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I slash and lunge, but the trained guards deflect my blows. Two weapons sail at my head at the same time, and Lady Killer drags my body down. From below, I stab one of them through their boot. The second jumps into the air to avoid my strike.
Two down.
Three left.
While on the ground, I grab a fistful of dirt and rise, throwing it into the eyes of the female guard. Her eyes slam closed, trying to free the grit from them, and I slice her across the ribs in the midst of the distraction.
Two more.
Blood drips down my elbow. Sweat stings the wound as I exert myself. Though it might be a result of my nerves than any actual physicality on my part yet.
The sword lunges toward the ground, and I follow after it. The man I stabbed in the boot made a grab for me, and Lady Killer goes through the flat of his hand, sticking him to the earth.
Oh, gross.
The air is full of shrieks. Blood runs down Lady Killer as I pull her free and size up the remaining two guards.
There’s no going back from this. I need to finish it.
I bring the longsword down, and when it catches on the nearest soldier’s sword, I release my left hand from the hilt and send a closed fist toward his head.
They’re not expecting me to fight with any skill. I’m catching them by surprise. That, my magical weapon, and the fact that they’re trying not to hurt me are the only reasons I’m able to do anything well.
When he takes a step back from the blow, I slash down, and the weapon wedges into his side. He screams, but not as loud as when I pull the sword back out.
The man whose arms I cut comes up behind me, having dropped his weapon and thinking to grab me. I deal with him easily, slicing across his gut.
One left. The one in charge.
I face him, raise my sword in preparation.
And then a figure appears behind him. I hear acrunch, and then the soldier falls to the ground, revealing Kellyn behind him, rock in hand.
“Well done,” he says right before he collapses.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I try to catch him on the way down, but I’m still holding Lady Killer, and I don’t drop the sword in time.
Kellyn groans with every breath he lets out. One hand on his head, the other at his arm.
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “You’re going to be okay. Just wait here a moment.”
As if he could go anywhere.
I try to track down the horses. These weren’t trained warhorses, and they spooked at the first sign of trouble. Kellyn’s mount is nowhere in sight, but I find my gelding grazing in a rich patch of grass about a hundred yards away.
When I bring him back to the blood-soaked clearing, I retrieve one of my waterskins and return to Kellyn. I clean the blood from his head and wrap it with an unsoiled shirt from one of the dead soldiers.
Kellyn snores lightly, and I flick his nose. “What!” he shrieks. Then he’s back to groaning.
“Stay awake.”
“Why?”
“You hit your head.”
“So?”
