From Darkness Won (77 page)

Just as the duchess had said, Sir Kenton stood in the middle of the roof. Lord Nathak and Esek were at the battlement’s edge. Bran ran toward Sir Kenton, and they clashed swords. Achan and Shung circled the duel, headed toward Esek and Lord Nathak, who no longer wore a leather mask over half his face. Who no longer had half white hair and beard. Who now had two working eyes.

“I should have known.” Esek flashed a cocksure smile Achan’s way. “Your brother is looking well, don’t you think? Uncle? At least now I understand why he kept you alive.”

Achan held up Ôwr and looked from Esek to Lord Nathak. “The keliy healed you both. But why did it wait so long to heal you, Lord Nathak?”

“Jibhal and Macoun’s method of keeping me in my place all these years. They are dead now, and I am the Hadad.” Lord Nathak lifted his hands to the sides. “
Machmâd pârar.
”

Six green streams of light shot out from his palms, igniting bonfires evenly spaced around the roof’s perimeter. The fires died down, leaving a Lord Nathak in each place.

Six Lord Nathaks in addition to the real one still standing beside Esek.

Achan and Shung turned their backs to each other, swords outstretched to the multiple Lord Nathaks. In the roof’s center, Bran and Sir Kenton continued their duel, their blades clashing in an erratic rhythm.

My lady, can you help us?
Achan asked.

They are but apparitions, Your Highness. I can only pray Arman’s protection on you.

Achan blew out a long breath. They were on their own.
We eagerly request your prayers then, my lady.

You shall have them, Your Highness.

“My coming to your procession was a mistake,” the original Lord Nathak said. “If only I’d known that hours later my master would die and his master would come to me. And my new master assures me that killing you now will make me even stronger. You no longer have any power over me, boy.
Lawcham!
”

The six apparitions of Lord Nathak drew their swords. Ghosts or not, the sound of steel against wood stabbed shards of ice through Achan’s warmth. He rocked from one foot to the other and squeezed Ôwr’s grip in two hands. He turned his back to Shung.
Just like the practice melee in Carm.

Aye, we will triumph.

Achan wished he had Shung’s confidence. He reached for Lord Nathak’s mind, hoping to glean something useful, but pain stabbed his skull. He drew up his shields, wary of the dark magic Duchess Amal had sensed. A gowzal squawked overhead.
Arman, give me strength to fight this enemy. Help me to do Your will.

The apparitions attacked. One thrust a blade at Achan’s chest, which he blocked with Ôwr. It certainly felt like real steel against his blade, with real mind and muscle behind it. Before he could regroup from the first attack, a sword glanced off his leather rerebrace, another cleaved into his left greave. Frustrated, he lashed Ôwr out in an wide arc, shocked to see the silvery blade pass through all three apparitions. Where was that steel and muscle now?

It was nothing he shouldn’t have expected. How did one kill an illusion? Last time Duchess Amal had stormed the wielder, but this wielder was too strong.

Achan could only defend himself. Before long the apparitions separated him from Shung, circled around, stabbing and hacking their misty blades. They didn’t seem stronger than regular men. Just invincible. Achan swung Ôwr wide again, failing to take any ground. He adjusted his footing, concentrated, and cut for the nearest apparition’s leg. Like nicking a tree branch, his sword made contact with something.

The apparition transformed into a gowzal. The bird squawked and flapped over Achan’s head, then began to rematerialize as Lord Nathak to his left. Achan struck the creature before it could fully form.

A short screech and the gowzal fell to the roof, flapped a few paces, and stopped to screech one last time. Achan had cut off its wing. He lunged toward the creature and kicked it down the stairwell.

Shung!
He spun around in time to block a strike from another of Lord Nathak’s apparitions.
Concentrate on the mind within. There is a gowzal in each. You can kill them. The birds, I mean. Strike at the mind, and then when the bird appears, kill it. You must kill the bird. A rebuke helps you see it.

A shriek turned his head. A puff of feathers drifted over Shung and two remaining apparitions.
Ahh. Very wise, Little Cham. Shung will fix them now.

By instinct, Achan kicked his attacker. His foot passed through its body, bringing an icy chill with it. The apparition pushed him aside and cut across Achan’s neck. His gorget blocked the strike, but it still knocked Achan down. The tower
s
hook under his body. He rolled back to his feet and got into position again.

A sword scraped against Achan’s armor from the back. He ducked and ran past where Bran and Sir Kenton fought to the edge of the roof. His two attackers split up. One came after him. The other went after Shung, who was still fighting two Lord Nathaks of his own.

They were still trying to keep Shung from helping him.

Achan’s attacker managed to nick the side of his knee between his cuisses and greaves. Achan rebuked himself. Here Shung fought three to Achan’s one, and Achan still got hit.

His rebuke reminded him of the words Inko had used on Barthos. It couldn’t hurt. Achan repeated the words aloud. “Arman hu elohim, Arman hu echâd, Arman hu shlosha beechâd. Hatzileni, beshem Câan, ben Arman.”

He wasn’t completely sure these were the right words, but they did seem to have an effect. The apparition shimmered. Only a dark blob in its head seemed more solid. Achan swung for the dark spot, and his sword hit something solid. This Lord Nathak vanished. And the gowzal plopped to the roof, dead, feathers floating on the air.

