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The fifth man slew four before he fell himself, so bringing us to another zig, or zag, as the case may be.
Onward and upward, our third man fighting with a blade in either hand. It was good that he fought in a holy war, for there was real zeal behind each blow. He took three before he died.
The next wasn't as zealous, or as good with his blades. He fell immediately, and then there were two.
Bleys drew his long, filigreed blade, and its edge sparkled in the sun.
"Soon, brother," he said, "we will see what they can do against a prince."
"Only one, I hope." I replied. and he chuckled.
I'd say we were three-quarters of the way there when Bleys' turn finally came.
He leaped forward, immediately dislodging the first man to face him. The point of his blade found the throat of the second, and the flat of it fell alongside the head of the third, dislodging him also. He dueled a moment with the fourth and dispatched him.
My own blade was in my hand, ready, as I watched and advanced.
He was good, even better than I remembered him to be. He advanced like a whirlwind, and his blade was alive with light. They fell before it-how they fell, my friend! Whatever else you might say of Bleys, on that day he acquitted himself as became his rank. I wondered how long he could keep going.
He'd a dagger in his left hand, which he used with brutal efficiency whenever he could manage a corps à corps. He left it in the throat of his eleventh victim.
I could see no end to the column which opposed us. I decided that it must stretch all the way to the landing at the top. I hoped my turn wouldn't come. I almost believed it.
Three more men plummeted past me and we came to a small landing and a turn. He cleared the landing and began the ascent. For half an hour I watched him, and they died and they died. I could hear the murmurs of awe from the men behind me. I almost thought he could make it to the top.
He used every trick available. He baffled blades and eyes with his cloak. He tripped the warriors. He seized wrists and twisted, with his full strength.
We made it to another landing. There was some blood on his sleeve by then, but he smiled constantly, and the warriors behind the warriors he killed were ashen. This helped him, too. And perhaps the fact that I stood ready to fill the gap also contributed to their fears and so slowed them, worked on their nerves. They'd heard of the naval engagement, I later learned.
Bleys worked his way to the next landing, cleared it, turned again, began to ascend. I hadn't thought he could make it that far, then. I didn't think I could make it as far as he had. It was the most phenomenal display of swordsmanship and endurance I'd seen since Benedict had held the pass above Arden against the Moonriders out of Ghenesh.
He was tiring, though, I could see that, too. If only there were some way for me to relieve him, to spell him for a time.
But there wasn't. So I followed, fearing every stroke might be his last.
I knew that he was weakening. We were within a hundred feet of the top at that point.
I suddenly felt for him. He was my brother and he'd done well by me. I don't think he thought he'd make it then, yet he was fighting on... in effect, giving me my chance for the throne.
He killed three more men, and his blade moved more slowly each time. He fought with the fourth for perhaps five minutes before he took him. I was certain the next would he his last.
He wasn't, though.
As he slew that man, I transferred my blade from my right hand to my left, drew my dagger with my right and threw it.
It went in up to the hilt, in the throat of the next man. Bleys sprang over two steps and hamstrung the man before him, casting him downward.
Then he cut upward, ripping open the belly of the one behind that one.
I rushed to fill the gap, to be tight behind him and ready. He didn't need me yet, though.
He took the next two, with a new burst of energy. I called for another dagger and one was passed to me from somewhere along the line.
I kept it ready till he slowed once more, and I used it on the man he fought.
The man was lunging as it spun in, so the hilt rather than the blade caught him. It struck against his head, though, and Bleys pushed against his shoulder and he fell. But the next man leaped forward, and though he impaled himself, he struck Bleys upon the shoulder and they went over the edge together.
By reflex, almost without knowing what I was doing, yet knowing fully in one of those microsecond decisions you justify after the fact, my left hand leaped to my belt, whipped out my pack of the Trumps and cast them toward Bleys as he seemed to hang there for an instant-so rapidly did my muscles and perceptions respond-and I cried out, "Catch them, you fool!"
And he did.
I didn't have time to see what happened next, as I parried and thrust.
Then began the final lap of our journey up Kolvir.
Let's just say I made it and was gasping, as my troops came over the edge to support me there on the landing.
We consolidated our forces and pressed ahead.
It took us an hour to reach the Great Arch.
We passed through. We entered Amber.
Wherever Eric was, I'm sure he'd never guessed we'd make it this far.
And I wondered where Bleys was? Had he gotten a chance to grab a Tramp and use it, before he reached the bottom? I guessed that I'd never know.
We had underestimated, all the way around. We were outnumbered now, and the only thing left to do was to fight on for as long as we could hold out. Why had I done such a foolish thing as throw Bleys my Trumps? I knew he had none of his own and that's what had dictated my response, conditioned perhaps by my years on the Shadow Earth, But I might have used them to escape, if things went badly.
Things went badly.
We fought on until twilight, and by then there was only a small band of us remaining.
We were surrounded at a point a thousand yards within Amber, and still far from the palace. We were fighting a defensive fight, and one by one we died. We were overwhelmed.
LIewella or Deirdre would have given me sanctuary. Why had I done it?
I killed another man and put the question out of my mind.
The sun went down and darkness filled the sky. We were down to a few hundred by then, and not much closer to the palace.
Then I saw Eric and heard him shouting orders. If only I could reach him!
But I couldn't.
I'd probably have surrendered, to save my remaining troops, who had served me far too well.
But there was no one to surrender to, no one asking for a surrender. Eric couldn't even hear me if I cried out. He was out of the way, directing. So we fought on, and I was down to a hundred men.
Let's be brief.
They killed everyone but me.
At me they threw nets and unleashed blunted arrows.
Finally, I fell and was clubbed and hog-tied, and then everything went away but a nightmare which attached itself and wouldn't let go, no matter what.
We had lost.
I awoke in a dungeon far below Amber, sorry that I had made it that far.
The fact that I still lived meant that Eric had plans for me. I visualized racks and braces, flames and tongs. I foresaw my coming degradation as I lay there on the damp straw.
How long had I been unconscious? I did not know.
I searched my cell for a means of committing suicide. I found nothing that would serve this purpose.
All my wounds blazed like suns, and I was so very tired.
I lay me down and slept once more.
I awakened, and still no one came to me. There was none to buy, none to torture.
Also, there was nothing for me to eat.
I lay there, wrapped in my cloak, and I reviewed everything that had happened since I'd awakened in Greenwood and refused my hypo. Better, perhaps, if I hadn't.