The witch Markovila howled with fury. “Stop this at once! We’re allies!”

“No,” Ujiwara said, rushing in with a streak of magical speed that outrivaled The White Feather.

The witch blinked from his path. He streaked. She blinked. The other witched blinked in and he parried with her short swords. He streaked, they blinked together.

This dual was a stalemate and Ujiwara, The Sword of a Thousand Suns was tiring of this. Had Markovila been alone, or had her apprentice not had the aid of her mistress, he’d have cut them down by now.

They were soaking wet—all three of them, their hair sticking to the sides of their faces as the cold downpour continued to drench them amidst the thunder and wind.

“Enough!” Markovila snapped. “Kat. We go. Leave this vagrant to the smoking ruins of his city.”

“As you wish, mistress,” the other woman said, flitting across the rooftops to catch up with the other woman.

Ujiwara did not pursue them.

He watched as they jumped across the rooftops in retreat. He glanced about Yukai City. It was indeed a smoking ruin in parts, but it mattered not. He knew, just by the feel of things, that Hukama had lost this fight.

The skirmish in the northern harbor had resulted in a victory for the Mikuma forces and Hukama’s warriors were in retreat through the streets. They would link up with his larger force at the base of the Western Temple, but they too were under siege it seemed from the front and the rear.

They will retreat through the Western Gate.

The Sword of a Thousand Suns was no battle tactician, but he had apprenticed under Hukama-sama long enough to know far more than most about the strategies of war and battle.

Would Hukama know that Ujiwara had aided The White Feather in return for her promise of a later dual?

The world will talk about our encounter for decades, she had said. He knew this to be true. Without any malice, he aided her with the knowledge that their fight would one day resume.

An epic encounter of legendary dualists…