prowess, for they chose to orient on other foes.
The vilewight cast a blaze of darkness. Bareris sprang to one side, and the leaping shadow missed. He shouted, a boom loud and startling as a thunderclap, and his cry split the undead's leprous hide and knocked it staggering. The bard rushed in and cut at its torso.
At the same moment, someone among the enemy yelled a command, and the legionnaires renewed their assault on the barricades. It seemed to Kemas that they didn't attack as fiercely as before. Now that their lord had brought his most powerful weapon into play, they expected it to turn the tide of battle, and saw no reason to take extraordinary chances while it did its work.
Still, they fought hard enough that for a while, Kemas didn't dare look at anything but the space and the foes immediately in front of him. Finally the pressure eased. He peered back at Bareris and the vilewight, and gasped.
During the first moments of the duel, it had appeared that Bareris was a match for his foe, and maybe he had been, but if so, Lady Luck had turned her face from him. He was unsteady on his feet and had switched his sword to his offhand because his dominant arm dangled torn and useless at his side. It looked as if gut-tentacles had bitten him both above and below the elbow, and he'd ripped the wounds larger by pulling free.
He'd landed more than one slash in return, but it hadn't made any difference to the lithe, pouncing manner in which his adversary circled, feinted, and struck. The bloodless cuts didn't seem to trouble it any more than the arrows hanging from its flesh like a porcupine's quills.
It sprang in, clawed hands raking, lengths of intestine striking like adders. Bareris dropped low, beneath the attacks, and tried to slice its leg out from under it. He scored but failed to cut deeply enough to make the vilewight fall. At once it twisted and stooped to threaten him anew. It caught the sword in its fingers, allowing the edge to bite in order to immobilize it, and reached for the griffon rider with its gut-tentacles. The rings of lamprey fangs gaped wide.
For an instant, Bareris strained to pull his weapon free, but his left arm wasn't strong enough. He relinquished his grip and flung himself backward to avoid the gut-serpents. As he scrambled to his feet, he snatched a dagger from his boot.
The vilewight regarded the smaller blade, and its jagged leer stretched wider. It knew Bareris no longer had any hope of defeating it. Not alone, and if any of the Fire Drakes was brave enough to go to his aid, that dauntless warrior was busy with other foes.
Obviously, no one would expect Kemas to do it. He was just an apprentice. A boy. He'd already done as much as any fair-minded person could ask.
Yet if he faltered just then, allowed fear to paralyze him once more, then everything he'd accomplished-killing the picket, holding his hand over the flame, and all the rest of it-had been for nothing. The autharch's men would slaugh shy;ter the Fire Drakes and priests just as if Kemas had never found the courage to return at all, and somehow, the thought of that was insupportable.
He left his place at the barricade and scurried along behind the backs of the men who were still fighting there. He needed to put himself directly in front of Bareris and the vilewight, so he wouldn't have any other enemies in his way when he advanced.
As he climbed over the barrier, the moment felt dream shy;like and unreal. Maybe that was his mind's way of trying to dampen terror.
He ran at the vilewight. It glanced in his direction, then lunged at Bareris. Apparently it hoped to finish off its wounded opponent before a new one could close the distance.
It might well have succeeded, too, because Bareris stumbled. But one of the temple priests, still alive somewhere and hoard shy;ing a measure of unexpended power, chose that moment to bring another burst of flame leaping up around the vilewight's feet. As before, the flare died without burning it, but the attack slowed the creature for an instant. Time enough for Kemas to circle around behind it.
Hoping to sever its spine, he cut at its back. He gashed its leathery hide, but that didn't keep it from starting to pivot in his direction.
He could keep trying to cut it as Bareris had already slashed and stabbed it repeatedly, but suddenly a differ shy;ent tactic occurred to him. He tossed his sword in the bard's direction-even wounded and with his good arm crippled, Bareris could wield it as well or better than he could-and sprang onto the vilewight's back. Up close, the carrion stench of the undead filled his nose and mouth with foulness.
He hooked his fingers into the creature's eye sockets and clawed the cold jelly away.
The vilewight stiffened, staggered, and lifted its hand. Darkness seethed around the talons. Kemas grabbed its clammy wrist to keep it from discharging a flare of shadow into his face.
But he couldn't defend against all its attacks. He didn't have enough hands. Gut-snakes twisted around to reach for him, their rings of fangs gnashing.
Bareris rushed forward with Kemas's broadsword in hand. He struck savagely, repeatedly, and the sightless vilewight couldn't block or dodge. The strokes landed to better effect than before.
Bareris cut into one of its knees. It fell forward, and Kemas scrambled clear of it. The bard hacked its skull to pieces, and it stopped moving.
Kemas felt empty and could think of nothing to do but stand, wheeze, and look at the fallen creature. Bareris, however, wheeled at once, searching for other threats.
But he needn't have bothered. While they'd fought the vilewight, their comrades had held the barricades against the rest of the autharch's servants, and it looked as though the demise of their ghastly champion had destroyed the attackers' morale. They shrank back from the ranks of Fire Drakes, and someone shouted, 'Retreat!' They turned and scrambled for the breach.
The defenders didn't try to stop them. Kemas wondered if it was because everyone was too exhausted to strike a single unnecessary blow. The Great Flame knew, he was.
He was even wearier at the shank end of the night, when the priests had tended the wounded and lit the funeral pyres of the dead, the Fire Drakes had made the complex as secure as it could be with a hole in the wall, everyone had eaten a hot meal, and Rathoth-De sent for him. He was glad of his fatigue, for perhaps it was the numbing effect of it that kept him from feeling anything much as he entered his masters' hall. His arm in a sling, Bareris stood conferring with the officers of the temple.
'We won,' said the high priest, an unaccustomed hint of petulance in his voice. 'It doesn't seem fair that we should have to leave.'
'But you must,' Bareris said. 'You repelled the autharch's household troops. You won't withstand a real army when Invarri Metron gets around to sending one against you.'
'He's right,' said Rathoth-De. 'We need to pack up the relics, treasury, and sacred texts and clear out as soon as pos shy;sible.' He smiled. 'Don't take it hard, Master. It sounds as if the Firelord has work for us in the south.'
Kemas decided he'd come close enough to bow. 'Sir, I'm here to face your judgment.'
Bareris frowned. 'Surely the boy has proved useful enough that it would be folly to punish him.'
'Thank you for speaking up for me,' Kemas said, 'but please, no more. This is a matter for the Fire Drakes, and for my commander to decide.'
Rathoth-De smiled. 'So it is, and our rule says a deserter must die. But it appears to me that he already has. The god's fire burned away what was unworthy in you and purified what remained, and that's good enough for me.'
Kemas sighed and felt his muscles go limp with relief. He hadn't been conscious of feeling particularly afraid, yet it was suddenly clear to him just how much he'd wanted to live.
Scouting for threats on griffon-back, Bareris, along with his ghostly comrade Mirror, accompanied the servants of Kossuth on their journey south. Kemas tried repeatedly to make a true friend of the bard but always found him taciturn and aloof. He could only pray that, just as Bareris had helped him find his way to fidelity, so too would the blond man one day discover a remedy for the spiritual sick shy;ness afflicting him.
