Sea of Ghosts - Alan Campbell [87]
Banks just shook his head.
‘Keep their attention away from Tummel,’ Granger urged. ‘Make it real. Make it entertaining.’ He saw an opening and thrust his sword at Banks’s undefended left. The private responded instinctively with his own blade, but not before Granger raked the younger man’s hauberk, the edge of his weapon rasping across the steel links.
From the podium he heard Emperor Hu laugh. ‘They’re getting into it now, aren’t they?’ he called out with delight.
Granger kept the pressure on Banks, forcing him back towards the corral wall, towards Tummel. The old Gravedigger merely sat on the ground and stared back at the body of his brother. It seemed that all life had deserted him.
‘On your feet, seaman,’ Granger growled.
But Tummel wouldn’t respond.
Banks, meanwhile, must have realized Granger’s real intentions, for he broke suddenly from the fight, turning his back on Granger even as the colonel’s blade was raised to strike. He grabbed Tummel by his armpits. ‘Get up, you old fool. Get up and fight.’
Granger cursed at Banks’s manoeuvre. The private left himself open to a killing blow. In what he hoped would look like a desperate mistake, he swung the blade furiously at Banks’s right side, striking the top of the buckler hard. The sword skimmed off and stuck into an enormous dragon-bone bar above Banks’s head.
‘It’s a charade,’ the emperor said. ‘Shoot the other one.’
Banks screamed at Tummel. ‘Get up, you old fool!’ He started to drag him upright.
A shot rang out.
Tummel’s head jerked forward. Blood spattered across Bank’s face.
Banks released Tummel’s body and looked up at the Samarol bodyguard, who was now lowering his carbine rifle for the second time. The huge blind warrior detached his seeing knife from the weapon’s barrel and turned it slowly in his fingers. His silver wolf-head helmet grinned blankly.
Banks turned to Granger, a pained expression on his face.
Granger freed his sword from the corral wall and backed away from the other man, assuming a fighting stance.
‘You’d kill me?’ Banks said.
‘If you let me.’
‘Forgive me for saying so, Colonel, but this is the shittiest plan you’ve ever had.’
Granger had no answer for his friend. He glanced over at the the crowd again, but there was still no sign of Briana Marks. Sudden movement caught his attention.
Banks came at him in a desperate fury, now wielding his sword with all the skill Granger knew the younger man possessed. And Granger was hard pressed to parry these blows. Steel clashed and clashed. The plaza seemed quiet but for the crack of swords and the scuffs and grunts of each opponent. And then Banks slammed his buckler into Granger’s face.
Granger recoiled, shaking his head.
A great roar went up from the crowd.
Banks was breathing heavily, his eyes full of pain and fear. He rushed at Granger a second time, that quick mind of his composing a flurry of feints and blows that tested Granger’s own skill to the limits. He seemed detached from his actions, indeed possessed of a strange sort of madness. Only when the two men clashed and wrestled did Banks finally break away. Now Granger could feel pain rising in his chest as the strain of exertion began to take its toll. He doubted he could beat his opponent.
And then he saw Briana Marks.
He realized he had heard the launch’s engine somewhere in the back of his mind, but had not registered it until now. The Haurstaf witch alighted from the slender deepwater craft, and hurried up the dock steps to the plaza. She was wrapped in whale-skins and wore goggles on her forehead. Ianthe was not with her.
Banks turned his sword over and made to move at Granger again.
‘Wait,’ Granger said.
But the young man was already lost to whatever madness or battle lust gripped him. The look in his eyes suggested that perhaps he no longer even recognized his opponent. Everything was about the fight, about survival. He launched a vicious attack with sword and buckler both, thrusting and punching with consummate skill.
Granger parried, but not fast enough.