The Scrivener s Tale - By Fiona McIntosh Page 0,223

and will occur without me having to think too hard. You should also know that I have had some previous experience with sword - '

Tamas gave a growl of boredom, lunging at Wentzl, who managed to block the hammering blow just in time. 'You talk too much, Cyricus. Wentzl was a man who kept his thoughts to himself. I suggest you shut his mouth and get on with trying to kill me, because I know I can kill you in his body ... just like I killed Aphra.' He grinned maliciously.

Wentzl looked shaken. 'Don't threaten me, Tamas. You are nothing!'

'You look unnerved, Cyricus. You hadn't counted on having the fight brought to you, had you? Now your servant is dead, you are alone. I won't let you get to her, you need to know that.'

Cyricus laughed. 'I will feast on your body when this is done.'

'When this is done, Cyricus, you will feel Wentzl bleeding out from the wounds I plan to inflict. And you will die in the body of a Ciprean soldier.' Tamas laughed. 'A nobody,' he added, knowing Wentzl would forgive him the insult.

Cyricus roared his anger, swung with Wentzl's sword and the fight was on in earnest.

In the tower, Ham stole a glance at the slumped figure of Cassien. He wondered what his brother had thought of his surprise in the Void. He also wondered what Cassien would think of his idea to throw Tamas into the fray. He would know soon enough; it was simple, but fraught with danger. The king had to best Wentzl. Then Ham was going to be the one who would lure the demon - give him the choice of certain death or a chance to fight a different sort of battle.

Time was slipping away. Cassien's body would cool inwardly and no longer accept him back if they left it too long. Even blankets wouldn't help, although he had considered it briefly.

He shifted his attention to the fight. Tamas had been doing well; clearly, he was the better swordsman and obviously far too modest because he'd never mentioned his ability. But he was the elder man by a decade. In Captain Wentzl's body, Cyricus was stronger, faster. Tamas looked to be wearying.

He watched the king feint and strike. He caught Wentzl a slashing blow on his fighting arm and Wentzl shrieked with pain. Blood flowed easily. Good, that would slow him ... in fact, that was the way to win this fight. Ham checked again on Cassien and then took the risk, hurtling down the staircase two at a time until he rushed out into the main yard, emerging from the shadow of the cloisters.

'Your majesty,' he yelled.

'Busy right now, Ham,' Tamas yelled back, blocking and swinging, missing a nasty hack at his calf, dancing out of the way just in time.

'Wound him, your majesty. Make him bleed any way you can.'

'Who in the devil's bright blood is this, Tamas? You take advice from a boy now?'

'You should too, Cyricus,' Ham said, beginning the ruse, 'because I would advise you to give up this mortal body.'

Tamas, not yet bleeding, but visibly slowing, sneaked in a crushing blow that damaged Wentzl's shoulder.

'You'll pay for that, Tamas,' Cyricus groaned, but Ham could see that the king had gone into the fighting trance that Ham had heard spoken of when he looked after swordfighters in Orkyld. He'd had it explained by several different men as they talked of the curious 'space' they fell into when fighting. You go within yourself, one had said, in order to stay focused and not be distracted. Another had likened it to wearing blinkers: You are simply not aware of anything around you, other than your opponent's blade and where the weight of his body is shifting. And that's how Tamas looked now. Completely absorbed and dedicating himself to parrying the sudden flurry of blows that his younger, stronger opponent was pressing. Tamas was holding, twisting and turning his sword with skill and courage to ensure the flat of the blade met the blows and deflected them, although his shoulders were likely burning by now. In fact, Ham could see he raised his hands slightly lower with each parry. Time was getting away. Was it already too late?

Even so Ham urged him again.

'Make him bleed, sire!'

'Shut up!' Cyricus roared, turning his blade on Ham, which was a foolish error, for Tamas - in his 'space' - saw the opening and took his