The Dark Rider - By Andrew Critchell Page 0,57

that feels like, Gwen, to have your life fall apart in front of you?” She shook her head slowly waiting for the move she knew he would inevitably make. “To be used to destroy the very things you loved and cherished?”

“Myrkur blinded us all, Paul,” she replied, her heart heavy. “I had no idea what you truly are, believe me, I am sorry.”

“Sorry?” he laughed. “Is that all you have to say for what you have done?”

“It is something I cannot change now,” she said in acceptance. “Further emotion serves no purpose.”

He looked at her, his eyes spearing into her, and she fought to stop him from seeing into her soul.

“You know why I am here,” he said. “Let me pass.”

“No, Paul,” she replied. “That is something I cannot do.”

“Then I will kill you,” he said.

“You can try,” she replied defiantly holding her sword up high. “But you do not know everything.”

For a moment he considered her, reminding her of the boy she had met all those years ago. How young he had been, how elated she had been at finding him, believing in him, believing that he was the one. And now it had come to this. A deep sorrow filled her heart.

He urged his horse forward slowly, wary of her and her magic. They circled once, eyes locked. She was scared of him, scared of how powerful he was.

He lunged forward, his sword piercing the air like an arrow heading straight for her chest. She moved deftly to one side, swinging her own sword down in a sweeping arc towards his unguarded shoulder. Metal sang against metal as she struck his armor, her blow glancing off the dark material.

Already he was turning, his broadsword curving round in a massive circle which she blocked with her raised blade, the edge of his black blade emitting sparks as it cut across and down her own weapon. She shifted her body weight backwards, swinging again as she did so but this time he blocked her attack and he turned, coming at her with a relentless series of heavy blows which she blocked with increasing effort, each sending shockwaves down her shoulders and across her body.

She was forced backwards, her magic failing, horse whinnying with the effort, the warhorse trying to butt and stamp against her own lighter steed, and she felt herself tiring, oh so tired, each blow an overwhelming full assault on her senses, and just when she thought her magic would fail, he stopped, pulling his horse around to stand a few meters away from her.

“You cannot defeat me, Gwen.”

She panted heavily, mustering her strength and energy.

“You are already defeated, Paul, if you are with him.”

“I will find her and I will kill her,” he said. “Now let me pass and I will spare your life.”

“There is only one way you will pass me,” she replied.

He stared at her, eyes revealing nothing.

“So be it.”

He came at her, and as he did so she pulled her arm back and threw her sword with all her force and power like a javelin straight at the center of his body. She then jumped up onto her horse’s back and leapt high into the air, drawing a silver knife from her belt as Paul twisted desperately to avoid the tip of the incoming blade which cut through the armour of his shoulder and raked deeply across his flesh before glancing off to land in the soil behind him.

Gwen saw the cut as she arced gracefully across the sky above him, and as she soared her heart leapt for she saw that there was a chance, that perhaps she could win, and for a moment she felt a great happiness fill her and the land in one rich pulse of life and she plummeted down towards him, knife drawn and ready to strike.

As the sword cut him Paul howled in pain, the impact of the blade cutting deep and accelerating the turning movement of his body. He found himself falling from his horse and above him a flash of pure, beautiful light such as he had never seen filled his senses and he fell with a jarring crash onto his back, pain ripping through his shoulder, the blade of his sword pointing skywards and, still blinded by the light, he felt something heavy land on him with a sickening thud, and then all was silent.

Moments passed and then Paul groaned, pain arcing in burning spasms down his left side. He felt a sharp pricking

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