Ghostwalker - Erik Scott De Bie [40]
Meris, charging at their head, hurled his axe with a flick of his wrist and pulled his sword back to slash. Walker's mithral blade snapped around, as though of its own accord, and batted the axe aside. It sailed, end over end, to lodge itself in the wall near Delem. Meris slashed, but Walker dived over the sword, rolled, and came up running, leaving a startled wild scout behind.
The other guards came against Walker, but hesitated under the intensity of his gaze. He knocked aside one half-hearted attack, spinning to his right, and knocked the second guard's blade away with the same swing. This guard staggered back, stunned at the speed of the parry, and Walker kept spinning. As he came up again, he punched the third guard in the face, knocking him down, and continued his spin, his shatterspike coming around…
To spark and lock against Arya's drawn blade, low to the ground.
His momentum spent, Walker settled to his feet and stood against her. He had expected she would give way as easily as the guards, but she did not. Instead, she remained in place, determined, the last obstacle standing between Walker and freedom.
Their eyes met, her steely orbs standing firm against his fierce, dark gaze. There was danger, there was threat, there was resolution, but Arya did not flinch. Exerting her full strength, she held his blade in place, a hand's breadth from her face. They battled, a contest of wills that both knew was of deathly importance.
Of a sudden, Arya realized Walker's eyes were blue. The blue was obscured, hidden beneath the darkness, but definitely there. Her heart leaped and her breath caught.
Then, just like that, Walker pulled away, whirling back in exactly the opposite direction. Meris had reversed his charge and was coming back, but Walker made no move to meet him. Instead, he bounded toward a dark corner and melted away, as though into the very shadows.
No sooner had Walker vanished than Meris's throwing dagger imbedded itself into the wall where he had gone. The wild scout, deprived of his opponent, whirled and searched, but there was no one to be found, except for groaning and disoriented guardsmen.
"Beastlord's bloody-" cursed Meris. Then he stopped, seeing Arya looking at him in shock.
Meris sheathed his sword slowly and deliberately, and retrieved his thrown axe and knife. Without a word to Arya, he shot her a vicious glare and stamped out into the night.
Finally, the knight remembered to exhale.
CHAPTER 7
27 Tarsakh
"Parry, parry, thrust, parry, thrust," Greyt intoned silently as he worked through the familiar movements. His opponent fell back with each of his attacks, but pressed when Greyt took the defensive. The Lord Singer's hand lacked the speed and strength of youth, but it was all the more deadly for experience.
His opponent thrust high suddenly, his sword a silver blur.
Greyt ducked, his knees bending apart. The weapon passed harmlessly over his head. Even as the younger fencer tried to reverse his blow, Greyt's rapier slashed open the dark leather covering the man's side. A line of bright red appeared on his pale flesh.
As his opponent staggered back, Greyt took the opportunity to cuff him on the side of the head. "Keep your guard up, fool!" he shouted. "I should run you through for your stupidity!"
"I'm sorry, Lord Singer-" Tamnus said, dropping immediately to one knee.
Greyt promptly kicked him in the face, launching him backward. Blood streamed from his nose. When Tamnus looked at him in shock, the Lord Singer's mouth was hard.
"Did I say the duel was over?" he snapped. The aide shook his head. Then he cringed when Greyt raised his rapier once more, as though to thrust it through Tamnus's head.
A banging at the door startled Greyt, and he almost thrust. A tingle ran down his spine, and he whirled on the portal.
"Who is it?" he shouted.
"Captain Unddreth, Lord Singer," a rumble came. "I wish an audience with you."
The bard ran