Frostfell_ The Wizards - Mark Sehestedt [40]
Gyaidun swiped at the leader with his club, but the Tuigan merely leaned away. Following through, Gyaidun brought the club back around. Again the Tuigan leaned away, but this time Gyaidun let go of his weapon. The long shaft of heavy iron shot forward and slammed into the leader's face. Even over the crackling of the flames and Durja's racket, Amira heard bone crunch. The bandit leader collapsed like a newborn foal.
The handle of Gyaidun's club had about two paces of leather cord braided through it, the other end of which was bound to the big man's wrist. With a flick of his arm he brought the iron club toward him and slapped it back into his hand.
The remaining Tuigan stood alone against a larger foe and a wizard. Amira half-expected him to turn and run. But the Tuigan apparently decided-and rightly so-that it was kill or be killed, and he attacked with renewed ferocity.
Gyaidun blocked two slashes of the man's blade with his club and swiped at the Tuigan with his knife. He missed and the Tuigan lowered his blade and thrust. Gyaidun brought the full weight of his club down on the sword, and the steel blade snapped a hand's length above the hilt. Thrown off-balance, the Tuigan stumbled, and before he could right himself, Gyaidun's long knife swiped under his chin. Blood fountained outward in a long arc as the man fell back.
The Tuigan hammered the ground with his hands and heels. Amira could hear him trying to draw breath into his lungs, and she winced at the wet gurgle. The man coughed, blood and bile sprayed out of the gash in his throat, and Amira looked away. She'd seen worse. Many times. But never did it do anything but fill her with revulsion. "Good," her old master had told her long ago. "That's good. Don't fight the horror. If you do, one day you won't feel the horror at killing anymore. On that day, put away your battle spells and retire to a life of scholarship. Cormyr needs warriors, not murderers."
The fight done, Amira rummaged through their belongings until she found her waterskin. She untied the knot, sloshed water through her mouth and spat, repeating until she could no longer feel grit in her throat. Then she took a long drink, tied the skin shut, and climbed out of the gully.
The fire on the other side was dying. Dry as the grasses were, the cold night had brought dew, and with her magic no longer fueling them, the flames were having a hard time spreading. Steam was rising off four blackened corpses, and for the first time Amira noticed the sweet smell of roasted flesh. She turned away and walked to Gyaidun, who was cleaning his knife and club on the tunic of the dead bandit leader. The Tuigan's skull was bashed in.
The final bandit to fall had stopped his struggles. He lay on his back in a sickly mud, drenched in his own blood, his empty eyes staring up at the cloudless sky. Several paces away lay the body of the first bowman. Gyaidun's blade had cut him deep on the inside of his thigh from knee to groin. Amira knew from her years on the battlefield that such a wound bled a man to death in moments.
Gyaidun stood and sheathed his knife. He was covered with dirt from lying in wait under his sand-covered cloak. He looked to Amira. "You did well, though the fire wasn't the best idea."
Amira bristled. "And why is that?"
"Fire means smoke. A big fire like that made a lot of smoke. Everyone within thirty miles will know right where we are."
Durja landed on a tussock near Gyaidun, let out a final caw, then fell silent.
"I'm a war wizard," Amira said. "I needed something to take them all down fast. It worked."
Gyaidun grunted and walked over to the bowman whom Amira had taken down. Amira followed him.
The man lay in the grass. He clutched at his chest, his face twisted in pain and tears streaking his face. But he was very much alive, though he seemed to be struggling to breathe.
Gyaidun stood over the man. "You and your friends," he said, "you had horses, yes?"
The man glared up at Gyaidun. "Kill me. Spare me my… my shame."
"The horses."
The Tuigan