Flaxseed's aura guttered like a wind-blown candle. His skin had gone the color of old parchment, and his knees buckled so hard he stumbled three steps backward, every ounce of spiritual energy drained from his veins.
Sensing that single breath of vulnerability, Jared pivoted on his heel.
The Dragonslayer Sword flashed from its scabbard, a silver comet arcing beneath the torchlight, and he drove the point straight toward Baldric's exposed chest.
Baldric's attention had still been snagged on the elder; the blade punched through flesh and bone before he could weave a defense.
Blood fountained from his lips as the impact hurled him across the chamber like a broken doll.
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