ravaged hearts

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR,

RAVAGED HEARTS | CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

RHYS WAS A flash of red and gold as she swiftly disarmed, slashed and then snapped her fan out to use as a cudgel, knocking out the Falcon. Only a few remained. The strongest of them all. Now they gathered in a small group. Strength in numbers. That was a lesson that hadn't been taught when she was around. Maybe they innovated it themselves.

A few of the Falcons who had been somewhat defeated had pulled themselves back up. Bassanio was one of them. The others... Falcons who'd joined after she had left.

Rhys snapped both fans back upon, using one to fan upon herself. "Last chance to surrender."

Bassanio stood in the centre of them, face twisted with hate. "You wish, Briar."

"You're not going to win."

"Then we die fighting," he announced. Two of the Falcons around him didn't look so sure. The rest of them cheered with him.

Rhys said, gently, "If you want to go, go when we start fighting. We won't chase after you if you don't make trouble, we promise. Start a new life. From a new slate. Don't let your past haunt you any longer. But I'm afraid this is your last chance to do so."

The words were said as much to ensure the agents with her let those who try to flee go as much to remind the Falcons, to make the deal more tempting. Without Io or Louis here she was leader of this group. And the fact that her status was near legendary might just make her seem more trustworthy to this bunch.

And they knew she'd run. She'd run and she'd survived. Sure, there had been a few close calls where she'd almost been caught and dragged back, and that one time where she actually was caught, but she'd escaped, hadn't she?

Bassanio's eyes narrowed. "Oh, now you try this tactic. Don't believe her. She betrayed us once, she'd do it again."

Rhys shrugged. "Suit yourselves. We have the numbers now, the advantage. We are going to win."

"I wouldn't say that necessarily," Bassanio murmured. "You only have one wiccai."

"It's astonishing," Constanza marvelled, "how you wiccai always love to underestimate us regular humans, as if we weren't the ones who managed to banish you all to the Hatlen Isles all those centuries ago simply by having more numbers."

"We've adapted and learnt and changed since then." Bassanio raised his head high.

"And so have we," Constanza shrugged, "and dare I say, at an even faster speed. Let's cut with the dillydallying."

Rhys spared a quick glance at the twenty or so agents still standing with her. The other injured ones, those who felt like they couldn't stand and fight, had all dragged themselves off to one of the nearby barracks to quickly patch up. They wouldn't be needed anyways. She asked, quietly, "Ready?"

Everyone nodded.

This was what they came for. This was what they breathed for.

Rhys charged straight for Bassanio. It seemed fair, leader against leader, albeit Bassanio did already seem quite injured from his former fights. He dodged Rhys' first two slashes with her fan blades. The thing with them, Rhys had realised, was that you had to use more exaggerated and larger movements to wield them efficiently. But that also meant slowing down or losing awareness of where you were was a death sentence.

It's why some people called her a dancer when she used her fans. Because she turned and turned, trying to keep her movements all in one fell swoop and linked together rather than separating them into different chunks. People rarely knew what to do with her when that happened. For such an inefficient weapon, that proved a plus. Most people did not know how to deal with it.