used the Nine-Square steps he had once chalked on a threshing floor. One foot moved only as far as the next square. A mace missed his chest, and hot gravel struck his shin guards. When the other swung across, he dropped below it and let the broken stone turn his heel.
Four heartbeats in. Four out.
His Golden Core kept his sight clear through the dust. He could see cracks in the flanges as the maces went by. He could see the light in the veins on Morok’s neck begin to fade.
Nine minutes had passed. The vents in Morok’s chest were blowing black bile. Violet fire had given way to red smoke around his eyes. He knew he had little time left. He drew both maces high, with his weight already moving forward.
Pei Jing drove the point of the Astral Bone Blade into the gravel and moved past its flat. The twin maces came down two paces behind him. The blast tore the back of his tunic. He jumped as the ground rose under his feet.
