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Back The Maleficent Seven Save as PDF
Chapters (31)
  1. Dedication
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. Australia

She cartwheeled to the side to avoid the second Cleaver’s attack. The curved blade came for her again and she slipped, recovered quickly, scrambled away, searching for her sword, her lovely sword. His boot smashed into her foot, taking both her legs from under her, and she hit the ground hard and gracelessly. She turned on to her back, froze as the Cleaver stood over her, scythe centimetres from her throat. Her chest rose and fell quickly. The Cleaver wasn’t even out of breath. Her body sucked the black veins down out of sight, sucked the blackness from her lips. She looked up at him, her face flushed but clear.

“OK,” she said, “I surrender.”

The Cleaver didn’t respond. She didn’t expect him to. He adjusted his grip on the scythe, preparing to ram it down. Her hands flew up, grabbed the staff just above the blade, held it at bay. He pushed down and she pushed back. Her muscles stood out, her biceps and triceps, tendons working like thin cables beneath the skin of her forearms. She had been strong when she’d been Tanith Low, Adept sorcerer and all-round good girl. Now that she was Tanith Low, Adept sorcerer and Remnant host, she was even stronger. But it didn’t seem to be doing her much good against the blade that was steadily dropping towards her carotid artery.

In order to kick out she’d need to move her hips, which would weaken her hold, which would kill her. In order to force the blade to one side she’d need to move it off her centre line, which would weaken her hold, which would kill her. The more she thought about it, the longer the list grew of the things that would end up killing her.

Her eyes focused on where the blade met the staff, at the tight screw that held the scythe together. With breath hissing through her clenched teeth, Tanith moved her left hand down slowly, until she could feel the screw beneath her palm. She concentrated on it, the same way she would with a door, feeling the tumblers within the lock, moving them, getting them where she wanted them to be. It was the same principle. She was opening something that had been locked to her. She felt the screw turning. She felt it pressing into her palm.