Silver Shadows - Elaine Cunningham [117]
Sound traveled well under the water, and as Arilyn clung to the rocks at the bottom of the river, she heard the puzzled oaths of the mercenaries who'd come out to finish off the poacher, only to find no trace of him. Arilyn watched as they caught the raft and pulled it ashore, and she blessed Black Pearl, her half-sea-elf friend, for the gift of the amulet that enabled her to stay underwater.
But it occurred to her, belatedly, that she should have explained this bit of stored magic to her companions.
Apparently the admonition to stay hidden and quiet regardless of how things appeared to be going had not been sufficient for the loyal Hawkwing. Arilyn's blood chilled as a long, shrill cry filtered down to her through the water. She'd heard the elf maid's battle yell often enough to know what it was.
Arilyn braced her bare feet against the stones and pushed up with all her might. She broke the surface of the water and swam for shore so that she could join her friends in battle. Where Hawkwing went, the others would surely follow.
The half-elf splashed ashore, drawing her sword as she came. The scene before her was not encouraging. At least thirty men poured from the barracks-far too many for the four of them to handle. Arilyn kicked into a running charge. Even so, she could do nothing but watch as the fierce elf child went down, clutching at the bright ribbon that a mercenary's sword had opened along the length of her fighting arm.
But Hawkwing was nothing if not resilient. She rolled aside, slapping her dagger into her other hand as she went. The elven girl came up with a fire in her eyes that no amount of blood could quench-not hers, and certainly not that of her enemies.
Arilyn reached the nearest of the mercenaries and delivered a vicious backhanded slash. The man got his sword up in time to parry, but the speed and force of her blow knocked the weapon from his hand. The half-elf stepped back, then lunged in, her sword driving precisely between the man's third and forth ribs and into his heart. She pivoted slightly, putting the soldier's body between herself and the charging attack of a second man. She planted her foot in the dead mercenary's middle and kicked him off her blade-and into the second man's path.
The charging mercenary couldn't pull up in time, and the sword he held before him in a lancelike attack thrust deep into his comrade's body. Arilyn circled around behind the confused human with three quick steps. With a mighty, chopping blow she severed his spine before he could withdraw his blade.
She whirled, moonblade held before her in guard position, to face the approach of a third man. This one moved with a light, measured tread and wore an expression of supreme self-confidence. He smirked as he raised his sword in a parody of the salute that would begin a gentleman's duel.
A nobleman's son turned soldier-of-fortune, Arilyn reasoned, one who was prepared to amuse himself at the expense of the commonborn lad before him. In short, an idiot.
Arilyn let out a brief; disgusted hiss. She parried the rogue nobleman's first lunge, countered with a quick underhand sweep-which was also deftly parried-and followed up with a flurry of ringing exchanges. He met each of the thrusts and returned as often as he parried. The man was good, but not nearly as skilled as he seemed to think he was.
The half-elf spun, faked a stumble, and went down on one knee with her back toward him. To all appearances, it would be a fatal fumble. She could almost feel his supercilious smile as he raised his sword for the killing blow.
Arilyn listened to the whistling sweep of the descending blade; then, at precisely the right moment, she lifted her moonblade up high overhead to meet it. She leaped to her feet and turned hard to confront him, pushing their joined blades around and down as she came. The speed of the unexpected attack threw the swordsman off-balance. Arilyn, however, lashed up high and