She fell again, face up this time, and found that it had been Eerikarr Steldurth who'd tripped her. Looming over her, he grinned-and drew his sword back to plunge down into her breast.
A slender arm clad in dark leathers and fresh blood rose up under his sword arm, blocking his thrust. Pennae's head came into view over Steldurth's shoulder as she finished swarming up him from behind. Grinning through teeth clenched in pain, she plunged the dagger in her other hand into Steldurth's throat.
Blade Hanstel Harrow was a fairly skilled warrior, but there were five bullyblades around him. Five cruel swords sliding in at his face and hands and every seam and chink of his armor, darting past his parries to spread ice in their wake, ice and the sticky wetness of his spilling blood. He was going to die here.
He threw all caution to the winds and hurled himself wildly at one foe and then another, taking foolish chances as he lunged, slashed, charged forward where no sensible swordsman would dare-and managed to slay an astonished bullyblade.
He didn't get even a moment to exult at his daring before the rest cut him down, slashing at the backs of his knees and leaving him crumpled at their feet ere their blades came plunging at him.
Harrow died with one last name on his lips, but cold steel had pinned his tongue to the back of his mouth and was keeping his teeth apart. He gurgled helplessly, face twisting in disappointment.
The grinning faces above him did not look one little bit like the faraway lasses he was temembering.
Harrow was down. Dead. Dauntless didn't waste any breath cursing. Dahauntul was the last Dtagon left, and there weren't all that many of Yellander's rabble, either. He had to get away.
Vangerdahast had been quite clear on that. He must survive ro watch over these accursed Knights of Myth Drannor and make quite sure they departed the tealm. He was to report back everything they did and said and everyone they met with, to the Royal Magician. While somehow letting Old Thunderspells know that silencing a certain ornrion forever was neither desirable nor prudent.
He wasn't sure how he was going to manage that last bit.
On the other hand, he hadn't accomplished the first part-the surviving-yet, either.
Parrying a bullyblade sword hard enough to send its wielder staggering back with a startled curse, Ornrion Taltar Dahauntul spun around and sprinted for the trees, aiming for a spot where they stood thinly, in hopes he'd be able to see a way through them and back out to the Ride.
He was more than tired of this particulat battle. On the other hand, the five Dragons who'd ridden in here with him were beyond being tired of anything.
Brorn Hallomond stopped and lowered his sword. Beside him, the tall, red-bearded pillar that was Kraskus noticed and stopped too, turning to look at Brorn and awaiting orders.
After Lord Yellander's most trusted bodyguard stopped and looked around, there were always orders.
Brorn watched the last Purple Dragon-the ornrion-sprint into the trees. Scratching his chin thoughtfully, Brorn peered here and there around the clearing, noticing Steldurth s body with its slit throat and still-spreading blood. The battles were very much going against his side.
He looked up at his bodyguard, Kraskus, and then pointed across the clearing at whete the last few bullyblades were busy dying, and at the adventurers causing those deaths. 'Kraskus, I need you to kill all the Knights for me. I'm afraid I can't be with you while you do it. There's something I must go and do. Something very important.'
Without another word he turned and hasrened off into the trees on the other side of the clearing from where the ornrion had disappeared.
For a long time Kraskus frowned and stared at Brorn's dwindling back.
Then the big man shrugged, turned, and launched himself into a charge across the corpse-strewn clearing, heading for those last few battles.
'Kill all the Knights,' he growled, to make sure he kept it straight. 'Kill all the Knights.'
He was almost within reach of them now. With a roar, he waved his sword over his head and plunged into the nearest fray. 'Kill the Knights!'
Then he corrected himself. 'All the Knights.' He repeated those words several times more as he thrust out with his sword and was parried. This was important, and he didn't want to forget it.
'And you attacked us why?' Islif snapped, smashing aside Halmur's sword as if the arm that held it were a mere twig.
Bones splintered, and the Turmishan screamed and staggered back, eyes wide with astonishment.
She strode after him. 'I really want to know.'
The dusky-skinned bullyblade dodged aside from her sword. He hissed in pain and, clutching his stricken arm, gave her a glare. 'You really are a farm lass, aren't you?'
Islif nodded. 'Yes. One who wants to know why you set upon us. We had our swords out and were disputing with Purple Dragons! Surely outlaws can be patient or sensible enough to seek easier prey than that!'
'We're not outlaws,' Halmut snarled, his useless arm dangling in his wake as he hurried to a fallen fellow. The sprawled body- Yarlen, who still owed him three lions from their last dice game, curse it all-wore two sheathed daggers he could use about now. 'Or weren't. Until you Knights slew Lord Yellander and lost us our livelihoods! We weren't here after 'easier prey,' you stone-witted slut! We were after you'. '
'And now?' Islif asked, still striding after him.
'And now,' the Turmishan snapped triumphantly, ducking down, snatching out a dagger, and whirling to fling it in her face, 'we still are!'
He was whirling back to the body to pluck up the second dagger and spring at her with it when the first one, in the wake of a ringing clang, came spinning past his head to bounce to a stop amid the crushed remnants of a shrub.
Halmur sprang forward after it, seeking to get away from the sword he knew would already be thrusting at his backside.
Islif sighed and slashed instead at his hindmost ankle, lifting her blade and tripping the fleeing bullyblade into a crashing fall into another nearby bush. He rolled amid crackling branches and found his feet-more agile eel than the wallowing warrior she'd expected him to be-to stand panting at her.
'Think you're clever,' he gasped, 'don't you? Playthings of Queen Filfaeril, above us all, daring to cross Vangerdahast himself!' He spat at her. 'Tymora-kissed bitch! How sheer blind luck has kept you alive thus far, I don't-urrrk!'
The hurled warhammer crushed Halmur's throat and bounced away from him, leaving the stricken bullyblade to clutch his neck, stare wild-eyed at Islif, and topple.
Semoor strolled forward, dusting his hands in evident satisfaction. 'See that? One throat, dead-on! Not many priests of Lathander could land that, I tell you! And the result? One far too sardonic Turmishan, silenced forever!'
Islif regarded her fellow Knight with something approaching contempt. 'Does Lathander approve of his holynoses crowing about a slaying they've done?'
'Cerrainly hope so.' Semoor grinned at her, chastened not in the slightest. 'Because, look you, that's my fifth in a row! Four just back there-one got away, and I let him go because one must be merciful from rime to time, just to allow some sort of balance to prevail in the world-and now this little dancing toad. I'd not waste tears on him, were I you. He was the only one of them I've heard about, in all our visits to revels and Court functions. Seems he liked treating ladies rather cruelly. I can provide details if you'd like.'
'Spare me,' Islif said. 'And what're you wearing that sword belt for? That sheath makes you look ridiculous. Like a-a-' She blushed, unexpectedly, and turned her head away.
'An extra nightblade sticking out of my forehead?' Semoor asked cheerfully. 'Hadn't thought of that, but I quite like the notion.'
He struck a pose and strutted a few steps, making the empty dagger sheath bounce off his nose, before glancing idly across the clearing, stopping in mid-bounce, and adding, 'Huh. Looks like we're done. Florin's just felled that great red-bearded brute. So unless there're still some arrows about to come whistling out at us-'
'Stoop,' Doust growled as he came up to them, bedraggled and bleeding, 'I wish you hadn't said that.'
