Elfshadow - Elaine Cunningham [17]
Cherbill slipped the gems into his pocket and stooped to pick up the leather sack that lay beside him. A crafty smile split the soldier's face, and he jerked his head toward the heavy oak door. "Thank you very much. Now get out," he ordered.
"Not until I get what I came for."
"Like all priests, you're a fool," Cherbill said scornfully. "You should have gone when I gave you the chance. What's to stop me from killing you and keeping everything?"
Arilyn reached into a slit in the side of her purple robe and drew out the moonblade. "This?"
A hoot of derisive laughter broke from the man, and his own sword hissed from its scabbard. Wearing a confident sneer, he attacked.
Arilyn sidestepped Cherbill's lunge with contemptuous ease and parried the next several attacks. The soldier changed his strategy. At least five inches taller and one hundred pounds heavier than his opponent, Cherbill tried to overwhelm his slender foe with sheer physical strength. His heaviest blows were turned aside, and soon the soldier's face began to betray exhaustion as well as the first icy touches of doubt.
"Who are you?" he gasped.
"Arilyn Moonblade," the half-elf declared firmly, abandoning the dry whisper of the cleric for her own clear, resonant alto. She pushed back the purple cowl and let Cherbill Nimmt see the battle gleam in her elven eyes.
"I was sent to recover the stolen artifacts. I was to barter for them," she said in a contemptuous voice. "Or do you prefer battle?" Using the two-handed grip that five years of study at the Academy of Arms had not changed, Arilyn raised the moonblade in challenge.
Cherbill seemed to recognize the name. He gulped audibly and let his sword clatter to the floor. "I have no interest in dying." He held up his hands in surrender, then nodded at the bag of artifacts. "Take what you came for and leave."
Arilyn studied him for a moment, her expression dubious. Honor prevented her from attacking an unarmed man, but neither did she trust him to let her go.
"Go ahead," he urged.
She slid her sword into its scabbard, then turned to pick up the bag. Cherbill Nimmt apparently did not know about an elf's peripheral vision, for he grinned in triumph and pulled a long, slender dagger from his belt. His expression said clearer than words that, yes, perhaps the stupid elf-wench could fight, but she was still no match for him. He lunged for her back.
Arilyn whirled and knocked the dagger out of Cherbill's hand in a lightning-quick movement. His jaw hung slack for an astonished moment, then firmed as he closed his eyes and prepared himself to receive the killing stroke.
"Arm yourself."
Her command stunned Cherbill into compliance. He stooped to retrieve his sword, then faced her warily.
"Why?" he asked simply. "If you're going to kill me, why not have done with it?"
"Why not indeed?" Arilyn said dryly. For a moment she wished that the Harpers were not quite so picky about certain matters. As her Zhentish informer had observed, if ever a man needed killing, it was this one. The Harpers were willing to discount her past adventures, but they'd made it clear that assassins-however noble their causes or honorable their methods-were frowned upon. For the most part, Arilyn honored the Harpers' wishes, but at the moment she did not regret that circumstances had again cast her in the role of honorable assassin.
"I did not choose to fight this battle," she told him. "But know this, Cherbill Nimmt of Darkhold: I intend to kill you in honor-bound combat. It is more than you deserve." She raised her sword to her forehead in a gesture of challenge.
Her words held the chilling quality of ritual. Trying to summon a defiant sneer, the soldier returned the salute and assumed a defensive position.
Her first attack was low. Cherbill parried it easily, and his confident grin returned. He beat at her blade, trying to back her against the wall, but Arilyn held her ground and turned aside