Odell expected Evron to teleport in front of him and try to send him away again, but as he leapt back in time, nothing happened. He had perhaps pissed the lizard man off one too many times with his earlier flight, since Evron cracked his neck and flicked his forked tongue after Odell’s move. The grey prince pulled his hammer close. His opponent snapped his fingers.

  All at once, four of the troops next to Evron, the ones behind them, were too busy screaming in pain at Ella’s beatdown, and charged at Odell. Odell shifted his nondominant foot forward and swung his hammer low into he armor-plated stomach of the nearest man. It wasn’t his usual hammer, and certainly nothing Hobusian made, as the low quality indicated, but the weapon left a sizable dent in the armor of the man it knocked to the ground, all the same.

  Odell spun the hammer with the ease of a baton and bludgeoned the next enemy’s shoulder. The man fell to the ground, holding the dented armor and whimpering with pain. The soldiers that still stuck close to the Zenotote reeled back slightly at the sight; it was no surprise that they would. Hammers were cruel weapons. Odell felt a little bad for even taking up the Way of the Hammer as his chosen discipline. Even as he knocked down the next soldier with a careful spin and downward strike onto his back, the prince winced slightly at the crunch he felt carry through the blade.

  All Hobusian warriors were supposed to take up a particular weapon: the flail, the club, the mace, or the hammer, sometime in their life, to be a part of their mastery. They were the weapons historically that the fledgling people group found could leave some serious damage on one another in those early days, and they made mincemeat of the Aqueenians. The crunch was supposed to be part of the satisfaction of using the unwieldy weapons, the proof that their warrior spirit still dominated them even in the post-Needaimus age.

  For Odell’s master, an opponent that was too stupid to get hit by a hammer deserved the crushing damage that came with it, and if they were too poor a fighter to keep their head from taking a hit, then they had it coming even more.

  The grey boy understood as much, especially when a fight could mean life or death, but he still swung his hammer low on the last of the quartet that had charged when a headshot was clear as day. The man’s armor dented on his leg, and he fell to the ground howling in pain and clutching at the spot.

  Odell silently wished for a more peaceful resolution. He had ditched out on becoming a proper warrior, even though his royal status demanded it should be, due to how much he pitied the poor opponents now wounded to the point of needing a Needaimus to recover. When Evron scratched at his chest and glared at Odell, the prince did his best to push his heart into the proper rhythm the fight demanded—like an engine would run its cycles without care of where the vehakul drove, he too needed to keep himself in focus on the task at hand.

  The light blue Zenotote stepped forward. In an instant, he was gone, and Odell’s eyes went wide. He had let himself get off his count. He slammed his stomach to the floor and rolled out of arm’s reach just as Evron reappeared and tried to touch him. His opponent looked at him like he was stupid, the move may have been, but it worked. Odell jumped back to his feet and roared as he charged at the Zenotote. The lizard man had to bounce back to avoid the strike of his hammer and took a kick in the back from Ella. Evron grunted and glared back, but only for a moment since Odell made a much quieter swing at his leg. The blow connected, and Evron’s body jerked in rhythm with a cracking sound. He vanished without another move.

  Odell pulled his hammer close to his chest and backed to the nearest wall of the hallway. Ella, having finished off the soldiers behind, leapt across the space to the remaining ones still standing by. The men screamed, having lost all will to fight the approaching grinning green-haired girl, and began to run. She gleefully chased after.

  “Wait, don’t split–”

  He tried to stop her, but it was too late. Inside, she was still two young girls, and children tended not to listen. Odell thought to run after, but Evron appeared in front and might have touched him if Odell didn’t try to bash the hammer in his scaly face in sync. The Zenotote jumped back.

  It was clear his leg was aching, a hammer strike was already bad enough, the average Hobusian could lift a boulder, and Odell’s recent training had made him above average—even if it was only slightly. Yet, Evron was a Mortal. The special users of Needaimus, like Odell, were well aware of the fact that the metal creatures made one tougher just by being bonded.

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  It was very likely Evron’s Needaimus was numbing the pain so he could keep going, or he was just tough enough with it on to ignore it. Either way, Odell couldn’t count on his one blow to end this foe like it did the other passed-out opponents. And if the fight kept going as is, he would lose.

