William bellowed a laugh as the ship’s bow angle downward. The flagship descended into the root universe’s rippling field of light. Luther looked into the heart of the empty universe, where points of pure black void speckled intense waves of golden color.

  Saul braced himself against the deck with his sword in hand. He grimaced down the increasing slant of the ship at Luther and William. William might have been part goat, the way he bounded up the deck toward Saul, ignoring Irene as she slipped slowly toward the front of the vessel.

  Saul’s eyes moved to Irene. I don’t care what she’s done. I’m not letting her fall. He brought his sword up between himself and William. He hoped the bruiser of a mage wouldn’t be able to tear him off the deck should he get past the blade.

  The flagship bucked sideways with an impact Saul couldn’t see. He staggered with a grimace and gasp of pain. His cuts, burns, and bruises wore on his concentration. Luckily, William went off balance and slid to one side as the ship righted itself against the force of whatever had just hit them.

  He made his way with agonized slowness down the deck toward Irene and Rult, careful to keep his sword always pointed at William. The ship bucked again, though not as sharply. Rult rolled against Irene’s side. Neither of the erstwhile foes seemed to notice each other.

  William spread the fingers on one hand. He launched himself at Saul just as Saul reached Irene’s side. Fingers bit through Saul’s sword and notched the exile-forged steel in five places with a flash of light. Saul’s burn-scarred and bruised left arm shot out. His knuckles connected with William’s red temple.

  The Rokarian mage’s eyes filled with mirth. His grin widened. His left fist opened and he swiped at Saul’s face with his fingers.

  A pair of uncharged prongs intercepted William’s strike at the wrist though Olivia slid back at the force. She yanked on the cattle prod. William stumbled. He swung wildly at

  Olivia, but she was gone in Nat’s next shadow hop before his fingers could find their mark.

  Saul’s sword swung back. He hacked down into William’s shoulder with all the force he could muster. The blade carved a deep gash. Threads of William’s wife beater parted.

  Blood ran down the blade of Saul’s shoulder and trickled onto his singed fingers. He stepped back and dragged the blade with him. William’s grin was gone, but he didn’t let the blade get away.

  He stepped forward and lashed out with both hands. Fingers toughened by magic found Saul’s sword and clenched together. The weapon shattered along its length. Fragments of hot metal flew into the air. One of them reopened the cut over Saul’s eye and a second scored against his collar, and then scattered over his shoulder, taking his shirt’s top button with it.

  William howled with a mix of exultation and pain. “Look at you. Was that sword your big plan?”

  Saul’s heart thumped painfully. Blood trickled down over his eye. He took a step back from William and dropped the hilt of his broken sword. He shook his head, exhausted.

  Olivia appeared behind William, all but silent under the shadows of the tarp. Nat perched on her coat’s shoulder. She snatched Irene’s sword from where it had rolled down the deck. No flames sprang up along the blade.

  William’s grin returned. He must not have sensed Olivia. He giggled and stalked toward Saul. He backed away, but his heel bumped into Irene’s side. She gave a low moan and tried to stand. “Take it easy,” Saul said softly, eyes still on William.

  “I’m gonna kill you, boy.”

  Saul sank down beside Irene. “I don’t think you’ll get the chance.”

  “Who is gonna stop me?”

  Olivia said nothing as she stabbed the blade at William’s back. He screamed and whirled, catching her strike along both shoulders so a huge bloody gash opened along his whole back. Despite the blood, he threw himself to one side. He slid down the deck and then caught himself between two tarp supports near where Luther stood on the bow.

  His eyes went wild. “Luther, you won’t get a new world if you let me and the girl die now!”

  Luther’s eyes narrowed. “I understand, William.” He marched toward Saul and the others. His cane clacked along the deck. “Let us get Irene out of this situation of hers.”

  At Saul’s feet, Irene groaned. She pushed her side against Saul’s shoe. “What was that lightning?” she murmured.

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  “A surge bowl,” he said. “Sorry, but he had to use it.”

  She shook her head. Dark hair drifted. “You always keep the strangest tools.”

  “I suppose I do.”

  “A little help here?” Olivia called from behind William.

  Luther stalked toward her. William jerked out of the path of a second strike from the blade. One hand shot out toward Saul. He lurched backward, fumbling for an oven rod. He tripped over Irene’s side and sprawled onto the deck behind her.

  William’s fingers parted empty air above him. The Rokarian mage gave a bloody chuckle and crouched down over Irene.

  She looked up at William, barely lifting her head. “Help me up.”

  He took her shoulders, one in each hand, and dragged her to her feet. His eyes burned and he glared at Saul, then he turned to help Irene toward Luther. William bowed his head three swords of blazing white light flickered into the space around Luther.

  The swords shifted their points to aim at Olivia because she was closer. One of them darted forward to strike.

  Olivia ducked the bright thrust, then sidestepped to find a shadow, where she vanished. She reappeared beside Saul. Nat flattened himself to her shoulder. “What’s our next move?”

