From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [197]
Achan started toward Bran. Sir Kenton snapped his blade around Bran’s shield, and Bran’s scream slowed Achan’s steps.
Bran crumpled to the roof. Sir Kenton kicked Bran’s sword over to where Esek stood, then turned his dark gaze to Achan, his curtain of hair flowing like a cape. He approached, one slow step at a time.
Achan kept back from Sir Kenton, tentative, trying to see if Bran was still alive. He knew better than to think about Sir Kenton’s strength and skill, but his head told him he would be wise not to engage. To defend only. Shung was still blocked off by three Lord Nathaks, so Achan was on his own. And despite his fear, he couldn’t simply defend. He had to defeat Sir Kenton. He had to win.
He sniffed a long breath through his nose, willing strength to his body. He might not have enough skill to beat Sir Kenton, but Arman did. “Arman hu elohim, Arman hu echâd, Arman hu shlosha be-echâd. Hatzileni, beshem—”
“Your words do not frighten me, boy. I’m no demon.”
Achan nodded to where Esek stood with Lord Nathak. “Yet you keep company with them.”
“Don’t kill him, Sir Kenton,” Esek yelled. “Just tire him a bit for me. I want to be the one to end his life.”
“Are you too much of a coward to face me yourself?” Achan yelled to Esek, almost hoping to fight him instead.
“I’m simply tired of all these games. Rant about my laziness if you must. But I have no qualms about letting Sir Kenton tire you.”
A gowzal shrieked. Shung had defeated another.
Achan let Sir Kenton take the first swing. A jab to his gut. Achan stepped aside, parried, and raked Ôwr over Sir Kenton’s arm on his backslash. The sword sliced into Sir Kenton’s rerebrace, bolstering Achan’s courage.
Sir Kenton growled and swung for Achan’s neck. So Achan ducked and swung for Sir Kenton’s feet. One step ahead, that’s where he needed to stay.
Sir Kenton straightened, then lunged forward with a direct thrust to Achan’s chest. Achan side-stepped and chopped Ôwr over Sir Kenton’s extended arms, not hard enough to do any damage, though.
Easily twisting free, Sir Kenton released a series of blows that weakened Achan’s arms. The last one came so quickly Achan only just managed to parry it.
Blades crossed, Sir Kenton slid his sword along Ôwr toward Achan’s neck. The blade made a thick sound as it sliced against Achan’s leather gorget.
Achan made use of Sir Kenton’s closeness to grab hold of his wrist and chop Ôwr over Sir Kenton’s arm again, this time with more force. Sir Kenton lunged back and shook out his arm as if that last blow had stung.
Even so, cutting wasn’t working against Sir Kenton’s armor. Achan needed to find a place to stab. He took a deep breath, but Sir Kenton whipped out his blade with one hand, stunning Achan with a blow to his shoulder.
Achan staggered, and Sir Kenton stepped close and shoved his hip into Achan’s side, the weight of man and armor enough to knock Achan off balance. A blow to the back of Achan’s leg skidded past his armor and bit into the back of his knee. Achan screamed and skipped aside.
Hold on, Little Cham, Shung said to Achan’s mind.
Sir Kenton grinned at Esek.
Despite his injured leg, Achan darted forward and grabbed the hood of Sir Kenton’s cape. He yanked the man to the ground, dropped a knee to his groin, and drove Ôwr through his exposed armpit.
Sir Kenton sucked in a sharp breath, shuddered, and lay still, staring into the sky. The circling gowzals reflected on his glossy eyes like lost ants. The icy wind swished his black hair over the whitestone roof.
Achan trembled, aghast that he had succeeded against Sir Kenton. He took hold of Ôwr and pulled it out. The white blade, coated in bright blood, didn’t come out as easily as expected.
A curse from Esek snapped Achan’s head around.
To the left of the roof, Shung growled and took down the last apparition.
Achan pushed to his feet, putting