Free The Howling Delve by Jaleigh Johnson Page B

worked.
    Kali simply watched his fathet, unable to believe the changes wrought in his visage. Flesh stretched taut beneath his eyes and along his jaw. His lips were colorless and bore ragged crevices and gaps where he’d bitten them too deeply. His hair was thin and coarse, like a wisp broom. It hung past his shoulders and dragged the fountain bowl when Dhairr bent his ear to the crack. His eyes fell on Kail and narrowed.
    “Who are you?” he rasped. He flipped his blade up, menacing Kail with nothing more than a blunt edge. “Begone, assassin! You’ll not have my family.”
    “Father,” Kail said, taking a step forward. “Don’t you recognize me? I am your family—Kail, your son.”
    “Kali,” Dhairr repeated, testing the name on his tongue. Slow comprehension broke over his wasted face. “So you’ve returned. Kail the tiaitor—have you come back to finish what you started?”
    “No, Father,” Kail said. “I’ve come back to free you.” “Lies!”
    Dhairr lunged, aiming at Kail’s midsection. For all the changes, his father was still fast, and Kail was so stunned by the outburst he almost allowed himself to be impaled upon Dhairr’s notched blade. He backed away and tripped, landing awkwardly on his side on the walkway.
    Dhairr smiled cruelly. “Don’t be careless, Kail. You think I won’t do to you what I did to Haig? That I’ll show mercy because you’re my son? You have no idea who I am, boy.”
    “You don’t know what you’re saying—” Kali dodged anothet swing. His fathet was still caught in the grip of Balram’s spell; he still believed Kali had betrayed him. Kail arched his back, snapping his legs downward in a sharp thrust to get his feet undet him. The quick, acrobatic move made Dhairr back off a step, long enough for Kali to bring his sword up at a defensive slant.
    “You would fight me with a Morel emerald?” Dhairr slapped
    Kail’s sword, revealing the matching gems borne by both blades—one steeped in magic, the othet caked with dirt. “You were never worthy of bearing that sword.” Dhairr sprang again, slashing in and up, ttying to get under Kail’s guard.
    “Father, tell me where Balram is. He’s the ttaitor.” Kail caught the notched blade and twisted to pry the weapon from Dhairr’s fingers. Obediently, Dhaitt abandoned the swotd and threw his fist instead, landing a blow hard above Kail’s ear.
    Dazed, Kail shuffled back. His father flipped his sword back into his hands with the toe of his boot. “You’re going to lose if you don’t fight in earnest. Think carefully, Kali. You either mean it or you die.”
    Kail shook his head to clear it. “I’m here to kill Balram, not you,” he insisted.
    “Balram is gone,” Dhairr said. “He left me to face my assassins alone, but I’m more than able to weed the filth from my garden.”
    “Father, please.” Kali blocked high and crosswise as Dhairr chopped downward mercilessly with both hands. The impact resonated along Kail’s blade to the hilt. Kail was reminded anew of how strong the man could be. Sick as he was, his fathet was tight: Kail couldn’t afford to fight the battle halfheartedly.
    “You can resist Balram’s control,” Kail said. He took a step back and to the side, circling Dhairr, waiting for him to take another lunge. He did not. He seemed to be listening. “Balram may be gone, but his evil is still eating away at your soul. Can’t you see?” It was a rhetorical question, for Kali immediately took the offensive, bringing his blade in high.
    When Dhairr blocked, Kail grabbed his father by the back of the neck and dragged him in close, tangling their blades in a harmless lock. “I’ve come back to save you.” Kail held his father’s stubborn, glassy-eyed gaze with one of determination. Let him see. Let him know I’m telling the truth. Kali prayed he could get through.
    He shoved his father back, metal raking metal as their swords
    came apart. Kali followed up with another slash in a broad