Black wizards - Douglas Niles [139]
Newt sniffed. "Well, we'll go back and see her in a few days. But for now we've got a whole big forest to explore!" With that he dove like an arrow through the leafy canopy, searching for something to interest him.
Still moping, the wood sprite darted behind him.
* * * * *
Daryth emerged from the smithy, running a calloused thumb across the edge of his scimitar. It drew blood without the slightest pressure – the man had done a splendid job!
The Calishite started across Doncastle's shady lanes, on his way back to the inn. The food would be good tonight, he hoped. He resolved to eat much of it, knowing that it might be some time before he got to sit at a table again. The Scarlet Guard was very close – all the rumors on the street indicated that the battle would erupt on the morrow.
He stopped short as a familiar figure stepped out of a tavern, directly in his path. Razfallow froze as his eyes met the Calishite's. The half-ore wore a leather shirt-piece with a high collar and a floppy leather hat with a drooping brim. The disguise was obviously intended to mask the half-ore's race, but Daryth looked full into his beastly face.
"Once again, Calishite?" said the assassin, exposing his wicked pointed teeth with an amused half-smile.
"This will be the last time."
Razfallow suddenly turned and walked, and Daryth followed a few feet behind. He had learned the assassin's lesson well when he had studied under Razfallow at the Academy of Stealth: "Never fail to capitalize on an advantage." It was as if the half-ore taunted him with his back, daring him to strike the single blow that would kill him.
Daryth carefully dropped a hand to his scimitar. He could see the gap between the assassin's hat and his shirt-piece, but something compelled him to hold his hand. Perhaps he wanted to show Razfallow that he had outgrown the old lessons, after all. Or perhaps he wanted to prove to himself that he could beat Razfallow fair and square.
At that moment, the assassin chuckled and stepped into the middle of the street. He whirled in a single, fluid motion, and his shortsword whistled through the air toward Daryth's exposed throat.
But the weapon clanged against the scimitar which had, just as quickly, flashed up to parry the blow. Daryth slashed, and Razfallow leaped away. The Calishite advanced in a crouch, carefully planning his cuts, recovering from each in an instant to clash away the assassin's return thrusts.
Thrust and slash. The half-ore suddenly rushed in, and Daryth backed down the street, almost tripping in a rut. He stumbled and saw the shortsword lash at his chest. He desperately parried the blow, a scant inch from his skin. The move cost him his balance and he dropped to one knee, springing backward before Razfallow could strike again.
Slash and thrust. Daryth drove the half-ore away with a dazzling series of blows. His scimitar whirled like a dancer through the air, barely visible even to the keenest of eyes. But somehow, the assassin's heavy blade blocked each attack. The Calishite stopped momentarily, gasping for breath. He saw the sweat beading on the half-ore's face.
Once again Razfallow rushed, but this time Daryth gave no ground. He stood against the probing blade and laid a vicious slash along the half-ore's forearm. His weariness vanished, and now he leaped in, darting and dodging – pushing the assassin steadily down the street. A ring of bystanders moved with the fight.
Now he sensed a delay in Razfallow's response. Weariness was slowing the assassin's parries. Each of Daryth's attacks came closer to landing, and they could both sense the inevitable end of the fight. For the first time, the Calishite saw something approaching fear in his enemy's eyes – and he relished the sight.
Suddenly Razfallow turned and rolled away from Daryth, springing to his feet and leaping into the ring of bystanders. Razfallow seized the arm of a plump woman and jerked her around to serve as his shield.
But the student reacted quickly to his former teacher's trick. Daryth's silver scimitar followed Razfallow's roll, closed the