Now Kellen had room to pull his sword—
No.
Blade against club, however deadly the club—no.
He waded in with his armored fists. He took a good pounding—and he added several new dents to his armor, with corresponding bruises beneath—but at last Kellen was able to finish the fight with a solid blow to the gut, followed by a cracking—and heartfelt—punch to the shepherd's jaw.
The man toppled over like a felled tree, measuring his full length on the ground. He was unconscious, and would stay that way for some time, Kellen hoped uncharitably. But he was alive. Which he would not have been if Kellen had pulled his sword.
Kellen turned back to the hut, to the shepherd's victim. He had to bend down a little to get in through the door, and in the dimness, all he could see was a huddled female shape in the corner. She was completely muffled in a long dark cloak of homespun with a deep hood. Kellen lifted her gently, hoping she didn't have any broken bones. At least she was alive as well. A few moments later, and she wouldn't have been.
He carried her out of the hut, seeing without any particular surprise that Jermayan had finally elected to follow him. The Elven Knight dismounted and came hurrying forward just as Kellen lay the woman gently on the ground and looked up toward him, about to explain what he'd found when he reached the shepherd's hut.
But to his shock, Jermayan's face contorted with horror and anger, and the Elven Knight drew his sword and lunged forward, intent upon attacking the woman Kellen had just rescued.
'No!' Ignoring his aches and bruises, Kellen jumped into Jermayan's path, grappling with him. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him that the woman was awake and moving, crawling weakly away. There was something not quite right about her face, but Kellen didn't have time to figure out what. Jermayan was far stronger than he was, and determined to free himself from Kellen in order to reach her.
He held tight to the wrist of Jermayan's sword-hand, and held him like a wrestler trying to force his opponent out of the ring.
'Don't you see what she is?' Jermayan shouted in his ear. 'She's a Demon! I've got to kill her!'
No. If he was sure of anything at the moment, Kellen was sure of that. The Wild Magic had brought him here. The Wild Magic was Anathema to anything Demonic, if Jermayan and Idalia were to be believed. So whatever this looked like, the woman couldn't be a Demon.
He had to believe that…
'Think!' he urged Jermayan, holding the struggling Elf's sword-arm in a vise-grip. 'If she's a Demon, why was she letting that lout in there beat her to death?'
'To trap us, you fool!' Jermayan shouted in exasperation.
Kellen finally managed to get the leverage he'd been seeking, twisting Jermayan's sword-hand so that he had to let go of the blade or—even in armor—end up with a broken wrist, and with a well-placed shove, sent Jermayan sprawling. When Jermayan hit the ground, he lost his grip on his sword, and it went slithering away over the wiry grass.
But Jermayan didn't give up. He struggled to his feet once more, obviously deciding that Kellen had to be dealt with before the Demon.
Kellen risked another wary backward glance. The woman was sitting with her back to the hut now, watching both of them with an expression of terror on her face. Her skin was the rosy-red of ripe cherries; her short curly hair a darker shade of the same red, and her ears were as pointed as an Elf's. Pale gold horns sprouted from just above her slanting eyebrows and curved back over her head. Her eyes were the same yellow-gold as a cat's, with the same narrow slitted pupils.
He looked back barely in time to block Jermayan's attack. He knew Jermayan didn't actually want to kill him, and unfortunately there were few things you could do to a man in a full suit of Elven plate armor short of that. But suppose Jermayan managed to knock him unconscious, or tie him up somehow? What would happen to the woman then?
Then Jermayan slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. As the two men rolled noisily over and over, Jermayan's fingers scrabbled for the straps of Kellen's helmet. Kellen gritted his teeth. If Jermayan could manage to get his helmet off, it would be fairly easy for the Elven Knight to knock him senseless.
'Stop it. This has gone on long enough.' Shalkan's voice wasn't loud, but it carried, and there was a power in that command that shocked both of them into quiet. For a moment Kellen and Jermayan stopped fighting to stare at the unicorn.
Shalkan paced over to where the woman huddled against the side of the hut and lowered his horn until it touched the side of her face.
