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That's what I thought anyway.
As we closed to about eighty yards, I pulled Dragon's Death and looked back for an instant. Our cavalry was a tight wedge with me at the apex now. Any second, I figured, the Dorthini wizard would come up with some new trick to try to stop me. I was mildly surprised that he hadn't hit me with everything he had while I was still groggy from my fight with his dragon. It wouldn't have taken much at all to finish me then.
I raised my sword and made a feeble pumping motion with my arm, then moved Gold into a modest canter. Behind me, our cavalry kept pace. Out in front, the center of the Dorthini line held firm… although people were still fading from the flanks.
"Let's get them," I said. It wasn't nearly a shout. I started whistling the sword's battle tune. I drew strength from that, maybe even from the sword and from whatever Parthet was doing to help prop me up. My brain went into combat mode. That's how I thought of it at the time.
"One last battle," I whispered through the sword's song.
I aimed directly for the standard of the Etevar, slamming us right into the center of the Etevar's best troops. I didn't get much chance to fight there, though. With my companions shielding me so tightly, only a couple of Dorthinis got close enough for me to even feint at them.
That was enough at the start. And when the crowding got closer and more Dorthinis came within reach, Dragon's Death bit into soldiers and horses, falling as if it had the weight of a dragon on top of it. The Dorthini elite started to break around us, and then the Etevar and his wizard were right in front of me.
This time it was no illusion. The wizard was staring straight at me, not ten feet away, but his eyes were blank white. There was no color in them at all.
"His eyes were with the dragon," Parthet's voice whispered in my ear. "Ignore him. He can no longer harm you."
I needed a moment to absorb that. The Dorthini wizard had been directing the dragon with his eyes, seeing for it, seeing through it. A
A blind wizard! He couldn't see to do anything.
The Etevar wasn't blind, though-except with rage. He charged me, screaming. His horse's reins were draped around the pommel of his saddle. The Etevar had a sword in one hand and a mace in the other. He led with the sword, and when I parried that, he tried to dent my head with the mace. I ducked and pushed, since I couldn't get my sword back fast enough to use it. When the Etevar swayed back, off balance, I leaned over to the side to try to finish the fight quickly. I lost my balance too, though, and the best I could do was push off Gold with my one good leg and jump the Etevar. We went to the ground and rolled.
There was plenty of room around me now, too much. The fight with the Etevar's elite had opened up the formation.
I hung on to the Etevar as if he were a life preserver. I knew that if I let go, he'd be able to get to me before I could get up. So we got to our feet together. I don't think the Etevar realized that he was doing most of the work for both of us. With my bum leg extended a bit behind us, I pushed the Etevar away and got Dragon's Death between us. Facing sword and mace together didn't worry me particularly. It may have helped me more than it helped the Etevar. He couldn't use both weapons to full advantage simultaneously.
He charged, swinging the mace first this time. The handle was metal, not wood, so I couldn't slice head from handle. His follow-up was an underhand lunge with the sword, toward my groin, below the mail shirt. Dragon's Death rebounded from mace to sword, moving both away from me. My blade came back up, reached for the Etevar's face. He leaned back, sidestepped, and came in again.
All I could so was shuffle along or pivot, and that handicapped me. For a time it was sword against sword, with the Etevar holding his mace back-a balance and a threat. His broadsword was longer and heavier than most, but it still wasn't in the same league with Dragon's Death. If I had had two good legs under me, and even an ounce of strength, I could have ended the duel quickly, without trouble.
The Etevar gritted his teeth and fought without speaking. I didn't have the air or the energy to talk. Chat during a duel may sound good on the movie screen, but it has no place in real life-not unless you're completely tired of living.
The Etevar had to realize that I was gimpy by then. He started moving in a slow circle around me, forcing me to turn and drag my bum leg as he tried to get me off balance so he could get past Dragon's Death. The circling wasn't comfortable, but it did let me keep track of what was going on around us. I had to know if any of the Etevar's people came close enough to help him. I was beyond relying exclusively on my danger sense.
I made the first mistake. The routine lulled me. The Etevar crossed his weapons and caught the blade of Dragon's Death coming down, using the head of his mace to pin my sword against his. Then he pushed in toward me, lowering his head as if he pla
He charged again right away, though-apparently maddened with rage. He came at me as if he pla
The Etevar's blade dug into my side, but his head was off before I got out, "For my father."
And then the darkness claimed me.
Raucous music. Old Teutonic drinking songs seemed to alternate with modern pieces like "Another One Bites the Dust" and "Bohemian Rhapsody." I fancied that I could smell blooming lilacs and wondered if I had somehow found my way home to Louisville. The pain was gone, so I assumed that Dad and Vara had finally come to collect me. It didn't seem to matter. I had finished the job I started out to do. I told myself that I didn't really want to be King of Varay anyway.
What comes next? seemed to be more important at the moment. I was curious, but mostly in a distracted, intellectual sort of way. What is death? Who runs things here? And Where the hell is "here"?
"Comeback, lad."
At first, I didn't notice the voice. I was lost in the void of eternity, trying to deal with that.
"Come back, lad."
It was Parthet's voice. It's over now, Uncle Parker, I thought. But my peace was becoming more and more disturbed. The emptiness suddenly had borders. I felt pressure on my head. A tingling nibbled at my skin. This wasn't an electric tingle, more like the nibble of a fish on your toe while you're swimming.
"Hang on to my voice, lad." Parthet again. Then I heard one of his mumbo-jumbo chants. It started as a whisper that I had to concentrate on to hear, and it built until it forced my attention.
I'm not dead, I realized, and I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. The pain returned-not so great as before, but still more than I really wanted to endure.
"His eyes are open!" That was Lesh's voice. I assumed that he was talking about me, but I didn't know that my eyes were open. I tried blinking. There was some light, not much. Dusk, I thought. The rest of the afternoon had gone, and the early evening. There were forms in the hazy twilight around me, forms that took shape as the light seemed to strengthen. Parthet and Lesh were both leaning over me.