Raoden would die. Elantrians were strong and quick-healing, but they were not immortal.
As he dodged. Raoden searched through his memory of Aons. Thinking quickly, he rolled to his feet, rapidly scribbling Aon Edo before him. It was a simple character, requiring only six strokes, and he finished it before Dilaf could make a third attack. The Aon flashed briefly, and then a thin wall of light appeared between himself and Dilaf.
Dilaf tested the wall hesitantly with the tip of his sword, and the wall resisted. The more one pressed against it, the more it drew from the Dor. pressing back with equal strength. Dilaf could not reach him.
Casually. Dilaf reached up and tapped the wall with his bare hand. His palm
flashed briefly, and the wall shattered. shards of light scattering through the air.
Raoden cursed his stupidity-this was the man who had destroyed his illusionary face just a day before. Somehow, Dilaf had the power to negate Aons. Rao-den jumped back, but the sword snapped forward more quickly. The tip did not strike Raoden's chest, but struck his hand instead.
Raoden cried out as the sword pierced his right palm. He brought his other hand up to cup it around the injured one. but the wound on his forearm blazed with renewed vigor. Both hands were incapacitated: he could no longer draw Aons. Dilaf's next attack was a casual kick, and Raoden's already wounded ribs cracked further. He cried out and dropped to his knees.
Dilaf laughed, tapping Raoden on the side of the face with the tip of his sword. 'The Skaze are right. then. Elantrians are nor indestructible.' Raoden didn't answer.
'I will still win, Elantrian.' Dilaf said, his voice passionate and frenzied. 'After Wyrn's fleets defeat the Teoish armada. I will gather my troops and march on Elantris.'
'No one defeats the Teoish armada. priest.' a feminine voice interjected, a blade flashing out to strike at Dilaf's head.
The priest yelped. barely bringing his own sword up in time to block Sarene's attack. She had found a sword somewhere. and she whipped it in a pattern that moved too quickly for Raoden to track. He smiled at Dilaf's surprise. remembering how easily the princess had defeated his own skills. Her weapon was thicker than a syre, but she still handled it with remarkable proficiency.
Dilaf however, was no ordinary man. The bone patterns beneath his skin started glowing as he blocked Sarene's attack, and his body began to move even more quickly. Soon Sarene stopped advancing, and almost immediately she was forced to begin retreating. The battle ended as Dilaf 's sword pierced her shoulder. Sarene's weapon clanged to the cobblestones, and she stumbled, slumping down next to Raoden.
'I'm sorry,' she whispered.
Raoden shook his head. No one could be expected to win a sword fight against one such as Dilaf.
'And my revenge begins.' Dilaf whispered reverently, bringing up his sword. 'You may stop yelling, my love.'
Raoden grabbed Sarene protectively with a bleeding hand. Then he paused. There was something moving behind Dilaf-a form in the shadows of the alleyway.
Frowning, Dilaf turned to follow Raoden's gaze. A figure stumbled from the darkness, holding his side in pain. The figure was a tall. broad-chested man with dark hair and determined eyes. Though the man no longer wore his armor, Raoden recognized him. The gyorn, Hrathen.
Strangely, Dilaf didn't seem happy to see his companion. The Dakhor monk spun, raising his sword, eyes flashing with anger. He leapt, screaming something in Fjordell. and swung his sword at the obviously weakened gyorn.
Hrathen stopped, then whipped his arm our from beneath his cloak. Dilaf's sword hit the flesh of Hrathen's forearm.
And stopped.
Sarene gasped beside Raoden. 'He's one of them!' she whispered.
It was true. Dilaf's weapon scraped along Hrathen's arm, pushing back the sleeve there and revealing the skin beneath. The arm was not that of a normal man: it showed twisting patterns beneath the skin, the outcroppings of bone that were the sign of a Dakhor monk.
Dilaf, obviously, was surprised by the revelation as well. The monk stood stunned as Hrathen's hand whipped out and grabbed Dilaf by the neck.
Dilaf began to curse, squirming in Hrathen's grasp. The gyorn, however, began to stand up straighter. his grip tightening. Beneath his cloak. Hrathen was bare-chested, and Raoden could see that his skin there bore no Dakhor markings. though it was wet with blood from a wound at his side. Only the bones in his arm had the strange twisted patterns. Why the partial transformation?
Hrathen stood tall, ignoring Dilaf, though the monk began to swing at Hrathen's enhanced arm with his short sword. The blows bounced off, so Dilaf swung at Hrathen's side instead. The sword bit deeply into Hrathen's flesh, but the gyorn didn't even grunt. Instead, he tightened his grip on Dilaf's neck. and the little monk gasped, dropping his sword in pain.
Hrathen's arm began to glow.
The strange, twisting lines beneath Hrathen's skin took on an eerie radiance as the gyorn lifted Dilaf off the ground. Dilaf squirmed and twisted, his breath coming in gasps. He struggled to escape. prying at Hradien's fingers, but the gyorn's grip was firm.
Hrathen held Dilaf aloft, as if toward the heavens. He stared upward, toward the sky, eyes strangely unfocused, Dilaf proffered like some sort of holy offering. The gyorn stood there for a long moment, immobile, arm glowing, Dilaf becoming more and more frantic.
There was a snap. Dilaf stopped struggling. Hrathen lowered the body with a slow motion. then tossed it aside. the glow in his arm fading. He looked toward Raoden and Sarene, stood quietly for a moment, then toppled forward lifelessly.
When Galladon arrived a few moments later, Raoden was trying unsuccessfully to heal Sarene's shoulder with his wounded hands. The large Dula took in the scene. then nodded for a couple of Elantrians to check on Dilaf and Hrathen's corpses. Then Galladon settled down, letting Raoden tell him how to draw Aon
Ien. A few moments later, Raoden's hands and ribs had been restored, and he moved to help Sarene.
She sat quietly. Despite her wound, she had already checked on Hrathen. He was dead. In fact, either one of the wounds in his sides should have killed him long before he managed to break Dilaf 's neck. Something about his Dakhor markings had kept him alive. Raoden shook his head, drawing a healing Aon for Sarene's shoulder. He still didn't have an explanation as to why the gyorn had saved them, but he quietly blessed the man's intervention.
'The armada?' Sarene asked anxiously as Raoden drew.
'Looks to me like it's doing fine,' GaIIadon said with a shrug. 'Your father is searching for you-he came to the docks soon after we arrived.'
Raoden drew the Chasm line, and the wound in Sarene's arm disappeared.
'I have to admit, sule, you are lucky as Doloken,' Galladon said. 'Jumping here blind was just about the most idiotic thing I've ever seen a man do.'
Raoden shrugged. pulling Sarene tight. 'It was worth it. Besides, you followed, didn't you?'
Galladon snorted. 'We had Ashe call ahead to make sure you arrived safely. We're not kayana. unlike our king.'
'All right,' Sarene declared firmly. 'Somebody is going to start explaining things to me right now.'
CHAPTER 63
Sarene straightened Raoden's jacket, then stood back, tapping her cheek as she studied him. She would have preferred a white suit rather than a gold one, but for some reason white seemed pale and lifeless when placed next to his silvery skin.
'Well?' Raoden asked, holding his arms out to the sides.
'You'll have to do,' she decided airily.
He laughed, approaching and kissing her with a smile. 'Shouldn't you be alone in the chapel, praying and