  Saul’s ankle tingled with warmth where he had touched Irene’s side. “Forget fighting them, just protect yourself and get the hilt.” Because taking them one on one worked so well.

  She nodded. “Got it. You want this?” She motioned to Irene’s sword with her free hand.

  He leaned past the weapon and whispered to her. “I’ll distract them. Get the hilt from Luther.”

  She pressed the hilt of the sword into his hand. “Use this.”

  “Thanks.” He took the sword and stepped back from her. They both turned toward Luther. William supported Irene at his side.

  Saul held Irene’s ignition blade in front of him. The weapon was slightly shorter than the one William had just shattered, but Saul knew it would last longer because it was maker-forged. Olivia vanished from his side. He glared at Luther. “This is your last chance, Luther. Give me the hilt.”

  “You mean this?” Luther took the broken end of Seffuin’s blade from a jacket pocket. “I’m too close to give up, Saul.”

  William maneuvered Irene to Luther’s side, beyond the barrier of his conjured swords. Her shoulders slumped, and her hair had fallen over her eyes. The moment of connection where she and Saul had spoken just moments ago made him wonder for a moment if she would still side with Luther. She held out her hand to take the hilt.

  Saul charged at Luther, Irene, and the bright floating trio of swords. He forced spark into the blade and swung in a vicious arc at the man. Flames erupted along the blade.

  William’s conjured weapons turned toward Saul. He braced himself to parry but doubted he could get past them all unscathed. Still, a real maker-forged weapon could probably break up such conjurations. William charged from the side.

  One of William’s hands flew to intercept the blade. Saul forced the blow down into the mage’s palm. Fire met light.

  The sword cleaved through William’s hand. The mage howled and staggered to one side, blood trailing from his mangled palm. Saul delivered a kick to the man’s chest. The force knocked the mage to the deck. William grunted and sprawled. The swords he had conjured flickered and vanished. At least seems possible to disrupt him, but it takes a lot.

  He looked up from the fallen mage. His eyes fixed on Luther’s face. Luther shoved the hilt at Irene and she took it gingerly. Olivia materialized from the shadows between the two of them. Luther’s eyes flashed with fury. He switched the grip on the cane in his other hand to use it as a club.

  Olivia snatched the hilt from Irene’s fingertips and shoved her shoulder into Irene’s chest. Irene stumbled backward, almost losing her footing.

  “William, light!” Luther shouted.

  William sat up, dazed.

  Luther lashed out with the cane. The club cracked down on Olivia’s shoulder. She grunted, and then vanished into Nat’s shadows.

  She reappeared beside Saul, a wince on her face. She held the hilt out to Saul. “Let’s get out of here.”

  He stared at the hilt for a moment. A flash of white light blazed against ripples of red from the root universe. The bolt of heat sizzled in front of Olivia’s face. She darted out of the way, blinking to try to regain her sight. William giggled, manic, despite his wounds. He conjured another bolt between the fingers of his good hand and then threw it.

  The bolt struck Olivia in the chest and blackened the front of her coat. She screamed and fell. Saul snatched at the hilt with one hand. He cut himself on the jagged edge of the broken blade but then found the grip. Saul crouched down beside Olivia.

  She was still breathing.

  William forced himself to his feet. Pure white light pulsed from his maimed hand. His face was red and spattered with dark blood.

  Luther marched toward Saul and Olivia, one arm around Irene’s shoulders to support her. He glared down at them. “Damn you. Thieving is my job.” William bowed his head and three more bright swords appeared in the air around Saul and Olivia. Luther grinned. “But you are beaten. Return the hilt, and you can die faster.”

  Olivia winced and sat up next to Saul. “Don’t give that bastard anything.”

  William’s blades drifted closer and their points lowered to aim at Saul and Olivia.

  Saul’s eyes met Olivia’s. They had come so far, and this battle was so close to victory. His gaze moved past William’s bloody form. He and Olivia had the hilt. He stared at Luther and Irene. The blood from his cut palm ran along the broken blade of the hilt. The spark of life was overpowering. The presence in the hilt demanded physical form, and his own spark urged him to reciprocate. He thought of Mataya and the others in Rokar who feared war. “Sorry.” He lowered the sword. The flames on the blade went out. He set the weapon on the deck.

  Luther glowered down at Saul. “Finally, you make the right choice.”

  Irene left Luther’s side and sank down in front of Saul. She reached for the hand that held the hilt.

  Saul tightened his grip and forced his spark into the aleph splinter. His stomach turned as he considered the horror of the war between Rokar and Hidria, and pushed away at the thought. He pushed as hard as he could and hoped it would be enough to set the new world moving away from Rokar so there could be no settlement. He hated to consider this betrayal of Mataya and Adam. Moving the new universe was his only chance to make things right.

  The presence in the hilt jumped for joy at his force of will. A new universe began to bloom in Saul’s hand.