Page 11 of Soulbound
Sebastian snarled, and swung his staff back the other way, which his brother ducked again.
"You're getting angry," Bishop pointed out, sidestepping the next blow without even bothering to swing his own staff.
He aimed a final blow at Bishop, putting the full force of his body behind the swing this time—and his brother swept his own staff up, meeting Sebastian's staff in a shower of green and gold sparks.
The impact pushed Sebastian back several inches. He gripped his energy staff as Bishop swung his like a windmill between his fingers, and behind him.
"Want me to show you how it's really done?" Bishop asked.
"You always do enjoy showing off."
"Block me," Bishop replied, with the faintest of smiles, and then that glowing green staff was whirling toward him.
Sweat trickled down his temples as Bishop unleashed a wild flurry of blows upon him that he could barely block.
"You're bigger than I am. Stronger," Bishop told him, right before he smacked Sebastian's hands with the end of his staff. "So how am I beating you?"
Ouch. He shook his fingers in the air, and then clenched his fist several times to try and distract himself from the pain. "Years of experience, perhaps."
Bishop swung another blow at him. Somehow the move was dangerously precise, almost delicate. Sebastian blocked it, his feet forced back a step. Then another.
"The fact you're an assassin," he snapped, starting to feel the rough edge of his temper ride him. "And I don't have your practice in killing someone."
"Experience counts," Bishop agreed. "But control means so much more. The second you get angry, you start swinging wildly." Bishop smashed a blow into Sebastian's ribs, then another to the knee with the other end of the staff. He backed off, twirling it in his hands like a blur of light. "The wilder you swing, the more open you leave yourself."
Wonderful. A lesson in sorcery in the bargain. Sebastian limped forward, holding his staff low. Control. Right. He swung tightly, and Bishop swept the blow aside, returning a fierce set of feints that almost clipped Sebastian about the ears.
Gold sparks rained across the timber floors as their staves met. Again. Sebastian could feel the power humming through his veins as he fought to keep control over his sorcery. There was an exhilaration to this, something purely physical that kept his mind from thinking too much.
"You want to beat her, don't you?"
Morgana. Sebastian countered the next blow, and shoved his brother back with pure strength. Yes.
This time the only warning he had was the dark flash of Bishop's black eyes, and then he swept low and nearly took Sebastian's feet out from under him. Sebastian leapt over the staff at the last minute. Definitely working up a sweat now. His shirt clung loosely to his body in patches.
"When she comes at you, she works to make you lose control, doesn't she?" Bishop asked. "Using words, actions, threats... whatever it takes to emotionally compromise you. Your mother knows she can't beat you if it comes to strength of sorcery alone, so she refused to teach you how to control it. And if you face her again—with my training—then she knows what your weaknesses are."
Block. Blow. Block. Sebastian grunted as Bishop's staff disengaged in a brief feint and rapped him under the ribs on the other side.
Sebastian glared at him. Prick.
"Learn how to keep your head when all you want to do is take off mine."
This time Sebastian managed to block the next blow. Bishop swung his staff around his head, sidestepping around him, clearly looking for weaknesses.
"Good." Bishop nodded at him. "You're thinking now. Thinking requires control. It requires watching and planning, and using the other person's moves against them. It also requires understanding their weaknesses."
This time he drove the end of his staff straight under Sebastian's defense, and just below his sternum.
With an explosion of air from his lungs, Sebastian landed flat on his back on the floor, and slid at least four feet, fetching up near a set of iron-gray skirts. An explosion of white appeared behind his eyes as the pain drove through him like an iron spike shoved into his lungs.
The staff vanished from his hands. The room vanished. All that remained was the ache in his chest as he curled around himself, and the urge to vomit.
A faint clucking sound echoed in the room. Lady Eberhardt rolled her eyes and stepped over him. "Really, Adrian? A duel?"
"He doesn't have time to be coddled," Bishop shot back, his staff vanishing too. "The next time Morgana comes at him, it's not going to help him if he can knot a rope with his mind. No. He needs protection—and a means to attack. If he can control his will when under pressure, then she just might not kill him."
"Didn't know... you cared," Sebastian gasped. This half brother of his had intended to kill him, before Verity—Bishop's wife—insisted there had to be another way of controlling the threat of his enormous powers.
