Ghostwalker - Erik Scott De Bie [85]
The ghostwalker could not stop himself. He wheezed.
Sneering, Meris turned back to the Arya. His eyes were burning, but it was not merely anger this time. He smiled and turned back to Walker.
"I hope you live long enough to see this," he snarled to Walker, who could do nothing but twitch in reply. "I've waited for this a long time as well."
He gestured to his men, and they began pulling off the rest of Arya's armor. At first, the knight struggled, kicked, and screamed, but Darthan slapped her on the side of the head and she lay there, dazed, stunned, and helpless once more. Meris, standing over her, untied his cloak and began unbuckling his leather cuirass.
Walker tried to rise, but he could not. His strength literally bleeding away with his life, he, too, was helpless. The wild scout finished with the hauberk, looked down at Arya, and turned to grin at Walker one last time.
A whistling alerted Meris just in time to jerk aside as a throwing knife darted for his face. As it was, the projectile lodged itself in his shoulder. Roaring in pain, he dropped to the forest floor. Two of his rangers fell: Tough-Face cursed the blade in his arm and Thin-Man tried to breathe around the one in his throat.
Red-Hair turned in time to meet a huge man who leaped from the brush with a pair of maces.
"Forth the Nightingale!" the big man screamed, and his maces whirred in reply. They took the blades from Red-Hair's hands before the ranger could react. Then the wielder spun, and the first mace crashed into Red-Hair's chest with bone-crunching force. As the ranger started, the second mace slammed into his back, crushing his body between the two weapons. Red-Hair collapsed to the ground.
"A mighty blow, Sir Hartwine!" a weasel-like voice said.
"I wasn't the one who took down three in one breath!" Bars shouted back as he swung his twin maces around to knock an axe away and lunged, driving Tough-Face back a step.
Bars might have pursued, but he threw himself onto his back to avoid an arrow from Gieves that cut a red line across his shoulder. With the momentary respite, Tough-Face pulled his light crossbow from his belt and trained it on a spot in the brush.
"I suppose no one's perfect," replied Derst as he stood from that spot, letting fly with two more knives. "Except me."
One of the blades neatly cut Gieves's bowstring and the other slashed across Tough-Face's forearm, ruining his aim. The ranger fired anyway, and the bolt drove into a tree a hand's breadth from Derst's head.
Bars roared and slugged Tough-Face in the stomach with a mace, knocking the bulky man back. The paladin pushed himself to his feet, only to find that he had to roll away again to avoid more weapons.
Disbelieving, Derst blinked at the quivering bolt for a moment. Then the wiry knight saw Darthan aiming a short-bow at him, holding it horizontally like a crossbow.
Derst leaped out of the brush, hooked his chain-dagger about Darthan's bow, and ripped it from the man's hand. Unarmed, the ranger reached down for a short sword but instead found a dagger sticking out of his side. The man went down swearing and Derst jumped over his head to engage Tough-Face, who bellowed in anger and slashed his war axe at the wiry man.
Derst dived under the slash and rolled back to avoid the next, overextending Tough-Face's reach. The man staggered and caught himself just in time to avoid landing on his face at Derst's feet. The short man looked down at his chain-and-dagger, then at Tough-Face's war axe, then up at Tough-Face sheepishly. Derst backpedaled, dodging slash after slash and seeking some respite to plan an offensive.
Meanwhile, Gieves drew a short sword and lunged at Bars, who barely had time enough to stand before he had to defend himself. Darthan rose, despite the pain in his bowels, and attacked Bars's flank with a pair of hand axes. Outnumbered, the paladin backed away to keep both opponents in his field of vision, but the rangers were