Sacred Planet: Book One of the Dominion Series Read Online Free PDF

to finish this, to claim victory for himself as well as Eagle. A smile formed across his dry and cracked lips.
    “Guarin!” Kastor called out. “I know why you hide. It is who you are, and who I am. It’s in our nature. The Swan will always kneel before the Eagle.”
    That very moment, from a fissure ten meters to Kastor’s left burst forth a soot-coated figure, screeching like a demon, flaunting his sword with its edge blazing bright as a star.
    Guarin charged, leaping from foot to foot in a zigzag pattern. Kastor hefted his katana in time to block the downward blow. Sparks flew as superheated blades collided and sizzled against each other. They met again at knee-level with a loud clang before Kastor threw a feint to the left and sprang to the right. Blades struck as the combatants kept a safe distance from each other, both of them fast and accurate, never leaving an opening. Guarin, taut face grimy like a peasant coal miner, took no risks in his moves, and neither did Kastor—for the time being.
    Swan warriors defeated their enemies through guile and subterfuge. They had no special skill in open combat, though this one was adept for a Swan. Guarin may have squandered his advantage, but he could defend himself capably. Kastor would not break him in a mere handful of moves.
    They exchanged contacts, sending more sparks flying. The swordplay was reflexive: move, countermove, swing, block, repeat. Kastor knew this part so well he could focus his thoughts on strategy. The laser wall cinched the playing field to thirty meters in diameter. Soon, he might be able to force the Swan out of it with a few well-timed charges. But Guarin saw the damn wall as well as Kastor. The Swan expected that. Had to get him before.
    Guarin’s swift footwork matched Kastor’s perfectly, as if the two warriors were bound by invisible tethers. Each seemed to read where the next blow would fall. Block turned into swing turned into block. Their minds melded in the focused unity of combat. One against one. No man’s thoughts to read but the other’s. Luminescent white eyes glared unblinkingly from Guarin’s black-smeared face, showing no forecasts of his upcoming moves. Blond streaks peeked through his sooty locks as he bounced around in quick motions.
    Kastor leaped backward across a fissure. Guarin followed, apparently hoping to catch him off guard. Kastor was ready, forming a quick idea as the laser wall encroached on them in his peripheral vision. Three swings to the left, one to the right. Three swings to the left, one to the right. Every opportunity he got, Kastor followed the pattern until he was certain Guarin had picked it up. Consciously or subconsciously, Kastor had trained Guarin like a mutt to expect him coming. He threw his right-side swings harder, keener, giving the impression he meant to land a hit after throwing Guarin off on the left. Of course, Guarin always blocked them.
    Until—
    Three times to the left, then Kastor threw a hard feint to the right. Guarin’s katana moved to block, but Kastor rolled left, twirled his blade, and thrust it at Guarin’s leg. The Swan warrior detected his folly in time to flinch away, but the hot blade sliced his thigh nonetheless, instantly cauterizing the wound. Guarin gave a slight yelp and stumbled away.
    The wall was close enough now to touch with the tip of an outstretched blade. Kastor chased after Guarin, exchanging a few more contacts before trapping his sword against the ground and punching him in the side. With one more round, Kastor knocked him off balance, sending Guarin’s blade hand far to the side. He had an opening to strike the body, but instead he stabbed through Guarin’s forearm until his incandescent blade sizzled into the igneous rock mound, pinning Guarin—and the Swan-crested band around his wrist—in place.
    Kastor switched off the blaze, and the edge of the blade cooled. Guarin let out a sickening cry, a mixture of extreme pain and grisly anger. Kastor’s blade