From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [196]
The six apparitions of Lord Nathak drew their swords. Ghosts or not, the sound of steel against wood stabbed shards of ice through Achan’s warmth. He rocked from one foot to the other and squeezed Ôwr’s grip in two hands. He turned his back to Shung. Just like the practice melee in Carm.
Aye, we will triumph.
Achan wished he had Shung’s confidence. He reached for Lord Nathak’s mind, hoping to glean something useful, but pain stabbed his skull. He drew up his shields, wary of the dark magic Duchess Amal had sensed. A gowzal squawked overhead. Arman, give me strength to fight this enemy. Help me to do Your will.
The apparitions attacked. One thrust a blade at Achan’s chest, which he blocked with Ôwr. It certainly felt like real steel against his blade, with real mind and muscle behind it. Before he could regroup from the first attack, a sword glanced off his leather rerebrace, another cleaved into his left greave. Frustrated, he lashed Ôwr out in an wide arc, shocked to see the silvery blade pass through all three apparitions. Where was that steel and muscle now?
It was nothing he shouldn’t have expected. How did one kill an illusion? Last time Duchess Amal had stormed the wielder, but this wielder was too strong.
Achan could only defend himself. Before long the apparitions separated him from Shung, circled around, stabbing and hacking their misty blades. They didn’t seem stronger than regular men. Just invincible. Achan swung Ôwr wide again, failing to take any ground. He adjusted his footing, concentrated, and cut for the nearest apparition’s leg. Like nicking a tree branch, his sword made contact with something.
The apparition transformed into a gowzal. The bird squawked and flapped over Achan’s head, then began to rematerialize as Lord Nathak to his left. Achan struck the creature before it could fully form.
A short screech and the gowzal fell to the roof, flapped a few paces, and stopped to screech one last time. Achan had cut off its wing. He lunged toward the creature and kicked it down the stairwell.
Shung! He spun around in time to block a strike from another of Lord Nathak’s apparitions. Concentrate on the mind within. There is a gowzal in each. You can kill them. The birds, I mean. Strike at the mind, and then when the bird appears, kill it. You must kill the bird. A rebuke helps you see it.
A shriek turned his head. A puff of feathers drifted over Shung and two remaining apparitions. Ahh. Very wise, Little Cham. Shung will fix them now.
By instinct, Achan kicked his attacker. His foot passed through its body, bringing an icy chill with it. The apparition pushed him aside and cut across Achan’s neck. His gorget blocked the strike, but it still knocked Achan down. The tower shook under his body. He rolled back to his feet and got into position again.
A sword scraped against Achan’s armor from the back. He ducked and ran past where Bran and Sir Kenton fought to the edge of the roof. His two attackers split up. One came after him. The other went after Shung, who was still fighting two Lord Nathaks of his own.
They were still trying to keep Shung from helping him.
Achan’s attacker managed to nick the side of his knee between his cuisses and greaves. Achan rebuked himself. Here Shung fought three to Achan’s one, and Achan still got hit.
His rebuke reminded him of the words Inko had used on Barthos. It couldn’t hurt. Achan repeated the words aloud. “Arman hu elohim, Arman hu echâd, Arman hu shlosha beechâd. Hatzileni, beshem Câan, ben Arman.”
He wasn’t completely sure these were the right words, but they did seem to have an effect. The apparition shimmered. Only a dark blob in its head seemed more solid. Achan swung for the dark spot, and his sword hit something solid. This Lord Nathak vanished. And the gowzal plopped to the roof, dead, feathers floating on the air.
Achan ran across the tower roof toward Shung