Page 18 of Swordheart
Sarkis took a step forward. Roderick took a step back.
The first swing was clearly a test. The guard slapped it away and countered with a swing of his own. Sarkis didn’t even bother to counter, simply leaned back and let it cleave empty air.
Another exchange of metal and Sarkis drove Roderick down two steps, apparently without effort.
They’re fighting in the dark. On the stairs. This can’t be a good idea.Halla wondered if she should be helping. She had quite a large sword on her back, didn’t she?
And if I try to swing it, I’ll probably accidentally take Sarkis’s head off and that will be extremely awkward for everyone. Does that count as a mortal wound? I imagine it would have to be, wouldn’t it? Or is it worse than mortal? Would he be able to come back from that?
“Sarkis, is beheading just a mortal wound?”
“What?”
“I thought—”
“Great god’s breath, not now!”
Roderick swung again and was easily batted back down the stairs.
“Is this how you defend your liege’s house?” Sarkis growled.
“I told you, it’s just a job,” said Roderick.
“If you were a man in my command, you’d be stripped of rank for such half-heartedness!”
Roderick might have had something to say to that, but Sarkis swung at his head and the guardsman was driven back down the steps. His back struck the front door of the house.
A clammy hand closed over Halla’s wrist. She cried out, partly in surprise and partly in disgust. “Let go of me!”
“Come on,” hissed Cousin Alver. “While Roderick’s got him distracted!”
“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Halla twisted her arm, feeling Alver’s rings cut into her skin. “You’re a nasty little—little—”
She was trying to think of something suitably nasty and little to describe Cousin Alver when Aunt Malva slapped her.
For all her querulousness, there was nothing elderly about that slap. Halla’s head rang. She stumbled backward, missed her footing on the stairs, and fell. Alver yelped and released her wrist as if it were on fire.
Uh-oh,she thought, and that was as far as she got before someone caught her.
Her weight knocked Sarkis into the wall, but he kept his feet somehow, holding her up with one arm while she tried to get her footing back. She heard a scrape of steel and a hiss of anger.
“Are you all right?” she said. “I fell on you.”
“I fear that I am going to have to kill your aunt’s hireling.”
“Go right ahead.”
“Hey now—” said Roderick.
Sarkis released her and struck out with sudden fury.
The guardsman let out a squall of surprise and fell over sideways. Malva screamed.
As the echoes faded, the sound of Roderick’s labored breathing seemed very loud in the house.
“Is he going to die?” whispered Halla.
“He may or may not. But he won’t hold a sword again.” The servant of the sword looked back up the steps toward Malva. The candle in the old woman’s hand shook so wildly that the flame looked close to guttering out.