  The important thing Odell needed to focus on was space. He had no chance of ever outrunning a teleporter, but the limited hallway gave him few areas for him to dodge. Evron may have been uncreative with his power, but any teleporter would surely figure out which way Odell would dodge when down one end of the hall or the other, were the only ones with enough room.

  He started a small charge at the Zenotote, prompting the opponent to vanish. It was as Odell predicted, and he quickly shifted into a sprint down the hallway. Evron loudly shouted when he reappeared and saw Odell’s fleeing back, but the prince didn’t care. He needed more room. The hallway quickly gave way to a larger, but still cramped enough, lobby. Some tourists were huddled off the side, looked scared witless as Odell ducked down to avoid another swipe from Evron.

  He tried to strike the man’s legs again, but the swing didn’t have enough force, and he misjudged the space. The hammer’s handle swiped Evron off his feet, and he grunted as his back slammed on the floor. Odell backed up to the door out of the lobby. Thunder from the storm greeted his back as it came close enough to get wet. On any other day, he would have charged outside. The fight was not good with tourists around; Evron might try to use them as hostages, but the storm was brutal.

  The pale blue Zenotote stood up and made a lizard-faced smirk.

  “What are you going to do, boy? Run out in the storm?” He had to shout so that Odell could even hear over the howling wind just behind him.

  “Maybe I will! You going to chase after still?” Odell wasn’t sure what he was going for with his reply, but he forced it out all the same.

  “Ha! You think I care enough about you to waste my time like that?” Evron snapped back. He seemed to jerk his head as he spoke and moved a step closer. It was an odd thing—the sort of thing that gave Odell pause. If Tancred were here, he would say this was yet another chance to analyze the situation. Odell didn’t have to let Evron take over everything. Perhaps he even had a chance to take a couple of cheat shots. If there was one thing the prince knew he was good at, it was pissing people off—especially when those people thought they were big shots.

  “I wonder. You seem awfully interested in me after all. Even now, you think you would have tried to get me again, but you know I’ll just dodge outside and become even harder to chase.” Evron sneered at Odell’s conjecture, but the grey prince kept going, “I mean, it almost seemed like you are trying to keep me here. Are you afraid of the rain? Or just obsessed with me? I hate to tell you, but I am already betrothed to someone way hotter than you.”

  As if his words were the very thing required to summon her, Cecilia phased from the top of one of the lobby’s columns. She held both hands over her mouth, and even from a distance her eyes seemed to sparkle. Under ordinary circumstances, Odell would have grunted and shaken his head, but not only was he happy to see the girl, he was also delighted to see the green Needaimus that was riding on her shoulder. His Needaimus. Hal’s red sat on her other shoulder and seemed to look around the room for its partner. Odell hoped he wouldn’t have to give that difficult conversation to it later. No one really knew how a Needaimus felt after losing its Mortal, but he was sure it wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

  Evron gnarled his sharp teeth and hissed at Odell.

  “You test my patience, fool. Either run away like a coward or face me like a warrior, but do not continue to pollute the air with your idle talk.”

  Odell turned his eyes back on his opponent. He had to avoid looking at Ceclia as she floated from the column with a hand firmly clenched around a brick.

  “You have patients? I didn’t know you were a doctor. Better be careful, they might sue you for malpractice.”

  Odell felt that was truly the worst line he had ever come up with when fighting a foe, but that made the annoyance all the stronger. Evron never saw the strike from behind as Odell’s fiancé smashed the brick into the back of his head. He grunted and grabbed the wounded spot before vanishing. Cecilia wasted no time. The green Needaimus was thrown across the room like she was playing a sport. Odell held his hand outstretched, and the creature looked like a glove as it flowed up his arm, bonding.

  Immediately, light, he jumped in the air and floated just above when Evron reappeared. A heavy knee from the sky smashed his opponent to the ground.

  Evron quickly vanished and reappeared in a hunched position far away from the duo. He breathed heavily, looking back and forth between Cecilia and Odell.

  “Hate to tell you, buddy, but now I am at full power.” Odell lightened his hammer so he could twirl it between his fingers before clutching and smashing it with such sudden increased weight onto the floor that the wood cracked past Evron to the walls.