“And I am Centarch Tanax Brokenedge,” the centarch said, stepping over the broken body of the construct. “Now, drop your weapons and get out of my way.”

Gyre took a deep breath and drew his silver sword. With a click at the base of his skull, the world splintered into shadows.

“I see,” Tanax said, gravely. He raised his haken to a guard position. “As you wish, then.”

Before Gyre could take a step forward, the centarch’s free hand shot out, summoning a wave of twisting, boiling energy. Gyre held his ground, silver sword extended, and he felt it part around him as it had parted around the construct. The energy bottle at his side grew warmer as Naumoriel’s augmentations deflected the deiat. Tanax’s eyes narrowed.

Gyre didn’t intend to give him time to puzzle it out. He charged, coming in high. Tanax responded contemptuously, sidestepping and extending his own weapon. Gyre saw the blow coming, shadow-haken hardening into reality, and he twisted to let it slide by. At the same time, his silver sword came close enough to nick the centarch’s sleeve. Energy crackled along the silver blade, as though earthing itself, but the blue-white shield did not appear. Fresh blood bloomed. Tanax spun away, recovering opposite Gyre and glancing at the wound.

“You have some … interesting abilities,” Tanax said. “Once you’re in chains, I’ll have you explain them to me. At length.”

Gyre felt a grin spreading across his face. “Come and get me, then.”

Now it was Tanax’s turn to charge, low and fast. Gyre brought his blade down to meet the haken, twisted space scraping against ghoul silver with a high, shivery whine. Tanax disengaged and came in again, and Gyre parried, feinted, and left another line of fresh blood on the centarch’s leg. Their two blades flickered, meeting over and over, but the shadows playing out in Gyre’s silver eye kept him half a step ahead, and that was enough.

He felt exultant as his opponent’s expression shifted, going from arrogance to fierce, desperate concentration. A centarch, the elite of the Twilight Order, inheritors of the power of the Chosen and all the rest—and he’s not good enough. Of everything Naumoriel had promised him, Gyre realized, this was what he had longed for most of all. He felt like he could reach into his own past, find Va’aht Thousandcuts, and with the power of eye and blade tear him to pieces. As they clashed and whirled, Gyre found himself laughing.

“Who are you?” Tanax grated through gritted teeth.