The Elves of Cintra (Book 2 of The Genesis of Shannara)

“Stayed alive just fine before you showed up!” he snapped at her.

She reached under her cloak, fumbled with the ties that secured it, brought out the Parkhan Spray and handed it to him. “Here. Maybe you can manage to stay alive this time, too, if you pay attention to me.”

“Oh, so now you have a plan?”

She pulled up the hood of her cloak so that her face was concealed. “Sure.

Go in, find him, and get him out. How’s that sound?”

He stared at her. “Sounds brain-dead.”

“It isn’t. We have the advantage of surprise.”

He stared at her some more, then sighed. “Don’t know why I should expect anything out of you. Okay, let’s do it.”

She led the way at a trot across the empty grounds.

LOGAN TOM was back on his feet, the Word’s magic summoned from his staff once more, its ragged defenses warding him as best they could.

The feeders that had attempted to devour him had been thrust aside, driven back into the bleachers. Not that any of this meant he would be alive five minutes from now. Across from him, Krilka Koos was already celebrating, taunting him anew, stalking him as a predator stalks a wounded animal. Logan knew that he needed a plan, a way to catch the big man off guard, a way to negate his strength and power. He needed to call to mind all of the lessons that Michael had taught him about hand-to-hand combat. But wounded and in pain, fighting to keep himself from falling apart, he was finding it difficult to recall anything.

“Logan Tom! Are you still alive over there?” Krilka Koos laughed, feinted playfully, and stepped aside from an imaginary retaliation. “I don’t think you’ve got much left in you! Do you want this to be over with quickly? Or do you wish to keep dragging it out?”

Overconfident of his victory, he revealed something he hadn’t intended. Logan watched him feint and withdraw, feint and withdraw, and he saw a pattern to his movements. If he could take advantage of it, he might still have a chance.

Without giving anything away as to his state of mind or intentions, he started advancing on the other man. Koos could not be uncertain what he was doing; the advance did not seem to signal an attack. If anything, it must seem more a submission, an acceptance of his fate.

“Are you finished, then?” he shouted. It was what he was anticipating, what he believed Logan wanted. “Throw down your staff, and I promise to make it quick!”

Still playing with his captive, he started to feint and withdraw once again.

Only this time Logan was waiting. The moment Krilka Koos began his feint, Logan summoned the magic in a rush and sent it hurtling into the space into which the other’s now predictable withdrawal would take him. The big man stepped right into it. He tried to change directions at the last instant, aware of what was happening, but he was already moving and it was too late. The Word’s bright fire slammed into him, catching him full-on, knocking him completely off his feet and sprawling into the dirt.

Logan rushed him instantly, charging across the space that separated them, using his own magic not to attack, as the other would expect, but to shield himself. As he had anticipated, Koos struck out at him from where he lay, trying to stop him in midstride. But his defenses held, buoyed by the adrenaline pumping through him and by his determination. He heard the roar of the crowd all around him, the sound heartening this time because it betrayed their dismay at the unexpected turn of events.

Then he was on top of Koos, using his staff like a cudgel, hammering it downward on the other’s arms and body in sharp, rapid blows, striving to break past the other’s efforts to block him. He was successful enough that he heard Krilka Koos grunt with pain, still sprawled on his back, unable to get back to his feet. Logan would not let him up. Could not, if he wanted to live. He could feel the feeders all around him, climbing over them both, pressing down, sucking in the leavings of their dark struggle. He pressed his attack, doubling his efforts, Word fire spurting from both ends of his staff in response to his rage. Fire burst from the ends of Krilka Koos’s staff as well, but he could not bring it to bear.

Then, perhaps in desperation, the big man rolled into Logan, one arm reaching out to grapple with his legs, to try to bring him down.