Achan ran across the tower roof toward Shung and his three opponents, but Bran and Sir Kenton crashed through Shung’s battle. Sir Kenton pushed Bran back with a series of strikes from side guard. Bran grunted with each parry, as if his arms might give out at any moment.

Achan started toward Bran. Sir Kenton snapped his blade around Bran’s shield, and Bran’s scream slowed Achan’s steps.

Bran crumpled to the roof. Sir Kenton kicked Bran’s sword over to where Esek stood, then turned his dark gaze to Achan,
h
is curtain of hair flowing like a cape. He approached, one slow step at a time.

Achan kept back from Sir Kenton, tentative, trying to see if Bran was still alive. He knew better than to think about Sir Kenton’s strength and skill, but his head told him he would be wise not to engage. To defend only. Shung was still blocked off by three Lord Nathaks, so Achan was on his own. And despite his fear, he couldn’t simply defend. He had to defeat Sir Kenton. He had to win.

He sniffed a long breath through his nose, willing strength to his body. He might not have enough skill to beat Sir Kenton, but Arman did. “Arman hu elohim, Arman hu echâd, Arman hu shlosha be-echâd. Hatzileni, beshem—”

“Your words do not frighten me, boy. I’m no demon.”

Achan nodded to where Esek stood with Lord Nathak. “Yet you keep company with them.”

“Don’t kill him, Sir Kenton,” Esek yelled. “Just tire him a bit for me. I want to be the one to end his life.”

“Are you too much of a coward to face me yourself?” Achan yelled to Esek, almost hoping to fight him instead.

“I’m simply tired of all these games. Rant about my laziness if you must. But I have no qualms about letting Sir Kenton tire you.”

A gowzal shrieked. Shung had defeated another.

Achan let Sir Kenton take the first swing. A jab to his gut. Achan stepped aside, parried, and raked Ôwr over Sir Kenton’s arm on his backslash. The sword sliced into Sir Kenton’s rerebrace, bolstering Achan’s courage.

Sir Kenton growled and swung for Achan’s neck. So Achan ducked and swung for Sir Kenton’s feet. One step ahead, that’s where he needed to stay.

Sir Kenton straightened, then lunged forward with a direct thrust to Achan’s chest. Achan side-stepped and chopped Ôwr over Sir Kenton’s extended arms, not hard enough to do any damage, though.

Easily twisting free, Sir Kenton released a series of blows that weakened Achan’s arms. The last one came so quickly Achan only just managed to parry it.

Blades crossed, Sir Kenton slid his sword along Ôwr toward Achan’s neck. The blade made a thick sound as it sliced against Achan’s leather gorget.

Achan made use of Sir Kenton’s closeness to grab hold of his wrist and chop Ôwr over Sir Kenton’s arm again, this time with more force. Sir Kenton lunged back and shook out his arm as if that last blow had stung.

Even so, cutting wasn’t working against Sir Kenton’s armor. Achan needed to find a place to stab. He took a deep breath, but Sir Kenton whipped out his blade with one hand, stunning Achan with a blow to his shoulder.

Achan staggered, and Sir Kenton stepped close and shoved his hip into Achan’s side, the weight of man and armor enough to knock Achan off balance. A blow to the back of Achan’s leg skidded past his armor and bit into the back of his knee. Achan screamed and skipped aside.

Hold on, Little Cham
, Shung said to Achan’s mind.

Sir Kenton grinned at Esek.

Despite his injured leg, Achan darted forward and grabbed the hood of Sir Kenton’s cape. He yanked the man to the ground, dropped a knee to his groin, and drove Ôwr through his exposed armpit.

Sir Kenton sucked in a sharp breath, shuddered, and lay still, staring into the sky. The circling gowzals reflected on his
g
lossy eyes like lost ants. The icy wind swished his black hair over the whitestone roof.

Achan trembled, aghast that he had succeeded against Sir Kenton. He took hold of Ôwr and pulled it out. The white blade, coated in bright blood, didn’t come out as easily as expected.

A curse from Esek snapped Achan’s head around.

To the left of the roof, Shung growled and took down the last apparition.

Achan pushed to his feet, putting his weight on his right leg, for hot moisture stung his left. “Give up, both of you.” Achan panted, but just as he stepped toward Shung, another six balls of green flame shot out from Lord Nathak’s hands.

The green fire mirrored in Lord Nathak’s eyes. “Take your time, stray. My only real goal this day is to kill you, and I am in no rush to do so.”

“Let me deal with him, Father.” Esek crossed the roof and drew a black blade from the scabbard on his hip.

“Don’t be a fool, son. Let the magic do it.”

Esek snorted. “I don’t need the magic now. Look at him. He’s wounded. And I won’t lower my guard like Kenton did.” Holding his sword loosely, Esek swung the blade in a circle and jutted his chin at Sir Kenton’s body. “My Shield will be brought back to life, you know.”

His black blade flashed. Achan jerked Ôwr up, and the swords rang together.

Achan tried to sweep out Esek’s leg, but his left leg buckled, unable to hold his weight on its own. Esek laughed and slashed at Achan again.

Achan parried, faked a cut to Esek’s head, and cut for his feet. Esek blocked the strike, which left his torso free. So Achan
s
pun his sword upward and tried a cut from high guard, which would slice Esek open down the middle.

Except Esek jerked back out of reach.

“You really should consider armor.” Achan glanced at Esek’s arm, the one he’d cut off.

“I don’t
need
armor, stray.”