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his gauntlet, so different than the bare hands of his confederates, glinted with blood. It ran in down the furrows in his armor, dripping onto the dusty street in great splashes. “Do you know how many people have invaded my city under my watch, become known to us, and survived in the way you and your guild did?” He took a step closer, and the ground shook beneath Cyrus’s feet. “You came to claim bounties upon the heads of my fellows issued by those accursed, scheming, cowardly, hidden elves of Amti.” His eyes glinted. “Do you know how many bounties have been paid in the days since your attack?” He smiled, and his teeth showed hints of blood in the saliva that covered them in a liquid shine. “Not one. I have killed … so many of you northerners since that day, simply hoping that one day I would see your taunting, black-armored form creep into my city once more, so that I could show you my gratitude at our reunion.”
    “Here I am,” Cyrus said, arms spread wide. Talikartin was almost forty feet away from him, not an easy distance to close when his foe’s reach was such an advantage. Cyrus kept an eye fixed on the creature, waiting for him to make a move other than to threaten. “You came all this way; I presume you won’t leave without paying your regards.”
    “I will give you the full regard of the titans of Kortran, yes,” Talikartin said, stepping closer to him. Thirty paces. “Though I have heard it was not you who stole Ferocis from us.”
    “Don’t need it,” Cyrus said, brandishing Praelior. “Got my own sword. I could give you the name of the guy who did take it, if you’d like—though I doubt very much you’re going to survive the next few minutes to do anything with that information—”
    Talikartin swept forward with alarming speed and Cyrus was forced to dodge to the side, throwing himself to the dirt as the titan struck at him. Cyrus rolled and came back to his feet in a crouch, clutching his weapon. Without Praelior, I would have taken that hit squarely.
    I bet that would have hurt.
    The titan moved sideways, not closing the gap between them at all and thwarting Cyrus as he started to head in Talikartin’s direction. Cyrus spun to follow the evasion and ducked just in time to avoid a hard smash of the sort that he’d just watched kill Fortin.
    “Too slow!” Cyrus taunted, dodging in closer to Talikartin’s feet. But the titan was certainly fast enough, and his limbs were long enough that he could sweep them in a grand arc that made it difficult for Cyrus to dodge him. Cyrus drove closer, forcing Talikartin to stoop as Cyrus moved in to strike a blow of his own. The titan took a step back and swept another attack at Cyrus, this one forcing him to make a small retreat.
    “What’s the matter?” Cyrus called up at his much taller foe. The silver helm caught the light of a building burning just behind him. “Afraid to face me?”
    “Stand toe to toe with me,” Talikartin said, “then we will talk of courage, mite.”
    “I’m trying to get to your toe just now,” Cyrus said, dodging a thrown hand, “you’re not making it easy, chickenshit.”
    “Hah!” Talikartin’s laugh was a harsh bark. “I know of your sword, your speed, your armor—the Death of Gods, they call you and yours. If you think I am fool enough to merely wait for you to come at me, you know nothing of battle or war.”
    “I know a lot about both,” Cyrus said, coming in low and charging at Talikartin’s steel boot. He made a leap of the sort he’d seen Vara employ on dozens of occasions, landing ten feet from his target, just as the titan stepped backward again. “And I’m about to teach you everything I—”
    The backhand hit Cyrus unexpectedly, a hard snap that knocked him over on his back. His armor rang like a temple bell. His backplate hit the dirt and a cloud of it puffed up around him. He caught a lungful and choked, the taste of blood heavy on his tongue. He started to get up, pushing