“Heel to the Marher!” I called out to the dogs. At once a horse reared up in wild terror. It was felled to the earth, but its rider was unharmed. He drew sword to me and down he came upon me.  I swung about and behind him, dashing out of his aim. His sword swept beneath my legs as I jumped up and drew my own. The two blades then slashed, and we both flung the blows aside. The din of the other weapons clashing was merely distant noise; for I was intent upon my enemy as I watched the torchlight flicker on his face.  Another blow came, swinging my blade heavily to the side. Our darts became swift and unbroken. We battled each other back to the gateway to the street, where the torchlight groped to reach.

*****

The lantern began to swing as another bang clamored upon the door. I did not dare to stir. I felt my hand trembling as it clutched the side of my cloak. Another bang came, the third one. The door’s hinges rattled. I looked about to the door of this lower level. The bronze key had a faint glimpse of the fire in the hearth. It became silent above. I turned. A soft scraping sound against the wooden door came. I froze again. The ticking of Celgarian became a tenseness of irritation. The scraping continued without pause. I crept up the stairs, remaining silent for they were of stone and not wood. Out of the fogged window I could see faintly a burning torch, but I did not see its bearer. I felt for the bronze key; it was loose in its lock. I bolted the door again. The key I put hastily into a dust covered jar, which once sat empty upon the chimney piece. I waited. The fire sparked. Another twig snapped. The fire was beginning to die out.

             The knob of the door was shook again. The scraping continued. I stepped back to the dark corners of the room, striving to keep the creaking planks of the floor silent. I took the sword that lied sheathed upon the chair.

***** 

But I saw no more of this. Everything disappeared to me by the onslaught of the guards. To the courtyard walls I was being driven while I fought them with a blade that whirled with the lights of the lanterns. Swiftly, I was being caught between stone, brick, and sword. I felt my foot then landing upon something soft on the ground. I looked down. It was Noltayn, and he was stirring.  His face was drawn and pale; his eyes were dark. None but I saw his hand fingering the dirt on the stone. My sword darts were thrown blindly, for I barely looked to where they flashed. There was an enemy stirring at my feet, reviving from a cold blow.

Four already was I fighting, yet could I fight another, one whose mastery over a sword surpassed the Marhers’?