Only then did Relam become aware that Oreius and D’Arnlo were still dueling, the sound of their clashing blades ringing on the frosty air. Relam watched amazed as Oreius attacked, his sword a silver blur, striking in perfect rhythm and with destructive power. Somehow, D’Arnlo was fending him off, defending even the fastest attacks skillfully. But the master of the Citadel was also giving ground towards the battlements that surrounded the courtyard on three sides.
Relam wanted to help but the duel was moving too fast for him to follow as a spectator, much less a participant. This was a level of skill and speed that he had not witnessed even in his training with Oreius. This was a duel of masters, lifetime students of swordplay. It was no place for a warrior in training.
Narin stepped up beside Relam, resting a hand on his shoulder. “That,” he observed, “Is a truly humbling sight.”
“Is there no way we can help?” Relam asked desperately.
Narin looked around, then grinned evilly. “How about those halberds?” he suggested. “Stand off a few feet and needle our traitor with them, help Oreius keep him contained.”
“Excellent idea,” Relam agreed. “Cevet, Delan, Sebast, grab halberds and come with us.” As he spoke, Relam sheathed his own sword and grabbed one of the fallen weapons. It was heavier than he had expected, and difficult to wield.
“Circle him!” Relam called to the others as they moved forward. “We need to contain him, keep him from getting away.”
Narin and the lordlings nodded their understanding and fanned out, Relam and Narin taking the ends of the line, the others filling in around Oreius. D’Arnlo saw what they were planning and snarled, locking blades with Oreius, trying to shove past him and move into the open. But Sebast lunged forward and pricked D’Arnlo with his spear point, forcing the master to jump back. As the others closed in, Oreius slowed his attack and then stopped, though he held his sword at the ready. Another moment, and D’Arnlo was pinned against the battlements, completely surrounded.
“Give up, D’Arnlo,” Relam called. “You are beaten.”
“Beaten?” the traitor laughed. “You wish, boy. Let me show you how foolhardy you are.”
D’Arnlo batted Relam’s halberd aside with his sword, then ran at the young prince and tackled him before the others could react. Oreius swiped at the other master as he passed by, but he was too slow.
The traitor smashed into Relam and the prince staggered to the right, bumping against the crenellations. Then, he slipped and fell over the wall, dragging D’Arnlo with him.
They did not fall far, landing on a sloping roof some two meters below. The impact was enough to drive the breath from Relam’s lungs though. D’Arnlo landed on Relam’s legs, pinning him for a moment. Then, they began sliding on the slick roof tiles. Relam kicked free of D’Arnlo, who howled in pain, and slid easily down to another battlemented walkway, facing slightly away from the River Road. Further along the walkway, D’Arnlo tumbled down the roof awkwardly and landed in a heap groaning. But the sword master was far from beaten. Slowly, he got to his feet and drew his sword, murder in his eyes.
Relam got to his feet and drew his own sword, knowing he was hopelessly outmatched. He began backing away slowly, towards the southwest tower of the Citadel.
“Relam! Hold on!”
The prince whirled around and looked up in time to see Oreius vault the battlements around the seventh level courtyard and come sliding down the tiled roof to land behind D’Arnlo. The old warrior landed on his two feet, knees flexed, ready for battle.
The traitor looked from Relam to Oreius and snarled. “You will not stop me, Oreius. The boy will die, and so will you.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Oreius replied, charging into battle again.
Relam watched as the two masters began their duel once more, trying to decide what he should do. He could flee, try to organize help, but he would likely be stuck outside of the Citadel then.
Or, Relam realized, he could fight.
The young prince ran forward, past a wooden door centering the wall to his left, and struck at D’Arnlo’s back, hoping to end the fight then and there. But the sword master blocked the cut contemptuously. D’Arnlo had no time to finish Relam off though because Oreius was attacking again from the other side. Relam continued to dart in and thrust or slash at D’Arnlo as much as he could, hoping that he could distract the traitor long enough for Oreius to finish him. But D’Arnlo fended them both off consistently. Not easily, mind. But there was a reason the man was considered a master.
Relam was preparing to leap forward again, when the door he had noticed earlier slammed open, nearly hitting him as it crashed against the wall. Citadel guards poured from the opening, short swords and shields held at the ready.
“Relam, run!” Oreius shouted. “Get clear!”
The young prince hesitated, then turned and ran for the southwest tower, pursued by at least a dozen Citadel guards. The door to the tower was already open, and Relam somersaulted through the gap, shoving the door closed and throwing the bolt, jumping back as the first guard hit the door at full speed, shaking it in its frame.
Relam backed away for a moment, breathing heavily, and took a moment to get his bearings. He seemed to be in a sort of guardroom, with weapons and equipment hanging from the walls. Relam snatched up a round buckler, fixing it to his
