"Luck is just preparation wearing a disguise."
***
I hit the sand hard. My body folded like a broken marionette. Dust filled my mouth and nose, but I barely noticed. The pain had evolved beyond mere sensation into something approaching religious experience.
This is fine. Everything is fine. I'm just dying a little bit.
"Leone!" Vance dropped his sword and fell to one knee beside me. His face went pale beneath his perfect tan. His hands hovered over my body. Uncertain where to touch. What to do. "Leone, can you hear me?"
I tried to respond. All that emerged was a wet, rattling sound that might have been a laugh or a sob. Blood filled my mouth. Not enough to indicate internal bleeding. Just the copper taste of violence well-executed.
Tastes like victory. Victory tastes terrible.
"Get a medic!" someone shouted from the stands. Probably Leo. The voice carried that particular quality of command that came naturally to heroes.
