The look in his eyes scared her. Everything else was numb, but those eyes… there was savage hate in them, a look she’d never seen before. This wasn’t how fights were supposed to be. In her head, men had always gotten cut and just died. They didn’t bleed to death, thrashing on the ground.
There was also far more blood than she’d previously thought. Every time someone got hit with a blade it looked as though the assailant had a wet cloth that they were waving around, but instead of covering the tents, trees, and horses with water, it was with blood.
There was another man there as well, the one that had started the fight. His back was to her, but his long hair was familiar. He was holding two swords that were curved along the forward edge and thicker about two-thirds of the way down. Then they came to sharp points. “Who is he?” she thought. “I wish he would turn around.”
* * * * *
Surprisingly enough, the morons had managed to do something right, Arkin had to admit. Their ambush was good, not as good as one of his, but still good. He was up in a tree looking down on them. One of the big ones was beating Keither. This made him mad, but he needed to wait for the right moment before acting, and maybe this would be good for the boy.
Now the one in command was talking to Sasha. He knew where this was going, but he hoped he was wrong. He preferred that most of the men be asleep during his ambush, but there was a line he would not let the soldiers cross. Beating Keither was one thing. Rape was another.
Anger and annoyance built as the soldier threw Sasha down and start to get on top of her. That was it; it was time whether he liked it or not. Sasha was putting up a fight, which in a way made his job harder. He aimed, felt the weight of the bowstring pulling back. Now the idiot couldn’t find his fly. This was good; he made a perfect target. He let go of the string and as usual the arrow hit right where he intended.
He lunged from the tree, drawing his blades and landing next to Legon and Kovos. A quick flick of the wrists and the ropes were cut, and now it was time to do what he did best. He crossed the camp in a few steps, swinging the two blades as he went. They were great for close-quarter fights. The Elves and Iumenta could deflect arrows with them, but he couldn’t. Not that it mattered; none of the idiots went for a bow. In fact they were way under-armed. The undisciplined fools had put down weapons and armor after they had started in on Keither and Sasha.
Unlike the broadswords most of them were using, his weapons were nearly unbreakable and very sharp, so sharp that he barely felt one of them cut through the soldier’s armor. They passed in between the man’s ribs, slicing lungs and heart. They flashed around him as another man went down, missing his head. He saw Legon taking on two with that cleaver. It wasn’t meant to be a weapon, but it seemed to be getting the job done. There was already a man thrashing on the ground missing an arm.
Arkin turned to look at Kovos. As one of the pathetic soldiers passed by, Kovos hit the man hard in between the shoulders with the pommel of his sword, dropping him to the ground. He looked paralyzed. The pommel had probably broken the man’s back. He’d live for long enough to be interrogated.
Now Kovos was fighting the last man, the one that had beaten Keither, the one that had killed Moleth. Kovos brought the sword down, knocking the soldier’s sword out of his hand, but instead of killing him Kovos threw down his own sword and shoved the man against a tree, holding him by his throat. There was a wild, hateful look in his eyes. He reached down to the soldier’s belt, pulled out his dagger and raised it to his neck. He slashed down, cutting veins and arteries. Then he cut the other side of the neck. He continued to do this again and again until the man’s gurgled scream stopped and he slipped from Kovos’ blood-soaked hands. Kovos turned, letting the lifeless body hit the ground. He looked at Arkin dead in the