Shadows of Doom - Ed Greenwood [100]
Sunthrun Blackshoulder attacked with dazzling speed, striking at Belkram's face and throat. Only frantic parries saved the Harper's life. Sharantyr turned, punched the back of a Wolf's neck she found within reach, and lashed out with her blade to cut the Right Axe on the elbow above his free hand.
Blackshoulder roared and turned on her. Sharantyr leapt to one side, got her arm around the neck of another Wolf, and swung him in front of her as a shield, just in time to take the Right Axe's vicious thrust. She fell back as the tip of his black blade came out of the Wolf's back, parting the plates of his armor as if it were rotten leather.
Sharantyr rolled on the floor and contrived as she came up to trip another Wolf's feet out from under him. Itharr killed that one, tossing her a smile as he attacked the next. One of the dalesmen gurgled horribly and went down as a blade found his throat.
They were still killing old men, these Wolves. Angrily Sharantyr ran at the Right Axe again as he shook the corpse from his blade. Belkram hacked down a Wolf to reach Blackshoulder from one side just as the Right Axe's blade came free, and the lady Knight came at him from the other.
Blackshoulder tried to duck and parry, to force them into each other. It would have been a good move against the inexperienced warriors he obviously thought them to be.
Both the Harper and the Knight followed the Right Axe's move. As Belkram's blade bound and lifted the Zhentilar's weapon, Sharantyr's sword found the armpit of his raised sword arm. She moved with him, driving it in deep. After a moment's resistance, her blade slid in easily. Right Axe Sunthrun stiffened, spat blood, and collapsed silently to the floor. Gedaern of the dale, intent on a battle of his own, stepped on the Axe's head a moment later and almost apologized before he saw whom he'd trampled.
"Are there more?" Itharr asked as the Wolf he'd been fighting fell heavily against the wall and slid down it, gauntleted fingers clawing feebly for a hold.
They looked around. Not a Wolf was left, but Gedaern and the oldest graybeard were the only dalesmen still standing. The two Harpers looked at Sharantyr, and she looked back at them.
"Shall I?" Itharr asked, waving at the door. Sharantyr smiled.
Belkram sighed. "Itharr, one always opens doors for a lady," he said in mock despair.
Itharr bowed and opened the door silently. They went in.
19
How High Dale Changed Hands
The great hall seemed full of councillors, all of them frightened and trying not to show it. They fumbled nervously for swords as the guard of Wolves seated just inside the door stopped looking bored and leapt up to bar the way with bared blades.
Sharantyr did not slow down. With a set, grim face she struck aside the blade of the first Wolf and leaned past him to put her blade into the face of the Wolf behind, who was still rising. His gurgle as he slumped down again died away unheard amid the sudden babble of fearful voices.
"Gods! They've reached us-here!" "A woman! Who-?"
"Zarduil's down! She's killed Zarduil! Wasn't he Heladar's best?"
"The men-those two! They're the ones who slew Long-spear!"
"Steady! The guards can handle them!" Stormcloak snapped. He turned eyes of cold iron on Sharantyr, who looked icy death back at him, then deliberately turned his back on the intruders and waved the councillors back down into their seats.
"Ignore them," the wizard said coldly. "They will be dead in a moment."
Several of the councillors shot frightened looks past him, their expressions telling all who had eyes to see that they were not so confident. Another looked on with silent interest.
The leather worker, Blakkal Mord, had once been a fighting man. The scars on his face and arms betrayed his past to all. None in the High Dale, he was sure, knew that he was still a warrior, in the service of the Cult