
before he had to turn the jab from his left, then snap his shaft up to block a
blow from the front. He kept the movement going, though, bringing it down hard
to his right, stabbing into the shoulder of his attacker just as the man was
starting a strike of his own. The soldier dropped his spear with a yell of pain,
and Coll fell to one knee, ducking under the stroke from his right, feeling the
blade graze his cheek, waking pain, but he came up to stab from below at the man
in front. His spearhead found blood; then his shoulder struck the man's midriff,
carrying the soldier into the spear of the one behind him.
Now Coll was free, leaping and turning at a fourth soldier. Another slammed into
him from his side; agony streaked the back of his shoulders, but he drove his
spear butt into the man's belly, then yanked it back and cut with his spearhead
as though it were a sword, slashing the arm of the soldier who had been on his
right. The man staggered back, howling and clutching his wound, then tripped
over one of his companions and fell.
And, suddenly, it was over, except for the two knights. The shorter stranger
stood in the midst of three fallen soldiers, blood staining his sleeve and
running down the side of his face, but the grin he gave Coll was sure and
strong. Coll found himself grinning back. Then they turned together to watch the
duel, both ready to leap in and help.
There was no need; it was clear the bigger man would already have won if his
opponent hadn't been wearing armor. As it was, blood was seeping through the
chain mail between breastplate and hip guard, and the giant's doublet was
streaked with crimson. But the big man fought only with a rapier and dagger,
where the knight hewed at him with a two-handed broadsword.
The giant leaped back from a particularly vicious slash, grunting, "Save it for
an oak!" The knight stumbled after his sword, off balance, and the stranger
stepped in with an extra push! The knight cried out and fell, but he rolled onto
his back quickly, slashing as he rolled. The giant swung hard, knocking the
sword on down to the earth, where he set one big foot on the blade. The knight
cursed, trying to tug it free-then froze, seeing the sword tip poised over the
eye-slit in his visor.
"Surrender," the big stranger said softly, "or I strike." The knight cursed him
again and shouted, "Strike, cow ard!"
The stranger's eyes narrowed, but he held the blade poised and said, without
looking, "Dirk, shell this lobster for me, will you?"
"Come on," Dirk said to Coll, and stepped forward to begin unbuckling the
knight's armor. The man cursed him furiously, but didn't dare move for fear of
the sword aimed at his eyes. Coll grinned and stepped in to help.
They threw the plate aside, revealing a heavily muscled man in a sweat-stained
gambeson.
"Now the helmet," the big man instructed, and pulled the sword tip back just
long enough for Dirk to yank the helmet off the man. The knight was yellow
haired and hardfaced, with cold grey eyes, a scar on his lip, and murder in his
eyes.
"Back," the big man instructed.
"Anything you say, Gar." Dirk stepped back.
So did Gar. "Get up," he said to the knight, "and take your sword." He cast his
own aside.
The knight stared in disbelief, then gave a gloating laugh as he scrambled to
his feet, caught up his sword, and struck.
Gar danced back; the blade hissed by an inch from his chest. Before the knight
could recover, Gar leaped in, caught his wrist on the backswing, and jammed the
man's elbow against his own. The knight cried out in surprise and pain; Gar
twitched his arm, and the sword fell from nerveless fingers. Then the big man
leaped back, letting the knight stumble free. He rubbed his arm, glaring up at
Gar, and spat, "Son of a chancred whore!"
"Pleased to meet you." Gar bowed. "Myself, I am a son of a lord."