Troy Denning - The Sentinel

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“Yes, but he’ll have your heads if you let me go out there alone.” She smiled sweetly, then shrugged. “The choice is yours, of course.”

Arietta heard the gate creaking open behind her, but she did not look back. She was already charging up the street.

CHAPTER 3

It was almost too easy. by all rights, Kleef should have been dead by now. His boots were slipping in his own blood, his arms and legs ached with the ice-cold burn of shadow-inflicted slashes, and his shoulders had grown so weary he could barely swing his sword. Yet somehow, he was still holding the bridge, alone , against an endless stream of shades. It made no sense.

The enemy arrived in twos and threes, rushing in behind flurries of umbral magic and slashing blades, attacking so fiercely Kleef dared not look away. He had no idea what had become of the red-haired woman or the mysterious archer who had come to his aid, and he had long ago lost track of the Shadovar leader-the one with the steel-blue eyes. And yet, his foes never seemed to press so hard that he would be forced to flee, as though they wanted to kill him on Deepwater Bridge or not at all.

At first, Kleef had attributed their caution to Watcher. The agate on the sword’s crossguard continued to glow whenever Shadovar drew near, and they tended to cringe and dodge when it shined in their direction. But the blue light never seemed to cause any injury that would explain their reluctance to mount a full charge, and, he had eventually decided that his opponents were simply trying to keep him from seeing what was happening behind him.

Kleef retreated three quick steps, hoping to buy a moment to look behind him and see what had become of the red-haired woman. Another hissing disk came flying from the right and a cloud of black darts from the left. He ducked the darts and used Watcher to deflect the disk, and his latest trio of foes came rushing in behind a flurry of kicks and slashes.

Kleef stood his ground for two heartbeats, then blocked and pivoted, sending the middle shade flying with a knifehand to the throat. He brought Watcher around in a single-handed chop that buried the sword deep in the collar of the one on the left. He spun away, ripping the blade free and leading with a heel sweep that would prevent his last attacker from slipping in behind him.

Then Kleef glimpsed a yellow streak flying in from the south end of the bridge. He drew up short, just in time to see an arrow take the last shade in the side of the head. The impact lifted him off his feet and sent him flying.

Kleef quickly beheaded all three of his downed foes, then was astonished to look up and find no more Shadovar charging in to attack. For the moment, at least, they had run out of warriors.

Kleef glanced behind him, toward the south end of the bridge.

Twenty paces away, a tall, fair-skinned woman was racing toward him, her blonde hair flying over the shoulders of her ornate hunting armor. She came to a stop ten paces away, nocking a fresh arrow and looking for another target. With pale blue eyes and a wide, full-lipped mouth, she looked vaguely familiar-and entirely out of place charging into battle against the Shadovar.

When she saw Kleef staring at her, the woman cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she called. “Did you want to kill all of them yourself?”

Kleef frowned. “What?” Then, recognizing her sarcasm, he quickly added, “No.”

Leaving it at that, he shifted his attention to the street behind her. The crowd was too dense and churning for him to spot the red-haired woman, or much of anything else. But at least he saw no obvious battle snarls to suggest the Shadovar had found her.

The blonde archer cried out, “ Drop !”

Kleef obeyed instantly. He still hadn’t hit the ground when her arrow sizzled past, barely a hand’s width from his ear, and thudded into its target. He looked up to find another trio of shades almost upon him. A fourth lay behind them, clutching at the arrow in his chest and writhing in pain.

Kleef rose to one knee and swung his sword into the dark tangle of legs coming toward him, and the air erupted into screams. He switched to a one-handed grip and sprang back to his feet, then blocked, ducked, and shouldered forward between two of his attackers. He spun around behind the one on the left end and sent the shade’s head flying, then saw a geyser of dark blood erupt from the middle one as an arrow tore through his throat.

The one on the right end was already five paces past Kleef, halfway to the archer. Holding her bow in one hand, she drew a slender sword and blocked his initial attack, then brought the bow tip around to harry her attacker’s feet. The shade leaped back, then forward again, and only a timely pivot saved the archer from having her armor sorely tested.

By then, Kleef was within striking range. He brought Watcher around high and sent the shade’s head flying.

A gout of dark blood arced from the neck stump, spraying the woman’s golden hair and the left side of her face. Her blue eyes went wide.

“Uh, sorry,” Kleef said, kicking the body away before it could fall on her. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s quite all right,” she said, forcing a smile between lips curled in revulsion. “You were only trying to help.”

Seeing her up close, Kleef felt even more certain he recognized the woman from somewhere-but now was hardly the time to figure it out. He merely nodded, then turned to see whether a fresh wave of attackers had arrived.

And they had. This time, there were more than a dozen, standing in two murky ranks about two-thirds of the way across the bridge. When they did not advance, Kleef began to fear they were simply giving themselves enough room to unleash an onslaught of shadow magic.

Then he began to hear boots pounding up the bridge behind him, and he glanced back to find at least ten men-at-arms charging from the direction of House Seasilver. Their white tabards bore a pale purple wyvern-the sigil of Duke Farnig’s household guard-and they quickly began to gather around the blonde archer.

Kleef stepped over to a gray-bearded man wearing the crimson shoulder-braid of sergeant of the guard, then warned, “Don’t cluster-not against shadow magic.” He waved a hand across the width of the bridge. “Form a battle line here.”

The sergeant’s expression turned resentful, and his men-at-arms frowned.

Then the agate on Watcher’s crossguard flared to life again, and the gazes of all ten men-at-arms dropped to the blue stone. They began to stand a little straighter, their faces started to harden with determination, and Kleef found himself trying to hide his confusion. Clearly, there were a few things about Watcher his father had neglected to tell him.

Finally, the sergeant barked, “You heard the man. Single rank!” He glanced at Kleef, then added, “No one passes!”

The guards responded with a spirited cry and assumed their positions in front of Kleef, their hands filled with daggers and swords. The woman stepped to Kleef’s side, her sword back in its scabbard and a fresh arrow nocked on her bowstring.

Kleef stole one last glance over his shoulder, searching for any sign that more Shadovar might be emerging from the shadows to attack from behind them. At first, he didn’t see anything except the continued mayhem of too many people fleeing up High Bridge Road. But his eye was soon drawn to movement near the Bridge Gate of House Seasilver, and he glimpsed a flash of red hair as it disappeared through the narrow gap of the closing gate.

“The enemy is in front of us,” the archer said. “And you’re welcome, by the way.”

It took Kleef a moment to catch her meaning. “Uh … right.” He looked back to the Shadovar and was alarmed to find them swirling their hands, creating shields of raw shadowstuff. “Thanks for your help.”

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