Free Iron Elf - A Race Reborn (Book 2) by Klay Testamark Page B

to unfreeze enough so I didn’t kill anyone. The first wall had felt like paper. The second wall felt like wall. I smashed through the tiles and stuck there. “Aie!” a cook screamed. I peeled off the wall and fell to the ground, ground-up tiles pattering on my back.
     
    Get up! I told myself. The last fireball had meant to kill and Belroth was coming in through the window. “We’re not finished, fish-girl! Come out here and fight!”
     
    The cooks scattered. I tried to get to my feet as Belroth started to charge. His hands were on fire. He swung a right and I blocked instinctively, slapping away his hooks and jabs. He was frothing at the mouth but his form was good enough to kill me. He punched me in the nose. Crunch.
     
    I stepped back, eyes wide. I touched my nose, which felt crooked. “Son of a bitch, my face!”
     
    Belroth snarled. His arm and chest were bleeding and the wounds glittered. Ouch. He swept his hands over the sauté station and hurled a blast of fire. I activated envish’cri—battle trance! I fought fire with fire magic, taking conscious control of my body’s chemical processes. Oxygen became carbon dioxide then oxygen again. Metabolic wastes were torn apart and assembled back into fuel. My neurochemistry became half as organic but twice as efficient.
     
    Time became a trickle. My vision went black and white and blurry around the edges. The fireball dragged toward me and I ducked. I was moving several times faster than normal—I’d have aches and pains later, provided there was a later.
     
    Belroth roared and threw every knife in the kitchen at once. I slapped one away but the second one slashed my arm. “Agh!” I leaped and ducked, then twisted in the air to avoid the spinning blades. Belroth came at me with flaming fists and I punched him in the ear. He howled and I slammed him into a countertop.

    The fire had spread to the other stations. It licked the walls and threatened to burn us both. Didn’t matter to him—he covered himself in flames and rushed to bear-hug me. I picked up a rolling pin and split it over his head. Picked up a pair of frying pans and slammed them together. Whang! Belroth crumpled.
     
    “And stay out of the kitchen!” I brought the frying pans back together and stared. They were useless for frying now. Maybe as Belroth jelly moulds…
     
    My opponent rammed me with his shoulder and threw me at a wall. He’d abandoned external magic and was trying to beat me down. He charged again, but I sidestepped like in dance class.
     
    “I expected better,” I said. “That’s enough. Surrender now!”
     
    That was the wrong thing to say. He lunged and I hit him with an uppercut. It wasn’t a professional punch. It started below the knee and kept the arm straight. It was a looping punch that shouldn’t have been fast or powerful. But speed and strength were mine. That first punch caught him in the gut and stopped his charge. I followed with another shovelling uppercut to the chest. He backpedalled. I slapped him with all my weight he staggered. I called up the Flight glyph and showed him a shoulder tackle. The blast of wind carried us through the restaurant’s window and we tumbled into the street.
     
    Somehow we both got up. Belroth swayed on his feet but he had his hands up. It was clear he was using his last bit of will to stand. I needed a finisher. I knew just the thing. I stepped back, dashed forward. Spun around, arms wide. Dipped. Still turning, I exploded out of the crouch. Leaped. Lashed out with a leg. Became airborne. My back foot followed my front foot and smashed into Belroth’s chin. I landed with my back. Like a tree, he fell.
     
    “Float like a butterfly, kick like a horse,” I heard myself say. I was suddenly dizzy and Czeleborn caught me. I looked at him. “Hey handsome, my mouth is dry. Can you do something about it?”
     
    “Your nose is bleeding.” He produced a handkerchief and dabbed at my lips. I was about to kiss him when the