The Mongoliad: Book Three

changed his tactic, realizing the giant’s target, and he swept the Spirit Banner to the side. With a final spurt of speed, the giant lunged forward, releasing the spear in an overhanded throw. A second later, the shaft of the Spirit Banner slammed into his chest and hurled him off his feet.

Ogedei’s attention snapped to the flying spear. The giant hadn’t thrown it at Namkhai. He had hurled it, like it weighed not much more than an arrow, past Namkhai.

Ogedei was the target.

He jerked his horse’s head to the side, pounding his feet against its barrel to get it to move. It jerked its head back, snorting at the biting pain he was inflicting by pulling so hard on the reins, and it danced angrily, refusing to obey. The spear arced down, and Ogedei hurled himself out of the saddle, and as he hit the ground hard, painfully scrapping his palms on the rock, he heard the heavy sound of impact. His horse screamed, and he rolled away as it collapsed, thrashing in agony.

The other man, the young Northerner who had stood in the gladiator ring with the fish gutter-the boy who had eyeballed him fiercely, thinking quite seriously about throwing the knife-was running at him. He had a sword, and that same look was plain on his face.

He wasn’t going to stop this time.

As soon as Krasniy released the spear, Haakon realized the sacrifice the giant had made for him. He started sprinting, sword in hand.

The thrown spear hit the Khagan’s horse and the Khagan fell from his saddle as the horse went down, its legs thrashing. The Khagan hit the ground roughly, but got to his feet-sword drawn-in time to meet Haakon’s first attack.

He launched a two-handed downward stroke at the Khagan’s head. Ogedei was dazed from his fall, and he did get his sword up in time, but only just. Haakon’s blow bent Ogedei’s arm, and the Khagan threw his head back, to keep from getting hit by his own blade.

Ogedei surged forward, pushing against Haakon’s blade, and Haakon batted the underpowered swing aside. He was fighting with one of the curved Mongolian swords, and they didn’t have the same point as a Western longsword. The curved end of his blade slid off the Khagan’s jacket, slicing through the fur-lined material but failing to penetrate the leather jerkin underneath. He turned his wrists, rotating the sharp edge of the blade toward the Khagan’s bare neck, and pulled the weapon back in a cutting motion.

Ogedei jerked his head aside and got his blade underneath Haakon’s enough to keep his throat from getting cut. He lashed out with an attack of his own, his blade twisting like an angry serpent, and Haakon caught it between quillons and blade. Ogedei lifted his hands, shoving his blade, and Haakon gasped as the curved edge slid over the base of his hand, slicing his flesh.

Haakon retreated, berating himself for neglecting to remember the differences-once again-between the blade he was fighting with and the one he had trained with. It doesn’t have a point, he castigated himself. It is the edge I have to think about.

Ogedei, seeing the blood running across Haakon’s hand, came at him again, swinging his sword in looping, whirling attacks. Ogedei was swinging his sword hard too; each time Haakon rebuffed his attack, he felt the shock of contact in his hand.

His grip was getting slippery.

Ogedei wasn’t trying to hit him. The Khagan was trying to overtax his wounded hand. If there was enough blood, Haakon might lose control of his weapon.

The broad Mongol thundered past, and Cnan felt Lian shrink, pressing herself against Cnan’s back in an effort to make herself small. As the Mongol brought his horse around, Krasniy shouted at them to get off the rock plateau. Cnan fumbled with the reins of the horse, trying to get the animal’s head turned in the right direction. Krasniy rushed in front of her horse, spooking the animal further, and she spat a furious curse at him.

The Mongol rider was coming back, the long horsehair banner lowered again. Krasniy stood his ground, grinning like a demon, and as the Mongol closed in, Krasniy raised his sword and hurled it one-handed.

Cnan could not believe how eager the man was to throw things. Though, she thought, watching the sword flip end over end, given his aim, it’s a good strategy.

The sword hit the Mongol’s horse in the head, causing the animal to veer and stumble. The Mongol fought to control his mount, which meant he wasn’t paying attention to his target. His lance missed, and Krasniy jumped at the horse as it half galloped, half stumbled past, unhorsing the big Mongol. They hit the ground, flailing at each other in a way that spoke of extensive wrestling experience. They looked like two bears fighting for territorial dominance.

“Look,” Lian shouted in her ear, and Cnan followed her pointed finger.

There were more riders approaching, from the direction that the Khagan and his bodyguard had come. Sunlight glinted off maille and Cnan’s heart leaped. She snapped her reins, and Lian held on as the horse started to run toward the two Shield-Brethren knights.

As the Khagan swept his sword around for another swing, Haakon lunged forward, slapping his sword at the Khagan’s blade before it could complete its revolution. He followed through, reaching over and grabbing at the end of the pommel of the Khagan’s sword. He made contact, then twisted and shoved his body forward, angling his blade down. He thrust his fist forward, the hilt of his weapon clenched as tightly as he could manage with a palm slippery with blood, and he connected with the Khagan’s chin.

Ogedei’s head snapped up and his knees trembled. Haakon felt the Khagan’s grip loosen and he yanked the sword out of Ogedei’s hand. Though Taran had done it to him so many times, he was momentarily surprised that the technique actually worked. For a second he had both swords.

But then Ogedei recovered from the chin punch and bulled into him, knocking him off balance. Haakon stumbled, caught his foot on a protruding knob of rock, and fell on his ass. He tried to hang on to both swords, but lost one, and his head bounced off another rock before he came to a rest. He scrambled to his feet, trying to get his sword pointed at his enemy.

Who was standing still, looking at something behind Haakon. A horse nickered and he heard the chingle of maille.

Trying to keep an eye on the Khagan, he glanced over his shoulder and shouted with surprise at the sight of a pair of Shield-Brethren knights. He recognized both immediately. “Feronantus! Raphael!” Both were haggard; Feronantus’s beard was patchy and ragged, and Raphael leaned awkwardly forward in his saddle.

“Ho, Haakon,” Raphael said, waving a hand, “You should keep an eye on your friend there.”

Haakon whirled back, raising his sword to keep the Khagan at bay. Ogedei had come a few steps closer, but he paused at the sight of Haakon’s ready weapon, raising his hands so that Haakon could see that he was unarmed.

Feronantus was looking farther down the valley, and Haakon spared a quick glance over his shoulder. Cnan’s horse was galloping toward them, and beyond, Feronantus could see Krasniy and Ogedei’s man locked in a furious wrestling match.

“Well, young Haakon,” Feronantus said absently. “We have ridden far, only to find that you have reached our goal before us.”

Raphael let loose a bleak laugh. “All this way and we get to watch the youngster.”

“Do you know who this man is?” Feronantus asked.

“Aye,” Haakon said. “He is Ogedei Khan, the Khagan of the Mongol Empire.”

“Then kill him quickly,” Feronantus said. “We have very little time.” He spurred his horse, passing Cnan who was slowing her own mount as she reached them. For a moment, there were too many moving bodies and Haakon realized he was watching the wrong one. He heard Raphael’s shout almost too late.

He pulled his sword arm in, dropping his weapon across his body, as he danced back across the rocky ground. He heard Ogedei grunt and he felt the cold touch of a knife slide across his back. He twisted away from the blade, wrenching his arm around. His blade hit Ogedei, but the edge was turned the wrong way, and he only battered