Heirs of the Blade_ Shadows of the Apt_ Book Seven - Adiran Tchaikovsky [220]
Well, I am off the leash now, and she retreated back towards the gates, even as another flight of Dragonfly-kinden dropped down, armed retainers of the Salmae and her visitors.
‘Get the gate open!’ she shouted, and risked a brief glance over her shoulder to see that the brigands had the bar off, but were being attacked even now. Airborne guards began swooping on them, and she saw Soul Je’s little bow sing, spitting shafts through the night air with a calm, sure aim, backed by the fierce flash of Mordrec’s Wasp-kinden sting.
She went after them then, turning her back on her opponents and trusting to her reputation and her reflexes to keep them at bay for just long enough. Half the brigands were already through the gates now, and running, and she saw Dal Arche trying to muster the rest to get them moving. She arrived in a flurry of steel, picking one of the attackers from the air even as he swooped down. ‘Go!’ she heard herself yelling. Dal’s expression made it plain that was exactly what he was attempting, but then his eyes fell on something behind her, and she read his face and turned.
There was a pale figure emerging from the hatch leading to the prison: a white-haired Mantis-kinden that she knew well.
The guards dropped towards them again in renewed numbers, and for a moment it was all they could do to defend themselves. Most of the brigands kept going, getting clear of the castle, putting more and more of a burden on those few that remained. The first few guards flying over the courtyard wall, in pursuit of the escapees, met with Soul Je’s bow as he kept watch and picked them off.
‘Go!’ Tynisa shouted, and then realized that they had, that even Dal Arche was now backing away as Isendter Whitehand approached, and that there was only one left there beside her to hold off the guards. It was Ygor the Scorpion-kinden, the short spear bloody in his clawed hands. Behind them there was a flurry of wings, an arrow singing through the air, as Soul Je waited on to keep the fliers at bay.
A reverent hush fell over the guards of Leose, and they started backing off, giving room for Isendter himself. Imperial soldiers would have brought Tynisa and Ygor down by now, with these superior numbers, and sent Light Airborne out to kill the fleeing brigands, but they did things differently here in the Commonweal, and as the Salmae’s champion took the field, he was given time and space to act.
Whitehand stepped to within a few yards of them, his face expressionless, and Tynisa had a moment of wondering what he was waiting for. Then she realized: Single combat, a duel of Weaponsmasters – that’s what he wants. The Mantis intended to accord her the honour due to her badge, before he killed her.
Tynisa did indeed feel honoured. It was the right and proper way, such a fight, and such a death. For a moment she straightened up, directing her sword towards him, but then the crippling thought came, That’s what Tisamon wants as well, the spectre of her father pulling her strings just like before, tugging her down the road of Mantis tragedy. She faltered, and was not ready as Isendter’s stance shifted, impatient for the strike.
They had both forgotten Ygor. The Scorpion moved in a sudden, ugly lunge that would sully the name of any Weaponsmaster. For a moment it seemed that he intended to spit Tynisa herself with his spear, and she had a split second’s glimpse of those eyes, mad with fury and vengeance for his dead pet, his lost wife. Then he was past her, throwing himself at Isendter.
He hurled the spear, and that nearly won him the fight. Isendter was not expecting the enemy to disarm himself, and if he had simply swayed aside, then one of the Dragonflies behind would have taken the shaft in the chest. Instead he struck the spear to the ground with a swift motion of his claw, as Ygor charged him with taloned hands spread wide.
Dal