?gedei was the target.
He jerked his horse’s head to the side, pounding his feet against its barrel to get it to move. It jerked its head back, snorting at the biting pain he was inflicting by pulling so hard on the reins, and it danced angrily, refusing to obey. The spear arced down, and ?gedei hurled himself out of the saddle, and as he hit the ground hard, painfully scrapping his palms on the rock, he heard the heavy sound of impact. His horse screamed, and he rolled away as it collapsed, thrashing in agony.
The other man, the young Northerner who had stood in the gladiator ring with the fish gutter—the boy who had eyeballed him fiercely, thinking quite seriously about throwing the knife—was running at him. He had a sword, and that same look was plain on his face.
He wasn’t going to stop this time.
As soon as Krasniy released the spear, Haakon realized the sacrifice the giant had made for him. He started sprinting, sword in hand.
The thrown spear hit the Khagan’s horse and the Khagan fell from his saddle as the horse went down, its legs thrashing. The Khagan hit the ground roughly, but got to his feet—sword drawn—in time to meet Haakon’s first attack.
He launched a two-handed downward stroke at the Khagan’s head. ?gedei was dazed from his fall, and he did get his sword up in time, but only just. Haakon’s blow bent ?gedei’s arm, and the Khagan threw his head back, to keep from getting hit by his own blade.
?gedei surged forward, pushing against Haakon’s blade, and Haakon batted the underpowered swing aside. He was fighting with one of the curved Mongolian swords, and they didn’t have the same point as a Western longsword. The curved end of his blade slid off the Khagan’s jacket, slicing through the fur-lined material but failing to penetrate the leather jerkin underneath. He turned his wrists, rotating the sharp edge of the blade toward the Khagan’s bare neck, and pulled the weapon back in a cutting motion.
?gedei jerked his head aside and got his blade underneath Haakon’s enough to keep his throat from getting cut. He lashed out with an attack of his own, his blade twisting like an angry serpent, and Haakon caught it between quillons and blade. ?gedei lifted his hands, shoving his blade, and Haakon gasped as the curved edge slid over the base of his hand, slicing his flesh.
Haakon retreated, berating himself for neglecting to remember the differences—once again—between the blade he was fighting with and the one he had trained with. It doesn’t have a point, he castigated himself. It is the edge I have to think about.
?gedei, seeing the blood running across Haakon’s hand, came at him again, swinging his sword in looping, whirling attacks. ?gedei was swinging his sword hard too; each time Haakon rebuffed his attack, he felt the shock of contact in his hand.
His grip was getting slippery.
?gedei wasn’t trying to hit him. The Khagan was trying to overtax his wounded hand. If there was enough blood, Haakon might lose control of his weapon.
The broad Mongol thundered past, and Cnán felt Lian shrink, pressing herself against Cnán’s back in an effort to make herself small. As the Mongol brought his horse around, Krasniy shouted at them to get off the rock plateau. Cnán fumbled with the reins of the horse, trying to get the animal’s head turned in the right direction. Krasniy rushed in front of her horse, spooking the animal further, and she spat a furious curse at him.
The Mongol rider was coming back, the long horsehair banner lowered again. Krasniy stood his ground, grinning like a demon, and as the Mongol closed in, Krasniy raised his sword and hurled it one-handed.
Cnán could not believe how eager the man was to throw things. Though, she thought, watching the sword flip end over end, given his aim, it’s a good strategy.
The sword hit the Mongol’s horse in the head, causing the animal to veer and stumble. The Mongol fought to control his mount, which meant he wasn’t paying attention to his target. His lance missed, and Krasniy jumped at the horse as it half galloped, half stumbled past, unhorsing the big Mongol. They hit the ground, flailing at each other in a way that spoke of extensive wrestling experience. They looked like two bears fighting for territorial dominance.
“Look,” Lian shouted in her ear, and Cnán followed her pointed finger.
There were more riders approaching, from the direction that the Khagan and his bodyguard had come. Sunlight glinted off maille and Cnán’s heart leaped. She snapped her reins, and Lian held on as the horse started to run toward the two Shield-Brethren knights.