A Marriage of Swords
It commanded a respect he was unwilling to give to anything else.
The end came not from a master stroke, but from the ground. Leigh stepped back onto a loose stone, her ankle twisting. She stumbled, her guard faltering for a crucial second. Makil's blade swept in, hooked hers, and wrenched it from her grasp. It flew through the air, landing with a dull thud in the dirt.
He stood over her, his sword point hovering near her chest. They were both gasping, steam rising from their bodies in the cold air.