Markram Battles: Omens of Doom (Part II) Read Online Free

Six’s shoulder, digging her nails deep into her rival’s skin. Six swings her blade toward Thirteen, but she catches her wrist and rotates her body, clutching Six’s arm behind her own back. Thirteen locks her other arm around Six’s neck and tightens her grip as she struggles for breath. Six digs her chin into Thirteen’s elbow and pushes her hips backwards, grasping her opponent’s arms in the process and pulling her over her body and onto the floor. Thirteen hits the floor and Six pivots over her, aiming a strike directly to her face. Thirteen crosses her arms in front of her, stopping the two sharp edges of the half-moon dagger only inches away from her face.
     
    “I should have killed you when I had the chance,” Thirteen spits.
     
    I freeze in place. “Yes, you should have.” Six’s laugh echoes through the room as their arms struggle against each other.
     
    Six and Thirteen do have a history. I examine every possibility based on the information from their recruiting. Both fighters were conscripted from adjacent zones, but the distance was significant, a week’s travel on foot, maybe longer. I turn toward Seven, only to find his eyes already locked on me, the confusion in his expression borderlines on anxiety.
     
    Thirteen finally manages to squeeze her knee into Six's chest and begins to push against her until she loosens her grip. The dagger, still pointed at her face, moves slightly, and Thirteen releases her lock. The sudden movement tosses Six forward. The dagger stabs the floor next to Thirteen’s face, nicking her cheek. Thirteen shoves Six away with her heel and jumps up, aiming her other knife at Six. The blade pierces Six’s thigh and she groans in pain. She pulls the dagger out without delay and throws it on the floor, looking at it with disdain. Blood begins to gush out of her wound, bathing her pants in a darker shade of red.
     
    Six limps forward, pain contorting her features with every step. I turn my attention to Thirteen, feeling my eyebrows pinching together as I realize she is weaponless. Six starts to circle around her, while Thirteen remains still, her eyes following the black-haired assassin without blinking. Six walks around, but Thirteen doesn’t even rotate her body to look at her anymore.
     
    Still, something about her stance, the deliberate nature of her pose and conscious effort to remain motionless, tells me she is not only highly aware of Six’s position, but she is also preparing to make her next move. Six swings her arm over her shoulder in preparation to throw her half-moon dagger and the blade leaves her hand just as Thirteen catapults forward, rolling over the bloody knife laying on the floor. She picks it up, leaps to her feet, and aims. The blade soars straight ahead, cutting through the air in Six’s direction. Six lunges to the right in an attempt to escape the dagger heading her way, but a grunt escapes her lips just as the blade enters her stomach.
     
    Thirteen's aim is perfectly synchronized with Six's movement. Had Six stood still, the knife would have missed her completely. Her legs begin to shake, as if the weight of her body has suddenly become too heavy. She falls to her knees, grunting painfully and dropping her gaze to the floor. Thirteen walks forward, crouches down in front of Six, and pulls the knife out, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. Something tugs at my chest as I recognize the regret in Thirteen’s expression. Her chin quivers and after a moment in torturing stillness, someone completely unexpected speaks.
     
    “It is the Markram way,” Senator Six says. I turn toward him unable to hide my surprise both at his perfect pronunciation of the human language and his empathetic tone. He almost sounds understanding of Thirteen's pain. "Weakness doesn’t deserve mercy."
     
    Thirteen clenches her jaw. "Surely anyone can see that there is no weakness in the warrior standing before of me. We are equally skilled. It was merely luck that gave