Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [281]
When he had entered the docks a few moments before, he had seen King Eventeo disappear down a side alley. He now dashed toward that same alley.
His prey would follow.
“Raoden!” Sarene said, pointing at the fleeing Dilaf.
“Let him go,” Raoden said. “He can do no more damage.”
“But that’s the way my father went!” Sarene said, tugging him toward the alley.
She’s right, Raoden thought with a curse. He took off behind Dilaf. Sarene waved him on, and he left her behind, letting his newly reconditioned Elantrian legs carry him to the alleyway at an extraordinary speed. The other Elantrians didn’t see him go, but continued to fight the monks.
Raoden entered the alleyway, barely puffing. Dilaf tackled him a second later. The monk’s powerful body appeared out of a shadowed corner, slamming Raoden into the alley wall.
Raoden cried out, feeling his ribs crack. Dilaf backed away, unsheathing his sword with a smile. The priest lunged forward, and Raoden barely rolled away in time to avoid being impaled. As it was, Dilaf’s attack sliced through the flesh of Raoden’s left forearm, spilling silvery-white Elantrian blood.
Raoden gasped as pain washed through his arm. This pain, however, was weak and dull compared to his former agonies. He forgot it quickly, rolling again as Dilaf’s blade sought his heart. If his heart stopped again, Raoden would die. Elantrians were strong and quick-healing, but they were not immortal.
As he dodged, Raoden searched through his memory of Aons. Thinking quickly, he rolled to his feet, rapidly scribbling Aon Edo before him. It was a simple character, requiring only six strokes, and he finished it before Dilaf could make a third attack. The Aon flashed briefly, and then a thin wall of light appeared between himself and Dilaf.
Dilaf tested the wall hesitantly with the tip of his sword, and the wall resisted. The more one pressed against it, the more it drew from the Dor, pressing back with equal strength. Dilaf could not reach him.
Casually, Dilaf reached up and tapped the wall with his bare hand. His palm flashed briefly, and the wall shattered, shards of light scattering through the air.
Raoden cursed his stupidity—this was the man who had destroyed his illusionary face just a day before. Somehow, Dilaf had the power to negate Aons. Raoden jumped back, but the sword snapped forward more quickly. The tip did not strike Raoden’s chest, but struck his hand instead.
Raoden cried out as the sword pierced his right palm. He brought his other hand up to cup it around the injured one, but the wound on his forearm blazed with renewed vigor. Both hands were incapacitated; he could no longer draw Aons. Dilaf’s next attack was a casual kick, and Raoden’s already wounded ribs cracked further. He cried out and dropped to his knees.
Dilaf laughed, tapping Raoden on the side of the face with the tip of his sword. “The Skaze are right, then. Elantrians are not indestructible.”
Raoden didn’t answer.
“I will still win, Elantrian,” Dilaf said, his voice passionate and frenzied. “After Wyrn’s fleets defeat the Teoish armada, I will gather my troops and march on Elantris.”
“No one defeats the Teoish armada, priest,” a feminine voice interjected, a blade flashing out to strike at Dilaf’s head.
The priest yelped, barely bringing his own sword up in time to block Sarene’s attack. She had found a sword somewhere, and she whipped it in a pattern that moved too quickly for Raoden to track. He smiled at Dilaf’s surprise, remembering how easily the princess had defeated his own skills. Her weapon was thicker than a syre, but she still handled it with remarkable proficiency.
Dilaf, however, was no ordinary man. The bone patterns beneath his skin started glowing as he blocked Sarene’s attack, and his body began to move even more quickly. Soon Sarene stopped advancing, and almost immediately she was forced to begin retreating. The battle ended as Dilaf’s sword pierced her shoulder. Sarene’s weapon clanged to the cobblestones, and she stumbled, slumping down next to Raoden.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.